15 July 1993
Longbottom Manor
As the warm afternoon sun shone down on his back, Harry Potter sat alone at a table on the balcony outside his room at Longbottom Manor while going over his daily correspondence (which was unusually heavy for a boy not yet thirteen). At the moment, he was reading the letter from his twin brother that had just arrived from India, and he suppressed a twinge of jealousy that Jim Potter of all people would be receiving specialized instruction into how to incorporate Parseltongue into spellcasting. Of course, once Harry was the Prince of Slytherin, he would have access to the largest treasure trove of Parseltongue lore in the world, but it still chafed that Jim would come back from India knowing more about their mutual gift than he. The boy shook his head as he shrugged off the negative emotions. He had business to attend to here in Britain that took precedence over both Parseltongue and sibling rivalry. Besides, from the tone of Jim's letters, had Harry gone to India as well, he would be spending as much time embroiled in interpersonal drama as he would be learning new magic.
From the nearby swimming pool, Harry heard a soft splash as Neville dove in for yet another set of laps. The young Slytherin glanced down at his friend and watched as he tore furiously through the water. Neville had been in a right state ever since Hermione's letters arrived from Italy the day before. The girl seemed quite eager to set up a "support group" for Theo Nott, a prospect which baffled Harry and enraged Neville. Not even several hours spent wrestling with a Venomous Tentacula had cooled his fury, so the boy had spent most of the afternoon engaged in disturbingly vigorous swimming. After at least fifty laps so far, he showed no signs of slowing down.
Harry had quietly broached the topic of Neville's extreme reaction to Theo's Ultimate Sanction with Lady Augusta. Aside from the obvious effects the spell seemed to have on Neville's mental health, it seemed increasingly likely that Neville's attitude might complicate their mutual plans for the summer. Augusta nodded and said that she was "considering options."
Earlier...
"I must say, Lady Augusta, that you seem to be handling the effects of the Ultimate Sanction rather well," Harry had said. "If it's not rude for me to ask, are you an Occlumens?"
"As I have stated, Harry," she replied imperiously. "I disapprove of the studying of Occlumency both due to its social stigma and attendant risk of mental impairment."
"So you have, Lady Augusta. And if I may say so, the way you just dodged my question was worthy of a Slytherin."
The dowager turned to Harry and lifted her chin. "Thank you, Harry. The Sorting Hat did offer it as my second choice, after all."
Now ...
Harry smiled at the memory as he continued to read Jim's letter. The Slytherin in him kept looking for subtext or hidden messages, and he was continually annoyed to not find any, but his inner Gryffindor found Jim's hopelessly direct writing style to be almost refreshing considering how many letters he'd exchanged with other Slytherins so far this summer.
"Speaking of which," Harry thought to himself as he set aside his twin's letter and pulled a fresh sheet of parchment and an Everfull Quill from his bag. After mentally composing his message, he set to writing.
To My Good Friend Marcus Flint –
When last we spoke, you reminded me of your intention to return to Hogwarts for an eighth year to finish NEWTS level instruction in Transfiguration, but you were concerned about the expense. I have previously assured you that I would do everything I could to help you fulfill your academic goals, and I am happy to tell you that my efforts have borne fruit. If you would do me the courtesy of coming via Floo to Longbottom Manor on the afternoon of July 24 th at around two o'clock, I would be delighted to introduce you to several friends who have need of a young man possessed of your particular skills and who are prepared to pay you enough to cover your expenses for the coming school year. Trust me when I say that the job they will be offering is one for which you are particularly suited and also one of great importance to the public welfare.
I look forward to your response.
Your friend – Harry
3 July 1993
Shamballa
(about two weeks earlier)
A few hours after completing Jim Potter's initial examination, Healer Baskar introduced the Boy-Who-Lived to his trainer for his initiation into the mystical Four-Fold Path of Enlightenment – Padma Patil! Baskar and his niece explained that she had started training since she was a little girl, though she had perhaps not been as diligent as most of the initiates, particularly so after starting Hogwarts. Nevertheless, she was fully qualified to introduce Jim to the basic concepts, and Baskar thought Jim would be more comfortable taking such instruction from someone he knew than a stranger. Padma would spend the afternoon and part of the next day teaching Jim the basic relaxation katas which were designed to promote mental healing. Then, she and they would join one of the classes at the Temple of Wisdom along with a room full of acolytes who were studying a series of movements which would replicate the most basic levels of Occlumency. In the meantime, Healer Baskar would consider the best approach for allowing Jim to conceal his personal thoughts from Legilimency (a skill far beyond the beginning levels of the Path). Jim inquired after Ron, but the healer somewhat evasively said that the other boy would require some additional healing of a less physical nature but that he would be joining them in a few days.
Padma showed Jim to a locker room where he changed into the clothing provided: a yellow martial arts uniform similar to a gi or a dobok but with a small magically-reinforced pocket for holding a wand securely without any chance of it breaking. When he came out of the locker room, Padma was waiting for him in an identical outfit except that hers had two patches, one green and one blue, sewn onto the sleeve. He asked about them.
"Oh those?" she replied. "We don't change belt colors as we advance the way Muggle martial artists do. We just transfigure our patches. This one identifies me as a ninth-step acolyte of the Path of Water and a twelfth-step acolyte of the Path of Air."
Jim whistled. "Impressive."
Padma chuckled softly. "Not really. There are 433 steps on each of the four Paths. I started when I was seven, which is actually kind of old to begin training, and I didn't really take it as seriously as I should have. I mainly focused on Mayavani mudras that would help me in my future education. Water to improve memory and keep me calm under stress. Air to improve my intuition and analytical skills."
"Do they really help with that?"
"I'm third in our class, Jim," she said with a mischievous smile. "Draw your own conclusions."
As the two talked, Padma led Jim down a corridor to a 30x30 exercise room with mirrors covering every wall and thickly padded floors. In one corner was a brass sitar mounted on a stand. Padma stroked the sitar's strings gently and said "Water Style. First Degree. Peace and Relaxation." Immediately, the sitar started playing a gentle relaxing tune, and Jim was surprised to hear the soft sounds of waves lapping against a shore, sounds that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.
