Homecoming Chapter 1
Series title: Homecoming
Series summary: Shortly after Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban, Remus Lupin returns to Hogwarts and comes to terms with his friend’s guilt. A bittersweet homecoming, Autumn 1993.
Notes: A short and (most likely) irregular series this month due to some impending RL deadlines. Homecoming takes place in the same world as my Wellymuck story Alignments, but you don’t need to have read that to start this.
Warnings: Not AU, but this works against canon in some ways. PG-13 for adult themes and situations.
Chapter 1: Dumbledore's Fool
It took about six weeks for Remus Lupin to realize that he’d played Dumbledore’s fool again.
The whole thing had started in late August, when the letter had found him in a café in Bucharest, just a few days before the start of the new term. I have heard of your work at the Durmstrang Institute and the research you have been conducting on the Dark Arts, Dumbledore had written. You might be interested to know that we have had a last-minute cancellation on the part of one of our faculty, and the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor is unexpectedly open. Please reply immediately if you are interested in filling it.
Of course he had replied; who wouldn’t? His flat was packed in a matter of hours, his landlord alerted, his few friends left with a forwarding address. He arrived in Dumbledore’s office the next morning, wearing his best robes, letters of recommendation and curriculum vitae in hand.
“Very interesting,” Dumbledore said as he read them, his face impassive, his eyes skimming over the text. “You have exceptional qualifications for this post.”
Seated across from him, Remus nodded mutely. It was a more civilized reception than the one he had had at Durmstrang, where the headmaster had asked if he could watch him transform at the next full moon.
Dumbledore set the parchments aside, folded his hands, and looked at Remus.
“You won’t be disturbed by…” Dumbledore paused discreetly. “Echoes of the past?”
This was the closest that Dumbledore had come to addressing Remus as a former student and colleague, someone he had known quite well before Remus left the country. Remus returned his gaze. “I’ve closed that chapter of my life,” he said. “As you can see, I’ve had a full career since then.”
A full minute must have passed before Dumbledore broke the silence in the room. “You’d be prepared to start in…” he reached out and flicked through his calendar with a thin, pale hand. “Three days?”
Remus nodded again. “There are some formalities with the Ministry, of course. The only requirement I have is that I need accommodations for the full moon, and I’d like to limit information about my condition to the staff only. It will make things easier for me.”
“Of course,” Dumbledore murmured, fumbling through the parchments on his desk. “I have a contract for you here somewhere, if you are ready to sign?”
Remus nodded once more and accepted the quill that had been handed to him.
“Welcome, then, Professor Lupin,” Dumbledore said as Remus signed his contract. “I look forward to seeing you on September first.”
“By the way,” he added as Remus rose and turned to leave. “You’ve heard that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban?” He pronounced the name distinctly, as if Remus might not recognize it otherwise.
“Yes,” he said shortly. It was impossible not to know; the news was everywhere these days.
“I thought for the students’ safety it might be good to have someone on the Hogwarts' Express on September first? Someone, perhaps, with a knowledge of the Dark Arts as thorough as yours?”
Remus hadn’t thought anything of the request at the time. “I’d be happy to do that,” he said, and Dumbledore had slowly nodded his approval.
*
Dumbledore had made it seem so simple. The school needed someone with qualifications like his; he needed a job. If he accepted the position, he could teach at Hogwarts. There were accommodations to be made for the full moon and certain excuses to be developed for his students, but everyone was talking about Sirius Black these days, anyway, and no one would be concerned about a mild-mannered Defense Against the Dark Arts professor disappearing for a day or two each month. It was a good job, a position he was lucky to have, and Remus was determined to make it work.
True, there had been whispers and glances among the staff, some awkward silences when he first arrived, but Remus had attributed these to Dumbledore’s last-minute announcement that a werewolf would be taking a post at the school. Dumbledore had told him that the secret would go no further than the staff, and Remus trusted him. Dumbledore had also assured him that there would be no prejudice among the faculty, something Remus knew better than to believe. Remus had taken the promise for what it was, a pledge of support from someone whose support mattered, and hoped for the best.
