Chapter Text
When I was thirty-three, there was a knock at my door.
This was considerably unexpected. I lived in a tiny cottage, hidden by the fields of eastern Yorkshire, far from people. It wasn’t as though a neighbour would be dropping by for the proverbial cup of butterbeer.
I drew my wand, putting on a friendly face and preparing to drop whoever had come for me. Taking a breath, I went to the door, and opened it.
It was a damned good thing I ask questions first and hex second. It was Albus Dumbledore on the other side. I never had occasion to go against the man, and if I had, I wouldn’t be standing here today.
“I hope I didn’t startle you, Remus,” he said, calm as anything. He was taller than I am, with his long white beard and hair, over robes that probably cost more than I’ve ever made in a year. He looked like the greatest wizard who ever lived, in short. It helped that I knew he was.
Pocketing my wand, I reached out a hand. “Not at all, sir. What a pleasant surprise.”
Dumbledore shook my hand, that old twinkle in his eye. My eyes have certainly never twinkled, though I’ve had the pleasure of friends who possess that delightful feature. “I wondered if I might have a few minutes of your time.”
I did my best not to let on how staggered I was. I had not seen Dumbledore in twelve years. The last I saw him was after Alice and Frank were in the A&E at St. Mungo’s. The survivors from the Order got together for drinks, and then we scattered back to what would become our everyday lives. He and I exchanged Christmas cards, though. No matter where I ended up, and it was never the same place as the year before, a beautiful card would be on my doorstep when I woke up December 25th. The only one that would be.
I stepped back to let him in. He had to duck his head, just like I did, and when I saw his blue eyes sweep over the place, I felt a rush of shame and frustration. I brushed it off quickly as I could. Some things cannot be helped. Clearing my throat, I put my hands in my pockets and said, nodding to the place, “Apologies for everything.”
Dumbledore went to the small table, taking a seat. The cottage was one room, my bed folded into the corner, my books piled floor to ceiling. “No apologies needed, Remus. If this is what makes you happy.”
It seemed a strange remark from him. In fact, it seemed near insensitive, but I knew that however he meant it, he didn’t mean it like that, so I simply noted it and said, “I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you. I don’t entertain that frequently—”
He pulled a bottle of firewhiskey from inside his robes. “Remus, a guest should always bring his host a bottle.” He even took two crystal tumblers from his pocket, setting them on the table. Nodding towards the other chair, Dumbledore said, “Join me.”
As if he was the host and I the guest, in my own home. I didn’t mind. It had been so long since I spoke to another wizard. Since it was me and someone I considered a friend. I sat across from him and watched as he poured us drinks.
When we both had our glasses, Dumbledore raised his. “To Hogwarts.”
I lifted a brow, but echoed, “To Hogwarts.”
The alcohol was—well, let’s just say it had been a long time since I had anything of that quality. Part of me wanted to gulp the whole thing in one go.
I took a deep breath, cradling the glass in both hands, and asked, “Are you able to stay a little while?”
“I am.”
“Then let’s discuss what it is you want from me first. Afterwards, we can catch up, if that’s a thing you’d like to do.”
Dumbledore paused, then smiled slightly. “A great many witches and wizards need flattery and prevarication before a question can be asked. One of my favourite things about you, Remus, is that you’ve never required either.” He looked over the table, where my papers were set out. “You’ve been teaching.”
“Tutoring,” I said. “Math.”
“And do you like that?”
“My options are rather limited—”
“Do you enjoy it, Remus?”
I thought of my students, my Muggle children who were done school for the summer. I thought of how I missed their moments of minor triumph. “I do,” I answered.
Dumbledore said, “It’s time for you to come home, Remus.” I frowned at him, not comprehending. “I want to offer you a position. Teaching, at Hogwarts.”
To say that I stared for an inordinately long amount of time would be an understatement.
At last, I said, “With all due respect, sir, that is one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had.”
Dumbledore broke out into chuckles. After a moment, he said, “That’s another quality I’ve long admired about you, Remus. You’ve never held me in higher regard than I deserve.”
“I did say ‘with all due respect.’ Hopefully that helped.”
“I have a position that needs filling. And in all the Isles, I could not think of anyone more suited.”
Not seriously considering it for a moment, I asked, “Which position?”
“Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
It was my turn to laugh. I stopped, then looked at him, realized he was serious, and started laughing again. Dumbledore simply waited, sipping his drink.
Coughing to suppress my laughter, I said, “No offense, sir, but that sounds like a terrible joke.”
