Author’s note: Here’s the first real chapter for your reading enjoyment. A hearty thanks to everyone who read the first installment. By the end of this one, you might still be wondering whether or not this piece has a plot. But I’ve charted out the first few chapters, and (at least to my eyes) it at least has some direction. In retrospect, I think this ended up being more background information than anything else…. oops.
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Chapter One: Two By Two (December 1994)
It’s happened to the best of us, I’m sure”for what person can honestly say he’s never found himself at this or that function and wondered why, in the name of Merlin, he’d bothered to return the RSVP. This particular reception, I was certain, would undoubtedly turn out to be one of those mistakes.
When the envelope (heavily edged in gold and bearing the distinctive Ministry seal, had arrived) I’d opened it with anticipation. It’s not every day, I told myself, that one’s invited to high-class (and expertly-catered) Ministry of Magic functions. I’d thanked the little owl who seemed relieved to be on his way, and read the card twice to make sure it hadn’t been misaddressed.
Mr. Remus J. Lupin, it is our pleasure to cordially invite you to the Ministry of Magic’s annual Christmas reception held in honor of this year’s Auror class...”
I was clearly the intended recipient. But why? Perhaps, I thought, it was one of those ‘perks of the job’ that no one bothers to mention until… they suddenly drop in by owl. Most of the students had already departed for winter holidays, and as I’d nothing better to do with my spare time, I promptly returned the RSVP and looked forward to the chance to foray into ‘high society’. All in all, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
The doorman was short, stout, and in need of stronger glasses. Squinting over the rim of his spectacles, he frowned distastefully at me as though offended by my very presence.
“Name please,” he’d prompted with all the warmth of a Gringotts goblin.
“Remus Lupin,” I’d replied.
He pretended to compare my response against the lengthy guest list clutched tightly in one of his sweaty hands. But his gaze merely floated up and down the scroll as though he couldn’t be bothered with such a mundane task. Probably just an unlucky desk-warming bureaucrat who pulled the short straw this time around.
“Affiliation?” I clenched my teeth and resisted the urge to shove past him and end the charade.
“Hogwarts,” I answered as I stared over his shoulder at the ongoing festivities. As much as I appreciated Ministry’s attempt at the ‘human touch’, wouldn’t a simple spell above the door have been a better way to keep out unwanted riffraff?
“Enjoy your evening, Professor Lupin.”
Nodding at his lackluster welcome, I ventured into the main hall filled with swirling dress robes and glittering chandeliers. Trust the Ministry to take something as simple as a holiday party and turn it into a ridiculously elaborate affair. The new aurors”although the title wouldn’t officially be theirs until after they’d completed their half-year apprenticeships”were conspicuously uniformed and remarkably sober, considering the volume of alcohol available for consumption. I suspected they’d been warned to abstain until they’d been formally presented to the guests.
As I watched them float eagerly from group to group, making small talk with important figures and networking for the sake of career, I couldn’t help but notice their youth. ‘Why, they’re no more than kids’, my mind protested. ‘Are these the wizarding world’s new protectors?’ But I suppose we Marauders hadn’t been any older when we’d first joined the Order all those years ago… I quickly pushed the memory aside. This was no place for such thoughts of the past.
Lost in thought, it was a bright flash of color that caught my eye”out of place against that hideous dark prune hue that seemed regrettably to be all the rage this winter”it was bright violet, like…something I’d seen somewhere before. It dipped behind a pillar near the punch bowl, then veered off starboard toward the desserts. Why was it so familiar? A velvet feathered hat obscured my vision, and for a moment I lost sight of my target.
“Ugh, my bad. I’m awfully sorry.” I stumbled at the impact, hands instinctively reaching out to grab whatever, whoever had knocked me backward. It… she was apologizing repeatedly as we disentangled ourselves and drew back a step for damage inspection. “…so clumsy, always running into things and such…”
My heart skipped a beat as I raised my eyes. Ah, violet. She clutched what had been a full glass of punch in one hand, a small plate still bearing a multi-layered chocolate confection in the other.