Snape had glared at him with nothing short of hatred during the welcoming feast, but that was to be expected, Remus supposed. Snape had never shown him any courtesy, and there was no reason to believe that things would change now. On the other hand, Poppy Pomfrey smiled at him shyly when they passed in the corridors, and Hagrid had invited him for tea. Minerva had been genuinely welcoming in her own awkward way.
“You look good, Remus,” she’d said when she first saw him. She had looked at him intensely, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, sizing him up.
He didn’t look good, he knew; he looked thin and ill, and his robes were a disgrace, but he smiled and shrugged anyway.
“Older, if not wiser,” he said simply, and Minerva had smiled in reply, a quick tight smile, but a genuine smile nevertheless.
“That’s good to hear,” she said briskly. “You know if you need something you can always ask.”
He’d accepted her offer, slipping into her office once or twice a week for tea and biscuits and advice on lessons that he didn’t really need. Minerva was strictly professional during these meetings; they didn’t talk about Sirius Black, or about Remus’ own days as a student at Hogwarts, or about his work for the Order, or about the years he had spent away. Apart from Dumbledore, no one else at Hogwarts knew him well enough to ask.
He had wondered if, perhaps, it would feel strange to be back at the school where he had spent much of his childhood, but he was thirty-four years old, and he had now spent more years abroad than he had spent here. If anything, Hogwarts reminded him of Durmstrang, with its endless corridors of children, giggling and pranking and fighting and hexing, growing well-behaved only when the professors drew near.
Classes went well, and the students were friendly and curious and engaged. If the rest of the faculty was a little hesitant, he attributed it to a lingering fear of him, as well as his own quiet ways and his habit of spending his evenings in his classroom, marking essays and preparing for class. He was working too much, he knew, but it was the beginning of the term, and his first time teaching in a few years. He had no time to think and no patience for self-doubt or brooding.
*
Then one night at the beginning of October he was on his way back to his rooms after a late evening in his classroom when he heard footsteps approaching. He was never quite sure why he did this, but instead of announcing himself or lighting his wand, he drew back into the shadows of the dark corridor, flat against the wall, waiting to hear who was there.
He recognized Snape’s sharp step immediately, as well as the low hiss of his voice.
“You can’t believe that his loyalties don’t still lie with Black,” Snape was saying. “You’re placing us all in danger, Dumbledore.”
Dumbledore? Remus pulled further back into the shadows and held his breath.
“Why do you think I invited him to teach here?” a low voice had replied, and Snape stopped short, heels scraping against the stone floor.
“What do you mean?” Snape asked sharply. Remus didn’t dare move, but he squinted into the darkness, trying to make out the two indistinct figures standing nearby.
The taller of the two--Dumbledore, of course--turned in his direction, and Remus could have sworn he saw the glint of Dumbledore’s blue eyes looking directly at him before he turned away.
“He may still be loyal to Black,” Dumbledore said quietly, so quietly Remus could hardly hear him. “But he might prove helpful nevertheless.”
There was a moment of silence, and then the two sets of footsteps continued down the corridor. Remus waited until the echoes of the last steps had died away before he let out his breath and started walking back to his rooms. No one was about, but he looked over his shoulder before he entered, and he locked the door once inside. He pulled his robes off and threw himself down on the bed, his breath still quick and shallow.
Dumbledore doubted his loyalty. No, it was more than that: Dumbledore had hired him because he doubted his loyalty. All his worry about the full moon and guarding the secret of his condition? A distraction from the real issue. All the sidelong glances and hushed conversation? It wasn’t about the lycanthropy, at least not entirely. It was because he was Remus Lupin, one-time friend and confidant of Sirius Black.
He wasn’t here because he had outstanding qualifications. He was here because Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, and Dumbledore wanted to know what both of them were going to do next. It wasn’t enough for Dumbledore that Remus had accepted the job and returned to Britain, or that he had protected Harry and his friends on the train; Dumbledore thought that he might still be loyal to Black.
The words hit with the force of a blow, partly because they were evidence of the low opinion Dumbledore held of him, and partly because something inside of him, something he hadn’t consulted in many years, knew they might be true.