“Oh no. I assure you, I have a whole arsenal of bad jokes at my disposal. I just learned one about a leprechaun. Would you care to hear it?”
“Perhaps after we’ve settled this—” I looked at him, trying to find a diplomatic word for the situation. When I couldn’t, I gave him an honest one. “Madness.”
He grimaced slightly, placing his glass on the table. Folding his long fingers in his lap, Dumbledore said, “You were one of the brightest students to ever pass through the halls of Hogwarts. I’ve wanted you to return for some time, but very rarely do positions open at the school.”
“That’s not even nearly accurate. Every year you need a new DA professor.”
“Admittedly, that is true, but it doesn’t change the fact that I believe you would be an excellent professor in that particular subject.”
I shook my head. “If you wanted an excellent DA professor, you would have placed Severus in the position. But you care for him. You’re looking for someone disposable, and I fit the bill.”
The disappointment on his face was so great that I nearly took back what I said. Nonetheless, I believed every word, so I simply looked at the floor instead of him.
When Dumbledore spoke, his voice was quiet, and solemn. “I didn’t know that you thought so little of me, Remus. I did worry, however, that you thought so little of yourself.” I could see him slowly twiddling his thumbs. For a long time, he said nothing, and I did not attempt to placate him. “Voldemort is returning.”
I lifted my eyes.
Dumbledore gazed back at me, face placid. As if we were discussing taxes instead of the world’s end. “He will be back, soon. This year? Five years? I cannot say. But he will be back, and yes, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts is cursed. He saw to that. So no, I cannot put Severus into the position, much as he desires it. He will be our spy when Voldemort rises. And yes, I have attempted to put disposable people into the position. It turned out poorly. I thought that perhaps Gilderoy would fail his way into dismissal, but he was very nearly responsible for the death of Harry Potter and two of the Weasley children. And before that—Quirrell. I thought he was disposable as well, and he brought Voldemort back inside Hogwarts’ walls. I brought Voldemort back into Hogwarts. By using people as pawns, I have made very, very dangerous mistakes. Still—the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts must be filled. Now, more than ever, students need to be trained against dark magic. They need to be prepared. There can be no more place holders. I need witches and wizards of the highest order. Even if it’s only for a year. I am asking you, for one year, to come home. It is vital. I am asking you…come home, and teach Harry what he needs to know.”
It was classic Dumbledore. I recognized it for what it was. Truth mixed with flattery and portents. He still gave a good speech. He could still stir the heart. I was affected, of course. Dumbledore could no more tell the straight truth than he could sprout wings, however. I knew him.
“I must decline,” I said.
“Why?”
“Well, once a month, I turn into a creature. And it’s not a pygmy puff.” I shook my head. “Why do you think I’m out here? There’s no one for a day’s walk. I’m not near anyone I could hurt. No, Dumbledore—I put myself near students once, and…much as I appreciate your kindness in letting me do so, I could not return. Not like this. And there is no changing this.”
“There is a way to alleviate it.”
I barked out a laugh. “What, wolfsbane potion? I’m certain you pay your professors well, sir, but not enough to afford that.”
“You would have an endless supply.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I have a potions master who can prepare a batch each full moon. It wouldn’t stop the transformation, no, but your mind would be unchanged. You’d be at no risk of harming anyone. Not even yourself.”
The temptation…oh, he was clever. Dumbledore was so impossibly clever. Of all the things in the world that I could want—this was the oldest of my hurts, though I had collected many others over the years.
“Severus would never agree,” I said.
“He would if instructed.”
“I don’t…” The opportunity to stay myself. To not be that…thing. To keep my mind instead of losing it every 29 days. It was almost unfair—no. It was unfair, to dangle this before me.
“He won’t care for it. But he will do it, if I ask him.” Dumbledore watched me from behind those half moon spectacles, then said, “You would teach Harry. Have you seen him at all?”
I gave it a few seconds, then admitted softly, “Every few years. I went to King’s Cross the first time he went. Hid so Molly wouldn’t see me. Harry gave me a terrible fright. It was like seeing a ghost.”
Dumbledore was offering me so much. I had lived a life in which very little was offered to me. My adult life was one of subsistence, nothing more. Always alone, never staying in one place more than a few months. Slave to a curse I could not control, unable to fulfill whatever potential I might have had. The people I loved most were either dead or…
Gone. He was gone.
Dumbledore was speaking again, but I interrupted him, perhaps the only time I ever did. “I’m afraid I must refuse your offer. This is very kind…and pragmatic. But I must…I must decline.”
