The Wolf and The Raven, Bk 2

Ch 17 - Desires of the Heart

Warning: Underage drinking

The meeting of the resistance force occupied the Marauders' thoughts and conversations for the next few weeks. But eventually, the gravity of the situation began to ebb away. It was like reading a novel in which terrible things were happening, but one could always set the book down and return to a happy life. So, despite the cloud hanging over the rest of the world, the spring term at Hogwarts flowed into some of the happiest days the friends had ever known. Their lives became a comfortable routine of schoolwork, Quidditch, and full moons.

Though their moonlight activities had them missing many of their classes, they continued to glide through with the highest marks in their year. It irked many of the professors who were frustrated by what they thought were lackadaisical attitudes. The element they didn't count on, cliché though it sounded, was teamwork. Each of the Marauders had strengths and weaknesses, but they complemented each other, helping where the others struggled.

On the Quidditch pitch, Branwen was less distracted by her feelings for Remus. It helped that he was in the stands every time, wearing a flashing shirt that read Potters for the Win. With his enthusiastic support and the skill of her teammates, she easily led Gryffindor to wins their next two games.

During full moons, the pain of Remus' transformations never lessened, but the wolf no longer injured him. He was constantly distracted by the Animagi that surrounded him. The animals even began to invent games for their own amusement, including a bizarre form of hide-and-seek in which one of them would hide while the other four "seeked." Wormtail won nearly every time.

In March, James, Remus, and Peter celebrated their sixteenth birthdays with a joint party at the Three Broomsticks. James told Madam Rosmerta to keep the butterbeer flowing and charge it to his father. Keen to please the immensely wealthy Potters, Rosmerta happily obliged.

Sometime during the celebration, Frank produced a mouth-organ and Edgar a guitar. Kingsley worked the piano, and together they jammed some of the best of both Muggle and wizard music. Lily and Marlene (after a few butterbeers) stood on a table and belted out the lyrics to "Turn on the Charm" by the wizarding band, Portkey Passengers. James whistled loudly and tried to jump up with them, but Lily used a Dangling Jinx to yank him into the air where he promptly puked at Peter's feet.

Branwen sat in the back of the room, chatting with Charity and Dorcas (Alice was hanging over Frank's shoulder and Emmeline was grooving on the dance-floor with Sirius). When it got too noisy for Branwen's liking, Remus walked her back to the castle. For his birthday, she had gifted him with some wizarding records for his player. Together they slow danced in the empty dorm to Bella Donna's "Smoking Cinders" before falling asleep in front of the fire.

Hogsmeade weekends were no longer the major events they had been earlier in their lives. Even though James continued to ask Lily, she continued to turn him down. So he went with a few other girls or, more often, joined Remus and Peter for a boys' day. Sirius was never short of dates though, and could typically be seen with a girl on each arm as he strolled the streets of the village.

Dirk Cresswell approached Branwen on Valentine's weekend to ask for a date. He was quickly growing into a handsome man, far from the pale, awkward boy who had pestered her in previous years. His baby fat had melted away, though his cheeks were still dotted with dozens of flattering freckles. She accepted his offer, but clarified (well within earshot of Remus) that she wasn't looking for anything serious. He was graciously excited and treated her to a wonderful time, but, as she had suspected, there was no spark. They remained close friends though, and Branwen especially loved to hear how he was progressing in his study of the Goblin language, Gobbledegook.



There was really only one wrinkle in their enjoyment of life during those few months. In May, before the O.W.L. exams began, the Heads of House called each of their fifth year students into their offices for career counselling. James and Sirius spent little more than five minutes with McGonagall. Their marks were easily high enough to secure careers as Aurors. For Peter, McGonagall suggested a desk job at the Ministry. Or perhaps something with the Owl Post.

But Remus was another matter.

Professor McGonagall, as a rule, kept a tartan-decorated tin of biscuits on her desk for visiting students. It was the very tin that her father had kept in their manse for visiting parishioners. But when Remus Lupin came to visit, the biscuits disappeared and a jar of chocolates took their place. McGonagall arranged her face in what she felt was her most comforting smile when the boy walked through the door. "How are you today, dear?"

Remus, with none of his usual politeness, sunk into the only other chair in the room. He turned his head to stare vacantly out the window onto the empty Quidditch pitch.

"Mr. Lupin," McGonagall shuffled the parchments on her desk, "I am extremely impressed with your marks. All of your professors speak very highly of you. Do you have a career path in mind that you would like to discuss?"

Remus huffed, still staring out the window. "What's the point?"

McGonagall decided to shelve her "soft" side. She slammed a fist on her desk, startling Remus and capturing his attention. "Mr. Lupin! When you are in my presence, or that of any of your elders, you will conduct yourself in a manner becoming a Gryffindor, not like some – some slob! Now sit up straight and answer my questions."

