Eclipsed

The morning of the graduation party buzzed with excitement. Nervous energy crackled in the air as students preened in their best robes and even the owls seemed to hoot their congratulations from the owlery. Remus, however, felt a different kind of flutter in his stomach – a mix of apprehension and anticipation. Professor Dumbledore had requested a meeting with him in his office that morning, throwing a wrench into his plans of a celebratory breakfast and a well-deserved nap.

As he made his way towards the Headmaster's office, Sirius walked by his side, as Remus’ hip hadn’t quite recovered, and he was a bit nervous about making it all the way. Sirius and Pomfrey had separately brought up the idea of Remus thinking about a cane to help with the post-moon pain that seemed to linger for longer after every moon, however Remus wasn’t quite ready to face that reality yet. 

"Feeling alright, Moony?" Sirius asked, his voice laced with concern as Remus let out a tiny grunt of pain.  

Remus managed a weak smile, ignoring the actual question Sirius was asking. "A bit nervous, Padfoot. Dumbledore's meetings are rarely casual, you know."

As they arrived in silence to the gargoyle guarding the headmaster’s office, a sense of foreboding settled into his chest. "I should go," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Sirius' playful grin faded, replaced by a concerned frown. "Alright, love. I’ll be waiting here for you. I can't wait to hear what the old man wants."

With a smile and nod, Remus gave the password, and made his way towards the Headmaster's office. With the password, the gargoyle guardian shifted aside, revealing the familiar stone archway. Remus took a deep breath and stepped through, the portrait of Armando Dippet swinging shut behind him.

Dumbledore stood behind his desk, his beard as white as freshly fallen snow, his twinkling blue eyes fixed on Remus. "Mr. Lupin," he greeted, his voice warm and welcoming. "Please, have a seat."

Remus eased himself down on the offered chair, his heart pounding in his chest. "Professor," he began, his voice uncertain, "you wanted to see me?"

Dumbledore leaned forward, his gaze filled with an uncharacteristic seriousness. "Mr. Lupin," he greeted, his voice warm and welcoming. "Please, have a seat."

Remus sat down on the offered chair, his heart pounding in his chest. "Professor," he began, his voice uncertain, "you wanted to see me?"

Dumbledore leaned forward, his gaze filled with an uncharacteristic seriousness. "Mr. Lupin," he said, "there is a matter of great importance that I wish to discuss with you.” 

Remus leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Of course, Professor."

Dumbledore folded his hands on the desk, leaning forward slightly. "Mr. Lupin, I've always admired your intelligence, your compassion, and your strength. Qualities, I believe, that would be invaluable to a cause of great importance."

Remus' curiosity piqued. "What cause, Professor?"

Dumbledore sighed, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. "There is a growing darkness in the wizarding world, my boy. A darkness that threatens the very core of our society."

He paused, his gaze fixed on Remus. "Have you ever heard of an organization called the Order of the Phoenix?"

Remus shook his head, a knot tightening in his stomach. The name sent a shiver down his spine, a sense of danger veiled in its noble-sounding title.

Dumbledore launched into a detailed explanation of the secret society he'd founded. He spoke of a group of witches and wizards dedicated to fighting against Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard responsible for the rise in attacks over the past few years. 

"The Order works in the shadows, Remus," Dumbledore continued, his voice low and serious. "We gather information, protect those in danger, and work tirelessly to thwart Voldemort and his Death Eaters, the terrorists plaguing our world."

Remus sat there, taking this all in, and Dumbledore smiled reassuringly at him. 

"I understand if this is a lot to take in, Remus," the headmaster told him, voice laced with understanding. "But I believe you have the potential to make a real difference. Your exceptional performance in your Defense Against the Dark Arts and Magical Theory classes, has come to my attention."

Remus felt a flicker of pride amidst the growing unease. Although his final term had fallen apart, the past seven years of rigorous studying had actually been of use.

"We have, at the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore paused, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "a need for a skilled researcher and analyst. Someone who can delve into complex magical texts, decipher cryptic intelligence, and piece together patterns."

Dumbledore's words sparked a flame of curiosity within Remus. Research, analytics, magical theory – those were all things he truly excelled in.

"The task at hand is vital, Remus," Dumbledore pressed on, his gaze turning intense. "We are facing a renewed threat from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Their activities are shrouded in secrecy, and any insights you can glean from historical accounts, magical artifacts, or even obscure incantations, could prove invaluable."

Remus' mind raced. He knew the threat was real, and even though research wasn't exactly frontline action, the thought of actively contributing to the fight against the dark forces was undeniably alluring.

