Boggart Beginning
January 6th
Remus Lupin waited patiently in his classroom, ignoring the rattling sound of the boggart attempting to be freed from the trunk where Remus trapped it.
It had been a frustrating day, and Remus doubted that would change through the rest of the week.
First, Severus had truly outdone himself when he decided to teach every class that Remus had about werewolves. First years who were meant to be learning to identify the different colors of different hexes were instead taught how to identify werewolves. Seventh years who were practicing nonverbal spells in anticipation of their upcoming NEWT exams? A refresher course on werewolves.
It was infuriating. It meant not only did Remus have over two hundred essays on werewolves (how to identify them, how to kill them ) to grade, it also meant that Remus presumed he would be in search of a new job by the end of the year.
Albus might vouch for Remus, if Sirius were still on the loose. He wouldn’t be able to protect Remus from the onslaught of parents who would prefer to not have a terrifying monster teaching their children though. That, Remus was certain, was Severus’s end-goal.
And the man wondered why Sirius might have felt pushed to try and kill him when they were fifteen.
Muppet.
Remus’s day had gone steadily downhill from there as he dealt with the continuing aches of transformations. Poppy, lovely woman she was, had sent him some potions and herbs to try and minimize the stiffness in his joints and the pain from the transformation. It was for naught though; Remus would have to wait it out, as usual.
The bright spot in his day had been Harry. Harry had found Remus after his defense lesson and asked him once again if he would be amenable to teaching him the patronus charm. Remus hemmed and hawed, but ultimately couldn’t say no to him.
Even if Remus had a stack of essays - he should just burn them really, give all the students an A - that needed his attention, Harry was able to wheedle him just as expertly at thirteen as he had when he was a baby. It wasn’t hard, really, he had just smiled at Remus and Remus allowed his overwhelming nostalgia to answer for him.
Remus toyed with the idea of using the private lesson to share some information with Harry, test the waters, so to speak. Sirius Black might be a piece of human scum, but James and Lily had another friend who would happily tell Harry about his parents.
Albus said that it ‘might be best’ if Remus refrained from doing precisely that, but Albus’s opinion was not law. Why shouldn’t Remus tell Harry about his father? About the Marauders? About summers spent with Lily in London? What harm could that do? Albus said Harry was happy and surely Lily’s parents had a plethora of stories about Lily to share, but they hadn’t known James all that well.
Remus could tell Harry all about the man he favored in looks, if not personality. Harry may already even know of Remus’s connection to his parents, Remus had met Lily’s family often enough that her mother, bless her, had been under the impression that Remus and Lily were an item.
Mrs Evans had also believed at one point that Lily and Severus were an item though, so Remus didn’t take her views into account. The Evans’s had adored James once they met him - and who didn’t? James had been lively, charming, extroverted and vicarious.
All traits that it seemed Harry had not inherited.
Harry looked much like his father, more so when he flew through the skies. But for as much as he looked like a green-eyed James, his personality was more Lily, Remus thought.
From what Remus had seen of him so far, Harry was polite, quiet, perhaps even a tad shy. He was intelligent, inquisitive, and quite stubborn as well.
Remus wondered if Harry would mind if he talked about his parents during their lesson or if it would hurt him. Harry wasn’t overtly emotional, from all that Remus had seen, but it might ruin Remus’s chance of spending more time with the child he once called nephew if he upset him during the lesson.
It would be best to wait, see if there was an opening. If so, Remus could bring it up and see what happened. If Severus didn’t prematurely end Remus’s career, he would have another five months in the castle to fix any mistakes he might make.
As if on cue, just when Remus decided that would be the ticket, there was a polite knock on the classroom door. Remus could hear Harry on the other side of the door and grinned to himself as he moved to open it.
“Evening, Harry,” Remus said. He shared a smile with Harry, noting the uptick in Harry’s heart rate. Harry looked excited, with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. It was another trait in both of his parents favor - as James and Lily both were fond of learning new magic.
“Evening, sir.” Harry followed Remus in the classroom and immediately cast a glance toward the rattling trunk. “Er… you did say to come tonight?”
“I did,” Remus agreed. “You’re certain you want to learn this charm, Harry? It can be quite taxing.”
