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His first class wasn’t until the second day of term, and so he used the first day for planning his overall curriculum. He decided to focus on things he knew, and that weren’t too volatile a subject to him. This narrowed the field down to mainly dark creatures. Then all that needed to be done was to break down the lessons according to grade level. The older students would need more detailed and practical lessons than the younger students.
His first class happened to be the first year Hufflepuffs. He was glad, as they seemed to be the least threatening of the bunch. The students were all well-behaved, and attentive, and overall it was a good start to the year.
His classes all ran smoothly that day, and even Snape’s poisonous looks at mealtimes did nothing to dampen the happiness he found himself swimming in. Now that he was here with a purpose, and a goal, Lupin found his former fears to be unfounded. He slipped quite easily into the role of Professor. It was a little surprising to him, but he really enjoyed teaching, and being around the students.
His first years were all learning out of the books, and the second-years were observing the behavior of the creatures he captured for his more advanced classes to battle.
He was trying to determine what creature to start his third years on, and he couldn’t quite decide. He hadn’t been able to find a Grindylow yet, and he thought they’d had enough of Cornish Pixies from what he’d been told of their last year. He was on his way to the staff room for a break, when he overheard Filch speaking to Professor McGonagall, about a boggart hiding in the staffroom’s spare robe closet. His step quickened as he realized they were about to open the door and get rid of it.
"Wait, please, Professor." He pleaded "Might I implore you to leave it there for my classes tomorrow?"
Professor McGonagall looked up and hastily dropped her hand. "Well, I don’t know Lupin, boggarts are tricky at times."
Filch practically spluttered, "It’ll mess about and I’ll have to track it down to clean up the messes!"
"I’ll ask Professor Dumbledore of course," He assured them, "and clear everything through him."
"Fine, we’ll leave you to it then." McGonagall said as she bustled away. "Just make sure it leaves those robes as it found them."
Filch glowered at him for a moment before conceding with, "I expect you to keep the tabs on the creature then. I have enough to do around here, you know."
Lupin smiled passively at him "I assure you, Mr. Filch, I will care for the creature until my students are able to rid the castle of it."
Filch looked rather pleased at being so cordially addressed, and he actually almost smiled, though it looked rather like a grimace. He gave one more dark look at the closet and muttered something about the loonies at the school as he skulked out of the room, and right into Peeves, the resident poltergeist, who had been eavesdropping from the doorway.
There were a few shouts and then a lot of explicatives filled the hallway as Filch gave chase toward the entranceway.
Lupin secured the door and went quickly to speak with Dumbledore before starting back for his afternoon classes with the second-years. He’d almost made it back to his room when Peeves swooped down from the ceiling cackling.
"Hello, Peeves." Lupin smiled He remembered the ill-mannered little man from his own days at Hogwarts. Peeves was often rude and James and Sirius used to incorporate him into their plotted jokes against Filch whenever they got the chance. Lupin was never particularly fond of Peeves, but he’d never had a quarrel with him in the past.
"Might you have some chewing gum I could have?" Peeves asked in a syrupy tone.
"I don’t believe that is allowed in the castle Peeves, and anyway, I don’t have any." Lupin replied to his request. Peeves made a face, and started yelling as he retreated down the hall and out of sight.
Lupin was looking forward to his third-year classes, and not just because he’d be teaching Harry for the first time, but also because theirs was the first practical lesson he would be teaching. He knew that their inexperienced spells would probably not finish the boggart off and they’d all have a chance to try.
His morning classes went smoothly and he was in an especially good mood as lunchtime came. He was looking forward to the afternoon with Gryffindor house to top off the day.
He had just stepped into the Great Hall for a nice filling lunch, when Snape swept over to where he’d sat.
"I’d like a word Lupin, if you don’t mind." He scowled.
Lupin got up thinking blandly that if he had minded, Snape would’ve been only too happy to have the opportunity to help him change his mind. However, he said nothing and followed Snape to a small room off the Great Hall. Dumbledore was there and they all sat down at a private table filled with sandwiches and pumpkin juice.
"Is there a problem?" He asked mildly.
"No, Remus, not a problem." Dumbledore replied looking over his half moon spectacles at Snape who was sitting stiffly across the table. "We just need to iron out a schedule for your potion, that’s all."
Lupin hadn’t realized that he was tense until Dumbledore’s words relaxed his fists that had been clenched tightly. Snape made a small noise in his throat as he saw Lupin loosen up in his seat.
