Chapter 14: You Have Moons In Your Eyes
RF's note: a mountain of thank-yous goes to rakina for her wonderful help!
~*~*~
“Class…Class! I should like to have your attention for just a few moments, please.”
The stern voice of professor McGonagall was lost in the DADA classroom full of animated Gryffindors, still rowdy from the winter holidays.
At the back of the room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione conversed quietly, catching up on winter stories. With a pained look on his face, Ron was weaving a horrifying tale about the escape of his pet rat, Scabbers, who had dared to run away and even bit Ron himself.
Harry found himself nodding automatically, as he had already heard the story at least half a dozen times. A corner of his mind noted amusedly that the strength and painfulness of the bite were increasing exponentially with each iteration of the tale.
In the past few days, everything in the Snape household had straightened itself out. Harry heaved a great sigh of relief as he remembered how easily Draco was forgiven and re-accepted by Sev. When he arrived at Severus’ doorstep, he was hugged heartily, soft apologies were murmured, and the matter was forgotten in its entirety.
Now winter break was over, and it was the first day of class.
McGonagall tapped the teacher’s lectern with her wand. “I have an announcement to make.”
Slowly, the students settled down.
“Your previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” she began, “has had a tragic accident while skiing in the mountains this past winter break, and as such…”
“He was probably attacked by a Trihorned Snogglydork,” called out Dean Thomas in perfect imitation of Luna, and the class exploded with laughter.
“And AS SUCH,” the professor’s steely tone grew louder, “the headmaster has hired a new professor to take over his duties. This is he,” she motioned toward a dark corner of the room.
The Gryffindors struggled to discern a form in the shadows, but failed.
“His name is Professor Lupin,” she continued, “and I ask that you treat him with the utmost respect. That is all. Good day.”
Without another word, McGonagall swept out of the room.
For a few moments silence reigned as students strained to catch a glimpse of their new teacher.
Finally, he stepped out of the shadows.
He was a normal man: thin, with golden brown hair and a slightly freckled face. His face was kind, and he exuded the air of a master of his craft.
Everyone let out a sigh of relief, for this was not another Snape.
In the back of the room, however, Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “My god,” he whispered, “who is that man?”
Hermione shot him a look. “Weren’t you paying attention? He’s the new DADA teacher.”
Harry looked back at her calmly. “I didn’t ask what he does,” he said. “I asked who he is.”
Hermione’s mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out.
Harry turned his eyes back to Lupin. “Don’t you see?” he whispered, his body taut with terrified awe. “The pain in that man… The pain, and something more, something raw. He has been broken so many times, his soul screams it, everywhere, and the sound…” He turned his wide eyes on Ron. “The sound… it is not all human.”
Ron swallowed hard. “Uh……nnnnnifty.”
The man spoke quietly, and his voice held a simple power. “Today we’ll be reviewing Protego shields,” said he, “does everybody remember those?”
A wave of attentive nods swept through the class.
“Good. Pair up and practice. I’d like to see how good you are. Throw simple jinxes at each other and use Protego shields to block them. To do this, of course, imagine a wall in front of you, swish and flick and distinctly say Protego. Begin.”
Almost obediently, the class split into pairs. As the number of students was uneven, Harry, Hermione, and Ron remained together. They worked quietly and efficiently, oddly subdued by the atmosphere of the classroom. Harry’s eyes seemed to be glued to Lupin, and he merely chuckled distractedly when Hermione’s jinx caught Ron off guard and made him dance a polka.
Lupin was moving swiftly among the practicing pairs, making a suggestion here, throwing a testing jinx there. There was something inhuman in his movements, too. Finally, he approached the trio.
“Mr. Potter,” he said quietly, “I should like to be your practice partner.”
Shrugging imperceptibly, Harry joined him. Lupin extended his hand in silent greeting, and Harry grasped it, testing the man’s firm grip. His eyes met Lupin’s and delved into him. For a long moment they were still.
Finally Harry looked away. “You have moons in your eyes,” he said quietly.
Visibly stunned, the professor let go. He was about to attempt a reply when-
“Harry, look out!” A shrill feminine voice interrupted them and the two men turned just in time to see a stray jinx flying toward them, a purple cloud of light hurtling through the air.
Without taking time to consider what he was doing, Harry swept the jinx into his hand, quickly curling it into a pulsing ball of light and magic. “Huh…cool,” he said, bouncing the ball from one palm to the other.
Growing bored, he held it out to Lupin. “A wayward leg-locker,” he said. “You want it?”
Only then did Harry realize, from the stunned looks of everyone in the room, that this was not something a normal wizard could do.
