Epistulae Heroum

“My secrets are carried, by these letters, over land and sea:
even enemies read letters received from their enemies.”

The Heroides - IV: Phaedra to Hippolytus

Sunday 8th September, 1975

His arm was dead. 

He wanted to roll over so greatly but, last night, the wolf seemed feel like ripping out his liver, so now Remus was suffering with a large slice cutting right from the bottom of his right rib to his sternum and any slight movement (even though it had been long healed by Madam Pomfrey) was pure agony. He was just glad it missed his nipple, in all honesty. He did not want to feel that type of pain. 

“—so next time, when Professor Slughorn gets his next beetle-eye shipment, I’m going to head down and get some and hopefully I wont mess up essence of insanity again.” Pandora said. She was sat on one of the little wooden stools to the side of the bed and had a  Witch Weekly in her hands. Remus knew she was trying to distract him, given he had already had six hours of sleep and was due for class in half an hour, but it was really a sore effort.

”I really do think he’ll offer me a place this time, y’know. It’s not like Evan and I don’t come from a potioneering family… We have a second cousin who helped with making Dr Ubbly’s Oblivious Unction, though she’s long dead now… or maybe she was our third cousin?”

”Pandora?”

”Hm?”

”Shut up.”

“Will do.” She smiled, gleefully. But Remus was not granted that well needed moment of silence as, a few moments later, Professor McGonagall emerged from behind the curtain.

”Mr Lupin.” She nodded, then turned to Pandora with a cocked eyebrow, “Miss Rosier.”

”Professor.” Remus greeted, feeling a little vulnerable given he was laying flat down and couldn’t really do much other than raise his head to see her.

Professor McGonagall was one of the only teachers who knew about his lycanthropy. All the heads of houses did in case anything ever went wrong and a student was injured, but Remus didn’t like to think about that. Even though he was his head of house, Slughorn was useless with it. McGonagall was one of the only ones who kept herself caught up with Remus’ state. She was the deputy headmistress so it more than likely called for it, but Remus often wondered if that was her motivation at all.

*

It was coming up to the end of his first year. The weather was sweltering and Remus’ trainers squeaked with the humidity. He pushed open the heavy doors to the transfiguration classroom to see a focused Professor McGonagall sat at her desk, a funny-patterned cabriolet fan levitating and wafting her whilst she worked.

”Can I help you, Mr Lupin?” Professor McGonagall asked without looking up. At first, Remus hadn’t liked Professor McGonagall. She had always smelled like cats. The wolf was not a fan. That was until he learned she could actually turn into a cat was he more wowed than put off.

”Er… I think so.” Remus said, stopping at the edge of her desk.

Professor McGonagall looked up, thin reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.

”You think so?” She asked, one severe brow arched.

”Well, I had a question.” Remus said, curiously, fiddling with his tie. He didn’t quite like speaking to adults. But, strangely, with Professor McGonagall, he didn’t mind.

”And that question is?” She asked.

Remus thought for a moment on how to word it, screwing his eyebrows deep in thought.

”Why can you turn into a cat?” Remus asked.

Instead of laughing and insisting he should know this already like the majority of people had done when he asked a question about magic, she just took the glasses off the end of her nose and folded them, placing them on her desk.

”I am an animagus. Do you know what an animagus is?”

Remus shook his head.

”An animagus is a person who has the ability to transform into an animal.” Professor McGonagall said, lacing her fingers together.

Remus raised his eyebrows, “Am I an animagus, Professor?” 

Professor McGonagall gave a small smile, “Animagi can transform at will. One can become an animagus through a very difficult ritual. A person with lycanthropy is infected by another person with lycanthropy and has no control over there transformations.”

Remus nodded, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully.

”Is that all you wished to ask?” Professor McGonagall asked, probably sensing Remus’ interest.

”I just wondered… Because the wolf only attacks humans, would it work the same for an animagus when they were an animal? Or would they be safe?”

Professor McGonagall gave him a funny look at this, a curious one, Remus realised. 