Chapter 2: Owl Post
Series summary: Shortly after Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban, Remus Lupin returns to Hogwarts and comes to terms with his friend’s guilt. A bittersweet homecoming, Autumn 1993.
Notes: A short and (most likely) irregular series this month due to some impending RL deadlines. Homecoming takes place in the same world as my Wellymuck story Alignments, but you don’t need to have read that to start this.
Warnings: Not AU, but this works against canon in some ways. PG-13 for adult themes and situations.
Chapter 1: Dumbledore's Fool
It took about six weeks for Remus Lupin to realize that he’d played Dumbledore’s fool again.
The whole thing had started in late August, when the letter had found him in a café in Bucharest, just a few days before the start of the new term. I have heard of your work at the Durmstrang Institute and the research you have been conducting on the Dark Arts, Dumbledore had written. You might be interested to know that we have had a last-minute cancellation on the part of one of our faculty, and the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor is unexpectedly open. Please reply immediately if you are interested in filling it.
Of course he had replied; who wouldn’t? His flat was packed in a matter of hours, his landlord alerted, his few friends left with a forwarding address. He arrived in Dumbledore’s office the next morning, wearing his best robes, letters of recommendation and curriculum vitae in hand.
“Very interesting,” Dumbledore said as he read them, his face impassive, his eyes skimming over the text. “You have exceptional qualifications for this post.”
Seated across from him, Remus nodded mutely. It was a more civilized reception than the one he had had at Durmstrang, where the headmaster had asked if he could watch him transform at the next full moon.
Dumbledore set the parchments aside, folded his hands, and looked at Remus.
“You won’t be disturbed by…” Dumbledore paused discreetly. “Echoes of the past?”
This was the closest that Dumbledore had come to addressing Remus as a former student and colleague, someone he had known quite well before Remus left the country. Remus returned his gaze. “I’ve closed that chapter of my life,” he said. “As you can see, I’ve had a full career since then.”
A full minute must have passed before Dumbledore broke the silence in the room. “You’d be prepared to start in…” he reached out and flicked through his calendar with a thin, pale hand. “Three days?”
Remus nodded again. “There are some formalities with the Ministry, of course. The only requirement I have is that I need accommodations for the full moon, and I’d like to limit information about my condition to the staff only. It will make things easier for me.”
“Of course,” Dumbledore murmured, fumbling through the parchments on his desk. “I have a contract for you here somewhere, if you are ready to sign?”
Remus nodded once more and accepted the quill that had been handed to him.
“Welcome, then, Professor Lupin,” Dumbledore said as Remus signed his contract. “I look forward to seeing you on September first.”
“By the way,” he added as Remus rose and turned to leave. “You’ve heard that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban?” He pronounced the name distinctly, as if Remus might not recognize it otherwise.
“Yes,” he said shortly. It was impossible not to know; the news was everywhere these days.
“I thought for the students’ safety it might be good to have someone on the Hogwarts' Express on September first? Someone, perhaps, with a knowledge of the Dark Arts as thorough as yours?”
Remus hadn’t thought anything of the request at the time. “I’d be happy to do that,” he said, and Dumbledore had slowly nodded his approval.
*
Dumbledore had made it seem so simple. The school needed someone with qualifications like his; he needed a job. If he accepted the position, he could teach at Hogwarts. There were accommodations to be made for the full moon and certain excuses to be developed for his students, but everyone was talking about Sirius Black these days, anyway, and no one would be concerned about a mild-mannered Defense Against the Dark Arts professor disappearing for a day or two each month. It was a good job, a position he was lucky to have, and Remus was determined to make it work.
True, there had been whispers and glances among the staff, some awkward silences when he first arrived, but Remus had attributed these to Dumbledore’s last-minute announcement that a werewolf would be taking a post at the school. Dumbledore had told him that the secret would go no further than the staff, and Remus trusted him. Dumbledore had also assured him that there would be no prejudice among the faculty, something Remus knew better than to believe. Remus had taken the promise for what it was, a pledge of support from someone whose support mattered, and hoped for the best.