He didn’t lose patience, and I knew that I was in for a fight. Or at the least, for him to be very Dumbledore and dig his heels in for a genteel war of attrition. “Was there any place you were ever happier than at Hogwarts?”
“No.”
“And that’s why you don’t want to return,” Dumbledore astutely observed.
“My memories…my memories of Hogwarts are…they are tainted. Except when they’re not. Sometimes, I think of our years there, and it’s…like it should be. I think of the past with the rosiest of glasses, like nothing that came after affects my perception of it. The four of us. It would be nice to think of Hogwarts that way.” I had another sip of firewhiskey, cringing at the bite of it. “What we thought Hogwarts was, it was never real. It wasn’t the start of something. It was a lie, that we would all go on and do great things. James and Peter are dead. Sirius killed them both. I’m the only one of the four still here, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m not doing all that well. It wasn’t a magical time. It’s not a thing I should be nostalgic for. He is a stain on every memory I have of that place. And sometimes he’s not. Memory is…mutable. Perception is subjective. If I went back there…to be honest, I think it would break my heart. And I’ve had more than my share of that.”
Dumbledore leaned forward, his hands between his knees. He tried to catch my eyes, but I kept them firmly on the floor. “It is not a good thing to dwell in the past. Nor is it wise to ignore it. We must balance memory and perception. It informs who we become. It is, in fact, the basis of who we are. It’s not my intention to force you to relive the worst moments of your life. I do that fairly regularly myself, and I’d be quite perturbed to learn that you do the same. There is, however, something to be said for confronting our past. To look it in the eye and see it as it was instead of allowing regret or nostalgia to cloud it.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible.”
“You’re a clever man, Remus. You know that things, people, memories—none of them exist in black and white.”
“You want me to believe that it’s good for me. Going back there and confronting my past. You only want something from me, and I don’t blame you for that. I’m not upset with you for that. But do not act as though it’s for my own good. Much as I owe you. Much as I respect and admire you. Please don’t lie to me. I will go if you tell me to. If you’re asking me to repay the debts that I owe you, I’ll go. Just don’t lie to me.”
Dumbledore reached up with a sigh. Hands still linked together, he scratched at his brows with his thumbs. After he’d had a moment to think, he closed his eyes briefly.
“I am going to tell you something that, so far as I know, has been considered a pernicious rumour for some years. It’s considered such a ridiculous rumour that it’s barely even spoken anymore. But I’ll tell you that this rumour is true, so that maybe you understand I’m not doing this from entirely selfish motives.”
“I didn’t mean—”
He lifted his hands, silencing me. Dumbledore said, “You and I have led very different lives, Remus Lupin, but in some regards, we have similarities that others may not be aware of. We’re half-bloods, which is well known. We excelled at school, also well known. What remains unspoken is that when I was young man, I fell very deeply in love with my best friend.”
I looked at him.
Dumbledore continued, “I keep the secrets of those times in my memories, because I’m ashamed of them. Not because I loved him—to love someone is never a thing to regret. Love is the most important thing there is. I’m ashamed because of what he became. What I overlooked. And I’m ashamed because sometimes I think of those times, and I’m not ashamed. It is all…so very complicated. Over ninety years, and I cannot untwine all the threads of my memories and feelings about it. So I’ve chosen to ignore it. I left all that behind, and another story was told in its place, and I let that story stand because it’s much simpler than the truth. My past, and his past, it remains unexamined. It’s simply an untouched hurt. And that is one of my great regrets. I cannot help but see parallels between you and I.”
I gazed at him, then said, “You have absolutely no scruples, Headmaster.”
He smiled widely at that, but his eyes remained serious. “You are still such a young man. Your life has been more difficult than I would have ever wished for you. But do not be me. I have lived my life alone, for fear of what might happen if I opened my heart again to love. Remus. Come home. Face the past, so that you might prepare for the future. This could be the start of something wonderful. Or it could merely put to rest old ghosts. Either way—though I do have the most selfish of reasons—this will do you more good than you could possibly imagine.”
Because he was Albus Dumbledore, because there was never an argument he could not win, I said yes. Reluctantly, but I said yes. I agreed to return to the place where the Marauders were born. Where I ran the woods with my mates. Where I made the best friends I would ever have.
Where I met Sirius.
And that was the year my memories changed again.
Only my memories always change. Some days it’s hard to remember what’s true and what’s false. I wonder if that happens to everyone.
Or is it only me?