He quickly obeyed, a dark flush creeping up his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Professor."

"That's better," she said. "Now, tell me: do you have a career path you would like to discuss?"

"No ma'am."

"And why not?"

"Because no one will hire someone....someone like me."

"And in order to make such an encompassing statement, I must assume that you have spoken with every employer here in the U.K., both Muggle and wizarding?"

"Well...."

"I didn't think so." She sighed. "Mr. Lupin, you are, without question, one of the most intelligent and hard-working students it has been my pleasure to teach. I understand your concerns about your condition, but you must know that not everyone in the world will be as cruel as you expect them to be." When he didn't respond, she slid a pamphlet across the desk. "Why don't you have a look at this?"

The title of the flyer read: Back to School! Will you be one of the select few destined to mould young minds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

Remus raised a brow. "You want me to be a professor?"

"You have the aptitude for it."

A gentle silence settled on the room. The school's bell rang in the distant and a faint buzz rose from the hundreds of students who had just been released for the day.

"Professor...." Remus' voice wavered, "what are my chances? Do you think....will I be able to live a normal life one day?"

"I think...." McGonagall began slowly, pressing her fingertips together, "that you will have the life you make. There will be those you who will fight you and hate you. But if you want to be happy, you must make it happen. And....." she hesitated. Professor McGonagall had never been one to meddle in the private lives of her students. Still, she was an observant woman and the affection that existed between Remus Lupin and Branwen Potter was difficult to ignore. She continued, "I think that any man would count himself lucky to have friends that support him as yours do. I think he would be especially fortunate to have one particularly devoted friend."

The hand holding the pamphlet trembled. "Professor....I'm....I'm frightened....."

"That's to be expected. In fact, it suggests that what you fear most of all is fear. This very wise, Mr. Lupin."

"If there's a war –"

"I am afraid there is no 'if,' any more. The war we are now engaged in will continue until Lord Voldemort is stopped."

"Then I have to ask again, Professor – what's the point? I may not survive this war, and if I do, I'm still going to have to face prejudice and bigotry. No one will hire me, I have no money. What will I do?" His voice rose in pitch and tremor.

McGonagall sighed once more. She wished more than anything that she could reassure the scared young man in front of her. But he was right. His prospects for life outside of Hogwarts were bleak. Not knowing what else to do, she side-stepped his questions. "I don't pretend to have all the answers, Mr. Lupin. And that is not what this meeting is about. This is only to help you understand what grades will be needed for a future career. I think, in that area, you are more than satisfactorily prepared."

When it became apparent that no further conversation would happen, Remus stood and walked as quickly as he could from the professor's office.



The other Marauders were waiting in their dorm while Remus met with their professor. Their eyes were glued to the Map. They watched as the tiny dot labelled R. Lupin lingered in McGonagall's office. When it finally left, it started meandering through the halls. After a few minutes, it reached the prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor where it hovered for a moment, then entered and came to a stop. They watched it for several more moments, before realising it wasn't coming out anytime soon.

"Someone should go check on him," James whispered.

The boys all turned to look at Branwen.

"The password is 'Ocean Breeze.'" Now everyone turned to Sirius.

"How do you know the password?" Peter asked. "You're not a prefect."

Sirius shrugged. "Amber Pierce told me when we –"

"I don't want to know any more," James stopped him.

Peter nudged Branwen. "I think you should be the one to talk to Moony."

Branwen sighed. She knew that she would be the one they elected and she went willingly, but slowly. She was not looking forward to the conversation awaiting her.


"Ocean breeze."

When the door swung open, Branwen stepped into one of the most magnificent rooms in the entire castle. It was like a marble temple devoted to cleanliness. If she had to guess, she would have thought it a sacred Roman bath, not a student lavatory.

What looked like a large pool took up most of the room, though the dozens of golden taps surrounding the edges told Branwen it was actually a bathtub. Above the pool-tub was a single portrait of a mermaid with golden hair. Her lips turned into a comely pout when she saw Branwen, and she pointed to the last shower stall where a cloud of steam rose above the patter of raining water.

Branwen knocked. "Remus?" When there was no answer, she pointed her wand at the door. "Alohomora."

Spouts from three sides of the enormous cubicle were drizzling warm water over a figure huddled on the floor. Remus was fully dressed. He sat with his knees curled up to his chest, letting the water soak him through.

Branwen approached quietly. When they were toe-to-toe, she gave him a little nudge. His knees splayed open and she knelt between them, twisting around until her back was resting against his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around her body and he sighed, melting into her.

After several long minutes of comfortable silence had slipped by, Branwen glanced down at one of the large hands holding her. It was still gripping the career tract from McGonagall. The ink was running on the soggy parchment, but she could still make out the title.

"So....a professor, huh?"

"Mhm." He mumbled something unintelligible into her shoulder.