Snape had glared at him with nothing short of hatred during the welcoming feast, but that was to be expected, Remus supposed. Snape had never shown him any courtesy, and there was no reason to believe that things would change now. On the other hand, Poppy Pomfrey smiled at him shyly when they passed in the corridors, and Hagrid had invited him for tea. Minerva had been genuinely welcoming in her own awkward way.
“You look good, Remus,” she’d said when she first saw him. She had looked at him intensely, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, sizing him up.
He didn’t look good, he knew; he looked thin and ill, and his robes were a disgrace, but he smiled and shrugged anyway.
“Older, if not wiser,” he said simply, and Minerva had smiled in reply, a quick tight smile, but a genuine smile nevertheless.
“That’s good to hear,” she said briskly. “You know if you need something you can always ask.”
He’d accepted her offer, slipping into her office once or twice a week for tea and biscuits and advice on lessons that he didn’t really need. Minerva was strictly professional during these meetings; they didn’t talk about Sirius Black, or about Remus’ own days as a student at Hogwarts, or about his work for the Order, or about the years he had spent away. Apart from Dumbledore, no one else at Hogwarts knew him well enough to ask.
He had wondered if, perhaps, it would feel strange to be back at the school where he had spent much of his childhood, but he was thirty-four years old, and he had now spent more years abroad than he had spent here. If anything, Hogwarts reminded him of Durmstrang, with its endless corridors of children, giggling and pranking and fighting and hexing, growing well-behaved only when the professors drew near.
Classes went well, and the students were friendly and curious and engaged. If the rest of the faculty was a little hesitant, he attributed it to a lingering fear of him, as well as his own quiet ways and his habit of spending his evenings in his classroom, marking essays and preparing for class. He was working too much, he knew, but it was the beginning of the term, and his first time teaching in a few years. He had no time to think and no patience for self-doubt or brooding.
*
Then one night at the beginning of October he was on his way back to his rooms after a late evening in his classroom when he heard footsteps approaching. He was never quite sure why he did this, but instead of announcing himself or lighting his wand, he drew back into the shadows of the dark corridor, flat against the wall, waiting to hear who was there.
He recognized Snape’s sharp step immediately, as well as the low hiss of his voice.
“You can’t believe that his loyalties don’t still lie with Black,” Snape was saying. “You’re placing us all in danger, Dumbledore.”
Dumbledore? Remus pulled further back into the shadows and held his breath.
“Why do you think I invited him to teach here?” a low voice had replied, and Snape stopped short, heels scraping against the stone floor.
“What do you mean?” Snape asked sharply. Remus didn’t dare move, but he squinted into the darkness, trying to make out the two indistinct figures standing nearby.
The taller of the two--Dumbledore, of course--turned in his direction, and Remus could have sworn he saw the glint of Dumbledore’s blue eyes looking directly at him before he turned away.
“He may still be loyal to Black,” Dumbledore said quietly, so quietly Remus could hardly hear him. “But he might prove helpful nevertheless.”
There was a moment of silence, and then the two sets of footsteps continued down the corridor. Remus waited until the echoes of the last steps had died away before he let out his breath and started walking back to his rooms. No one was about, but he looked over his shoulder before he entered, and he locked the door once inside. He pulled his robes off and threw himself down on the bed, his breath still quick and shallow.
Dumbledore doubted his loyalty. No, it was more than that: Dumbledore had hired him because he doubted his loyalty. All his worry about the full moon and guarding the secret of his condition? A distraction from the real issue. All the sidelong glances and hushed conversation? It wasn’t about the lycanthropy, at least not entirely. It was because he was Remus Lupin, one-time friend and confidant of Sirius Black.
He wasn’t here because he had outstanding qualifications. He was here because Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, and Dumbledore wanted to know what both of them were going to do next. It wasn’t enough for Dumbledore that Remus had accepted the job and returned to Britain, or that he had protected Harry and his friends on the train; Dumbledore thought that he might still be loyal to Black.
The words hit with the force of a blow, partly because they were evidence of the low opinion Dumbledore held of him, and partly because something inside of him, something he hadn’t consulted in many years, knew they might be true.
Chapter 2: Owl Post