In the deafening silence, Ron softly whined. “How does he do that?”
~*~*~
“Class…Class! I should like to have your attention for just a few moments, please.”
The stern voice of professor McGonagall was lost in the DADA classroom full of animated Gryffindors, still rowdy from the winter holidays.
At the back of the room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione conversed quietly, catching up on winter stories. With a pained look on his face, Ron was weaving a horrifying tale about the escape of his pet rat, Scabbers, who had dared to run away and even bit Ron himself.
Harry found himself nodding automatically, as he had already heard the story at least half a dozen times. A corner of his mind noted amusedly that the strength and painfulness of the bite were increasing exponentially with each iteration of the tale.
In the past few days, everything in the Snape household had straightened itself out. Harry heaved a great sigh of relief as he remembered how easily Draco was forgiven and re-accepted by Sev. When he arrived at Severus’ doorstep, he was hugged heartily, soft apologies were murmured, and the matter was forgotten in its entirety.
Now winter break was over, and it was the first day of class.
McGonagall tapped the teacher’s lectern with her wand. “I have an announcement to make.”
Slowly, the students settled down.
“Your previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” she began, “has had a tragic accident while skiing in the mountains this past winter break, and as such…”
“He was probably attacked by a Trihorned Snogglydork,” called out Dean Thomas in perfect imitation of Luna, and the class exploded with laughter.
“And AS SUCH,” the professor’s steely tone grew louder, “the headmaster has hired a new professor to take over his duties. This is he,” she motioned toward a dark corner of the room.
The Gryffindors struggled to discern a form in the shadows, but failed.
“His name is Professor Lupin,” she continued, “and I ask that you treat him with the utmost respect. That is all. Good day.”
Without another word, McGonagall swept out of the room.
For a few moments silence reigned as students strained to catch a glimpse of their new teacher.
Finally, he stepped out of the shadows.
He was a normal man: thin, with golden brown hair and a slightly freckled face. His face was kind, and he exuded the air of a master of his craft.
Everyone let out a sigh of relief, for this was not another Snape.
In the back of the room, however, Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “My god,” he whispered, “who is that man?”
Hermione shot him a look. “Weren’t you paying attention? He’s the new DADA teacher.”
Harry looked back at her calmly. “I didn’t ask what he does,” he said. “I asked who he is.”
Hermione’s mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out.
Harry turned his eyes back to Lupin. “Don’t you see?” he whispered, his body taut with terrified awe. “The pain in that man… The pain, and something more, something raw. He has been broken so many times, his soul screams it, everywhere, and the sound…” He turned his wide eyes on Ron. “The sound… it is not all human.”
Ron swallowed hard. “Uh……nnnnnifty.”
The man spoke quietly, and his voice held a simple power. “Today we’ll be reviewing Protego shields,” said he, “does everybody remember those?”
A wave of attentive nods swept through the class.
“Good. Pair up and practice. I’d like to see how good you are. Throw simple jinxes at each other and use Protego shields to block them. To do this, of course, imagine a wall in front of you, swish and flick and distinctly say Protego. Begin.”
Almost obediently, the class split into pairs. As the number of students was uneven, Harry, Hermione, and Ron remained together. They worked quietly and efficiently, oddly subdued by the atmosphere of the classroom. Harry’s eyes seemed to be glued to Lupin, and he merely chuckled distractedly when Hermione’s jinx caught Ron off guard and made him dance a polka.
Lupin was moving swiftly among the practicing pairs, making a suggestion here, throwing a testing jinx there. There was something inhuman in his movements, too. Finally, he approached the trio.
“Mr. Potter,” he said quietly, “I should like to be your practice partner.”
Shrugging imperceptibly, Harry joined him. Lupin extended his hand in silent greeting, and Harry grasped it, testing the man’s firm grip. His eyes met Lupin’s and delved into him. For a long moment they were still.
Finally Harry looked away. “You have moons in your eyes,” he said quietly.
Visibly stunned, the professor let go. He was about to attempt a reply when-
“Harry, look out!” A shrill feminine voice interrupted them and the two men turned just in time to see a stray jinx flying toward them, a purple cloud of light hurtling through the air.
Without taking time to consider what he was doing, Harry swept the jinx into his hand, quickly curling it into a pulsing ball of light and magic. “Huh…cool,” he said, bouncing the ball from one palm to the other.
Growing bored, he held it out to Lupin. “A wayward leg-locker,” he said. “You want it?”
Only then did Harry realize, from the stunned looks of everyone in the room, that this was not something a normal wizard could do.
In the deafening silence, Ron softly whined. “How does he do that?”