She giggled. "Are you trying to speak Gobbledegook like Dirk?"

Remus squeezed her as hard as he could, eliciting a sharp squeak. He breathed a small laugh at her reaction, then muttered, "You know I can't be a professor. I can't be anything."

Branwen wriggled in his grasp so she could face him. He sighed and she saw the weight that lay heavy behind his eyes. "Remus," she pushed back the tawny hair slicked against his brow, "is a professor what you would want to be? If you....I mean, if you had never have been....if you weren't...."

A fierce spark returned to his eyes. "I wish people would stop asking me that! I can't stop being what I am!"

She considered this, then, without speaking, snuggled back into his chest.

He sighed. "Aren't you going to argue with me?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

"Yes."

They held each other under the steaming water until Branwen's head began to droop. Remus turned off the spouts with a wave of his wand, then lifted Branwen to her feet and dried her off. By the time they arrived at the dorm, it was well past curfew and the other boys were sound asleep. Remus and Branwen had missed dinner, so he pulled out the box beneath his bed where he kept only the best of his chocolates and they dined like kings. When they were both satisfied, Branwen crawled into Remus' bed and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

But Remus was restless. He lay on the sofa, tossing and turning, until the early hours of the morning. With his prefect badge pinned to his dressing gown in case anyone should try to stop him, he left the tower to roam the halls. He wandered up and down staircases without paying any attention or looking for anything in particular. He didn't realise he had circled back to the seventh floor until he saw the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Glancing across from the tapestry, he saw a door appear. Then he remembered; this was where the Prewetts had showed them the Room of Requirement. Remus hesitated, then pushed open the small, unassuming door.

The room inside was nothing like the small potions cupboard he had entered last time. This room was possibly the biggest he had ever seen. Taller than any cathedral, it was comparable only to the Great Hall. Unlike the sparse layout of the Hall, though, this room was full of – well, everything.

Books formed towers and archways; furniture, most of it splintered and torn, was strewn into piles like kindling; one corner held nothing but musical instruments, including an enormous harp whose strings strummed off-key when Remus approached. Tucked in every possible space were smaller objects: cracked crystal balls, mismatched tea-sets, loose jewels, and statues of very odd-looking people. Making a final turn, he gasped when he nearly ran into a stuffed troll. Beyond the troll, though, drawing Remus' eye, was something that shone like a beacon through the darkness.

It was the waning moon was reflected through a window into a tall, ornate mirror. At least, it looked like a mirror from a distance. It was certainly a polished glass set in wooden frame, much like any other mirror. But as Remus approached, the moon vanished from its surface. He could make out figures shifting within the frame, like one of the school's enchanted portraits. He drew closer with increasing fear and awe.

When he was finally facing the looking glass, his heart froze within his chest. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he suddenly found it difficult to breath.

He was looking into a small, shabby parlour. The paper on the wall was peeling and the few knick-knacks around the room were chipped and dusty. A woman was leaning over a bassinet in the corner, her long, dark hair hanging in an elegant plait down her back. There was no noise coming from the scene, like a Muggle television on mute. Still, Remus could tell from the woman's gentle swaying that she was singing to the little bundle in the crib. When a pair of tiny hands reached up, fingers stretching, the woman leaned over and lifted him up. The infant's face creased into a chubby smile as he grabbed a fistful of his mother's hair and shoved it into his mouth. Then the mother turned.

It was Branwen.

She was much older. Her figure was fuller and the laugh lines around her face were etched even deeper, but her eyes were just as blue and her smile just as bright as ever.

Remus leaned in. He pressed a hand on the glass, desperate to get to her, but the barrier held firm.

Branwen danced around the room for a moment, laughing along with the baby in her arms. Then she turned to the door of the room, as though hearing a knock. The knob turned and a man entered.

Remus blinked. He was looking at himself.

He was still tall and thin, but now he was wearing the robes of a Hogwarts professor. As he entered, another little figure ran into the room. It was a small girl with her mother's raven black hair. She launched herself into Remus' arms and he threw her in the air before catching her and setting her down with a kiss. Branwen laughed at their antics, then set the babbling baby down and grasped her husband to herself with a long welcoming kiss.

When the reflected Remus and Branwen pulled away, real-Remus saw what made this vision so surprising – he had no scars. Gone were the two gashes across his face that marked him as different. His face was as smooth as that of the infant. He knew that, somehow, in this world – whether it existed or not – Remus Lupin was not a werewolf.

The scene in the mirror never changed. Branwen sang to the baby, Remus entered, the little girl ran in, and the couple kissed. It happened over and over again. Still, Remus stayed, watching until the sun rose.

