Chapter 3
“Stop!” McGonagall sat up from her seat in the audience. “That was the cue, where is Regulus?”
The cast remained quiet.
“Where is Regulus Black?” McGonagall demanded. “We open in four days!”
“Regulus Black will be unable to perform,” Euphemia entered from the wings. “He has taken leave because he has fallen ill.”
“Well, what do we do, Madame Potter? We can’t very well keep going without our lead.” McGonagall was at her wits’ end with this cursed show, everything seemed to be going wrong.
“We shall need to find a replacement. Do you know of any?” she answered.
James spoke up respectfully from the back. “Um, Remus can perform.”
Remus, himself, shot his friend a look of surprise, then dread.
McGonagall turned her glare on him.
“Remus Lupin,” James clarified, tugging his friend forward by the arm. “He can sing, he’s been taking lessons.”
This seemed to please Euphemia who turned to McGonagall and said pleasantly, “Why not let the boy try? It is our best idea.”
McGonagall sat down with a huff as the dance director made her way down the stage stairs to sit next to her. “Euphemia, this does nothing for my nerves,” she grumbled.
“From the top of the aria, please, Monsieur,” Euphemia called to the orchestra conductor, who nodded and began to wave his baton again.
Remus nervously took center stage as the rest of the cast resumed positions for the beginning of the cue. The spotlights glaring down on him made his heart pound. He cleared his throat and nervously glanced down at his instructor who gave him an encouraging nod. He took a deep breath and began to sing. It was a slow melody, a pretty thing, and soon enough, he was singing the same aria in front of a full house audience. It was silent, just his voice and the music.
Remus felt uncomfortable with the attention but at the same time, he felt like whatever happened on that stage stayed there. It would be a problem for his character to solve because right then, he was not Remus Lupin, he was someone else entirely, someone else he would never see or hear from or think about again once closing night was through. A grin made its way onto his face because as much as Remus Lupin hated having all eyes on him, he loved music twice as much. As he sang through the aria, in full costume, under glaring spotlights and scrutinizing audience, Remus felt his heart soar. This feeling was like no other, something he had only ever felt when making music, this high, something he would only ever feel while onstage.
As he came to the slow vocalization at the end of the song, he sang through it gracefully, coming to the long note at the end and finished. The audience burst into cheers, Remus’s ears ringing with applause. As the curtains closed on the show, Remus felt an immense feeling of satisfaction.
After the show, James scurried up to his mother. “Have you seen Remus?”
“Not since the crowd gave him the loudest cheer I’ve heard in months, goodness, that boy can sing,” Euphemia said, smiling brilliantly. “Why?”
“I haven’t been able to find him,” James said, scratching his head and looking around.
“Well, go look for him if you want to see him so badly. Oh, and give him my congratulations if you do find him!” Euphemia said delightedly.
James nodded and dashed off. He found Remus sitting in quiet darkness in the opera house’s chappelle.
“Remus!” he called. “Remus, what are you doing way down here?” He heard a strange voice like whispers as he descended the stairs to where he thought his friend was. He paused, wanting to hear if the voices said anything else. Nothing. James decided he must’ve been imagining it.
Remus looked up from his place on the floor. He’d lit a candle in front of a picture with the name Hope Lupin on the frame.
“Remus, what are you doing hiding down here? Really, you were absolutely perfect, mum says to tell you congratulations, too!” James went on. “Just wish I knew what your secret was. Who’s been teaching you how to sing like that?”
Remus smiled. “James, when your mum brought me to live here, whenever I’d come down here alone to light a candle for my mother, I’d hear this voice. Like it was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I’d hear him in my dreams, too. See, when my mother died, she said I’d be protected by an angel. An angel of music, she called it.”
“You think it’s your mother? Your mum’s spirit coaching you?” James asked.
“Who else could it be, James? She might’ve sent me an angel like she said she would. When I sing here, right here, it’s like I can sense him, James. This angel of music, he’s here and he speaks to me, you gotta believe me,” Remus’s eyes searched his gaze, trying to read his expression.
James shook his head slowly. “Remus, you were dreaming or something. Stories about that kind of thing aren’t real. Come on, you’re being weird.” He took his friend's arm and guided him up the stairs of the chappell back into the opera house.
“I couldn’t believe it either, when it first started. I thought I might be losing my mind. Come on, you sing, I bet he’ll talk to you, too, he’s really nice!”