Remus was only lightly mocking Harry, only to see him jut his chin out in stubbornness while his eyes flashed with determination. Oh, that boy was all Lily…
“If you’ll teach me, sir, I’d like to learn it,” Harry said, respectful but firm.
Remus bit back a chuckle and only inclined his head in a show of defeat. The charm was taxing, if only because consistent exposure to a dementor could be emotionally draining. Even a boggart-dementor would give off the chilly demeanor of the real thing, and Remus wasn’t fond of being near a dementor.
“Very well,” Remus said. He sat on the edge of the trunk and began his spiel to Harry on how to create the charm. A happy thought, a precise wave of his wand, determination behind his incantation.
“Is there - is there a boggart in there, sir?” Harry asked once Remus finished instructing him. The trunk had rattled a few times and Remus was pleased that Harry had guessed what he had locked inside of it.
“Yes,” Remus nodded. He stood up and gestured to the trunk while watching Harry closely. “You’re certain that a dementor would be the thing you fear most?” he asked gently.
Harry paled some, but remained determined. “I - yes, sir. I mean,” he blinked up at Remus with the same innocent charm he had as a baby, “I think so?”
Remus had considered the very real possibility of Harry’s boggart taking the form of Voldemort himself, but Harry seemed sure that it would be a dementor that would haunt him. It was insightful, truly, as dementors could create a unique level of psychological trauma and fear more than any other creature.
And, in the event that Harry was wrong and his boggart truly was Voldemort, well… it was just the two of them and perhaps Remus could teach Harry other offensive spells. Remus wondered if Lily’s father still carried a revolver or not, perhaps Remus could teach Harry to shoot if Mr Evans hadn’t done it yet.
“Very well.” Remus stood only two paces behind Harry and aimed his wand at the trunk. “You’ve got your memory ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
Remus wondered what the memory was, but he would ask after Harry’s first attempt at the charm. It was unlikely that Harry would achieve a patronus on his first try, so Remus would be able to nonchalantly ask him about his memory, assist him in looking for more to use.
“Alright, here we go then,” Remus said. He unlocked the trunk and stayed back so that the boggart would focus on Harry.
A mistake, as it turned out.
Remus was rather bemused when the boggart left the trunk and did not take on the form of a black-cloaked dementor but instead that of a man.
A very ugly man, to be clear, but just a man nonetheless. The man was tall, large, and with the most horrible mustache that Remus had ever seen. The oversized hair on his lip, matched with his beady eyes, gave him the impression of a walrus, truly.
The man focused on Harry and seemed to grow that much more imposing as he approached the boy who seemed frozen with shock.
“You!” the man spat, his anger nearly palpable. “You bring me here?! To this place of - of FREAKS?!”
Spittle sprayed from the man’s mouth and Remus was as stuck in place as Harry as he tried to work out the implications of Harry’s boggart. It wasn’t until the man raised a meaty fist at the boy that Remus was able to move, his sudden wave of anger overcoming his bemusement.
“ Riddikulus ,” Remus said, feigning calm once Harry was behind him and the boggart became a moon as usual. The moon deflated and Remus guided it back to the trunk, locking it for good measure.
Remus didn’t know what to say, how to ask Harry about what he had seen. When Remus turned around to face Harry, he saw that Harry had backed up clear to Remus’s desk; his face was pale, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Remus could see a trembling in his hands, the nervous darting of his eyes.
Harry looked much like a caged animal, searching out his safest method of escape.
“Harry…” Remus faltered, uncertain what to say. “Who…?” Remus wanted to know who the man was, he wanted a name and a location.
Remus wanted to find the man and peel the skin off his bones.
“I - I thought it would be a dementor,” Harry said nervously, his demeanor shrinking down until he was small. James Potter’s son was not meant to be small, nor meek. It was unsettling and Remus would drain the blood from the man that caused it.
Remus stayed calm though, wearing a patient mask as if the urge to legilimens the information out of Harry wasn’t itching just beneath the surface of his skin.
“We can’t always anticipate what our worst fear will be,” Remus said softly, taking small steps to approach Harry. Remus reached in his robe pocket slowly, pulling out a chocolate bar from Honeydukes. “Here, eat this. It will help.”
