Title: Orchestra of Blue
Author: Mir
Date: August 2, 2007
Disclaimer: I make no claim to any of the Harry Potter characters, its storyline, or its overall universe. I do not write for compensation; I do not hold any copyrights; this is purely a hobby that I pursue for personal pleasure.
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Authors Note: This, as you may guess by reading my profile, is my first Harry Potter story. It will be RLNT-centric with a decent dose of other characters on the side. I admit that I’m not very good at moving a plot along, but I think this story is going to be a mystery (genre-wise).
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Prologue: Fly-by (August 1993)
Late summer in London. With the city gripped in an unrelenting heat spell and the air so hot and thick that muggles were practically dripped into puddles on the sidewalk, only a fool would willingly wander the streets with no real purpose or destination. And yet, there I was, foolishly engaged in one of life’s most useless activities: window-shopping. The last sparks of daylight slanted off the storefront glass, and crickets like mini-orchestras pulsed their melodies into the humid air. Dusk fell steadily into twilight.
Ice cream, I thought as I passed by that familiar parlor filled with eager kids laughing and shouting nonsense at each other. It would be nice to eat ice cream on such a sticky evening. I’ve always thought there’s something innocent, endearing even, about the blandness of muggle flavors. Sometimes I feel sorry for them because most will never know anything different.
It had been a week ago, maybe two, that I’d received the offer. I’d refused it outright at first”politely, then insistently as he’d somehow said all the right words to appeal to the cherished memories of my youth. In the end, there’d been no question as to whether or not I’d return to the place that I had for seven years called home. Perhaps he’s always so compelling because no one’s ever turned him down. Or maybe it was simply the kindness in his eyes and the sincerity of his tone that finally crumpled my resolve and ended my self-inflected exile.
Although I’d given my word”which, for a wizard, is as binding as any signature”the formal contract arrived by owl over breakfast the following morning. The writing was, in typical Hogwarts fashion, overly elaborate considering the simple message it conveyed. My name, inked at the top of the scroll in a grandiose flourish of swirls and dots, presided over my new title, etched below in perfectly slanted lines.
Remus J. Lupin
Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
It’s duty completed, the owl had quickly fled away into the morning haze, leaving me alone with an empty flat, lukewarm tea, and the crazy realization that the unthinkable had come true”that I’d be returning to my alma mater, this time on the other side of the classroom. The thought was wonderfully exciting, exhilarating, uplifting… and at the same time, terrifying.
The days that followed brought back memories of that summer before I’d returned to school as a prefect. Ambling from day to day in a flutter of nervous anticipation, like then, I both yearned for and dreaded the official start of term. But now, as I walked along the store-lined streets filled with muggles and muggle things, I was somehow able to allow my mind to wander and my breathing fall into the steady rhythm of passing traffic and shuffling feet.
Muggles, for all their shortcomings, sometimes dream up the most ingenious footwear. One would think, after all these thousands of years, that shoes would be relatively intuitive things. After all, it’s not as though the shape of the human foot has changed significantly in recent history. And yet. I paused by the old vacuum repair shop with the droopy striped awning and leaned my shoulder against the gritty glass to watch a pair of teenagers zigzag their way up the street. Lights, glowing white and blue with every step, pulsed rhythmically from the heels of their sneakers. Was it really possible without magic to achieve the odd blinking pattern of their gait illuminated against the darkened sidewalk?
Years later, I'd look back on what happened next with a certain nostalgic fondness. At the time, however, it was hardly anything memorable. She’d appeared from somewhere behind me and flew across my path, our shoulders separated by just a fingers-width of air as her hair, for a brief moment, obscured my vision”bright violet, practically glowing. Definitely not a shade achievable through dye, even the more obscure wizarding varieties. I couldn’t help but stare as she dashed past the kids in sneakers, narrowly missed the street lamp, then careened around the corner past the mailbox and battered fire hydrant. “Kids these days,” I muttered to myself (perhaps already subconsciously adopting a proper professorly mindset).
I shook my head at what I was fast to label the “folly of youth,” and returned to my more sedate amblings with the erroneous conviction that even with you-know-who’s disappearance, the adults, myself included, were somehow allowing the world to slowly fall apart. Little did I know that women with strangely-colored hair and muggles with odd blinking footwear would be the least of my worries in the upcoming years.
There was little left to do that evening besides a quick detour to the market, a solitary dinner, and an early night’s sleep. The full moon was fast approaching, and I knew that I’d only have a day to prepare afterwards before the Hogwarts banquet. Dumbledore, it seemed, had already thought of this before he’d offered me the position because after I’d finally given in, he suggested”as though it were the most natural of things”that I send my luggage to the school beforehand and ride to school on the train with the students. “You’d be of service,” he’d said without a trace of sarcasm, “if the Express were to encounter any difficulties along the way.” And so it was decided. And there was nothing left to do but wait.
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End Notes: This prologue is just that”It’s not a full chapter and is (more than usual) admittedly scattered and plot-less. Think of it as an appetizer for a main course that is yet to come. I promise that later parts will actually be coherent :-)
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Chapter One Teaser:
It’s happened to the best of us, I’m sure”for what honest person can say he’s never found himself at this or that function and wondered why, in the name of Merlin, he’d checked the “yes” box on the RSVP. This particular reception, I was certain, would undoubtedly turn out to be one of those mistakes.
08.02.07