The Rhapsody of Youth

      “How was your journey, Mr Lupin?” The headmaster asked, scratching his comically long beard. They had been sitting in silence for at least two minutes before he finally spoke. The boy was glad. He was sure he’d gone completely mad if he had to handle the silence even one minute longer. 

    “Good.” Remus smiled politely. 

“Do you by any chance know what the word widdershins means, my dear boy?”

   “Er…no?” Remus shook his head slowly, feeling his guts twisting. Was that supposed to be some kind of test? Did he fail already? 

   Dumbledore did not seem bothered at all. “But if you knew, would you use it often? Speaking or writing?”

   “I suppose it depends on what the word means, sir.” The boy was not sure what was going on. Dumbledore was the second Queen Mary’s teacher he’d met, and the second which acted like he was just pulled out of some institution. 

   “Because of how practical or impractical it is?”

   Remus nodded, now more confident. “Yes.” The look Dumbledore gave him after that  made all the newfound confidence fly away. 

   “Do you think it matters so much, then, my dear boy?”

   “The practicality of words?”

   “Yes.” The old man said, then shook his head, raising his finger up, stopping the boy from speaking. “Actually, what exactly do you think the practicality of words is, Mr Lupin?”

   Remus bit his lip, thinking. As he spoke, he chose his words carefully. “Well, I suppose it is…how clear the meaning of a word is?”

   “To the person speaking or to the one listening?”

   “Er…the pearson listening.”

    “Wrong!” Dumbledore said, almost raising his voice and stood up from the desk. The sudden loudness increase made Remus flinch. By now he was almost certain that whatever strange test the headmaster was doing on him, he blew it, and even managed to make the teacher angry. He looked, meaning to apologise, but Dumbledore outrunned him. “See, my dear boy, that’s what the thing is! Using words only for practical reasons, yes that is important, absolutely necessary in order to communicate. That is what the words were made for. Yes?” The old man was pacing around the room, looking almost excited.

   He turned to Remus, who nodded. “Yes.”

  The old man went back to circling the whole room. “Why are you here, my dear boy?”

   That got him sidetracked again. “Well, for the interv-”

   Dumbledore passed by him, shaking his head expressively. “No, no, no. Not talking about that, Mr Lupin. Why did you decide to come here in the first place? Why did you want to apply to Queen Mary’s?”

   “To study-”

   “But you already have school where you study, back home, don’t you? Why did you want to come here?’

   The boy blinked. Even though the man was making it hard to follow, Remus felt like really catching up for the first time since the talk started. “To raise the studying standards.” He could not stop a small smile creeping onto his face. 

   Dumbledore did not let that pass, smiling too. “To raise the studying standards.” He repeated after him. “And why would you want to do that? For your future boss to get a better worker or for you to get a better job?”

   “Better job. So I raise the standards for myself.”

   Dumbledore clapped his hands, happy like a little kid. “And what does that tell you about words?” 

   Remus raised a hand to stroke his own chin. The boy’s brain was working really fast now, looking for dots it could connect. “Well…it tells me…that I…define my own practicality of words?”

    Dumbledore made his way back to the desk and sat down. “Yes, Mr Lupin. Now let me take this thought a little further. You see, most people like to restrict everything they do to the bare minimum. A choice of school is a magnificent example for that. And the same thing goes with words. Dictionaries exist for a reason. Every language one could think of, even the ancient ones, which might seem primitive, is full of words. Synonyms. Dozens of terms for the same thing. Some of them might seem easier, more compliant with the thing commonly mistaken for words practicality. Those are the terms which got unified and are now known as the casual way of speaking. But even though two words might seem similar in meaning, there is no such thing as a full synonym.”

   Remus frowned, now fully invested in the old man’s talk. “Why not, sir?”

   Dumbledore seemed satisfied with the question. “Because the words differ, Mr Lupin. They taste differently when one says them. They fit different emotions, places, and sometimes people even. I know…” He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, then started drawing little suns on it. “It may sound silly now, but believe me. I am not your teacher, yet, but you could treat it like a sort of homework. See how various words sound from various people.” 

   The boy nodded, slowly, processing everything. The headmaster was a strange, strange man, no doubt for that.