Harry inhaled rather shakily and then forced up a fake smile as he took the bar from Remus.
“I don’t know what that was about, really,” Harry insisted, as if he needed to defend his fear to Remus. Harry was carefully avoiding eye contact, probably more from embarrassment than purposefully impeding Remus from snooping in his thoughts.
Remus hummed and propped his hip against a desk while he studied his shoes and gave Harry a moment to collect himself. Remus was good at hiding himself. There were times where Remus could sit through meetings at Hogwarts and appear pleasant and calm while he mentally tortured Severus for the hell of it.
A side-effect of his imaginative childhood, certainly.
If Remus knew who the man was that twisted Harry’s psyche until a boggart identified it as his biggest fear, the man would know no peace. It wouldn’t be a quick death, no, Remus was by far too creative to do anything as simple as kill a man.
That sort of planning could wait though, once Remus knew who he was and why he raised his hand at Harry.
Harry had taken two bites of the chocolate bar and he shrugged his shoulders up, shuffled his foot, and finally spoke up.
“My uncle,” Harry mumbled, a comment that any other might not have heard. Remus heard him though and immediately began thinking.
James had no siblings, Harry didn’t seem to remember Remus, Peter, or Sirius. Lily’s older sister’s husband? Perhaps?
“We - er… we don’t get on,” Harry added, needlessly blushing with shame. “I didn’t even think - I really thought it would be a dementor.”
“Do you see your uncle very often?” Remus asked, keeping an even tone and allowing Harry the comfort of not staring him down. Remus could hear his heart racing, could smell the anxious sweat that was beginning to cool.
“Every summer, sir.”
Remus hummed and pulled the toe of his shoe along the seam of one of the paved stones. Every summer?
“He visits you with your aunt?” Remus guessed, trying to draw a plan in his mind.
“I - no, sir. I live with him?”
Remus blinked, his only sign of surprise. Hadn’t Albus said…?
Albus said Harry lived with Lily’s family, someplace safe. Remus could remember the precise conversation they had, just over twelve years ago:
“I know it would be hard, but if you would support me to the Ministry, Harry should be with his family,” Remus insisted. Remus had been twenty-one, stubborn, sure of himself.
Sirius had shown his true colors, Peter was dead, James and Lily both dead. It wasn’t the end of Remus’s magical-family though, it wasn’t. Harry was alive and he was Remus’s nephew and he belonged with Remus.
It was what James and Lily would have wanted, Remus was sure of it. They knew Remus’s lifestyle was dangerous, but they also knew that Remus could protect Harry. Sirius was godfather, but Remus didn’t mind.
Remus had the support, he had the means. Hell, if Albus would tell Remus where Harry was then Remus could have a house secured before he even picked up the baby.
“Harry is with his family, Remus,” Albus said quietly, a soft hand on Remus’s shoulder. “His mother’s family wanted him very much. He’ll be happy there, safe. It’s the best place for him.”
Remus felt the crack in his chest shatter a bit more and he clenched his jaw hard to keep from reacting to that. Lily’s family was wonderful. Not her bitch sister, but her parents anyway. Of course it would be more appropriate for Harry to live with them instead of a werewolf with gang-affiliations.
Albus had always said he thought the best of Remus, but when it came down to it…
“I see,” Remus said, bleak and flat. He averted his eyes from Albus and stared sightlessly across the room. “That’ll be Lily’s parents? They’re still in Basildon?”
“Remus…” Albus sighed and squeezed Remus’s shoulder again. “They need space, right now. They’ve just lost a loved one. Wait for them to reach out to you, then go see Harry for yourself, hm?”
They had never reached out and Remus went on, pretending as if it didn’t hurt to be ostracized by the same loving couple that once claimed they’d be delighted to see him as a son-in-law.
So, no. Albus hadn’t directly lied, he only allowed Remus to languish under a false belief.
Petunia had not even been a consideration for Remus. Why would anyone give Petunia a child? Who in their right mind would give Petunia a magical child?
“You live with your aunt and uncle,” Remus said, tracing the pattern on the floor thoughtfully. “And that man that appeared tonight is your uncle, whom you live with.”