"Right, listen up, Jim Potter. Because this will be simultaneously one of the easiest and one of the hardest things you've ever had to do." Padma paused. "Mentally, that is – I'm sure it's not nearly as hard as killing a Basilisk or any of that fash. First of all, just stand still with your eyes closed and listen to the music while you think about being relaxed and at peace with yourself. Let yourself sway in time with the music if you're into that. Then, when you're ready, open your eyes and just start to move. I'll be doing the same kata beside you, and you can see us both in the mirror. Use my movements as a rough guide but you don't have to mirror me perfectly. The easy part is that you don't have to do anything yourself. Just let magic and intent guide your body. The hard part is that what I just told you to do defies everything your Taekwando teachers ever told you about executing your forms perfectly, as well as everything that you as a Gryffindor understand about ... well, about being a Gryffindor, I suppose.
Jim's forehead furrowed a bit at that last comment, but he nodded and closed his eyes for a good fifteen seconds to focus on the gentle music. Then, he opened them to see his and Padma's reflections in the mirror in front of them. Padma was already moving in time with music, her movements graceful and sinuous. In fact, Jim thought they were quite ... serpentine.
"So, um, are you actually going to teach me the moves?" he asked.
"No," the witch replied placidly. "You're going to decide that you want to feel peaceful and relaxed, and then you'll simply move. Magic will do the rest, guiding your movements as necessary ... if you can get your ego out of the way long enough."
Jim made a face. "My ego isn't that big."
She laughed. "I didn't say it was. Everyone has an ego, a sense of self-importance that stops you from letting your Magic simply lead you along the Path to where you want to go. Stop thinking so hard and just ... be."
Jim fought the urge to roll his eyes and instead started copying Padma's movements while trying to keep his head clear. It wasn't easy. Jim had come to understand what Healer Baskar had meant by his "fiery Gryffindor nature." It seemed like no matter how hard he tried to clear his mind, his thoughts were always churning and racing. Nevertheless, after about five minutes of trying to follow Padma's flowing movements, it felt like his mind was finally slowing down and his breathing was more relaxed. He also noticed to his surprise that even though he didn't actually know the movements for this kata, he was now somehow performing it perfectly in sync with his tutor even though there seemed to be no rhyme or pattern to the movements.
"I think I'm getting the hang of this," he said.
"This is the most basic pattern of Water Style, but yes, you are coming along very nicely for your first lesson."
He chuckled. "Maybe I'll be some kind of martial arts prodigy."
"And there's that Gryffindor ego. Allow me to puncture it by noting that four-year-olds pick up this technique after a few hours."
Jim blushed slightly. He was silent for another moment before speaking again. "Does this style have any, um, combat applications?"
"All of the styles do according to their nature. Water style is a passive style that focuses on dodging and redirecting attacks."
"Like Judo or Aikido?"
"I'll take your word for it. I know very little about Muggle martial arts."
He nodded and was silent for a few more minutes.
"So do you know how to fight?"
"I can defend myself," she said primly as she raised her arm gracefully over her head and then brought it back down like a wave slowly crashing against a shoreline. "Somewhere around the eighteenth or nineteenth step on the Water Path, I should learn how to do nerve strikes that paralyze my opponents, but I can already cast Petrificus Totalus with a wand, so it's not really a priority."
"After we get to a stopping point, can you show me some moves?" he said with poor attempt at being casual.
Padma sighed loudly before turning to face Jim. "Fine. We'll get this out of the way now since you obviously won't stop thinking about it until we do." She stepped back and assumed a relaxed (looking) martial arts pose. "Hit me," she said.
Jim stopped his own movements and studied the girl before looking around somewhat nervously. In the background, the enchanted sitar continued to play. "Seriously?"
She nodded. "Come on then, Mighty Gryffindor. Show me what Taekwando can do!"
The boy shrugged and assumed a fighting pose. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet for a few seconds while Padma waited calmly. Then, he lashed out with a kick to the girl's leg, though one without much force. To his surprise, Padma leaned to the side, casually dodging his kick and the next three that followed it without the slightest apparent effort. Now a bit frustrated, Jim attacked with his best roundhouse kick. This time, Padma didn't dodge but instead caught Jim's leg with her hands. Surprisingly though, she seemed to exert no force in blocking his kick. Instead, she simply placed her hands in the path of Jim's leg and then twisted them slightly. Instantly, the momentum that Jim had put into the kick changed its direction, and Jim was shocked when his whole body twisted around before he was dumped face first onto the padded floor. Instantly, he whirled around in surprise.
"How did you...?" he exclaimed. "I didn't even feel you grab my leg."
"I didn't grab your leg. I redirected the motion of your attack with a water mudra. Water style is about moving around attacks and redirecting them into other directions, much like water finding its way past obstacles."
Jim absorbed that explanation as he climbed to his feet. "So can you use it for direct attacks?"
"Not yet. Well, not with Water style, yet. I'm further along with Air style."
He smiled almost mischievously. "Show me?"
Padma rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Gryffindors," she sighed. Then, in a swift movement, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and then uncrossed them so that they were stretched out like a bird's wings. And like a bird, she was suddenly airborne nearly four feet off the ground with her legs tucked up under her and nearly even with Jim's head. In a flash, she struck with a mighty kick that hit Jim right in the solar plexus and sent him flying twenty feet across the room. He landed roughly and coughed a few times before looking up towards Padma in shock.
"Okay, -cough- I probably deserved that, but wasn't that bit of overkill? I mean, you could have really hurt me with that!" Then, he paused in confusion and felt his chest where Padma's kick had struck. It didn't even feel sore. "You should have really hurt me with that! How did you not hurt me even though you kicked me the length of a room?!"
Padma chuckled as she walked over. "Jim, if you want to study magical martial arts, you will first have to accept the fact that they are magical. Muggle martial arts are governed by physics and biology. Magical martial arts are governed by intent. I had no desire to hurt you, and so my kick didn't hurt you even though it did knock you across the room. In fact, to be honest, at my current step on the Path of Air, I don't think I can form the intent to harm needed to truly injure someone with just an attack. I mean, if you were at the edge of a cliff or at the top of a tall staircase, you might get hurt or even killed if I knocked you over, but I literally can't cause direct bodily harm with any of my current techniques. If I push myself this summer, then maybe I'll be high enough to intentionally injure someone with an Air attack, assuming for some silly reason I was inclined to do so. We'll see."
As she reached down to help the boy up, his face thoughtful as he considered her words.
"Now then," Padma said. "Can we please get back to the stuff you're supposed to be studying? I promised Uncle Gupta that I'd have you ready for an actual class by tomorrow afternoon."
"You really think I'll be ready to practice in front of a group by tomorrow?" Jim asked in surprise.
"Not only ready," she answered with a smirk. "You'll be head and shoulders above the rest."
