Chapter 59: Confundus Among Us
The day had been going so well.
Remus had woken at a leisurely pace, quickly deciding that breakfast wasn't worth giving up the girl he had managed to smuggle up into his bed the previous night. There was definitely something to be said for having roommates completely wrapped up in their own lives; not one of them noticed the extra set of shoes outside his curtains. Following two exhilarating yet heavenly hours memorising one another, Remus was certain he could draw the constellation of Hermione's moles and freckles with absolute accuracy, especially if he were creating said work with his tongue.
That had been the morning.
Lunch destroyed his bliss.
What was the old saying? Et in Arcadia ego. Even in paradise, I. The Romans intended it to mean death, but loss was loss regardless of where the person went. Into the ground or into the future, Hermione was leaving.
The letter, that hateful letter, arrived with the rest of the post as the students ate their midday meal. A tawny owl swooped low and dropped the scroll neatly beside Hermione's plate, startling the girl into dropping her sandwich. In the six months she had been attending Hogwarts with them, she had never gotten a letter. Not even one. Her face showed just how concerned she was to be receiving one now.
"Go on," he had prodded her. A stupid thing to do, he now knew. He ought to have torn it to bits, then lit the bits on fire, swept up the ashes and scattered them to the four winds so the contents might never be viewed by human eyes. But he had urged her on, and so she took the paper up, loosed the ribbon and unrolled it. He could tell how grave the news was just by watching her, and then he read the words for himself and saw it was even worse.
"We're leaving," she said as he set the scroll back on the table, her voice mournful.
"Knew that already," he replied with equal despair.
"But now it's official." She slid closer on the bench, pressing herself against him and hugging him tightly. "It won't be the same."
"No, it won't."
Remus glared his anger at the man who had invaded his paradise. Dumbledore. He loved the man, he really did; without him he never would have been accepted at Hogwarts, but a growing part of him despised the man every breath he took for daring to take Hermione from him.
A figure moved to block his view. He didn't need to look past the meticulously polished prefect badge on an obviously puffed chest to know who it was looking down on him. Roger McAlpin, Ravenclaw. Possibly the single most pompous and irritating person to ever have been given authority in the history of the school, and the one person he was always assigned to rounds with on Sunday afternoons.
The boy cleared his throat to be sure his voice would carry. "Would you kindly keep your inappropriate displays of affection for more private locales? We are Prefects." He paused to polish his badge. "We set the tone for the entire school."
"Oi, Roger," James called before Remus could get his own badge revoked. "With a name like yours, I'm really surprised you haven't managed a girlfriend yet." It was an old and worn out joke, but it never failed in getting the boy to flush and bluster in a most entertaining way.
"Funny," the pretentious boy replied, the colour rising up his neck. "If you're quite through being puerile."
The Chaser swooned into Lily's arms. "Oh, the prefect voice! He's Rogered me!"
"Honestly, Lily, I don't see how you can put up with him," the Ravenclaw said, his dry and belittling tone severely dulled by the pink cheeks.
"Oi! Don't you go Rogering my girlfriend!"
Roger flushed further, fighting a stammer as he turned away. "Lup-p-pin, r-rounds."
Now that he knew just how little time was left, Remus was even more reluctant to detach himself from Hermione. He wanted to steal the girl away, lock her in the North Tower and refuse to leave. He wanted to cast the most powerful memory charm he knew on everyone to make them forget the girl ever existed, so he could hide her in his bed for the rest of their lives. He wanted to do all the charming and romantic things people ever did in Old Witches' Tales, but he knew he couldn't. Even if he could physically manage it, Hermione would never have agreed to miss classes.
He sighed and hoisted himself off the bench. "I'll finish as quickly as I can."
"That's not the kind of thing a girl likes to hear," James scolded. He looked earnestly at Hermione and said, "He just likes to hide his light under a bushel. The boy could 'do rounds' for hours and hours. You wouldn't believe the stamina—"
"Enough of that," Lily interrupted before the boy could drag the eyebrow waggling euphemism on. "And since when am I your girlfriend?"
The cheeky grin dropped off his face. "Ah… oh… Wishful thinking?"
"Presumptuous, more like," the girl corrected with a flip of her hair and a barely concealed smile.
Remus was fighting a smile of his own as he watched the pair argue the semantics of their relationship. The title of 'girlfriend' was Lily's and had been for three years at least. All the girl had to do was accept it, something no one thought imaginable before the start of this year and the arrival of Harry and Hermione; the Marauders plotted to help James win the comely redhead for his own, but secretly not one of them believed the girl would have ever changed her opinion of him. They placed bets on each of his attempts to woo her, wagering on how long she would put up with him each time. Considering the hand he had been dealt in life, Remus was never one for believing in fate or destiny, but he really did believe that the Potters' son was meant to come back to help bring his parents together. Why Harry had to drag Hermione along to tear his heart out, though, was the question that would plague Remus for the rest of his unnaturally short life.
Rounds were painful. Admittedly, they always were when Roger McAlpin was involved. What could easily have been a three hours trip around the castle turned into a torturous six, with the boy doling out advice that he likely thought sage to anyone they caught breaking a school rule. Come dinner time, Remus was tempted to break about thirty school rules and a Commandment or two just to be rid of the conceited windbag once and for all.
"Now," McAlpin said, taking the tone of one about to begin a long overdue sermon. "About you and Hermione."
