Chapter Text
Remus checked the note for the fifth time that afternoon, though he knew it by heart now. It was a short note after all.
Remus,
When you feel better, come see me in my office for tea.
Minerva.
The note seemed to transport him to another time - a better time, many years ago. It was an illusion, of course. Back then, Professor McGonagall addressed him as Mr. Lupin and she would never sign any note for him with her first name. And though she was the Head of his House, they were never particularly close - she would deny it, but Minnie McGonagall had always favoured James and…
No, not Minnie. That was a nickname that he had crafted, and Remus refused to think about him, despite the fact that his face was in every newspaper these days.
He felt that sharp longing pain in his chest and wondered if he dared to skip the tea altogether. But he couldn’t, and not only because Remus didn’t have a good reason to justify his absence - there was still on him that respect for Professor McGonagall, as if he was still the fifteen-year-old prefect who couldn’t control his friends and accepted her reprimand in their names.
The halls were empty, for which Remus was grateful. Though the transformation had not been as bad as before, he knew his face was tired and pale; he didn’t want to look too frail even before his first class. It was bad enough he had missed the first week of classes because of the full moon.
He knocked on McGonagall’s office and the door opened. She was sitting on her desk, finishing some paperwork, and Remus smiled to himself; the first week of classes had barely finished and Professor McGonagall had already given homework.
‘Hello, Remus’, she greeted, indicating the chair in front of her desk. ‘I’m glad you came. Just one minute, please, I am finishing these grades’.
‘Hello, Professor McGonagall’, he greeted back, feeling awkward. Somehow sitting in that chair in front of her made him feel young again, instead of the professor he was now.
Well, he had the title, but he hadn’t even given his first class yet.
She paused her work to look at him; there was a familiar stern look on her face as she watched him from over her glasses.
‘We are colleagues now, Remus. I think you should call me Minerva’.
‘Okay, Mi… Minerva’.
It felt weird, especially because she didn’t look any more kind than she was during the years she had been his professor, but she didn’t comment on the way he had stumbled upon her name. Perhaps she was used to that awkwardness; most of the other professors had been her students too.
‘All done now’, Professor - Minerva said at least, laying down her quill. ‘I am sorry to make you wait, these are the essays for my Advanced Transfiguration Class’.
Remus nodded, in silence. James and… well, James had been in that class. He truly loved Transfiguration; it was easy for him like all classes seemed to be, but it was one that he dedicated more of his time, even doing extra work.
No wonder Minerva had adored him. No wonder they had managed to turn into animagus so early… But that was too painful to think about.
‘No problem’, he said easily, ignoring his remembrances and his guilt as always. ‘I guess I will be the one grading homework next week’.
‘When they offer you the job, they never mention how much of your time you will spend on homework’, she said, and before Remus could understand if she was joking with him - James wouldn’t believe it -, she raised. ‘Tea?’
Remus nodded, watching as Minerva prepared the tea for them both. She could do it by magic, he knew, but like him, she preferred to prepare it the old Muggle way; Remus enjoyed waiting for the water to boil - it was good for some reflection.
He wondered what Minerva McGonagall would reflect upon.
‘I was surprised by your invitation’. he admitted when she offered him a cup of tea.
‘I thought we could talk. I know how these last days were… arduous for you’.
Remus blinked, suppressing a grimace. Compared to the last years - losing his friends, living alone, then the news of his escape - transforming into a werewolf was easy.
‘It was not fun’, he said instead, keeping his voice amicably, ‘but Snape’s potion actually helped me’.
He couldn’t help but let a little of his surprise slip in his voice. Remus had had his doubts if Severus Snape would really prepare correctly the Wolfsbane Potion for him - he had once tried very hard to expose Remus’ secret to everyone after all - but it had worked as promised.
Perhaps Minerva could hear clearly his uncertainty, because he swore she was smirking as she sipped her tea.
‘I believe you should call him Severus now’, she noted.