4 July 1993
As he surveyed the classroom, Jim resisted the temptation to stick his tongue out at Padma. He was indeed head and shoulders above the rest of the class ... as every other student was somewhere between the ages of 5 and 7. There were about forty pint-sized martial artists in the room, all of them already performing the relaxation kata in perfect unison. And based on his embarrassing "fight" with Padma the previous day, he figured half of the little sprogs could probably beat the stuffing out of him.
In the front of the classroom, Jim saw the tall muscular monk he'd briefly encountered the day before and who was now leading the group in their exercises. The one who looked like a bald-headed European who'd been in way too many knife fights judging by the scars on his exposed arms. "Brother Chandra" (if Jim remembered the man's name properly) glanced over at the two and practically grimaced. He immediately stopped his kata, and as one, the young students snapped to attention.
"Students," he said with only a hint of harshness in his voice, "we are honored with a special guest today – Jim Potter, who is known around the world as the famous 'Boy-Who-Lived!' Please afford him every courtesy."
The children in the class, none of whom seemed to have any idea who Jim was, turned towards him and bowed in unison. Jim returned the bow clumsily and then turned back towards Brother Chandra who once again seemed to regard him with barely concealed dislike. Inexplicably, Jim had a flashback to his first day of Potions with Snape, and he desperately hoped today didn't turn into as big a fiasco.
"You and Padma may take a spot all the way in the back, Mr. Potter," Chandra said. "We wouldn't want you block the younger students' view, after all."
Jim nodded and allowed Padma to lead him to the back of the room. He noticed that even Padma was surprised by Brother Chandra's attitude.
"I get the feeling he doesn't like you, Jim," the girl whispered. "It's very strange. I've studied under him since I was a little girl, and he's always been very kind, especially with new students."
"How long has he been here?" Jim asked quietly.
The girl thought. "He started training me when I was about seven, and I think he said he'd been here for about four or five years at that point. He was from Britain originally. He must have come here after the war."
As the two took their positions and joined in the group kata, Jim studied the instructor as best he was able, with particular emphasis on the man's forearms. They were bare and free of tattoos, but that didn't necessarily prove anything. As far as Jim knew, there was only one sort of person who might have fled Britain in 1982 and who would hate the Boy-Who-Lived on sight.
A Death Eater.
6 July 1993
Death Eater or no, Brother Chandra took no harmful actions against Jim beyond constant sullen glares. It was a somewhat surprising attitude given the man's otherwise sterling reputation within the Temple. According to Padma, Chandra had mastered the 99th Step along the Path of Water, and he was nearly as high in the other three paths, a meteoric rise for someone who didn't start until his twenties. Even more surprising, Chandra had chosen to pursue all four paths in harmony instead of just one. Had he specialized, Chandra would likely be much higher ranked and have a much more influential position within the Temple of Wisdom. Regardless, the man should be the equivalent of a Level 3 Occlumens, and for him to show so much obvious anger told Jim that Chandra either didn't care about letting the boy know how much the man disliked him ... or Chandra's anger at Jim was so great that he was literally unable to Occlude it away.
On the morning of the 6th, Ron finally joined Jim and Padma in training. The other boy had spent most of the last two days in private sessions with Healer Baskar, and he was still reluctant to share too much with Jim, who elected not to push. If nothing else, Ron seemed calmer and more at peace than when they'd left Great Britain.
The two boys spent about three hours a day on Water Style. That was the only time they ever saw Padma, who was otherwise engaged in private martial arts lessons. The rest of the time, Jim and Ron spent on Parseltongue lessons, both learning more about their rare ability and, to their mutual surprise, teaching the ability to others. As Healer Gupta explained, a non-Parselmouth could actually "learn" the language by rote-memorizing a set number of Parseltongue phrases. After learning how to "pronounce" (i.e. accurately hiss) enough phrases flawlessly, the student would "harmonize" with the inherent magic of the language and thereafter be able to understand the whole language intuitively. Unfortunately, the process wasn't as easy as it sounded. First, the number of phrases that would need to be memorized ranged from several hundred to over a thousand depending on the individual learner's innate facility with magical languages. Second, the pronunciation had to be perfect which was incredibly difficult for human beings not inherently able to detect the subtle variations in snake hisses. Finally, and most problematically, Parseltongue triggered an automatic fear response in most people who didn't speak it, and according to Gupta, most students who tried to learn the language had breakdowns and gave up before properly mastering even a hundred phrases.
To hopefully improve Gupta's teaching methods, the boys were asked to spend several hours a day speaking various English sentences followed by their Parseltongue equivalents while in front of the glass globes that were used in Shamballa for recording purposes. Gupta himself had generated several hours worth of Parseltongue globes for students to listen to, but he theorized that the circumstances by which Ron and Jim had learned the language might make it "purer" than his self-taught version and thus easier for aspiring Parselmouths to master.
Last but certainly not least, the two boys spent several hours every day with Gupta himself learning what he called "Parselmagic."
"I should say that Parselmagic is not an officially recognized term, my friends," he had explained during the first session. "It's an neologism I came up with to describe the effects of saying conventional Western magical incantations in Parseltongue. Most of the time, there's no discernible difference in the effects, but some spells are more powerful when cast with Parseltongue, and a few spells are much more powerful when cast with Parseltongue. There is an anecdotal evidence of past Parselmouths casting in this way, most notably the Dark Lord from whom you two acquired your own abilities. However, as an organized field of analytical study, this is all quite new and, well, I'm apparently the only one who's studying it. Frankly, I am delighted to have other Parselmouths who can confirm my findings."
Thus far, those findings were somewhat sparse. The most important was that the more S's there were in the incantation, the more of a boost it got from being spoken in Parseltongue. By an interesting coincidence, this included a large number of both healing spells and damaging curses. Both Ron and Jim noted that it felt uncomfortable and strange to cast in Parseltongue, but Jim did notice that his Expelliarmus was more powerful when hissed. Unfortunately, that hiss added onto the end word ("EXPELLIARMUSSSSS!") significantly increased the casting time to the point that Jim thought it would be less useful in a duel than casting the spell normally despite the more potent effects from a successful Parselmagic hit.
7 July 1993
Healer Baskar's Office
The next day, Jim was called to a meeting with Gupta Baskar while Ron and Padma trained together without him.
"Good afternoon, Jim," Baskar said cheerfully as he gestured for Jim to take a seat. "I've called you in because I wanted to talk to you about your Occlumency situation. First of all, how do you feel about your Water style progress?"
Jim thought about the question. "I feel more ... relaxed, which is good I guess. I'm not sure that it's translated into better Occlumency shields."