Remus had been musing aloud, truly. He didn’t expect Harry to respond to it.
“Er… yes.”
“I see.”
Remus did see. Remus saw quite a bit in that moment.
One, Albus lied to Remus, if not directly than by omission. Two, Petunia clearly found a husband who suited her in all ways. Three, that man had quite the shortened lifespan. And four, Harry Potter would never return to that home.
Remus only kept Harry a short while after that. He promised to keep Harry’s boggart to himself after Harry asked him to (Remus would have to mention it once, but Harry would never need to know that). Remus informed him not to worry, they would find a new way to most quickly learn the Patronus Charm. When Remus sent Harry to bed, he made an off-hand joke, just to plant an idea in Harry’s mind.
“If you’ve learned nothing else, at least you might clean out your trunk and wardrobe,” Remus told him with a cheery smile. “You never know what you might find in there.”
Or when a person may need to pack and leave quite suddenly.
Harry had grinned and agreed, though his eyes were still skittish and embarrassed.
Harry had no reason to be embarrassed. Abusive men were abusive men, Remus had met more than a few in his life. They were cowards, bullies, preying on those that were smaller or under-powered.
When confronted by an equal fight, they quelled and shook like the scum that they were. It was always satisfying, showing a man what his worth was.
Remus would do the same to Vernon Dursley (he had learned the name of Petunia’s husband before he bade Harry a good night), but only after he had a long talk with Albus.
It was one thing to lie to Remus, though that burned him to the quick. It was an entirely other thing to place Harry in a home where he would be harmed, scarred, traumatized.
If Albus had any inclination that Harry was less than perfectly happy in his home, then Remus would begin planning accordingly.
The enemy, Remus knew, would make their plans and rarely did those plans ever coincide with Remus’s plans. So if Albus planned on Harry returning to a home where he was abused , then Remus would draw his own plans. And if Albus showed any inclination that he knew of Harry’s home life and had deemed it to be better than the life Remus could have given him, then Remus would show Albus the fallacy of his beliefs, wouldn’t he?
Albus did make an enemy that night, though it might have taken him some time to understand the weight of that error.
Remus had been allowed to enter Albus’s office and ignored the offer to sit across from the Headmaster.
Albus was calm, patient; Remus pretended to be so as well.
“Evening, Albus.” Remus leaned against the wall, leaving both Albus and the office door in his view. Remus smiled lightly, giving no sign of his simmering rage. “I hope I’m not bothering you?”
“Not at all,” Albus said merrily. He peered at Remus curiously over the top of his glasses. “I am rather curious about this late meeting though. I trust that you’re well?”
Furious. Incensed. I will burn this castle to ash with you inside of it.
“Quite well,” Remus said, outwardly matching Albus’s level of cheer. “I just met with Harry, for the Patronus Charm lessons I promised him.”
“I see!” Albus had visibly perked up at the mention of Harry.
Remus couldn’t fault Albus for having a favorite student, Remus certainly did. It was Albus’s habit of pulling the students he favored in to assist him just when he needed it that Remus faulted.
If Albus were honest with himself, he would see that he tended to collect soldiers out of students, but Remus doubted if the man saw it in such a way.
A favor here, a favor there… and suddenly a fresh Hogwarts graduate might feel obligated to join Albus’s gang, work his undercover operations. It was the same with Sirius - who had been indebted to Albus since he had been saved from expulsion and arrest at fifteen.
As far as Remus knew, Albus never did manage to get Sirius to spy on Voldemort and his spies, though Remus was certain that had been Albus’s plan since the very night that Remus’s wolf nearly killed Severus Snape. Sirius had hid his true affiliation from Remus, he doubted if Sirius had shared it with Albus.
Perhaps that was what had swayed Sirius in the end… Albus wanted him to join Voldemort, work as a spy on the inside. Sirius had refused, quite spectacularly refused. Maybe he changed his mind, thought that he would go to a meeting, collect information… one meeting could have pulled Sirius to the wrong side, causing James and Lily their lives in the end.
That was the influence that Albus held, that was the enemy that Remus was up against.
“How did it go?” Albus asked Remus. “Was Harry able to produce any vapor at all?”