   “Good. Homework assigned, let’s finish the lesson then.” He winked at Remus. “What I meant by all of that, Mr Lupin, was that some words, although they seem unusual said out loud, illustrate what one means to say better than words perceived as “normal” by the society. That’s exactly what the practicality of words is. Not the ability to be understood, the ability to express. And it should tell you one, incredibly important thing. To understand ourselves better and to be understood better one shall not limit himself. And that is what we expect of the Queen Mary’s students.” The man gave up on drawing the suns, switching to flowers this time. “Are we clear?” 

   Remus gave him a half smile. 

    “Now,” Dumbledore put the piece of paper he was drawing on away, reaching for something in his desk drawer. “I’m afraid you have to leave. I’ve got some awful paperwork to do.” He sighed and pulled out a pair of half glasses out of a case laying on the desk. 

   Remus slowly got up from his chair and headed towards the door. His head was reeling. Was that the whole interview? Once again everything turned completely different than how he’d imagined it. Unless he was not getting something. Just before reaching the doorway, he stopped and glanced back, towards the desk.“Sir?.”

   “Yes, Mr Lupin?”

   He bit his lip. “Is it…is that all?”

   Dumbledore looked up at him from his work. “All of what? Our chat? We’ll see.” He fixed his glasses. “But let me tell you, most of those I had the pleasure to talk with before got thrown into widdershins the moment the word was mentioned.” Old man chuckled like a little kid and made a dismissive gesture towards Remus. 

   The boy stood there for a few more seconds, eyebrows raised. He had absolutely no idea what to think about his interview, so the best he could do was just mumble a quick goodbye and leave the cabinet, shutting the door behind himself. 

    Remus Lupin had no idea what was happening to him from 9.30 a.m. all the way until  4 p.m., when he realized he had just finished his last paper and was now standing on the school’s pavement in front of the Mary’s Eye. The stress stirred something in his brain, turning all the memories of the day into a one, huge blur. He chuckled, thinking about the talk awaiting him back home. Eloise’s look, when he’ll answer all of her questions with „fine’s” and „dunno’s”. But to get to Eloise, he had to get on the train first. 

   He blinked, brought back to the earth, and checked his wristwatch. Ten past four, the train will arrive in twenty minutes. That was good. Twenty minutes was a perfect amount of time for him to leave through the gigantic gate, find the footpath in the forest and hide under the station’s canopy…wait, hide?

   The boy realized it had never stopped raining. During the time he spent lost in thoughts, he got completely soaked. Huge water drop fell from a strand of his hair right into the middle of his nose, like an assurance. He consoled himself with the thought that looking like a wet rat was not a complete disaster though, because the exams were finished meaning he did not have to make any good impressions any more. It was the prospect of getting a cold in the summer and having to spend the rest of it in bed which made him reach out for his bag. 

   “Bugger.” He mumbled, seeing one of his pens broke and now the fabric got dirty from ink. He’d have to clean that one up later. The thing he had been looking for - the British flag scarf - had stayed clean. He pulled it out of the bag and raised it above his head, just like he aspired to do back on the station before Frank appeared.

   Speaking of Frank, the school decided the prefect’s care will not be necessary on the way back. After the Dumbledore interview he met Remus in the hallway of the Eye. They headed deeper into the castle, where the exams took place. On the way Frank would sometimes point out some painting or sculpture, which the school was full of, and throw some textbook facts at Remus. They sounded like someone ordered Frank to learn them. When the silence appeared, making both of them feel a bit awkward, the perfect would start explaining some traditions or mechanisms which made the school work. Remus was only half listening, the stress raising up and making his muscles more tense with every step. The only things from the Frank’s story which managed to stay in his head, were that the students are sorted into some houses, and the whole thing sounds official but concerns mostly sleeping arrangements and the fact that a big, red stone on the pedestal they passed by was in fact a real mineral, donated to the school by Nicholas Flamel, former student, now famous archaeologist. 

   Last thing Remus remembered clearly were the faces of other scholarship candidates he saw standing in the hallway. One in particular, because some girl’s face went completely white, making her look like a ghost. When a tall, gray haired woman called them in, they all stood up like one man and followed her. Remus was not sure how he’d managed to walk back then.

     From then on, it all went blank. He was certain he wrote all the papers and ate lunch in some cafeteria the woman from before led them to. Other than that, he suspected his pen had run out during one of the exams. That would explain the pen he found in his trouser pocket, with the school’s name on it, written in golden letters. Remus thought that if anyone back in London saw him writing with that thing in class, he would get his butt kicked in an instant. 