"No, I imagine it hasn't. As we discussed during your initial interview, you have an extremely powerful Fire nature which resists Water style mental conditioning. I do want you to continue studying Water style for its mental health benefits, but I don't think it's going to help you develop psychic shields in the near future. And just to clarify, your primary goal is simply to be able block Legilimency, correct? To conceal secrets you consider too dangerous to know?"
Jim nodded.
"Well, then. I think it's time we considered alternative approaches. If you don't mind, we'll start with the simplest one first." Baskar paused. "I apologize. This might be a bit ... painful."
Jim hardly had time to respond before he felt a powerful Legilimency attack burning into his mind. For just a few seconds, he was back in the Chamber of Secrets, dying in agony from the Basilisk's bite. Then, it was over and he was slumped back in his chair as the Healer stood over him holding out a Headache Potion.
"What the hell was that?!" Jim exclaimed.
"A waste of time, I'm afraid. A small percentage of wizards can quickly develop an automagical defense to Legilimency when exposed to intentionally painful psychic assaults. For the rest of us, it just ... hurts. You are not part of that fortunate minority, but I thought it best to eliminate the possibility before moving on to the more ... complicated approach." With that, Baskar pulled out his wand and summoned his Patronus, which manifested as a silver mongoose.
"Please go to Brother Chandra and to Lily Potter and ask them both to come to my office as soon as possible." The mongoose nodded and twitched his nose before disappearing in a flash of light.
"Why do you need my Mum here?" Jim asked. "Not to mention the guy who may be a Death Eater," he thought to himself nervously.
"Because the only other shortcut to viable mental defenses I know of is one that I would not wish you to pursue without discussing the matter with your parents. As you are a minor, it would be improper for me to proceed without their consent. Tell me, Jim, what do you know about ... animagi?"
The boy stared in confusion. "Um, not much. I know a animagus is a wizard or witch who can transform into an animal without using a spell. My Transfiguration Professor back at Hogwarts is a cat animagus."
"Really?!" Baskar perked up in surprise. "How fascinating! I should like to interview her some day to see how cat psychology has affected her human personality!"
"Uh-huh," said Jim, who was distracted by the Healer's sudden excitement. "But in the meantime, what does being an animagus have to do with Occlumency?"
"Nothing," Baskar replied. "It is completely unrelated to that power. But it can provide a useful substitute. During the early phases of learning an animagus form, the wizard develops a dual-process mind. He simultaneously thinks as both a human and an animal. This provides a powerful defense against Legilimency, as the wizard can simply choose to think with his animal-mind which the human Legilimens cannot comprehend."
Jim's eyes widened in surprise. Then, he frowned in confusion. "But I thought it took a long time to become an animagus."
"Well, as I said, you don't actually need to master the skill in order to block a Legilimens. But regardless, as it happens, we are pleased to have something of an expert on the topic here at the Temple of Wisdom, one who has successfully taught a number of wizards and witches to completely master the change much more quickly than through traditional approaches."
"Brother Chandra," Jim said with a frown.
"Indeed." Baskar paused at Jim's expression. "Is there a problem between you and Brother Chandra?"
Before Jim could respond, there was a knock at the door, and then at Baskar's invitation, Brother Chandra came in, pausing only for a brief instant when he saw Jim.
"You wished to see me, Healer Baskar?" the man said coolly.
"Why yes, Chandra. I gather you've already met young Mr. Potter if only in passing. We're awaiting the boy's mother now. If she approves, I would like to ask you to take Mr. Potter on as a animagus student."
At that, Chandra looked back and forth between the Healer and the Boy-Who-Lived for an uncomfortably long time.
"No," he finally said.
"Excuse me, Brother Chandra?" Baskar asked in confusion.
"I said no, Healer Baskar. I will not train Jim Potter to become an animagus. If it is, for some unfathomable reason, necessary for his treatment to learn that skill, I will be happy to recommend former students of mine who have completed the transformation. But I will not teach this boy."
With that, Chandra turned back towards the door, while Jim shot out of his chair, uncertain as to whether he should be insulted or relieved.
"May I ask why?" Baskar persisted.
"You may ask, Healer, but I have no desire to tell. My reasons are my own." Then, Chandra yanked the door open somewhat angrily only to step back in surprise when he found Lily Potter on the other side.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Lily said, equally startled. She stepped past the monk into the room to acknowledge the Healer and her son before looking back to the man she'd almost run into. Then, her eyes widened in shock. "You!"
Chandra closed his eyes and exhaled deeply as he sought to center himself.
"Oh," said Baskar. "You two know each other?"
"Yes, Healer," Chandra said, his eyes still closed. "We do indeed."
Then, the man opened his eyes to glare at Lily Potter. For just a second, Jim thought those eyes flashed amber rather than the pale green they'd been before. And the look of disdain that the monk had been giving him was nothing compared to the obvious contempt he had for the still speechless Lily.
"It's so very nice to see you again after all these years, Lily," said Remus Lupin with a cold sneer. "By the way ... how's Harry?"
11 February 1982
A quiet back booth at the Leaky Cauldron
"They're going to send Harry to the Dursleys!" Remus said with visible disgust.
"I know, Remus, I know. It hurts. I remember how well you and the little tyke got on." Peter sighed as he tore off piece of bread that came with the Venison and Leek Stew that was on special today. "But I think you have to accept that this may be for the best. If Little Harry is truly a squib..."
"You don't know that he's a squib! And neither do James nor Lily nor Dumbledore! He's still a baby for Merlin's sake!"
"Maybe so, my friend. But the best pediatric healers at St. Mungo's agree with Dumbledore's assessment. Harry shows no signs of magic whatsoever. I'm sorry, but I agree with Dumbledore on this. If Harry's a squib, then it's a cruelty to raise him in a magical household and particularly one that might someday be targeted for revenge by Death Eaters. Better to send him off to Muggles relatives now where he'll be safe rather than let him have the memory of magic he'll never be able to use and a wizarding inheritance that will be dangled in front of him until it gets snatched away on his eleventh birthday. And besides, if he does show magic, Petunia has promised to let Lily know so we can bring him back."
"Petunia!" Remus practically spat the name out. "You remember what she was like!"
"Remus," said Peter gently. "This isn't about Petunia, I think. It's about you and James."
Remus stared down at his untouched bowl of stew on table. It took all his will not to grab it and fling it against a wall. "I was willing to go Muggle if that's what it took to become Harry's guardian. To forsake the magical world forever and live as a Muggle. And James laughed. He literally laughed in my face and said 'How could that ever work, Moony? You're a werewolf!'"
