“Professor?”
Remus Lupin looked up from the stack of parchments before him. “Ah yes, Harry. Come in, come in.”
“Hermione said you had wanted to see me, so…” Harry then noticed a large object under dark velvet cloth on the corner of Lupin’s desk.
Following Harry’s line of sight, Lupin answered Harry’s next question, “A little something Dumbledore had allowed me to borrow for this extra lesson.” He walked over briskly and revealed a peculiar, stone basin inscribed with various runes and symbols. When Harry hesitated, Lupin gestured to come closer.
Inside the basin swirled something that was neither solid nor liquid. Harry couldn’t quite describe the silvery substance that flowed freely around the basin, but it very much reminded him of what he’d imagined fire to look like as a liquid though white.
“Sir? What is it?”
Lupin smiled. “This is a Pensieve. A very rare and strange device that allows the user to store and experience one’s own memories. These,” Lupin indicated to the contents of the basin, “are individual memories.”
Harry was still baffled. “Professor, this…bowl can show us what we remember?”
“Yes. But more importantly for this lesson, it can show you what I remember.” Lupin’s features grew more serious. “Harry, going into someone’s memories is something highly discouraged. As you can probably imagine, many treacherous things have been done to those who, in utter confidence, gave others a glimpse of their hidden past. So I ask that you confide this to no one else.”
Harry nodded quickly.
“I spoke to Dumbledore about our extra lessons and your trouble with conjuring a strong enough memory to cast your Patronus. He agreed that it was in your best interest to learn the spell and granted me permission to show you the memory I think of when I cast my Patronus. Perhaps afterwards, you will find something similar.”
Lupin touched his wand to his temple. Eyes closed, he began to withdraw a long, wispy strand of silver resembling those that swirled in the basin beside them. Carefully, Lupin placed his memory in the basin. As if stirring a cooking pot, Lupin gave the stuff in the basin a good spin.
“Put your face in, Harry.”
“I “ what?”
“Trust me. Nothing will go wrong.”
Harry glanced at Lupin’s face warily but lowered his face until “ He looked sharply at Lupin, shock etched in his features. Was that a room he’d seen behind the now glass-like surface of the memories? He moved closer to the image until he was sure that it was indeed a room in the basin. What’s more, the room looked peculiarly like his dormitory. Curious, Harry lowered his face even more and felt his nose barely touch the silvery surface.
A powerful force in the basin sucked Harry in. Too late, Harry realized that his feet had left the ground of Professor Lupin’s classroom and that he was now falling, falling, falling. Then suddenly “
He heard a little sigh. Harry opened his eyes and saw, to his surprise, a frail, sandy-haired boy about his age sitting on the four-poster bed closest to him. The boy’s tired-looking frame seemed peculiarly familiar, and Harry moved closer for a better look.
A vibration behind him startled him, forcing him to give a yelp in astonishment. Harry whipped around only to see Professor Lupin watching him with glazed eyes. Then it struck Harry; there were two Remus Lupins in the room. Harry turned back to the little boy, whose uncanny resemblance to his Defense professor was unmistakable, and was even more bewildered to see that his shout had not elicited any reaction from him.
“Professor? Why can’t he “ you hear me?”
Lupin replied, his steady gaze now on his younger self, “A memory cannot be tampered with, even in a Pensieve.”
Harry understood too well; like the diary he had found the previous year, he had been taken into the past of another incorporeally and would be invisible to all in this memory, save the elder Professor Lupin.
However, Harry was befuddled by Lupin’s choice of memory. On their first lesson, Lupin had instructed Harry to drudge up a past experience that was strong and happy. But here, the sorrow and distress of young Lupin radiated pungently, and this scene hardly qualified as a positive memory.
“Professor?”
Lupin shook his head. “Not now, Harry. Watch.”
As if on cue, three boys bounded in the room, breaking the suffocating silence with their rambunctious chatter. One boy was round and short; his countenance reminded Harry of a small rodent. Another boy, the one who seemed haughty, was dark-haired with bottomless gray eyes. His face had the layers of fat typical for a boy his age, but underneath, Harry could already see some prominent cheekbones.
But the one boy who caught his eye was tall, black-haired, and grinning quite smugly. His hazel eyes seemed magnified behind his round glasses, and he strutted proudly in the room. Harry knew his name at once; he should, after all, since he’d been told to have a very strong resemblance to his father.
“Remus! Back from a visit with your sick aunt?”
The little boy on the bed nodded meekly, refusing to meet the eyes of his inquiring friends.
The gray-eyed companion barked a short laugh. “I would’ve thought her to be dead by now, being ill so often.”
“Sirius, that is an unkind thing to say about Remus’ family,” James Potter replied with a grin. “Besides, the last few months had been dedicated to his ill cousin.”
Harry felt his blood boil as he glared daggers at Sirius Black as the villain laughed so freely. Here he was, standing not ten paces from Harry, the murderer who would later betray Harry’s parents, and Harry could do not one thing to kill him and put a stop to so many years of suffering. He felt Remus beside him stiffen as well and knew that the same thoughts ran through his professor’s head.