Remus doubted Snape would be glad of this acknowledgement that they were colleagues now but he didn’t say anything. He thought of being on a first-name basis with Severus Snape - James would never forgive him for it. Those two had always hated each other…
‘I hope it doesn’t bother you’, Minerva added, a note of disapproval on her voice that made her sound more like the professor he had years ago. ‘You are all grown men now’.
‘No, of course not’, he said hastily. ‘I never had a particular grudge against Sna… Severus. And I am grateful for the help he is providing. I couldn’t be teaching without that potion’.
‘Good’, she took another sip, seeming to wonder if she should say more. ‘It seems some grudges run in the family, though’.
‘What -’, he blinked, an amused and unstoppable smile coming to his face. ‘Harry doesn’t like him too?’
She looked away, pretending to be busy opening a box of biscuits and offering him one.
‘Severus is a difficult professor, many don’t like him’, she said casually. ‘I believe the Longbottom boy is more afraid of him than of me’.
‘Longbottom… Alice and Frank’s son?’
Minerva nodded, exchanging a painful look at him. Remus remembered how bright Frank and Alice had been, how powerful they were together; and then the news of what happened to them. Sometimes Remus wondered how it would have been if his friends had fallen into that barely alive state; he couldn’t imagine looking in James’ hazel eyes and not seeing anything back.
Perhaps dying was less painful.
‘He is shy. A little bit lost. Sometimes…’, she paused, seeming more unsure than Remus had ever seen her. ‘Sometimes he reminds me of Peter’.
Remus didn’t need to ask what Peter she was talking about. He moved in the chair, feeling suddenly uncomfortable as always happened when someone mentioned his late friends.
‘Perhaps he just needs some guidance’, he said, in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice. ‘More encouragement’.
They weren’t very good to Peter in that sense, Remus knew now, but he could try with Longbottom. It was never too late.
Minerva sighed.
‘It would do him some good’, she agreed, thoughtful.
Remus accepted another biscuit she was offering. Minerva still seemed a little lost in her thoughts, and Remus took a longer time than he needed to finish his biscuit until he gathered the courage he needed to ask her what he really wanted to know.
The question he had been avoiding for years.
‘Minerva? How - how is Harry?’
She watched him, raising her eyebrows, and Remus wondered if she would make it easy for him. She didn’t.
‘He is good in classes. Talented, medium grades, reasonably well-behaved. I think he could be better but he seems to dislike standing out actually’.
‘No, I meant…’, he took a deep breath. ‘How is he, Minerva?’
There was a wistful smile on the corner of her lips.
‘He is good ’, she said softly. ‘You will find him always with his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They are always together, thick as thieves. Loyal to each other to their heart’.
Like James was to you and his Marauder group , he could hear in her voice. Like you were to each other until mistrust and betrayal separated you forever.
‘He is kind, modest actually. A bit naive too. And he seems to have a certain… disregard for rules and a knack for finding himself in trouble’. She paused and Remus knew he was remembering the hundreds of detentions that James had got himself into. He never complained, insisting he was proud of each one. I had a good reason, Professor , James would say, though most of the time was just for the fun of it. James loved to laugh and he loved making others laugh. ‘But his troubles are actually… motivated’.
That is less like James , Remus thought. James enjoyed breaking rules for the pleasure of it.
‘I don’t know if Albus told you about his previous years’.
‘He mentioned’, Remus said curtly, thinking of the stories he heard about Harry and his two encounters with Voldemort. He was too young for such misfortunes.
At least James and Lily were of age before they were facing Voldemort; but then again, Harry had been targeted since he was born. He was no stranger to danger - and now more than ever, if he was really after him…
If he had once betrayed James, who had loved him as a brother, he would surely not care at all for the boy who was his godson...
‘Harry may feel a need to be a hero’, Minerva continued, oblivious to his thoughts. ‘With his background… but he is a good kid’. She paused, sipping her tea before adding, in a voice that Remus thought sounded too heavy: ‘James and Lily… would be proud of him’.