Peter stiffened and looked around quickly. "Shhh!" he hissed quietly but urgently. "I know your upset, Moony, but for Merlin's sake, let's not start a riot in the heart of Diagon Alley."
Remus scoffed. "I set up a privacy ward, Peter. I'm not stupid."
Peter relaxed but only a little. "I know you're not stupid, Remus. You've always been the smartest of us all. But ... you're emotional right now. We're all still raw about everything that's happened, and I understand that. But try to think about this sensibly. Given your condition, you'll always have difficulty maintaining employment even if no one knows the real reason why. You'll have constant health issues. You'll have to arrange for someone to take Harry when it's ... your time of the month. And if it ever gets out about your furry little problem, not only will Harry be taken from you by the Ministry and you probably put down like a rabid beast, but James and Lily might be judged unfit parents for entrusting you with him, and they could lose Jim as well." Peter took a deep breath. "And that doesn't even get into..."
Remus looked up at him sharply. "Into what?"
The rat animagus grimaced and put on a show of reluctance and embarrassment. "I think James and Lily thought you might ... that you might finally be going dark."
The werewolf's nostrils flared angrily and he suppressed the urge to growl. "It's been sixteen years! Sixteen years and I've never given in to the Beast!How could they possibly think such a thing?!"
Peter shrugged. "Well, let's be honest. You are rather unusual in that regard. Possibly unique. Besides ... I think... that Sirius may have put the idea into their heads. Possibly as a way of further isolating the Potters before You-Know-Who's attack."
"Actually," he thought to himself smugly, even as his face remained a mask of compassion, "it was me putting the idea into Sirius's head first, but let's not quibble over who started that ugly rumor."
Remus shook his head in amazement. "I still can't believe that. Sirius Black, of all people. I've known him since I was eleven. I could conceive of him doing some pretty bad things but never in the service of You-Know-Who. What happened to him?!"
"I dunno. Life, maybe?" Peter paused to take a spoonful of stew as he considered his words. "You know as well as I that the Marauders started drifting apart after that business with Snivellus and the Shrieking Shack. And then James started dating Lily at last, and Black was suddenly a third wheel." He chuckled softly. "I was never quite sure who Sirius was most jealous of – Lily for stealing away his best friend, or James for finally landing Lily right after Sirius and Marlene broke up for good. And then we graduated and went our separate ways. Regulus died around then leaving Sirius as the only viable Black heir. I was unemployed and stuck at home taking care of Mother. You were off with the werewolf packs on the continent, a fact which James and Sirius and Lily all found ... suspicious."
Remus's eyes goggled. "I was doing that at the personal request of Albus Dumbledore! He needed a spy within the packs to find out if they were going to ally with the Death Eaters! I risked my life daily on that mission!"
Peter put his hands up to placate the other Marauder. "I know, I know. But think of it from their perspective. You were living constantly with other werewolves. With real werewolves."
"I am a real werewolf, Peter."
"You know what I mean, Moony." Peter paused for a moment as if distracted. "You know, after all these years, I've never even bothered to ask. Do you like being called Moony?"
Remus was surprised by the question. "I never minded it. It was just one of Sirius's little jokes. You got used to those if you spent enough time around him."
"It was Sirius sticking you with a mean-spirited nickname to remind you of your place in the pecking order," Peter said with a trace of bitterness. "You know - like Wormtail."
"I never realized you disliked the name Wormtail so much, Peter."
"Oh of course you did, Remus. I noticed long ago that when neither Padfoot nor Prongs was around, you always called me Peter. And I was always grateful." He held up his glass as if for a toast. "Here's to the bottom half of the Marauders – Moony and Wormtail. May we always remember our place ... and who our real friends are."
Remus snorted and clinked his glass against his friend's. The two each took a drink. But then, Peter grew more serious.
"But I digress. You were off with werewolf packs who generally if not universally lack your apparently unique self-control and dignity. Honestly, Remus, how did you avoid killing innocent people when you were running with the packs? How did you avoid eating innocent people?"
Remus leaned back and looked away. "With great difficulty and almost Slytherinesque cunning. But I did it. My slate is still clean. My ledger has no red in it. But that still didn't stop James and Lily from just assuming ..."
Remus paused abruptly suddenly overcome with emotion. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to wipe away tears with as much dignity as he could muster. Peter suddenly became very interested in his venison stew which he toyed with for several seconds while the other man fought to regain his composure.
"There's nothing for me here in Britain, is there Peter?" Remus finally said.
"You've still got me, old bean," Peter said meaningfully. "Always."
"I know Peter, and thank you. But this country has too many bad memories. Perhaps a few years on the Continent will do me good."
Peter scoffed. "If there's nothing for you here in Britain where you at least have a network of friends, one of whom is quite wealthy, then there's definitely nothing for you in France or Germany. None of the European Wizarding nations will treat you better than Old Blighty, and most of them will treat you worse."
Remus frowned. "Well what would you suggest, Peter?"
The other man thought for a moment. "The Far East!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Do you remember that book you found back in Fifth Year? The one about the magical city of Shamballa and the monk-wizards there who taught mystical Zen mumbo-jumbo or something like that?"
Lupin gave one of his famous long-suffering looks. "It's called the Four-Fold Path of Enlightenment, Peter. It's a perfectly legitimate approach to magic, albeit one very different from the Merlinian system."
Pettigrew waved his hand diffidently. "Whatever. Anyway, you wondered at the time if studying their techniques might allow you to gain some measure of control over your transformations. If you want a change of scenery, why not try there? You just said Dumbles owes you a favor for risking your neck during the War. Contact him and see if he can get you an introduction to the Chief Monk or Head Guru or whoever's in charge."
Remus's eyes lit up, but then he shook his head. "Peter, I don't have the funds to relocate to the other side of the world. I can't ask from Dumbledore, and I won't ask from James, not after he..."
"Then take some money from me, Remus." Peter put up a hand to stop his friend's objections. "It's okay, Remus. I've got some money to burn. I'm getting an award for helping James capture Sirius that will have some cash with it. And besides, after I turned twenty-one, I was finally able to access my father's old vault. Obviously, I'm not supplanting James as the Pampered Prince of Gryffindor, but I've got a nice little nest egg that I never knew I had."
"Your father left you an inheritance and you're just now getting it? But I thought he died when you were a small child."
Peter smiled but without any humor. "Mother did something to get it tied up until just last year. She was afraid I'd squander it, I suppose. But it's all mine now. A nice sum of Galleons ... plus a few family heirlooms hardly worth mentioning."