"The potion needs to be taken in the week preceding the full moon, the last dose, at least twenty-four hours before." He said "But I need at least three days to prepare it before-hand. This potion doesn’t keep, so we need to know how much you need to take so I can brew the proper amount each month."
"I’m sorry I can’t help you more," Lupin returned "But the potion is more complicated than my abilities allow, and I’ve never used it before. It’s not something you can pick up at the apothecary shop."
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he looked over at Snape. "No doubt our potions master can help you to ascertain the proper amount. We are lucky that his expertise covers this sort of situation."
Snape could find nothing in that compliment to scowl about so he merely said "I’ll make a cauldronful to start with then, and we’ll narrow it down from there." He glanced at Lupin then back to Dumbledore. "In fact, if you will excuse me, I think I’ll get started on it now."
Snape stood suddenly and started to gesture something towards Dumbledore, but stopped halfway, and simply strode from the room, his black robes billowing behind him. Dumbledore took no notice but continued to gaze at Lupin with a touch of a frown resting in the corners of his mouth. Lupin sipped his juice, and glanced nervously from the plate of sandwiches to Dumbledore’s hand which rested on the table, to his own that now lay clenched in his lap.
"Was there something else, Headmaster?" He finally inquired.
"I understand that Professor Snape and yourself have never gotten along, Professor Lupin." Dumbledore said in a somewhat tired tone. "I only wish that you could put these hatreds aside. You should know from your training, that strong and negative emotions, especially hatred, are only detrimental to the bearer."
Lupin nodded faintly not meeting Dumbledore’s eyes.
"I have seen nothing but polite decorum coming from you both, yet I can feel the tension underlying every word you say."
Lupin again said nothing. His mind was whirling furiously. He felt as though he were eleven again, and Dumbledore was talking to him when he’d first attended school. They’d discussed many things during their first talk. But the one thing that stuck out to him, even all these years later, was the talk they’d had on containing emotions. He had never been quite sure then whether or not Dumbledore could read his mind, though he had no doubt now that he was a great Legilimens.
"Werewolves have a unique claim to the world." He’d said "They are the only people who can truly say they were unable to control their emotions."
Lupin knew exactly what he was referring to. The horrific memories of the rage, pain, and pure evil hatred that emanated from his mind every month swam before his small and eleven year old eyes as Dumbledore was talking.
"What we are going to work on, is changing this." He’d stated. "You will learn the control you need, Mr. Lupin, and that in turn, will help you to control your lycanthropy."
Hope had shone from his face at that moment, he knew, maybe too much because Dumbledore finished up with, "There is no cure for your disease, Remus, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t treatments. We will continue to hope for things as yet unseen."
He’d known from the minute that he’d received his letter to Hogwarts that Dumbledore was his hero, if not his savior, but that first talk sealed that fact in his very soul. Here was a man that treated him as a fellow human being. A person, worthy of care, emotion, and worth. Not a dark creature, not an evil to be destroyed. It was a pivotal point in his life, and one he’d treasure during all his trials to come.
Snape had been only one of a dozen bullies in his life. Yet he’d been the most persistent. Not solely because they’d shared seven years at the same school, and not just because he’d befriended James Potter and Sirius Black, who’d seemed to have a radar for both trouble, and Snape. They’d hated him, yes, but in his own way, Lupin had allowed that dislike, that hatred to stir within himself as well and the enmity had been sealed. Snape seemed to see his weaknesses, to pick up on his secret. He’d made Lupin very nervous indeed, far more so than his three persistent friends. When he’d finally confided to them, after they’d told him they’d found out, he knew it was only a matter of time that Snape knew, if he didn’t already.
But Snape didn’t seem to know. He’d continued his taunts and malice, but it was neither heightened towards Lupin, nor filled with the malicious glee of blackmail. Snape didn’t appear to have found out the truth until that fateful night at the Shrieking Shack. The night he’d come closest to killing someone.
He looked at Dumbledore finally. It was that memory that haunted him more than any of Snape’s malice. How could he describe to Dumbledore the feelings he had about that night. The fact that he was going to kill someone, finally kill, had coursed through his veins. His bloodlust had enraged him, filling his vision with a red tinge before he ran eagerly towards the smell of his prey. He briefly recognized James’ scent somewhere in the recesses of his mind, but all he could think about was the lovely taste of warm blood flowing. He never quite knew how the two students had escaped from him, but the only blood he’d feasted on that night had been his own.