“I just thought—maybe it could be something the ministry should do when they lock wolves away on full moons. I don’t really remember much from my transformations, but I do remember it can be awfully lonely. Maybe the wolf wouldn’t attack as bad if it had some friends?”

”That is an interesting theory.” Professor McGonagall said, kindly, “Though, I have to admit, I’m not quite sure about if an animagus would be in danger of the wolf, I’m afraid.”

Remus nodded. He wasn’t really disappointed, just intrigued.

“I’ll mention it to the headmaster.” Professor McGonagall said, “Perhaps he knows a thing or two.”

Remus’ face broke out into a grin, “Alright.”

*

McGonagall took a step towards him and clasped her hands in front of her. Remus knew she was thinking on a reason for her appearance, every moon she came to check on him. He guessed it was to make sure he wasn’t dead, which was fair enough. She would usually come with the classwork or homework he had missed but, with it being a Sunday, she didn’t need to. She never asked how he was doing, though; Remus liked that. 

“I came to ask how you were fairing with your coursework, Mr Lupin.” McGonagall eventually settled on. 

“Brilliant.” Remus said, giving a stiff nod, “Transfigured Snape’s bed into a bath the other day. God knows he needs it.”

McGonagall just gave him a disapproving glance. 

“Yes, I do seem to remember Mr Snape enquiring about a countercurse for a potions book that’d been transfigured into a brick of Camembert. I assume that was your doing also?”

Remus saw Pandora silently snickering behind her hand.

”No, actually, afraid not.” Remus said, “Though, I had a run in with a couple of the marauders yesterday. First once since being a prefect. They don’t seem to big a fan. Maybe it was them?”

”You know, Mr Lupin, sometimes I am deeply glad you are not in my house.” She said.

”Really? Why’s that?”

”I don’t even want to know what I’d have to put up with had you been friends with Mr Potter, Mr Black and Mr Pettigrew.”

*

Remus was released from his dittany-scented prison later that afternoon with an extreme eagerness to see what Ziggy had written back. Pandora insisted on accompanying him with the excuse that she had nothing better to do (Remus knew this was a lie, they both had a shit ton of charms homework) and the pair of them made their way to the fourth floor.

Oh, so you are a flirt. Here I
thought you were going to be a
tough nut to crack.

Also I take back my not-evil
statement. HOW CAN YOU NOT
LIKE PETS?!

And I suppose that’s my
question.

Pandora and Remus shared a smirk, both knowing exactly what Remus should respond with.

Keep talking about nuts and
I get even flirtier. 

And about the pet thing, let’s
just say I grew up with a very
insistent dog. 

What colour are your eyes?

”Remus Lupin, you dog.” Pandora snickered as he emerged from the bathroom once more.

”Overused.”

“Oh, let me have it this once.”

*

Remus had almost completely forgotten he was supposed to be on patrol that night. It was, luckily, only nine o’clock when he remembered, but it was also, less luckily, just as he was preparing to go to sleep. He was thankful that it would be postponing his inevitable horrible night of sleep before the fifth day of the cycle, but, given it was also the night after the full moon, he was shattered.

“How often do you get your hair cut?” 

Remus was far gone by this point, entirely zoned out and trying not to fall asleep on his feet.

”Huh?” He turned to Dorcas, who was looking at him curiously.

”Your hair.” She said, pointing to said hair, “It’s quite long. I remember it being shorter in previous years.”

Dorcas was quite right. All summer, Remus hadn’t had a single chance to have his hair trimmed and he hadn’t yet had chance to sneak out to Hogsmeade (the barbers was always fully booked on Hogsmeade trips) so his hair had bodied a sort of short, puffy bouffant/coif that made him look like if Hubbell Gardiner from The Way We Were went very wrong.  

“I can cut it for you, if you like.” She said, scuffing her shoe on the stone floor as they walked, “I do my friends’ for him all the time. He hates going to the barbers. Says they always do it wrong.”