"Professor," Remus began cautiously, "that sounds like a challenging and important task. I would be honored to be considered."

Dumbledore's lips stretched into a barely perceptible smile. "Excellent, Remus. However," he continued, his voice taking on a more hesitant tone, "there is another aspect to this position that necessitates… discretion."

Remus' stomach lurched.

"The werewolf community," Dumbledore began slowly, "remains a source of concern. Their allegiances are often…unclear. We require someone to gather information, to discreetly observe and report on any potential…activities that might benefit Voldemort's cause."

The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air. Dumbledore was essentially asking Remus to spy on his own kind. The excitement that had surged through Remus moments ago promptly evaporated. The prospect of researching ancient texts paled in comparison to infiltrating the close-knit, often suspicious world of werewolves. A world he'd spent years trying to distance himself from.

He met Dumbledore's gaze, his voice low and tight. "Professor, I understand the importance of gathering information. But the werewolf community…" He faltered, searching for the right words. "They are not all potential threats… you know that, right? Most are just… unlucky."

Dumbledore sighed, a flicker of sadness crossing his face. "Remus, I am aware. But these are desperate times. We cannot afford to ignore even the slightest possibility of danger. However, your comfort and safety are paramount. If you are not comfortable undertaking this… additional task…"

The unspoken sentence hung in the air. Refuse, and the research position, the chance to contribute, not only to the Order, but to society, would vanish. But become a spy? Remus closed his eyes, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. 

With a deep breath, he opened his eyes, a steely resolve replacing the anger. "Professor," he said, his voice firm, "I understand the risks involved. But if this research position allows me to contribute to the fight against Voldemort, then I'm willing to do whatever it takes. Even if it means… observing the werewolf packs."

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, but a flicker of concern lingered in their depths. "Remus, this will not be easy. But know this," he said, his voice filled with a reassuring warmth, "you will not be alone in this. The Order will provide you with all the support and resources you need," Dumbledore finished, his voice laced with a sincerity that soothed some of the prickling unease in Remus' gut.

Remus nodded, the weight of his decision settling on him like a heavy cloak. He knew this wouldn't be a walk in the Forbidden Forest. Spying on his own kind, navigating the murky waters of werewolf politics, all while researching the rise of Dark magic – it was a daunting prospect.

"Professor," he began, his voice low, "how much do you know about the werewolf packs? They're… tight-knit communities, fiercely protective and often suspicious of outsiders."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers, his gaze thoughtful. "We have some information, Remus, through discreet inquiries and whispers from sympathizers within the packs. But much remains shrouded in secrecy. That's where you come in. Your unique position as a werewolf, while undoubtedly challenging in our society, could also be your greatest asset when it comes to this sort of work."

Remus couldn't help but let out a humorless chuckle. "Unique position." He thought of the full moon transformations, the isolation, the pain, the constant fear of being ostracized. Now, it seemed, those very things were being used as a tool.

"Professor," he continued, a newfound confidence settling in his voice, "before I fully commit, could you tell me more about the research? What kind of materials will I be working with?"

Dumbledore's face broke into a genuine smile. "Ah, now we're talking! We have texts we need translated, decrypted, or analyzed, both here in the UK and around the continent. We suspect there might be hidden messages within these texts, clues about these Death Eaters, their leaders, past activities, and perhaps even their future plans."

Remus felt the spark reignite within him. The thrill of the unknown, the challenge of deciphering cryptic messages – it was the intellectual puzzle he craved, a welcome counterpoint to the emotional turmoil that the spying was bound to bring.

"Alright," he said, a resolute glint in his eyes. "I'm in."

Dumbledore's smile widened, the relief evident in his eyes. "Excellent, Remus! We'll provide you with a secure workspace, access to restricted materials, and whatever else you need. Your safety is our paramount concern."

Remus appreciated the reassurance. He knew the path ahead wouldn't be easy. He would be walking a tightrope, balancing his loyalty to the Order with a cautious empathy for his fellow werewolves. But the fight against Voldemort, the potential to make a real difference – that was a cause he couldn't ignore.

“And remember, secrecy is of the utmost importance, Remus," Dumbledore concluded, his voice grave. "This entire organization, its operations, its members' identities – they must remain a closely guarded secret."

Remus understood. Discretion was the lifeblood of any underground organization. He also understood the potential danger of revealing the Order's existence to his friends, especially Sirius, whose impulsive nature could be a security risk.

"Of course, Professor," Remus said, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning within him. "My lips are sealed."