Remus didn’t doubt that for a second. He remembered how James’ eyes would shine madly whenever he would talk about his child and how he seemed happy beyond words when Harry was born; and Lily, beautiful compassionate Lily, would look at Harry with nothing but love in her eyes. James and Lily had cherished their son every day of their lives.
They should have had more time with Harry. Twelve years and Remus still didn’t understand the unfairness of it all - if he could trade places with them he would in a second.
He remembered waking up at the Hogwarts Express and forcing himself to look at Harry, really look at him, instead of at the ghosts he invoked. The boy seemed fine, but he lacked that air that James had, the one that spoke of being loved and well-cared. Harry deserved to have his parents and to have met them.
‘He looks so much like James’, he whispered. ‘But it’s Lily’s eyes staring back at me’.
‘He reminds me of James a lot’, she agreed, a touch of sadness on her voice. Then she forced a smile. ‘Wait until you see him fly. He has his father’s talent’.
‘Chaser?’
‘Seeker. Never lost a game - and last year there was a rogue bludger chasing him around the field’.
‘James would be sad his son isn’t a Chaser’, Remus joked, though he knew he was lying. James would love Harry no matter what.
‘He has been a Seeker since his First Year’, she noted, again with that hidden smirk on her lips. ‘Not even James got his position so early.
‘He would be jealous’, Remus teased again, thinking that above all James would be proud.
My son, Remus, look at him! Seeker on his First Year! Lily - we have to send him the best broom in the world.
He sighed, exchanging another smile with Minerva, one that spoke of lost friends and lost opportunities. Remus supposed it was hard for her too - she had seen James growing up, from that uncorrectable prankster to a nice young man whose heart was in the right place and then to a warrior that died too early.
And she had seen James’ friends losing their ways too.
‘Don’t favour him’, she added, sounding a bit stern again. Remus blinked.
‘I won’t. I know I am his professor only - I won’t get too involved’.
Remus knew he already was, but he could be impartial. More than he was when he was a prefect, anyway.
‘I am glad you are teaching here, Remus’, Minerva said, her voice softer now. ‘Especially… this year’.
Remus didn’t need to ask what she was talking about. It was not coincidence that Dumbledore had gone for him, neither was that he had accepted to leave his isolation.
If he was really after Harry… after everything he had already done…
But this wasn’t a subject that Remus ever discussed with anyone.
He could deal with the grief over losing James and Lily and Peter, he could deal with the loneliness of the last twelve years.
But he couldn’t deal with his betrayal and above all with the question that always haunted him.
Why?
He finished his tea.
‘I should be going, Minerva’, he said, trying to sound pleasant. ‘I still need to finish setting things for my first class tomorrow. Fourth Year. Thank you for the tea’.
She raised one eyebrow, not much convinced, but all Minerva said was: ‘Of course. I wish you good luck’.
‘Thank you, Minerva’.
‘Anytime you need, Remus, my office is open’.
He nodded, though his smile was more restrained now. It was not her fault, but he knew that she wanted answers too, and he couldn’t help her with that. It scared Remus to think that no one would ever understand what had really happened.
He remembered a barking laugh, an aristocratic elegance and a smile that drew people to him. Not of it was revealed in the picture that was exhibited daily in the newspapers. Remus would sometimes look at that photo for long minutes, his heart racing in his chest, each beating sending a familiar pain to his body.
Why, Sirius?, he would ask. There was never any answer.
Remus raised, nodding his head in salute one more time. He was closing the door when Minerva called him again.
‘Remus - James would be happy for you too’.
He closed his eyes for a second; it was easy to imagine the face of James Potter - frozen forever with twenty-years-old -, grinning down at him with the easiest smile Remus had ever seen on anyone’s face, nodding at him in approval. Professor Lupin, huh?, he would say with equal notes of pride and teasing in his voice, always told you could be anything you want, Moony.
‘He would’, he agreed, sighing, and closed the door behind him.