”Do they?” Remus asked, far to tired to add anything to the conversation other than curiosity.

”No.” Dorcas chuckled, shaking her head, “Reg is too proud to admit he’s nervous.”

”Reg?” Remus asked. He couldn’t recall there being a ‘Reg’ in their year.

“Oh, sorry. Regulus.” She said, waving a hand.

”Regulus Black?”

Dorcas nodded, “You probably think he’s a prick. Well, honestly, he kind of is. But he cares, I know that. A bit like you.”

”I’m a prick?!” Remus whirled on her, eyes wide and forgetting all about his fatigue.

”’Course you’re a bloody prick.” Dorcas said, grinning.

”Wha- I- How?”

”Well, for starters, you act like you think you’re better than everyone else.”

”But that’s because I am better than everyone else.” Remus said, simply.

Dorcas gave him an incredulous look.

”What?”

Dorcas let out a disbelieving scoff, shaking her head and looking back at the path in front of them, “Do you realise how egotistical that sounds?”

”How is it egotistical?” Remus asked, knotting his brows together.

”You thinking the sun shines out of your arse isn’t egotistical?” Dorcas scoffed, “Honestly, I thought you were clever.”

”I never said I thought good of myself, just bad of other people.” Remus pointed out, earning another disbelieving glance, “No. You’re not getting it. I grew up in the muggle world, right. Home educated with zero friends. Basically a complete social reject. And when I got to Hogwarts, there were all these new rules and expectations that I didn’t understand.”

”And not just the standard ‘always have your shirt tucked in’, ‘no running in the corridors’ type rules. I mean everyone seemed to think that everything that made you different made you strange. And, really, I’ve always been different. But I never thought bad of myself until all of these rules came up. So I just decided to think bad of everyone else instead. They were the ones who made the rules in the first place.”

Dorcas was silent for a good while. They had stopped in the middle of the corridor and she was just staring funnily at the floor. That was until she turned to look up at Remus with a tense expression.

”Lupin, I think you might’ve just changed my life.”

The rest of patrol, Remus ended up distracting himself from is tiredness with a flurry of conversation. Dorcas had a lot of questions about his perspective of the world. He told her everything. How the reason he hated being in Slytherin was because of the stereotype of the house holding evil. How he wished the world was different but was perfectly fine with just not caring what other people thought. And, to his surprise, she ended up telling him something he didn’t quite expect.

”I think that…” Dorcas paused, pursing her lips then sucking them back into her teeth, “I think I might be like you.”

”In what way?” Remus asked. She certainly couldn’t have meant physically. They were about as physically different as two people could get.

”Y’know…” She continued, her voice quiet, “Gay.”

“Oh.” Remus said, “Well, then. Welcome to the club.”

”Be nice if you wouldn’t tell anyone, though. You know how it is.” She said, Remus smirked at the use of his own words.

As their shift was coming to an end, Remus had successfully steered them towards the fourth floor boys bathrooms, even though it was nowhere near the section they were meant to be in. And, when he got in, he was very confused when there was no note at all. 

At first, he panicked. Had he been coming on too strong? Had Ziggy somehow found out he was a werewolf from the innuendo? Was the question he asked too intrusive? But then, he looked up to see a thick parcel on the windowsill above. It was wrapped neatly in parchment and twine with ‘Stranger’ written in the top right hand corner. 

“What the…” 

Remus unwrapped the parcel carefully, to reveal a brown, leather-backed book, of which’s thread was coming undone and looked a little worn. Along the spine was a series of Latin words inscribed with a familiar fairy-princess handwriting in a shiny gold.

communicare inter se ab altera parte mundi

Remus opened the book to find the pages inside completely blank. Ah. Ziggy must’ve left it there so they wouldn’t have to cram everything onto little notes. Smart guy.

He was a little confused, however, as Ziggy had neglected to write anything in response to his last message. Remus pulled out his wand and, as usual, transfigured it onto a pen. Then began writing.

Clever idea. Our usual way of communication wasn’t really the most hygienic. 