    The boy looked around. Yes, he was standing outside Mary's Eye, but not by the main entrance. The exams took place in an entirely different part of the building, far from where he remembered Dumbledore’s office was. The other candidates must’ve left earlier, when he still was numb, recovering from everything that had just happened. The boy was completely alone. 

   A huge football field drew in front of him. Even with its neatness, Remus thought it looked a bit sad. Abandoned for the summer, waiting for the students to come back. Seemed lonely. 

    He checked his watch once more. Eighteen minutes left, he had to move if he wanted to get back to London. 

   Except the boy had no idea how to get out of the place. The road he stood by looked like it was circling the main building, but on the other hand it could part further, learning to some completely different parts of the school. Remus did not have enough time to explore now. He bit his lip, thinking. It was either left or right. He supposed one of the directions had to lead to the main gate eventually. 

    ”Er…you alright, mate?” A voice came from behind his back.

    Remus turned alarmed, hands with the scarf still raised. There was a boy in front of him, leaning on the Eye’s door frame, looking a bit amused. 

   ”Yeah, thanks.” He replied automatically, before he realized that it was in fact a lie. 

    The stranger didn’t look convinced at all. He raised one eyebrow, reaching to fix the glasses which almost slipped off his nose with one hand. “You’re sure?” He glanced at the scarf above Remus’s head. Remus put his hands down quickly, forgetting about the rain.

   They were probably around the same age. The other boy’s shirt was a bit messed up, like he missed one button buttoning it. He sized Remus up and down, an amused glint in his eye. Or maybe it was just the light reflecting in the glass.

   Remus sighed, giving up. He did not really fancied talking to strangers, but today he faced so many of them anyways and he simply was too tired for telling him to fuck off. 

    “Actually, do you maybe…how do you get out of here?” 

   “The village or the train?” Stranger asked, straightening up. 

    “The train.” 

   He made a few steps towards Remus, right into the downpour, then put a hand on his shoulder, turning him right slightly. With his other hand he pointed out the road.

“There, you go right. Follow this wide road…see?. If you don’t turn into any of the smaller ones you should get to this big gate, and then there is this small forest-thing…not sure if it deserves to be called a forest…, let’s call it a grove, and then-“

    “Then I know.” Remus interrupted him. 

   The other boy nodded. “Smashing. Want me to show you?” 

    Remus shook his head, slowly. He put on what he hoped a polite smile was. “No, mate. I’ll be fine.”

   The stranger snorted. “Yeah, just like you were fine before? Come on, I’ll just make sure you get there.” Not waiting for Remus, he went down the street, and the boy had no choice then to follow.

   “I’ll be good, really, don’t want you to get all soa-“

   “Stop, s’no problem.” The guy did not listen. He was pretty much all wet by now too. It didn’t slip away from Remus’s attention that the other boy tried to mimic his accent, unsuccessfully. The “t’s” and “d’s” sounded too sharp in his mouth, revealing the higher class. He was walking so fast Remus had to almost jog to keep up with him. “You’re one of them scholarship fellas?” 

    “I suppose.”

    “Ha.” The other boy said, then threw out a hand, still walking extraordinarily fast. “So there’s a chance we’re gonna meet in the future, isn't there? I’m James.”

   Remus shook his hand, mumbling his own name in response. The gate lingered around the corner just as his watch told him he had ten minutes left. 

   “So…that’s a cool scarf. Really, er… patriotic and all.” James said, his eyes on what Remus was still holding in his other hand. He looked curious. “Are you heading for some football match?”  

   The boy frowned, and shook his head. “What? No.”

   He was met with a look of pure disappointment. “Oh. No, I just thought maybe… doesn't matter.” They got to the gate, having to jump over a few huge puddles on their way. “You’ll be fine from now on?” James asked, reaching over to wipe his wet glasses with an even more wet sleeve. 

    Remus decided to be kind and not point out the fact that he said he’ll be fine before they even started walking. Instead he just nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

    The other boy shrugged. “No problem. I better get back, my dad will start looking for me. Bye!”

   Remus did not even say goodbye, already rushing through the grove. His trainers got terribly dirty from the mudd the rain turned the footpath into. Right now goodbyes were simply unimportant. What mattered was that he had a train to catch. And he was a terrible runner.