“We didn't quite get to that,” Remus said. He looked out the window at the dark grounds, appearing for all purposes to be studying the Whomping Willow, the edge of the forest. “Harry’s boggart was not a dementor, as he thought it might be after all.”
“Oh?” Albus’s breathing was even, his heart rate steady.
“It was his uncle, Petunia Evans’s husband.”
There it was.
Albus’s pulse quickened, though he gave no outward sign of a change. It meant that Albus was not infuriated, not prepared to go demand answers from Vernon Dursley. Albus was stressed, if only for a moment, because Remus knew.
It was likely that Albus forgot who Remus was, or he possibly never knew Remus as the man outside of the monster.
“That is troubling,” Albus said from behind Remus, no true emotion heard. “I’m certain it was upsetting for you and Harry both.”
“What upset me, Albus, was Harry informing me that he resides with Petunia Evans,” Remus said, struggling to maintain his civility.
Petunia had been a vile girl, one that Remus would rather seen hung than given a magical child to rear. There was no way to remember how many times her cruel words had hurt Lily, there were simply too many times to count.
“Petunia is Lily’s sister,” Albus said, taking on the soft pitch of a man who thought he could command Remus. “Harry shares her blood, there is a bond there. It is a complicated situation, Remus.”
“Undoubtedly,” Remus commented, staring out in the night as if hardly concerned with the conversation. “And you have kept an eye on Harry? Ensured that he is being treated well?”
“I have,” Albus said at once, likely believing that Remus wanted placated before moving on. “Harry has his moments with his relatives, but there is plenty of love between them. They are a family, Remus.”
A family, that was laughable.
Remus had a family and not a single member of his family would ever crawl out of a trunk and taunt him as a boggart. Family was more than the blood shared between individuals, it went much deeper.
Family would die for each other, kill for each other, live for each other.
Whatever Petunia and her husband were, they were not family.
“Lily’s parents must have passed,” Remus said, a comment to himself mostly. Remus pulled his eyebrows down, bothered by that. “Was that when Harry went to live with Petunia?”
It was a trick question and Albus fell for it immediately.
“It was,” Albus said, the elevation of his pulse betraying him. Remus’s senses were as good as Veritaserum; it had always made him indispensable to his family. Albus was lying, Harry had already told him.
Harry was dropped on his aunt’s doorstep when he was one and nobody showed an interest in him for ten years. Ten miserable years, Remus was sure.
“I believe Harry was five or so when he moved. I did reach out to you, Remus, but I was unable to find you.”
Another lie. Remus had been in Small Heath for the last twelve years. If Albus found him once via owl to ask about taking the defense post, he could have found him the same way before then. When Remus left Hogwarts, he would be in Small Heath. Until the day he died, Remus would be in Small Heath.
That was home, that was where Remus learned what a family was.
“As long as he’s happy,” Remus said with a forced sigh. It was the response Albus wanted, followed by a topic of distraction. “Severus taught every class I have about werewolves, by the way.”
Albus would expect Remus to vent about Severus, complain that the man had done him wrong by bringing up werewolves in every class he had. It was precisely the thing to say to make Albus see Remus within the box that Albus assigned him.
It was always easier to play a role when it was assigned. It kept Albus comfortable, kept him from looking too long at Remus.
Remus did well operating just beneath the eyes of the law. If Albus believed himself to be the law over Harry, so be it. Remus would work around him.
Albus would regret not looking deeper into who Remus was, what system made his code of beliefs and ethics. It was willful blindness and it was exploitable.
That night, Remus did exploit Albus’s blind spots.
It was late, nearly two in the morning. Remus had quietly packed his belongings, studied the Marauders Map he confiscated from Harry. Remus sent an owl to Small Heath, carrying a short missive to his longest-friend. When the dots in the castle were all settled in their beds, Remus shrunk down his belongings and moved silently to the Gryffindor Tower.
If Albus thought he would collect Harry as a soldier in a future war that only he envisioned, so be it. Albus and Remus were no longer on the same page, which meant that Remus had no obligation to follow the orders of the man.
So, if the fancy struck him, Remus could slip in the Gryffindor Tower, quietly wake Harry up, and then simply leave Hogwarts.
And that, as it turned out, was precisely what Remus did.