But, before he could write anything else, the words disappeared into the paper. Remus drew back, brows furrowed in thorough confusion. Then, he put pen to paper once again.

What the fuck?

Again, the letters seemed to be swallowed by the pages.

Ziggy Stardust and the spiders from Mars.

And again.

Remus snapped the book shut, rolling his eyes. It must’ve been some trick book. He should’ve expected it from someone who apparently was bold enough to evade filch. But, before he could leave the stall, the writing on the spine of the book began to emanate a glow. He opened it quickly again to find delicate writing (evidently with a quill this time) had appeared.

Why on earth are you out of bed and in the boys bathroom at one in the morning?

Remus’ eyes grew wide and he blinked a couple times, then shut the book. When he opened it again, the writing had disappeared. 

“Right.”

Remus pulled out his wand again.

What is this?

And, less than thirty seconds later.

I thought it’d be an easier way to communicate. And quicker.

Well, shit.

I know, right. It’s brilliant.

How did you come up with it?

My best mate suggested it. He’s been trying to come up with clever ways to woo the girl he likes and found it whilst researching.

I’ve gotta say. It’s definitely a stepup.

With a quick apology and an excuse he was about to be caught by filch, Remus reducio-d the book enough to fit into the pocket of his robes and dashed outside to meet Dorcas again.

”Please don’t mention the chile con carne this time.” She said.

***

Monday 9th September, 1975

I never got my answer, you know.

Answer?

Your eye colour.

Ah, yes. Well, you’ll be pleased to know it’s a very basic, unassuming blue.

Basic and unassuming? That doesn’t seem like you.

Very bold of you to assume that. You only know we on paper.

Is it not true?

There was silence for a good minute.

Hm. 

What about your flair for the dramatics?

I don’t have a flair for the dramatics.

Oh yeah. And I don’t have blue eyes.

Remus snickered at that.

It’s true! Really. 

Mhm. Mr ‘most people in
this school are bellends so it’s easier to be
rude to them before they can be rude to
you’.

That’s not dramatic. It’s true.

Brooding, then.

Whatever floats your boat.

Also that name would not pass on a birth certificate.

It’d pass better than the names of some of the bellends at this school’s.

What kind of a name is Xenophilius?

I’m 90% sure its another word for an alien kink.

Alien?

Oh shit. Right.

They’re what some muggles believe in. Life on planets other than earth.

Wow. That’s interesting.

You think it’s bollocks.

I think it’s bollocks.

Do you believe in them?

Honestly? Yeah. I mean, there’s so much we don’t know and the universe is infinite. Why not?

That’s a fair point, actually.

I hope this one isn’t too intrusive, but are you muggleborn?

Half-blood.

Ah. So that makes the search a little more difficult.

Remus did his absolute best to doodle something that could be recognised as a winky face.

Oh my god! We can draw little pictures to each other now!

What followed was a drawing of a motorbike, about four funny shaped stars, a smiley face and something Remus couldn’t distinguish between a horse or an armchair.

What’s that funny looking thing with the shoes?

A dog! Those are it’s paws!

Paws? They look like chocolate lava cakes.

Those are its

…

You know! The pads on its feet.

The pads on it’s feet?

How do you manage to sound derisive on paper?

Are you an artist?

Are you a prat?

I liked it better when you were telling me I was your type.

I liked it better when you were talking about my nuts.

You walked right into that one, honestly.

And you keep surprising me.

You’d also be surprised at how much I get that.

…

Hello?

Sorry. Ja My mate’s wondering why I keep giggling at my diary like a first year girl.

Well, I’m sorry because that’s about the most adorable thing I think I’ve ever heard.

…

Please tell me you’re giggling again.

…

Shut up.

Make me, Padfoot.

OH GOD, NO.

You just keep giving me ammunition at this point, Padfoot.

Oh for fuck sake.

Just accept it, Pads.

I’m leaving now.

Paddywoo.

Please. Make it stop.

Paddykins.

I’m closing the book now.

Paddington.