When he’d reached the end of the tunnel in a headlong rush, the Womping Willow had smashed him back into the tunnel with such force, that all his front teeth were knocked out, and his nose was broken. His blood flowed freely down his throat, as he licked his snout, and the only thing he could focus on was the disappointment and hatred that coursed through his veins. He’d literally gone mad and bit and scratched himself worse than anytime before. He could barely move when he’d resumed his normal shape, and realized the room was covered in splashes and pools of his blood. But the thing that haunted him most, was the memory of waking, his body consumed in the pain that coursed through it, and thinking, too bad.
Too bad.
He still wasn’t altogether sure what he’d meant by that. And that was the thing that troubled him. He’d always believed that he as an individual was a kind and caring person. A human capable of the best of emotions that humans have to offer. But he couldn’t ever allow himself the anger, rage, and hatred that overcame many. Those were his disease. Those were his taboos. Those were the very enemy.
It was hard. So hard. His body ached with the efforts he put forth sometimes. The rage built up with the waxing of the moon. The bigger and brighter it got, the more agitated he became. The small red spot in the labyrinth of his brain started to burn, and enrage him. He knew this to be the influence of that fateful bite received so long ago. It was hard to fight. He’d hoped with time and training, it would’ve become easier, but it hadn’t. The effort was immense every time.
It was an effort to control in the best of situations. With someone around purposely goading those tender areas. Those sensitive issues….the effort became colossal.
Dumbledore was looking at him shrewdly, yes, but also kindly. He sighed.
"I…"
Several seconds passed.
Snape’s face twisted with anger swam before his eyes. A voice echoed in his ears as though from a great distance… "You should have killed yourself when you were young, Lupin, and saved the world from your savage influence." … "Too bad. Too bad. Too bad."
"I don’t hate Severus Snape." He finally murmured looking down at the table. "Though, I do get the feeling, that is a sentiment he does not share." He moved the goblet of pumpkin juice around to the other side of his golden plate where he absently turned it in his fingers and continued, "There is so much in the world to worry about. So many things that could hurt us. It would be a shame if we were to expend all our energies fighting ourselves."
He paused. Dumbledore sat unmoving, his eyes still on Lupin’s face, a mixture of concern and pride on his face. "Some things just have to slide away. Nothing that anyone does to us should shape our lives. We have to shape ourselves. If we take the negative influences as our tools, it is on our own heads what we become."
A voice resounded again in his ears… "Too bad. Too bad. Too bad."
He suddenly dropped the glass back into place and scooted away from the table. "I need to return to my classroom to prepare my next lesson. Did you need me for anything further?" He kept his polite tone, but he could tell that Dumbledore sensed and maybe understood the abruptness, and the change. But after a searching glance, he gave a quick nod, and Lupin left swiftly.
Once outside the Great Hall, he strode towards his classroom, but swerved into an empty room to fall uneasily into a chair. He wasn’t exactly sure what had just occurred. Had that been a remonstrance, and a call to reform? Or a simple inquiry into how he was handling things?
He had always spent time anguishing about how people perceived him. It was, probably, his greatest weakness. He needed for people to see him, not his disease. In order to separate that, he’d become the kindest person he could. But there were times when other things crept in….. "Too bad. Too bad. Too bad."
Lupin covered his ears and howled silently, his face screwed up in anguish. Shut up! I do not hate Snape! He’s just another narrow minded git! There’s nothing to get excited about here. He opened his eyes, and took a few deep breaths before lowering his hands. He stared blankly at the wall for a few minutes, unthinking, before lowering his head into his hands and letting out a solitary, muffled cry of misery.
How long he might’ve sat there, he wasn’t sure. But something moved. He raised his eyes startled at the sound, and afraid someone had witnessed his distress. No one was around. Relief spread through him as he rose and jerked open the cupboard door to check that it was indeed empty.
Peeves looked out at him, obviously as startled as he was at the confrontation. He was busy chewing what looked like three packs of gum into wads big enough to mess up every desk in the room. His face cracked into an evil grin and he bellowed, "Hello, Looney!"
Lupin was startled at this greeting, and merely stared.
"I heard them talking about you, Looney, they say you’re loopy. Ha ha ha ha!" Peeves whooped grabbing a wad of gum and zooming out into the hallway blowing raspberries at Lupin as he went.
Lupin directed his wand towards the remaining mess and levitated it to the garbage can, wondering vaguely where he’d finally found the gum. Peeves had forced his thoughts away from his guilt and doubt. It was time, he realized. Time for him to teach again. But also time to do more shaping of his life. More work on becoming himself, and not what others saw. Slamming the door shut, he turned and walked out, resolved to take his tools from other things.
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