"Say one more word and Filch will be mopping you off the flags," Remus said, hoping he would take the bold-faced hint and shut his stupid, self-righteous gob.
"It's really a matter of decoru—Oi!" The boy wheezed as he fell to the flagstone floor, clutching his stomach.
"I gave you fair warning."
"Deten—"
"Try it and see what happens. You'll beg for the days when all we did was set everyone to giggling about your name." He towered over the boy, letting every ounce of anger flow through him to his eyes, knowing what would happen when he did.
Once, years ago, Sirius had made the mistake of incurring his wrath; brave and foolhardy as he was, even the Beater had pissed himself when Remus's eyes actually turned saffron as the wolf tried to take over. It was a fluke of his condition that he had always feared until today. McAlpin stammered inarticulately and scrambled to distance himself from his fellow prefect. Normally, Remus would have been concerned the boy would use the flash of yellow to decipher the true nature of his monthly illnesses, but now he was just glad to be rid of him. He watched the boy run, feeling the wolf return back to the cage where he kept it and regretting his actions only slightly. McAlpin was a git and deserved all the abuse rained upon him, so even that tiny twinge of guilt did not last long.
Pausing outside the Great Hall, Remus considered the warmth and laughter spilling through the open doors. Sunday supper had begun and his friends were doubtless there with a seat reserved for him. By now the news of the Grangers' coming departure would have spread, and their mood was likely sorrowful from the impending loss. His own disposition would add little to the party he decided, as he turned away to find solace in solitude. He might as well get used to being alone again.
His long, lonely route took him the better part of three hours and carried him through more of the castle than he had visited on his rounds. On the fourth floor, opposite the tapestry of Catherine the Contrary poking trolls in the eye just because she could, he saw a boy pacing and dragging his hands through his long, black hair. From a distance, the boy looked like Sirius, but he was so uncharacteristically agitated Remus knew he must be mistaken.
"Hello?" he said cautiously as he approached. "Is something the matter?"
"It's wrong," the boy said as he turned.
Remus stopped at the sight of him. It was Sirius, but somehow it wasn't. Physically, he was every inch the boy he knew, yet, for all his height and handsome features, was not himself. The spark of brilliance was gone. His grey eyes were dim and eyebrows drawn as if mere act of breathing required too much mental strain.
"What's wrong?"
"The stairs," Sirius said, pointing. "Every time I try, they take me to the wrong floor. I wait and try again, but the floor is still wrong."
Remus studied the boy and the marble staircase to which he was gesturing. "Yes," he replied slowly. "That's not a moving staircase, Sirius. It will always take you to the wrong floor."
"Then how do I get home?" Sirius looked to his friend, his face taking on a guileless innocence he had never before managed to make convincing. Today, it seemed like a look he wore every day of his life. The boy's face contorted as if he were about to cry, and he left down the corridor. Sirius, he knew, was a first-rate actor, always the one chosen to instigate a prank among a crowd for his ability to show no signs of his devious intent, but even he could not have pulled off so drastic a change in his demeanour.
The boy was long gone by the time Remus decided to follow him, disappeared down a secret passage or he had simply taken a route the prefect had not predicted. He elected to wait for him in the common room rather than attempt to track him down through countless corridors and secret passages. If worse came to worse, he could always hunt for him on the Marauder's Map. He hurried the rest of the way to the dorm, basking in the warmth of the fire and students after being alone for so long. Most of Gryffindor had returned to the tower, cramming themselves into to common room, filling every table, chair and cushion available.
Over the unbearably loud chatter, he heard a booming bark of a laugh. Sirius had made it back after all. Following the sound of the boy's indomitable laughter, he found the boy laying across the couch and looking in no way innocent or dim. He looked quite the opposite, actually; his eyes bright and mischievous, speaking of a wicked intelligence and all the villainous ways he might use it.
"Problem, Messer Moony?" he said with a grin.
"Just surprised."
"Understandable. I am full of surprises, as you well know."
"Clearly. I never heard of anyone recovering from a Confundus as quickly as you," Remus agreed as he settled himself down on the hearth rug. "Wish I had a camera. I'd have loved to catch a shot of you trying to make the stationary staircase move to a new floor."
"Confundus?" James questioned.
"Yeah, Confundus," the Animagus said, leaping to his feet. "Snivellus again. Best he could come up with in retaliation for that blue hair prank we pulled ages ago. Out of curiosity, which staircase was that?"
"Fourth floor," Remus replied. "Why?"
The boy gave a bored shrug as he turned toward the portrait hole. "No reason."
"You always have a reason."
"Perhaps I want to go hunt Snivelly down and take my revenge on his feeble attempt at vengeance. He had to be nearby watching me as an idiot and is probably still there reliving his fleeting moment of glory," he offered.
"Too obvious," Remus contradicted. "Try again."
The boy replied with a pair of forked fingers over his shoulder.
"You really think he's after Severus?" Lily questioned, frowning as the boy disappeared through a crush of students.
"No, Sirius likes his pranks elaborate and public," James assured her. "I'm sure he'll get back at him, but not tonight. No idea what he's really playing at, though."
"When did he make it back? The state he was in, I didn't expect him to find the way until midnight."
"Dunno," he frowned. "He was here when we got back from dinner."
It was Remus's turn to frown his confusion as he considered that statement. "Well, that makes no sense."