Remus gave Peter a quizzical look. For just a second, it seemed his fellow Marauder was struggling to suppress a giggle. Then, he shook his head. "That reminds me, Peter. I am so very sorry to hear about your mother's passing. I was in Europe at the time and knew nothing about it until quite recently. How are you holding up?"
Peter broke eye contact for a few seconds. "Oh, I'm alright, Remus. She'd been so sick for such a long time, as I'm sure you know. I'm just glad that in the end she died peacefully in her bed."
He picked up a napkin and took his time wiping his face with it. Long enough to fight down the urge to smile. "Well, for some definitions of 'peacefully,' I suppose," he thought to himself.
"But enough of the past, Remus. Let's talk about your future. Tell me more about ... Shamballa."
From Jim Potter's letter to his brother Harry ...
So after that, I got kicked out of Healer Baskar's office while he, Mum, and "Brother Chandra" aka Remus Lupin talked things over. And by talked things over, I mean shouted for about twenty minutes. Apparently, Lupin was close friends with Mum and Dad back during their Hogwarts days and both our middle names come from him. Yours directly, mine in some roundabout way involving Welsh. Did you know any of that? Anyway, when you got sent to the Dursleys, he got real mad and moved all the way to the other side of the planet to study the Paths of Enlightenment, and all because Mum and Dad wouldn't let him raise you instead of that nutter Petunia and her psycho family. Unfortunately, he's got some kind of medical condition that would have made him an unfit guardian, but well, I sort of swore a vow not to tell anyone what it is. And to be fair to Mum and Dad, it really is the sort of condition that would make him unsuitable to be your guardian in most people's eyes.
So anyway, after a good long shout-fest, Baskar pulls me back into the room and tells me that Brother Chandra or Mr. Lupin (I'm still not sure what I'm supposed to call him) will be teaching me about becoming an animagus. Then, Chandralupin summons a big thick book about animagi and tells me to start reading it and contact him to begin actual lessons when I've finished. And then, he just storms out. Please note that I'm learning about becoming an animagus and only to the extent needed to protect my mind from intrusion. I'm not actually learning to become an animagus because if I did, I'd have to register on something called the Conscription List or risk being sent to Azkaban. So don't go spreading any rumors that I'm actually becoming an unregistered animagus or something (wink, wink!).
Harry laughed out loud at that. "Seriously, Jim?! You reveal something like that in a letter and include a 'wink, wink!' Good thing for you we don't hate one another at the moment." Later on, he would have to decide whether to burn the incriminating letter or just hide it away in the secret compartment of his trunk in case it became useful later.
In the meantime, though, the young Slytherin set his mind to Remus Lupin's mysterious "medical condition" which was so serious that it would bar him from acting as legal guardian to a child. The clues found in Jim's letter were sparse, but Harry closed his eyes and considered what he knew. Fourteen years was a long time to survive with a terminal illness, so most of those were out. Lily was letting Jim study complex magic from Lupin, so mental illness was unlikely and the guy probably wasn't a sexual predator. Then, Harry considered the few non-fatal magical illnesses he knew of along with their symptoms, and an answer immediately presented itself.
"Of course! It's so simple!" he thought to himself. "Obviously, Remus Lupin is a vampire!"
16 July 1993
Jim knocked gently on the door to Brother Chandra's private rooms. "Enter," came the man's voice from inside. Jim opened the door and came in just in time to see the man hammering a nail into a nearby wall to hang a small picture on.
"I've, um, finished the book you gave me, Brother Chandra. I think I understand the concepts involved."
"Good," said Chandra as he walked over to the boy and retrieved the book. "I'll put it back where it belongs and fetch some tea. Please make yourself comfortable."
The man exited through a door on the other side of the room, leaving Jim alone. Still somewhat nervous, the boy walked slowly around the room before stopping in front of the two pictures that Chandra had obviously just put up. One was a magical picture that showed four teenage Hogwarts students roughhousing and waving out at him from in front of the Whomping Willow. To Jim's shock, he recognized three of them instantly: teenage versions of James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and a boy who was almost certainly Remus Lupin. The fourth one he didn't recognize, but from the context, he guessed that it was the Traitor Sirius Black. The picture hanging next to it was also a moving picture, but this one consisted of three animals: a majestic stag, a rather sinister looking black dog, and a brown rat that was perched somewhat precariously on the stag's head and holding onto its antlers for dear life. Curiously, the animals were also standing in front of the Whomping Willow, though the picture appeared to have been taken late at night. Jim was still studying the two photos when the man reentered the chamber bearing a tea tray.
"Please have a seat, Mr. Potter. I hope Oolong is satisfactory. Earl Grey is hard to come by in these parts." He set the tray down and took a seat. Jim did likewise. "Before we begin, I must ask you to take an Oath of Secrecy regarding our discussions today. Any objections?"
Jim shook his head no, pulled out his wand, and swore the oath. Satisfied, the older man poured a cup of tea for himself and his student.
"Now, I'm sure you have questions and I don't know what either of your parents has told you, so why don't we start with you asking for what information you feel you need."
Jim thought. "Um, for starters, do you want me to call you Brother Chandra or Mr. Lupin? I'm fine either way."
"I think it would be best if you called me Brother Chandra when we are in front of my fellow monks or other citizens of Shamballa. When we are alone, please call me Remus. And before we proceed any further ... I wish to apologize for my earlier treatment of you. Since we last spoke, I have spent much time in meditation evaluating and isolating my own feelings. To be perfectly blunt, you parents have done things that I consider nearly unforgivable. But you are not James Potter, no matter how startling your resemblance to him might be. It was unprofessional of me to hold you responsible for things over which you had no say, and I will endeavor to treat you as your own unique personage henceforth."
Jim absorbed all that silently. "Thank you, sir, um, Remus. I accept your apology and would be pleased if you would call me Jim." He hesitated. "I want you to know that while I still love my Mum and Dad, I also know that they've made some poor decisions especially where my brother is concerned. But if you're willing to work with me, I'll do my best to be a good student." He perked up suddenly. "And, I don't know if this helps, but if the rest of this summer works out well, I'm hoping I can talk Harry into coming back with me next summer. Then, you can finally meet him in person."
Remus's eyes widened a bit in excitement. "Yes, I would like that. Thank you, Jim. Now, do you have any other questions?" From his tone, Jim almost got the impression that Remus was prompting him about something.