James shook his head again. “This angel of music can’t be real, you must have someone else teaching you.”
“It’s the angel of music, James,” Remus insisted.
“Angel of music! Come on out! Quit hiding!” James called out into the empty corridor. Nothing. “You see, Remus? There’s no one there. Are you feeling alright?” He raised his hand up to his friend’s forehead to check his temperature.
Remus waved his hand away. “I’m fine, James. Really, I am. He’s here, I know he is. He’s everywhere.”
“Remus, your hands are like ice,” James said, squeezing his friend’s hands. “Goodness, you’re pale as a ghost.”
Remus snapped his gaze back to James. “Sometimes it scares me a bit.”
“Don’t be scared,” James said gently. He guided his friend back to his mother who took Remus by the shoulders and led him back to his dressing room, waving off anyone who got near.
“No! The boy needs his rest, please leave him be,” she demanded, ushering Remus through the doors of his dressing room and waving away followers. “No!” She followed him into the room and shut the doors, locking them. She turned and stood for a moment, just looking at him, her eyes shining with pride. She reached forward and took his hands, squeezing them comfortingly. “You did very well, darling. He is so pleased with you.” She took a single rose from the vanity and handed it to him. It was a beautiful, unblemished red rose with a small black satin ribbon tied into a bow on the stem.
Remus took it in his hands and studied, the moment still seeming so surreal to him. He sat down slowly at his mirror and watched Euphemia exit the room.
She gently shut the doors behind her to find the new opera house owners, Walpurga and Orion Black accosting what looked to be a nobleman.
“Viscount,” they called. “Viscount, we seem to have made quit the discovery with Mister Lupin.”
“Perhaps we could present him to you?” offered Walpurga.
“Oh, no. I’m afraid this is a moment I’d like to take to myself,” the viscount responded. “Alone.” He took one look at the bouquet of flowers in Orion’s hand and snatched them from him, tipping his hat to the couple. “But thank you very much.” Thus, he turned on his heel made for Remus’s dressing room.
“You don’t suppose they’ve…” Orion started, slightly put off.
“No no, of course they haven’t,” snapped Walpurga. “An opera singer and a viscount? Don’t make me laugh.”
The viscount gently closed the doors to the dressing rooms, but it seemed that the singer hadn’t noticed him anyway. He was too busy studying a flower on his desk in the candlelight. The way the candlelight glowed on his bronze skin was captivating, his expression of deep thought bathed in the dim golden light. The viscount drew nearer and cleared his throat. “Got a moment, sweetheart? Wouldn’t want to disturb a beauty like yourself.”
Remus’s head snapped up, his face immediately glowing with a smile. “Grant!”
“Maybe I should’ve brought a violin,” Grant grinned.
“All those dances. Mum would sing and Dad would play,” Remus mused.
Grant set down the flowers without looking where they fell. “We’d eat as much chocolate as we could stand. We’d tell each other stories and learn to read.”
“And Little Lotte said, “No, what I love best is when I’m asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head”,” Remus recited. It was a rhyme from one of their favourite stories to read together. They’d memorised the words and sang them to a rhythm, turning the plain old rhyme into their own little song.
Grant came closer and knelt on one knee, to get on Remus’s level, who was still seated. “The Angel of Music sings songs in my head…,” he murmured under his breath as if those words held secrets he mustn’t say too loud. His eyes looked over Remus as if he beheld something Grant considered priceless before pulling the singer into a tight embrace. “You sounded like an angel tonight. Really, Remus, you sure you ain’t sent from some higher power?”
Remus smiled and shook his head. “Mum said to me ‘when I am in heaven, I will send the Angel of Music to watch over you’ and she is dead, Grant. I really have been visited by the Angel of Music.”
Grant’s eyes widened. “Oh, no doubt,” he agreed seriously. “But it’s dinnertime. I don’t suppose the Angel of Music would like to join us?”
Remus straightened, looking slightly offended. “No, Grant. The Angel of Music is very strict, he is my teacher.”
“Oh, in that case, I promise him we’ll be back before midnight,” Grant said with a chuckle.
“Grant, no,” Remus insisted, more firmly.
Grant ignored him. “You should change! I’d hate for that costume to get dirty. I’ll go get a carriage. Two minutes, sweetheart, I’ll be right back for you.”
“Grant, no. Wait!” Remus stood to catch him, but the viscount was already gone. The door shut leaving the performer alone again.