“Accio napkin,” I muttered, open hand aimed in the general direction of the table to my right. It was one of those useless paper cocktail-sized ones. I summoned another and switched the first for her empty punch glass before she had the opportunity to drop anything else. She half-smiled, half-grimaced, and began to dap diligently at the front of her auror’s uniform.
“Everything was going so well tonight,” she remarked as she wiped a splatter from her cheek. All I could see was a tumble of short, purple hair. “I knew it was too good to be true.” She pulled out her wand (a good length for her, well-balanced, my subconscious interjected) as she set the chocolate down on the adjacent table. “I guess we should clean each other up.”
I nodded in agreement”every good wizard knows that it’s never advisable to point one’s wand at one’s own chest and start incanting spells”and reached inside my robes to retrieve mine as well. At the motion something changed in her expression… a hint of confusion, then realization, and finally curiosity.
But she said nothing until we had positioned ourselves a comfortable distance apart, wands each raised at the ready. “On my count then,” she began. “3, 2, 1”scourgify!” I noticed with the critical eye of a teacher that her aim was steady and her execution precise, without a trace of residual discoloration. But would I have expected anything less from a Ministry auror?
“Earlier,” she began, seemingly satisfied with my handiwork as well because she replaced her wand and set about smoothing her robes, “the napkins”“ She paused, as if unsure whether to continue. “”you did that without your wand.” It was both a comment and a question.
Almost reluctantly, I nodded, unsure of where the conversation was headed.
“It’s not like they don’t teach that kind of magic in school,” she continued. “But most people just never practice it in daily life…” She looked at me, really looked at me for the first time. “You don’t really seem like the type”“ (my often-wounded self-esteem was sure she’d finish the sentence with ‘who’d be able to pull that off’) “”who normally comes to these kinds of events.”
I blinked in surprise and could tell by her expression that she thought she’d offended me. So I reminded myself to smile”that teacher’s pet sort of smile that Sirius had always teased me for”and hastily reassured, “You’re right about that, I’m afraid.” I shrugged to show that I wasn’t in any way offended. “This is my first.”
She squinted, sizing me up as the corner of her mouth began to pull upward into a smile. “Then you’re not from one of those stuffy old families,” she said in a way that suggested approval. “But I’ve a feeling you know more than the average wizard about magic above the ordinary levels…” There was something almost scientific about her appraisal. Yes, definitely some of that Ministry training kicking in. “I wonder…”
“…shall I end the suspense?” I interjected, feeling a little awkward under her scrutiny. Perhaps I was worried that if she looked too closely she’d see through to my real secret”my ‘furry little problem’ as the Marauders liked to say. I didn’t wait for her to reply. “I’m just a Hogwarts professor, new this year...” The words sounded odd on my tongue, as though even with a semester behind me, they still didn’t quite fit.
From her silence, I though for a moment that she didn’t believe me, that she was going to laugh and reply, ‘That’s a good one. Now really, who are you?’ But to my relief, she simply nodded and with unexpected insight commented, “You must be their new defense against the dark arts professor.” She laughed, but I was sure now that it wasn’t at my expense. “The Ministry invites all the Hogwarts professors, but only someone new to the job would come to something as boring as this.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “correct me if I’m wrong, but you look too sane to be truly enjoying yourself.”
Yes, insightful. Perhaps I’d underestimated the Ministry’s recruitment skills. After all, the bureaucracy couldn’t very well be incompetent in everything it touched. “I don’t suppose this is exactly your type of affair either.” Sirius, my memory noted, would have been flirting madly by now, of that much I was sure….
She crinkled her nose in distaste. “I’ve been subjected to my fair share,” she replied in a vague, almost avoidant way as her eyes wandered across the room. “And I’ve learned not to judge people by their looks.” It was an odd statement in context, a non sequitur of sorts. “Some of the gentlest actually turn out to be the most frightening.”
My breath stuck in my chest, and I froze. Had she guessed? Given a chance, I always assume the worst… but her expression remained neutral enough, so”carefully keeping my tone light”I asked, “I don’t look frightening to you?”
She smile, shrugged, and smoothly countered, “Sorry, Professor. You’ll have to try harder.”