The boy paused and looked around the room and over to the two photos. "That picture up there. That's ... the Marauders, right? Dad didn't tell me much about you guys, but my Uncle Pete said you were a 'quartet of merry pranksters.' Though I kinda got the impression that he was being sarcastic about it."
Remus nodded with a slight frown. "Some people described us as merry, others as cruel, depending upon who we targeted with our pranks. Mainly, those targets were Slytherins, and since that word had nearly become synonymous with 'Junior Death Eater' by our Fifth Year, we received a great deal more respect and adulation from our peers and even our teachers than we deserved."
"I know how that goes. This past year, I got drawn into a prank war with some Slytherins ... sort of. To say it went badly is an amazing understatement. I've sworn off pranks completely now."
"Very sensible. And much more mature than we were at your age. At the time, we saw it as striking a blow against Pureblood bigots, but of course, the truth was that we were venting our own childishness against the only acceptable targets."
"Oh?" Jim asked in surprise at that description. "How so?"
"One of our dirty little secrets is that the Marauders learned early on was what a bad idea it was to harass Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws. Hufflepuffs are all about loyalty, and if you attack one, you can expect twenty hexes a day from their friends in response. Ravenclaws are all about obscure knowledge, and if you prank one, you can expect to be pranked back with some curse that went out of fashion when Queen Anne was on the throne and that requires two weeks of research to counter. Attack a Slytherin, though? He'll just counterattack on his own or with the aid of his closest friends rather than ask for help from his House as a whole and thus show himself up as weak. Most of our conflicts were with a small coterie of Slytherins in the same year as us and who were quite free themselves with rather dark and nasty curses, and most of them did indeed go on to become Death Eaters. But I'm ashamed to say that we weren't above hexing younger Slytherins who couldn't defend themselves just because one of us overheard them refer to a classmate as a Mudblood or blood traitor. It was, on the whole, unacceptable behavior on our part, and I'm glad that by Sixth Year we finally started to outgrow it."
"Was Professor ... I mean ... was Severus Snape part of that group you fought with regularly?"
"Hmm, I'd heard he'd become a Potions instructor. Certainly he had the brains for it, but I'm amazed he found the temperament. Yes, we skirmished with Snape a great deal. He was never an official part of the group I mentioned, which included future convicted Death Eaters like Rosier, Mulciber, and Avery. But he was on their periphery, rarely participating directly in their bullying but regularly supplying them with new curses and potions he'd found or invented. He was a very brilliant young man, though somewhat vindictive, especially towards James and Sirius." Remus paused. "It didn't help that your father took a strong dislike to Snape literally from the first day they met on the Hogwarts Express. Jealousy over Snape's friendship with your mother, I suppose. How is he as a teacher?"
Jim shrugged. "Kind of a jerk to be honest. He hates me and is happy to let me know it every class. On the bright side, Mum tutors me in Potions during the Summer break, and she's pretty confident I'll be able to pull an O on my OWL even though I'm barely getting A's in Snape's class."
Suddenly, Jim looked a bit embarrassed. "I called him Snivellus during my very first Potions class. Dad sort of encouraged me to do it if I thought he was treating me unfairly."
"Mm-hmm," said Remus who was torn between being scandalized and amused. "And how did that work out for you?"
"Lost a lot of points. My whole house got mad at me. Professor McGonagall and Mum both got mad at me. I ended up in the Headmaster's office with both my parents. It ... was a bad day."
Jim looked around the room, suddenly uninterested in maintaining eye contact. He still owed Snape an apology since, alas, he didn't die in the Chamber of Secrets when he was supposed to and thus leave Harry to deliver it for him posthumously. Then, his attention was drawn to the other picture which Remus had deliberately placed on the wall next to the one of the Marauders. He looked around again. There were no other pictures on any of the walls.
"So ... the Marauders. Did any of them become animagi?"
Remus gave Jim a funny look as he took a sip from his tea cup. "Why, Jim, whatever would make you ask a question like that?"
"Well, for one thing, you've got a picture of the Marauders on the wall next to a picture of three animals standing around in front of the Whomping Willow. And I'm pretty sure you don't normally see a rat perched on the head of a stag that's calmly standing next to a grim."
"Well, Jim, you might suspect that those animals are actually transformed animagi, but I couldn't possibly speculate on such things," Remus said with an odd smile.
Jim sat for several seconds while quietly considering Remus's peculiar statement. Suddenly, he really wished Harry was with him because he was certain his older twin would instantly understand the subtext. Then, it hit him – at least three of the Marauders actually had become animagi, and Remus had sworn an oath not to reveal it, one he was now trying to work around.
"Well, then," Jim said slowly. "Speaking hypothetically, if those three animals were animagi and also Marauders, how would I be able to tell who was who?"
"An interesting question. All animagi have Tells in their animal forms – markers that give a hint as to their true identities. Perhaps you could try examining the picture more closely."
With that, Remus rose and went to a nearby drawer from which he produced a magnifying glass that he handed off to the boy. Intrigued, Jim studied the photo of the three animals more carefully through the glass. After a moment, he let out a gasp. Though it was hard to tell with the animals moving around, he was certain that the majestic stag had tiny circles around each of its eyes, circles that reminded him of his father's glasses that were so similar to the ones he wore himself. Then, he studied the rat that had attached itself to the stag's antlers and noticed that there was a thick patch of hair on the back of the rat's head that reminded him of the unfortunate mullet that his teenage godfather was wearing in the other photo.
"If I had to guess, I'd say that the stag was James Potter and the rat was Peter Pettigrew."
"And the grim?"
Jim studied it for a few minutes carefully and finally noticed that the grim had pale gray eyes unlike Lupin's green ones. "That's Sirius Black."
Remus laughed. "Well done! And as a reward for guessing properly, I will now answer any specific questions you have about how the Marauders became animagi, since I am no longer bound by that silly Unbreakable Vow we all swore as Third Years."
Jim did a double-take. "You swore an Unbreakable Vow?"
"Yes, to never reveal to anyone else the fact that James, Peter, and Sirius were animagi."
"But you just told me!"
"No, I did not. I simply left some clues laying about that you were able to use to deduce the truth."
Jim stared at Remus for several seconds in confusion until the man finally grinned at him.
"It was a very poorly drafted Unbreakable Vow, as it turned out. A foolish venture for thirteen-year-old boys to engage in, though probably not in the top ten most foolish things we did while at Hogwarts."
The boy accepted that with some difficulty. An Unbreakable Vow? While they were just thirteen? And he thought his own exploits so far had been ridiculous. Jim shook his head to clear it.