Dumbledore nodded, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. "Excellent. As for your role, let's say I've hired you for a confidential research project. It requires your exceptional analytical skills and discretion. You'll need to remain tight-lipped about it, even with your closest friends."

Remus couldn't help but offer a wry smile. Keeping secrets from the Marauders would be a challenge, but Remus was a master of compartmentalization.

"Of course, Professor," Remus replied, his voice steady. "I can explain my new position as a… confidential research project. No need for specifics."

Dumbledore chuckled in return. "Indeed. Very well, Remus. We'll begin your training discreetly. In the meantime, enjoy your graduation and celebrate with your friends. You deserve a time of respite before our work begins."

Remus stepped out of the office, his heart pounding. He was a werewolf, a scholar, and now, a spy. He descended the staircase, his mind already conjuring a believable explanation for Sirius.

"Took you long enough, Moony," Sirius drawled, his eyes twinkling as he pushed himself upright from the stone wall he was leaning against. "Dumbledore dispensing wisdom or extracting confessions?"

Remus forced a chuckle. "A bit of both, Padfoot. Turns out, Dumbledore referred me for a… confidential research project. He told me I couldn’t really talk about it.."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a playful skepticism dancing in his eyes. "Research, huh? Sounds about as exciting as watching paint dry." The two began to walk slowly down the corridor. 

"Oh, it's thrilling," Remus retorted, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "Forms, endless forms, and the constant threat of paper cuts. A scholar's dream."

Sirius snorted, his doubt momentarily dispelled and replaced with a tenderness Sirius reserved exclusively for Remus. "Darling, that’s wonderful, really. I knew your hard work would pay off. Congratulations, Moony.” 

Remus' heart ached with the weight of the lie, but a sliver of relief washed over him. He'd managed to plant a believable seed, one that wouldn't arouse suspicion.

"Thanks, Padfoot," he replied, forcing a smile. Putting an arm around Sirius' shoulder, he said, "Ready for the party? There's so much to celebrate tonight, starting with my newfound career as a… secret researcher."

Sirius threw his head back and laughed. "Ready to celebrate anything with you, Moony!” 

As they entered the bustling courtyard, the weight of the lie sat heavy on his chest, but it was eclipsed by the warmth of friendship and the promise of a future, however uncertain, where he could fight for good, even if he had to keep it to himself.

James could feel the jubilant energy that crackled through the air. Hogwarts’ first ever graduation party was in full swing, full of laughter, music, and nervous excitement. Graduates, wearing a mix of wixen and muggle style attire, milled about the sun-drenched lawns, sharing stories, dreams, and talking excitedly about the future. Conversation mingled with the clinking of glasses and the lively chatter of friends reuniting after their exams. 

James basked in the warmth of it all, a grin plastered on his face. Lily, her smile radiant, stood beside him, her hair, usually tamed in a braid, cascaded down her back in soft waves. James’ hand instinctively reached for the familiar comfort of Lily's arm, navigating the throng of well-wishers with a practiced smile, as they came across their friends at the edge of the crowd. 

Remus, looking a tad drawn but undeniably relieved to be done with exams, stood by their side, Sirius' arm draped playfully around his shoulders.

“Really great party, Evans, Prongs,” Sirius began, embracing his friends one at a time. “Prongs, you wouldn't believe it... even Moony’s dancing.”

“I am certainly doing no such thing… ever,” Remus quickly interjected, and James laughed. 

"Thanks, Padfoot," James replied, unable to keep a smile off his face. "Just wait and see all the dancing Lily's got planned for me later."

Sirius snorted. "Right, because dancing is all about stamina, not rhythm."

Lily, who had been patiently waiting, finally spoke up, her voice laced with mock severity. “You just wait, Sirius Black, I’ve been teaching him all the latest muggle trends!” Sirius and Remus laughed out loud, and Lily squeezed James’ arm as she continued, hardly containing her own laughter. “You think I’m kidding, but when Mary and I hit the muggle discos last summer… all I can say is James can shake those hips like you wouldn’t believe, right love?” 

James humored her, and did his best approximation of what he remembered from their ‘dance lessons’, her hands on his hips, moving them, and then thinking about… what came after that… but regardless, whatever he did earned another laugh from the two boys, and to James, it was worth it. It was an afternoon of celebration, of camaraderie, a bittersweet farewell to Hogwarts and a hopeful look towards the future, before packing their trunks that evening and leaving for the last time. 