Little Remus shifted uncomfortably though he joined in the laughter. “I’ve got an essay to make up for Transfiguration. So, er “ “
“Not a problem!” Sirius turned to his friends beside him. “Well come on, mates. It’s a Saturday with a fresh layer of snow on the grounds just waiting for us.” The round boy followed Sirius eagerly out the room, but James hung back.
“I’m going to get my gloves first,” he said as his friends disappeared from view. Harry watched as James walked to his bed, amazingly the same bed Harry now occupied, and retrieved his gloves from beneath it. As he was leaving, however, he looked back at Remus, who had taken to staring at his covers rather than starting his essay.
“Remus?”
The boy looked up, startled at the uncharacteristic softness in James’ tone, and managed a shaky smile. As James opened his mouth to ask another question, Remus interjected, “I’m fine, James. Just worried about my aunt is all.”
Instead of looking relieved, James seemed more concerned and came to sit beside Remus. “Remus.” James’ expression looked conflicted as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite put it in words. “I…I know about your…your furry problem.”
Harry could not understand what his father was referring to, but both Remuses reacted to James’ revelation. Harry saw out of the corner of his eye his professor smile at the phrase while his younger self flinched horribly.
“What are you talking about, James?” Remus asked, though he obviously knew exactly what his friend meant.
James was unconvinced as well. “Remus, you don’t have to lie to me, not to your friend,” James said cautiously yet sympathetically. “Your…problem wouldn’t make me hate you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. If anything, I think it’s kind of cool to “ “
The sickly boy looked ready to burst into tears. “Dumbledore told me it was our secret. That he would not tell a soul. He said that I could tell when I was ready.”
“Dumbledore didn’t tell me, Remus. I know you leave once a month, and I…I saw Madame Pomfrey walk with you,” James whispered.
The pain was evident on Remus’ face. His eyes watered, and tears threatened to spill over. “If you’ve figured it out, then how many others have as well?”
“No one else knows, Remus,” James assured his friend quickly. “Not even Sirius or Peter, probably. I haven’t told them since I figured if you wanted to tell us, you would have already.
“I…I don’t want you to feel like you have to lie to us, Remus, just to get us to like you. Even if other people would run screaming from you, you deserve to know some people who just don’t care about your condition.”
Remus stared wide-eyed at James. “James…You mean it?”
James smiled. “Of course. Now, come on. We’ve got two friends in the common room and an endless field of snow waiting for us. Let’s not let them down. They would also,” James kept a penetrating gaze on Remus, “like to know why their friend disappears every month.”
Young Remus, for the first since Harry saw him, broke into a grin himself. “Let’s go, James.”
Harry felt someone tug his arm, and the dormitory faded. His feet touched the stone floor of the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom and beside him was the elder Remus Lupin whose insightful eyes now held a warmth and sparkle despite his haggard appearance.
“You see, Harry, what type of memory would provide the strongest Patronus.” Remus’ voice still sounded distant as if replaying that particular memory over again. “My memory of your father accepting me for who I was is one of the happiest I have.”
Harry was still reeling from seeing one of his professor’s most intimate and private moments. “Professor, you went to school with my father?”
“Yes. We were of the same year in the same House. We, along with our Housemates Peter and…Sirius, became fast friends.”
“Professor, your…condition “ “
“Is still plaguing me, I’m afraid,” Lupin finished.
“He…he called it your…furry problem.”
Lupin smiled. “Yes, he did. He continued to call it that for as long as I knew him. I’m afraid it’s more serious that a mere pet difficulty, but that is for another time. For now, I’d like you to go over the memories you have and find one that may give you the same strength as this memory gives to me.” With that, Harry was dismissed, left to his own thoughts about his father’s friendship with Lupin.
“Expecto patronum!” Harry’s heart beat faster as the dementors flew toward the figure across the lake from all directions. The full moon in the sky was blotted by the dark creatures, and Harry felt “ no, knew “ that he would never feel happy again. He glanced frantically at the lifeless body on the shore.
“Expecto patronum!” Nothing. Harry panicked, willing his father to come and save his son and best friend. He watched himself sink to his knees.
“Expecto…Expecto…” The voice drifting across the lake weakened still, yet there was no sign of James Potter. Finally, Harry could not wait anymore; he had to take the chance.
Harry emerged from his hiding spot and whipped out his wand. In his mind, he conjured the image of the young man he’d seen speak to Remus and his kind smile, a smile that resembled the one he’d seen smiling down at him once. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
As he watched his silver Patronus charge across the lake, Harry knew that, in more ways than one, he resembled his father who had, so long ago, befriended a werewolf and didn’t care.
End notes: The Alternate Universe warning refers to the fact that Harry encounters the Pensieve in his third year in this story rather than in fourth year as dictated in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Otherwise, this chapter follows as closely to canon as my knowledge of the Harry Potter universe as of July 2, 2007 allows. Any information revealed to be false by Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows will not be changed.
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