"So why did my dad end up a stag and my godfather a rat?"
"The animagus doesn't choose his form. Magic does. In so choosing, Magic is guided by a number of factors, many of which are not easily categorized. It is known that family history, personality, and even one's own name play a role. Sirius's surname was Black, and his given name was derived from the brightest star in the constellation Canis Major, a star which is also known as the Dog Star. So Magic decided that his spirit animal would be a large black dog. Peter's connections were more nebulous, but the name Pettigrew, which suggests "little" and "grow" when viewed symbolically, implies that his spirit animal would be something relatively small. That said, he was rather stout at that age. If Peter had been small and thin instead, it's entirely possible that his spirit animal would have been much bigger since his human form would be the small one that grew to a larger size."
"For what it's worth, it looks like Uncle Pete has lost weight since then. And gotten a much better haircut." Jim glanced back to the picture of the animals and focused on the stag. "And my dad?"
"James was an interesting case. He had the toughest time mastering the transformation despite the fact that he was a prodigy at Transfiguration. He had no personal symbolic connections to any animals. Not even the Potter coat of arms had any animal-themed heraldry that might have forged a connection. He was on the verge of giving up when he had a breakthrough from a remarkable and unexpected source – Lily Evans!"
"My Mum? Did she become an animagus?"
"Not to my knowledge. But a few months into our Fifth Year, Lily mastered the Patronus Charm because she'd heard it would be worth a great many points on our DADA OWLs, and her Patronus manifested as a beautiful silvery doe. And then, not a week later, James overcame his block and was able to transform into his stag form."
That information astounded the boy. "Wait a minute. My dad was only able to become an animagus after he figured out what form would most impress my mum?!"
"An oversimplification, but not much of one. James had been deeply infatuated with Lily since the day they met, but it was completely one-sided. Toe-rag was her favored nickname for James until Sixth Year when she finally consented to go out on a date with him, and over the next two years she overcame her animosity and came to care for him a great deal. I think learning that Lily's Patronus was a doe – and one's Patronus and animagus form overlap more often than not – caused James to subconsciously believe that a form which was in some way mated to her spirit animal might bridge the gap between them. Since they did end up getting married, who's to say he wasn't right."
Jim seemed almost dazed by all that. He'd always viewed his father – Lord Potter for as long as he'd been alive – as such a dominant figure in his life. It was startling to realize the extent to which he'd once followed his mother around like a love-sick puppy.
"So what's your animagus form? And why aren't you in the picture? Or do I have to guess that too?"
Remus grew more serious and took another sip of tea before setting his cup down. Then, he rubbed his hands together nervously, surprising himself with his sudden tension. It had been a long time, after all, since he'd actually had to admit his secret to anyone else who didn't already know it from some other source.
"I'm not in the second picture, Jim, because I was the one who took it. And I don't have an animagus form of my own." He took a deep breath. "I can't have one ... because being an animagus and being a werewolf are mutually exclusive."
Jim froze. "Erp?" he finally said.
"Yes, Jim. I am a werewolf. I was bitten at the age of four by Fenrir Greyback on the night of the full moon, and I have transformed every full moon since. Your father figured out my secret when we were Third Years. That was the impetus for him, Sirius, and Peter to become animagi because all animagi are immune to lycanthropy. In fact, a transformed werewolf will not even attack an animagus whether in human or animal form unless provoked, and if the animagus's form is large enough and imposing enough, it's actually possible for the animagus to herd a werewolf away from potential victims."
There was a lengthy silence.
"You're ... a werewolf," Jim finally said while swallowing hard. "And you were a werewolf at Hogwarts and my dad knows all about it." Remus nodded yes. "Does my mom know?"
"Yes. Actually, she was the very first to figure it out though she never told a soul, not even your father who figured it out on his own. Dumbledore and the Hogwarts teachers, of course, all knew before I started school. Being a Muggleborn, Lily associated the signs of lycanthropy I displayed, mainly always being sick on the day after the full moon, with what she knew of werewolves from Muggle films and books. She didn't realize that the most well-known characteristic of true werewolves was the one I lacked – a violent and homicidal disposition even when not transformed. And since I did lack that characteristic, all of my classmates other than Lily and eventually James, Sirius, and Peter completely discounted the possibility of my being a werewolf."
"Because you weren't a violent homicidal maniac?" Jim asked with a tight voice.
"Correct," said Remus simply.
"Uh-huh. That's ... that's good to know, I guess. And how many people here at Shamballa know you're ... you know?"
"Oh, several dozen I should think, though they're all quite protective of my privacy. Albus Dumbldore arranged for my introduction to the city's leaders, and the Kampo Rimpoche – he's the leader of the monastery that took me in – has known from the start. The monks all ensure that I'm locked up tight on the nights of the full moon and that I receive proper treatment when I wake up the next day. You see Jim, I came to this place in the hopes that the Four-Fold Path of Enlightenment might be the key to controlling my changes, and the monks were just as eager to see if their techniques could help me. So far, they haven't, but both the monks and healers who watch over me still have hope, as do I. More importantly, though, the Path has brought me the serenity to accept my condition even as I continue to study and research and meditate and do everything else I can to overcome that affliction. I have been a werewolf for twenty-nine years, Jim, and while transformed I have never taken a human life nor caused injury to any human other than myself." He held out his scarred arms. "These scars are from my youth, from those days when the Beast was angry that I would never let it take control. Nowadays, I don't even eat meat anymore, and I can feel the Beast sulking bitterly every time I dig into a bowl of rice, but it can do nothing more to harm me or anyone else."
Jim crooked an eyebrow at that. Remus smiled back at him bashfully.
"Well, so long as I remain contained on that one night of the month anyway. I don't know why I alone seem immune to the spiritual corruption that accompanies the curse of lycanthropy. If I knew, I'd bottle it in a heartbeat and offer it up to save all those others who've been lost to this foul condition. But after nearly three decades, I still have no explanation. So I do what I can as a teacher and advisor to those who need either teaching or advice. And now that I've told you the truth, you can decide whether you still want to learn from me. Despite my earlier hostility, I tell you know that I am eager to teach you how to become an animagus and anything else you want to learn. Because you are the son of my former friends. Because you are the godson of one who I hope is still my friend. And because you are the brother of someone who I regret not being able to raise as my own. But most of all, because you have come to me for learning and I am a teacher. So, do you still want to learn what I have to show you?"
Jim looked at the former Marauder for a long time as he processed everything Lupin had said. Then, he took a deep breath and summoned his Gryffindor courage. "When do we start?"