Fanfic Excerpt
Not many people know that I've been working on a secret fanfic (this sounds like the setup for a joke, but it's not. :) ). It's been coming along really well, actually. One of the things that I think I do fairly well is write internal thoughts for characters. One reviewer who really liked something I wrote for Hermione suggested I do a chapter of thoughts by various characters about Harry. It fit into what I was doing, so I decided to write it as an optional chapter. I wrote a passage for Lupin that I thought came out pretty well. Since it stands on its own, I decided to post it here. It's fairly short.
A little background: Lupin showed Harry a Marauder memory in a Pensieve at Harry's birthday party, and they both inherited Sirius's assets. This is unbetaed, by the way, so it could probably use a bit more tweaking.
Remus Lupin knew how cruel life could be.
He was sitting alone in Grimmauld Place, ostensibly reading some reports from members of the Order of the Phoenix, but his mind was not really on his duties. He sighed and got up from his chair.
He began walking around the large, ornate office, looking at the fine inlaid wood of the walls - his walls. Or at least, his walls that he jointly owned with Harry. It was so odd after so many years of poverty to be quite wealthy, and he still couldn’t quite grasp the concept. Of course, the cost of his wealth had been intolerably high.
The party the previous day had been both wonderful and terrible for him. It had been wonderful to share in Harry’s joy. Harry had so few opportunities to know how much people cared about him. It was difficult for Harry to accept after being neglected for so many years.
Lupin knew that he shared a bit of that with Harry. For so many years he had been alone, but since Dumbledore had brought back The Order, he had begun to feel useful again. There was always a steady stream of people to Grimmauld Place, and he was grateful that they seemed to accept that he was a werewolf.
The party had also been terrible for him. Seeing himself with his friends in the Pensieve brought back so many memories of happier, simpler days. They had so many grand plans back then. They would talk for hours about their future and what they wanted to do with their lives, and Sirius and James had even convinced him that he had a future, too.
That was the greatest gift they had given him. A kernel of hope that he could be useful, that being a werewolf didn’t doom him to the life of an outcast. After all, if James and Sirius liked him and accepted him, couldn’t others do the same? Perhaps somehow he could have a career, and love, and a family, and…
And then once a month all his confidence would be wiped out in a single night.
No one could truly understand what it was like. The horrible pain of his limbs extending out, the skin stretching tight. His mind would recede as pure emotion and instinct took over. He became a fully fledged monster.
The worst part of becoming the monster was the freedom. With his mind and morality ripped away, he could do anything he wanted. He held life in his hand - he could give it or take it at his whim. He was powerful. He was connected to nature in the most intimate way - and nature approved of him.
When his mind would begin to return the next morning, he would fight it with all his might. He would scream in frustration that his power was being taken away. And when his mind returned, he would feel the horrible guilt for knowing how good it felt to be powerful.
Knowing he had something to return to, his friends, helped him more than they could ever know. He never told them how good it felt to be the werewolf.
The most optimistic he had ever felt was not long after Hogwarts. His OWL and NEWT scores had been among the highest in the school. He was a respected member of the Order. His friend James was married to a wonderful woman whom accepted Remus without reservation. And then it was all taken away in a short span of time. Voldemort took it all away.
Remus sighed. Taken away, and then given back, and then - taken away again.
He was very glad that Harry had friends who supported him. But his fear on Harry’s behalf ran to the core of his soul. After Sirius had died, Dumbledore had told Remus the prophecy, rightly believing that Sirius had requested that Remus look out for Harry.
Remus felt himself growing emotional. It was almost unimaginable to Remus that anyone could bear the burden of a prophecy that stated they were the only one that could defeat Voldemort. The only mercy in the situation was Harry’s ignorance. Other than Harry’s own personal tragedy, he had no first hand knowledge of just how bad the first war was. There was a very good reason that Harry was as worshipped as he was.
Remus broke down weeping as he thought of the horrors he had seen. He wept not for himself, or even for those who had died. Those tears had long since dried. He wept for the potential horror for Harry that was almost unlimited.
Remus Lupin knew how cruel life could be.
A little background: Lupin showed Harry a Marauder memory in a Pensieve at Harry's birthday party, and they both inherited Sirius's assets. This is unbetaed, by the way, so it could probably use a bit more tweaking.
Remus Lupin knew how cruel life could be.
He was sitting alone in Grimmauld Place, ostensibly reading some reports from members of the Order of the Phoenix, but his mind was not really on his duties. He sighed and got up from his chair.
He began walking around the large, ornate office, looking at the fine inlaid wood of the walls - his walls. Or at least, his walls that he jointly owned with Harry. It was so odd after so many years of poverty to be quite wealthy, and he still couldn’t quite grasp the concept. Of course, the cost of his wealth had been intolerably high.
The party the previous day had been both wonderful and terrible for him. It had been wonderful to share in Harry’s joy. Harry had so few opportunities to know how much people cared about him. It was difficult for Harry to accept after being neglected for so many years.
Lupin knew that he shared a bit of that with Harry. For so many years he had been alone, but since Dumbledore had brought back The Order, he had begun to feel useful again. There was always a steady stream of people to Grimmauld Place, and he was grateful that they seemed to accept that he was a werewolf.
The party had also been terrible for him. Seeing himself with his friends in the Pensieve brought back so many memories of happier, simpler days. They had so many grand plans back then. They would talk for hours about their future and what they wanted to do with their lives, and Sirius and James had even convinced him that he had a future, too.
That was the greatest gift they had given him. A kernel of hope that he could be useful, that being a werewolf didn’t doom him to the life of an outcast. After all, if James and Sirius liked him and accepted him, couldn’t others do the same? Perhaps somehow he could have a career, and love, and a family, and…
And then once a month all his confidence would be wiped out in a single night.
No one could truly understand what it was like. The horrible pain of his limbs extending out, the skin stretching tight. His mind would recede as pure emotion and instinct took over. He became a fully fledged monster.
The worst part of becoming the monster was the freedom. With his mind and morality ripped away, he could do anything he wanted. He held life in his hand - he could give it or take it at his whim. He was powerful. He was connected to nature in the most intimate way - and nature approved of him.
When his mind would begin to return the next morning, he would fight it with all his might. He would scream in frustration that his power was being taken away. And when his mind returned, he would feel the horrible guilt for knowing how good it felt to be powerful.
Knowing he had something to return to, his friends, helped him more than they could ever know. He never told them how good it felt to be the werewolf.
The most optimistic he had ever felt was not long after Hogwarts. His OWL and NEWT scores had been among the highest in the school. He was a respected member of the Order. His friend James was married to a wonderful woman whom accepted Remus without reservation. And then it was all taken away in a short span of time. Voldemort took it all away.
Remus sighed. Taken away, and then given back, and then - taken away again.
He was very glad that Harry had friends who supported him. But his fear on Harry’s behalf ran to the core of his soul. After Sirius had died, Dumbledore had told Remus the prophecy, rightly believing that Sirius had requested that Remus look out for Harry.
Remus felt himself growing emotional. It was almost unimaginable to Remus that anyone could bear the burden of a prophecy that stated they were the only one that could defeat Voldemort. The only mercy in the situation was Harry’s ignorance. Other than Harry’s own personal tragedy, he had no first hand knowledge of just how bad the first war was. There was a very good reason that Harry was as worshipped as he was.
Remus broke down weeping as he thought of the horrors he had seen. He wept not for himself, or even for those who had died. Those tears had long since dried. He wept for the potential horror for Harry that was almost unlimited.
Remus Lupin knew how cruel life could be.