When the bright spring daylight flooded the room, he managed to pull himself away long enough to eat and attend classes, but throughout the day, he was cross and distracted. In Potions added twice the amount of Porcupine Quills needed for his Draught of Peace, causing an explosion of orange goo, most of which found its way into Severus' hair. Even though his friends hailed him as a hero for his gag on their nemesis, Remus ignored them. Later, when they were asleep that night, he slipped back to the Room of Requirement.

The moon was still receding, and the room grew darker each time he visited. He began preparing for his nightly stays, building up a den of pillows and blankets and stashing away piles of chocolate. After almost a week of these long nights, Remus was a shell of himself. He walked the halls with an unfocused gaze, his mind unravelling. Then, one night, he received a visitor.

"Good evening," Dumbledore stood beside the mirror and smiled.

Remus showed no sign of having heard the Headmaster.

"I see you too have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

Again, Remus said nothing.

"What is it that you see, my boy?"

In a dull voice, Remus described the scene.

"Mhm," Dumbledore paused, considering his words. "You know, the Mirror is neither a predictor of our futures nor a conveyance to our pasts. It is, in fact, a liar. It shows us what we want, but not the reality of those desires. Would you like to see what your life would truly be like had you not encountered Greyback all those years ago?"

His words finally caught Remus' attention. He blinked, then glanced up at the professor and nodded slowly.

Dumbledore reached out and placed a finger to the glass. The idyllic image of marital bliss faded into a cloud of mist. When the fog vanished, Remus was looking at himself once more.

Mirror-Remus was blowing out six candles on a brightly decorated cake. He was surrounded by neighbourhood children who were all running and laughing. Lyall was standing nearby, snapping photos, while Hope bounced a blonde baby girl on her hip.

The scene shifted. He was in Diagon Alley. With the confidence of typical eleven-year old boy, he ran into Sugarplums Sweet Shop, followed by his younger sister. As the door jangled shut behind them, a little dark-haired girl skipped down the empty street toward Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Then it was his second year at school. Along with his room-mates, he was trying out for Gryffindor's Quidditch team. He made Keeper and was surrounded by dozens of adoring female fans....Branwen was not among them.

Days passed in literal blurs, only a flicker appearing in the mirror before flashing forward. Whenever Remus saw himself, he was surrounded by friends and admirers. Branwen appeared only in the background or on the fringes of a group.

Suddenly, it was his seventh year and he was Head Boy. Lily Evans was Head Girl and they walked the halls hand-in-hand, snogging in every dark corner they could find.

When the scene reassembled, he thought it was the same one he had watched for so long. But the parlour wasn't grey and worn; it was filled with nice things including a Muggle television set and a golden wizard-chess board. There was still a woman cradling a baby, but both the mother and the infant had fiery red hair.

Lily (for it could be no one else) looked irritated and tired and the baby in her arms was wailing and kicking. The door opened and Remus walked in. There were no scars, it was true. Unlike the previous scene though, his face was pale and drawn. There were shadows beneath his eyes and grey was advancing into his tawny hair. Remus groaned when a little red-haired boy ran into the room. The boy was crying, holding a broken toy in his hand. Before Remus could do anything about the toy, Lily began shouting at him. He shouted back, then moved to a sideboard where he poured himself a glass of firewhisky.

The real Remus, the one sitting on a cold floor in the middle of a massive storage room, thought that he had seen the end of those haunting images. But the reflection recreated itself yet again.

The room he saw was vaguely familiar, opulent, yet cold. Branwen was standing in the middle of the room, but she looked nothing like the Branwen he knew. She was pale, her complexion almost milk-white against the black dress she wore. Her dark hair was pinned up and had lost all of its shine. The sparkling diamonds on her neck and fingers failed to add any warmth to her appearance.

A man walked into the room. It was Regulus Black. Remus realised he was looking into Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Regulus, like the rest of them, was much older. His hair was longer and pulled back with a black ribbon. He wore a starched tie and stiff black robes. He leaned in and placed a kiss on Branwen's cheek. It was quick and formal, nothing more than an obligatory gesture.

A plump, grey-haired woman entered the room. Remus didn't recognise her, but she was holding a squirming child in her arms. The boy had Branwen's dark hair, but, (Remus felt sick to his stomach), it was Regulus' hair too. The child wriggled in his nurse's arms, reaching grabby hands toward his mother. A smile lit up Branwen's face, and for a moment, she looked absolutely radiant. But her expression faded quickly when Regulus said something sharply to the nurse. With a wicked smile, she carried the boy away.

Remus hugged himself tightly and squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't want to see any more."

Dumbledore removed his hand from the glass. "I'm sorry, Remus. Truly, I am."

Remus stood to go, gathering his things. Before he left, he turned to the Headmaster. "Professor, what is it you see in the Mirror?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I see myself with a lovely treacle tart, enjoying it by the fire with a nice cup of tea. In fact, I believe I shall go make this come true. Good-night, Mr. Lupin."