My mind, still caught up in relief, barely noticed as one of her friends waved to her from across the room, and I’m sure my half of the parting pleasantries fell short of being completely coherent. But I doubt she noticed as she dashed off, and it only occurred to me afterward that we hadn’t even exchanged names. Not that it mattered, of course. She was right about one thing at least”this would be my first and last Ministry function for some time to come.
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After the reception, perhaps against my better judgment, I dropped by my father’s house. I’d learned over the years that it’s better to arrive unannounced”minimizes pre-meditated resentment. But our relationship had improved to the point that a drink or two together was relatively harmless. I apparated as usual to the gnarled old oak in corner of the yard.
“Remus, I didn’t know you were going to stop by.” His smile was genuine as he greeted me at the door. “Are those your dress robes…?” He pulled the door firmly closed behind me and reset the bolts with a flick of his wand.
“Ministry function,” I replied quietly, divesting myself of snowy garments in the coatroom. “One of those over-the-top Christmas things.” He’d worked briefly at the Ministry before I was born”but that was generally a topic we avoided. “Thought I’d just stop by to say hello before going back to school.”
“You’re staying there over the holidays?” He couldn’t quite hide that hint of hopefulness in his tone, or maybe I simply knew him well enough to read it into the otherwise innocent question.
“Not all the students can go home,” I said, known even before I began that it was a weak excuse for not returning home myself. “Dumbledore asked for faculty volunteers to stay around as well.” I had no doubt that my father knew as well as I that Christmas was a full moon this year”and his current house had no place for me to transform.
My father nodded, seemingly satisfied with my response. “I’m going over to see some old friends on Boxing Day. You’re welcome to come.” I could tell he was making the offer simply to be polite, and I declined with equal grace. ‘Old friends’ usually meant family acquaintances from the days before my mother left, and even if I’d felt up to it, my presence would have been somewhat awkward. Better to let the old-timers reminisce about better days among themselves.
“Well, since you’re here tonight, will you stay and have a drink? It’s almost Christmas anyway…”
I smiled as I followed him into the kitchen”not the one I remembered from my childhood but nonetheless filled with all the things my mother had left behind when she’d taken my younger brother and disappeared one night into the French countryside. I’d just turned ten. I still carried a photo of the four of us together”a muggle one she’d taken with one of her antique cameras. She was a muggle after all. My father had never told me how they’d met.
Perhaps another man would have thrown out all the objects that remembered him of her, would have purged her belongings along with his heart, but my father, ever practical, had kept everything. ‘What’s the point of buying new dishes’, he’d told me when we moved from our old house into the small flat shortly after her departure. ‘You’ll have to get used to your Mum being gone whether or not we get new china.’
But now he lived alone and didn’t cook as much as he used to, so some of the cupboards, I noticed, were lined with odd knickknacks instead of dishes. I reached up and pulled down a small porcelain vase”white, decorated with tiny blue flowers feathered across its surface. Initials etched in small letters onto its base read TMP. “Where did you get all this stuff,” I asked to my father’s back as he reached into the opposite cupboard for glasses.
“Went through some of the boxes in the attic last month,” he replied in a tone that didn’t invite further questions.
I replaced the vase beside a small figurine and nodded, not entirely sure what to say. By that time, he’d found what he was looking for, and as I followed him back out into the living room, I couldn’t help but feel as though there was something strange about that shelf of objects, something my tired mind couldn’t quite wrap itself around. I shrugged and pushed the feeling aside.
And despite everything, the tense moments, the awkward silences, I enjoyed myself that evening. I think we both did. Surely, time works wonders on family relationships.
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Endnotes: I went back and forth on whether or not to include the< second scene… then decided to throw in half of it and section off the other part as an inter-chapter interlude. As other FF writers have before me, I’m taking some poetic license with the Lupin family.
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Interlude: Beginnings Teaser:
The Marauders used to tell me that I spent too much time thinking. It’s just simply not good for you to think so much, Sirius had chided as though his words were proven and undisputable fact. But now, with no one to tell me otherwise, I often found myself wandering backward through time to where this episode of Hogwarts all began.
08.09.07 .