Suddenly, a discordant screech pierced the jovial chatter. James and Sirius both flinched  picking up the jarring melody before anyone else. It was a wizarding waltz, a notoriously difficult traditional piece of music for wind instruments. While some Muggleborns and even half-bloods were confused as to the change of music, most of the pureblood students knew exactly what this was. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Sirius muttered angrily, but stayed put after a harshly worded whisper from Remus. 

"What in Merlin's beard is that racket?" Lily asked, looking around to the three wizards around her. 

"Their idea of music," Sirius muttered through gritted teeth. "This is what you play at Wizarding balls. It's dance music."

By the record player, having been enchanted by Flitwick himself to work on both muggle and magical records, stood the coalition of seventh year Slytherins that made life in the corridors generally unbearable: Avery, Mulciber, Nott, and Snape, along with some of the pureblood girls in the year, who, while not as prolific bullies as the boys, were notorious for their general unpleasantness.

As the excruciating melody droned on, Mulciber, the tallest of the Slytherin boys, stepped forward, holding a hand out to one of the girls, Charlotte Greengrass, his voice dripping with disdain as they began the traditional wizarding dance that went with the waltz.

"I guess they teach Mudbloods nothing" he declared loudly, as though it was only meant for Charlotte to hear, "in our esteemed institution. I guess our cultural heritage means nothing. Don’t worry, dear, that will all change very soon."

A collective gasp rippled through the partygoers. James felt his blood run cold. The casual use of such a slur, the blatant disrespect for their fellow witches and wizards, was infuriating.

"They're ruining everything!" Avery chimed in, his voice laced with mock horror as he led his partner, Victoria Travers, onto the floor as well. "Can't even have a decent party without this filth crowding around." he sputtered, and Victoria tittered in amusement. 

James bristled, but Lily’s hands on his arm held him in place. 

"I've had enough of these prats," he muttered, his voice tight.

The discordant symphony continued to blare from the Slytherins' corner, a pathetic attempt to disrupt the festivities. But for the most part, it fell on deaf ears. The majority of the partygoers decided to take their celebration elsewhere.

Up in the Gryffindor common room, a different kind of music filled the air – the soft, nostalgic strains of a Bowie record Sirius had procured from somewhere deep in Remus’ trunk. The room buzzed with a different kind of energy – one of camaraderie, relief, and a touch of bittersweetness.

As they piled into the familiar Gryffindor common room, a wave of nostalgia washed over them. The worn armchairs, the crackling fireplace, the lopsided portrait of the Fat Lady – it all held a bittersweet charm.

"Seven years," Lily mused, her voice tinged with wonder as she ran a hand along the soft velvety fabric of the couch. "Seems like just yesterday we were nervous firsties, getting lost on our way to Charms."

Peter, ever the worrier, chimed in, "And nearly setting Professor Flitwick's beard on fire with that levitation charm."

A collective groan went up, followed by a wave of laughter. 

“I think that one was just you, Pete.” 

Memories flooded back – Quidditch victories, late-night study sessions fueled by treacle tarts, detentions served with a healthy dose of mischief.

Mary, her eyes twinkling, nudged Marlene. "Remember that time we snuck out to the greenhouses after curfew to see Professor Sprout's enchanted orchids bloom?"

Marlene grinned. "And ended up covered pus from whatever that weird plant was?"

“That was YOU?” Sirius roared, “I served that detention for WEEKS!” 

The room erupted in laughter, and more and more tumbled out, bringing the seventh years an overwhelming feeling of contentment as they sipped their butterbeers and crowded around the fire for the last time. 

As the fire crackled and the laughter died down, a more contemplative mood settled over the group. Isabelle, who’d only really started to hang out with them once her own friends had graduated, spoke up, her voice soft. "It's strange to think this is it, isn't it? Seven years, … and now what?"

Her question hung in the air, a sentiment shared by all. The future stretched before them, uncharted and daunting. But amidst the uncertainty, there was also a sense of possibility.

Sirius, ever the optimist, clapped his hands together. "The future? It's ours to shape, isn’t it? We've faced the worst of the worst, and even Snivellus… sorry Evans, but he’s a greasy git. What could be worse than that?"

Remus chuckled, a hint of apprehension lingering in his eyes. "Please leave Snape alone, Pads, just for tonight."

James, his arm wrapped around Lily's shoulder, squeezed her tight. "Whatever comes our way, we'll face it together. Like always."

Lily leaned into him, a radiant smile on her face. "Always, James. I like the sound of that."

The fire cast a warm glow on their faces, a silent promise flickering in their eyes. 

"To us," James said, raising his butterbeer in a toast. "To friendship, to magic, and to the next adventure, whatever it may be."