Remus moaned and rolled his head to one side. Something soft pressed up against his cheek.
He cracked open an eye and was met with a mass of white. Rolling his head back upwards, he found himself to be staring up at a dirty, yellowing ceiling with several cracks running though the plaster, one of them shaped somewhat like a teddy bear.
The hospital wing? What was he doing here?
He reached up and placed his hand gently on his throat, feeling for nicks. None. Francesca had apparently not slit his throat. That was a relief.
Three slightly blurred faces peered anxiously at him from far above. A minute later, he heard Madam Pomfrey squawking, and the faces disappeared. His friends’ mutterings were quashed by another bout of yelling about bed rest and hard days and the need for complete and utter SILENCE!
“Hey,” Sirius said loudly, smirking at Madam Pomfrey’s furious glare. Annoying people was one of his favorite hobbies, and he prided himself on his ability to aggravate almost anyone.
“Are you okay?” Remus asked, half-sitting up.
His friends stared at him like he was crazy. “What do you mean, are we okay?” James sputtered indignantly. “We’re fine! What could happen to us?”
“Sorry,” Remus muttered. “It’s just that that girl Francesca…” he fell silent for a moment. “Hey, how did I get here?”
His friends exchanged loaded looks.
“Well,” James said slowly, “you sort of... reappeared on the street, and you were out cold, and we tried to wake you up but it wasn’t really working...” he fumbled with his words for a moment before giving up.
Sirius rolled his eyes. “What he’s trying to say is, we levitated you through a window.”
“Where did you go, anyway?” Peter asked. “You just disappeared on us.”
They all fell silent; the visitors waiting, the patient miserably wrestling with himself. Should he tell them?
Of course he should. Friends and all that.
But what could he say? That he had been dragged into a miniature alternate dimension that just so happened to be in front of the Three Broomsticks?
Well, that had been what had happened. Maybe.
“Well?” James pried. “Are you going to tell us?”
“Forget it,” said Remus, shrinking down into his pillow. “It’s too incredible.”
His friends were building up a mass retort when Dumbledore swept dramatically into the room, trailed by a very concerned-looking Professor McGonagall. Lily Evans was following them, a textbook tucked under her arm. She had probably been studying in the library.
“What’s going on?” she asked nervously, clutching Unfogging the Future so tightly that her knuckles were turning paler by the minute.
“Dunno,” James said lazily, suddenly looking much less indignant at Remus’s lack of participation in the conversation. Lily furrowed her brow angrily but fortunately did not hurl a retort.
Dumbledore looked at Madame Pomfrey. “I’m afraid we will have to disrupt to peace, ma’am,” he said politely. “Would you please lock all the windows and send all patients who are able back to their dormitories, please? Except for Mr. Lupin here. And his friends, they may stay too. Oh, and Ms. Evans, of course.” He nodded politely at Lily.
They all stared- well, all except for Professor McGonagall. She just shook her head and looked very tired.
“What about Prescott over there?” Madame Pomfrey looked self- righteous. “He needs rest, not more airborne shuttling, especially after what happened to him this morning-”
Dumbledore flicked his wand lightly and caused the bed to quiver. It gently rose a few feet in the air and hovered, without wobbling, at about waist level.
“Would you please be so kind,” he smiled, “As to push this to the Hufflepuff commons? The password is-”
He caught himself and glanced narrowly at the boys nearby, who all tried to look innocent.
Dumbledore flicked his wand again and a small piece of paper settled in Madame Pomfrey’s hand. “Password’s that one,” he said.
“But-” Sirius started. He probably wanted to complain about the lack of trust in this school, and why wouldn’t Dumbledore say the password out loud, anyway? What was the worst thing that could happen?
When he thought about it, Remus found that he didn’t really want to know.
“But-” Madame Pomfrey began.
“Go on,” said Dumbledore perkily. “Take the poor boy back to his friends. I’m sure they’re worried.”
James rolled his eyes. Remus was quite sure that James did not believe in worrying over friends that had fallen victim to minor medical accidents, such as being hexed into unconsciousness and falling from a good five hundred feet. Of course, that was probably because James was often knocked off his broom during high-speed chases. That had to put a damper on your mental capabilities.
Madame Pomfrey wheeled Martin Prescott out of the room, looking grumpy. Professor McGonagall sighed and sank down on a nearby bed.
“Oh, Headmaster,” she sighed. “As if things weren’t already hard. I must admit that as much as I want to help the girl, I don’t think it to be the safest of moves. He has followers dedicated to finding her, for Merlin’s sake. They must know that she’s here. Ever since you sent her that accursed letter-”
“Please, Minerva, calm down.” Dumbledore patted her on the shoulder awkwardly. “We will find a way to help her without endangering our students, I promise.”
“I hope you have a brilliant plan laid out,” she muttered.
“Of course I do. I’ve called in Hagrid.”
A small burble of laughter escaped the professor’s thin lips. “Hagrid won’t solve the problem, Albus, and you know it,” she said.
“Hagrid will do everything in his power,” Dumbledore said simply. “And by doing everything he can, he is doing more than enough.”
He looked at the five students. “I suggest you take a seat, gentlemen. Oh, and lady, too. I think we’d best fill you in- after all, I’m afraid that this directly concerns you.”
James threw himself forcefully onto an empty cot and stared at the professors. “Okay. What do we need to know?”
“I do not-” Dumbledore stopped abruptly at heavy footfalls echoed in the hallway outside.
Hagrid stumped in, looking the way the always did: tall and bulky, with masses of tangled black hair circling his head in a savage halo. He blinked at the small cluster of people looking expectantly at him. “’Ello,” he mumbled. “Sorry ter interrupt. Yeh can get on with the story now, Profess’r.”
“Thank you, Hagrid,” Dumbledore said. “You have the traps placed, I suppose?”
Hagrid nodded. “I got the kid in my hut, too,” he said. “She should be safe, least fer the minute, what with all those extra spells ya put on it.”
“Excellent.” He turned back to the teenagers, who were all staring at them.
“Would someone please,” Sirius said faintly, “tell me what the hell he’s talking about?” He looked from Peter to James to Remus to Lily. “Anyone? Please? Because I don’t...” he stopped for a moment. “No. Wait. It’s that crazy American, isn’t it.”
“And You-Know-Who wants her,” Lily said, paling visibly. Her imagination was clearly going into overdrive. “He’s hunting her down, for some reason, and we’re supposed to protect her?”
James looked over at Lily comfortingly. “Don’t worry, Evans.”
Remus, who had been silent for so long, finally piped up. “That’s crazy,” he said flatly. “Crazy. One, there’s no way we could hold up to You-Know-Who or his stupid followers. We’re sixteen, for Merlin’s sake, and battle is much more than rattling off the spells you learned in a textbook. Second, why would we help her? Because I don’t know about you-” he looked at his friends, and then back at his teachers, “-but I’m really not feeling charitable towards her.”
“He has a point,” Peter remarked, causing everyone to jump. They had forgotten that he was there. “I don’t think she needs our help.”
“Yes, she does,” McGonagall said. “She’s a Muggle.”
Seventh Sense by roisin_dubh
Chapter Notes: Just in case there is any confusion: REMUS IS NOT DEAD.