Abyssal
The first class was defense.
I say, the first class, not because it was the first of the year (though it was, which was a little odd) but because it was the first class I had with Harry.
It seems not a tiny bit odd to me, in retrospect, that Harry wasn’t noticed for a long while, though at the time it seemed ludicrous. After all, Harry was the talk of the whole damn school by that point, and the idea that the class had been gossiping about him while he was sitting calmly (well, calmly) in the back, fiddling with a pair of knives, is indeed a rather unlikely one.
Especially since he had been fiddling with knives.
We’ll get back to that one.
And yet, nobody noticed Harry. He sat in the very back, ensconced in shadow, and seemed like he simply belonged there in a way that is impossible to really describe. And so, eyes simply slid over him, almost like he was just another piece of furniture.
I was only a tiny bit anxious.
The reasons for my small amount of anxiety were entirely informed by the track record of the class - though, in hindsight, they would have also been informed by the boy fiddling with a pair of daggers in the corner, if I had noticed him.
The track record of the class, though, was what gripped me then, amongst the aimless gossip of my students.
As a prefect, it had fallen upon me last year to help the incredibly unfit teacher do his job, and it had been the worst kind of nightmare. The kind of nightmare where you totally believe it’s real, and truly buy into the fact that you are about to die a brutal, horrible death.
I didn’t have nightmares often. At least, not since the Marauders.
My hands were fiddling a little. I had ticks - not ones as bad as Harry did, like fiddling with knives and biting his nails to the quick and below. But they were nonetheless ticks, and they were still bad. Or at least cumbersome.
Rolling my nails was one I had picked up recently. A four-beat pattern that would hound me whenever I couldn’t keep my thoughts centered and focused.
Cli-cli-cli-click.
Why wasn’t the professor here yet?
Cli-cli-cli-click.
Class was going to start in just a minute or two.
Cli-cli-cli-click.
Was I in for another year of not being sure if the professor would even show up?
Cli-cli-cli-click.
I began to pick at the frayed cuffs of my robe - the only part of my uniform that was at all dilapidated.
Eyes glinted at me from the corner of my vision.
“Uh - Remus, mate? You’ve been staring off into nothing the last ten minutes or so.”
I winced slightly, a tiny bit of heat crawling under my skin uncomfortably - like ants making a home in my flesh, wriggling despondently.
“Sorry, Padfoot.” My voice was at a normal volume, but only because the rest of the class was talking up a whirlwind. I was sure that if we were in out dorms, my embarrassment - small as it was - would make my voice a touch softer.
Sirius shrugged easily, lounging in his chair. It struck me not for the first time just how easily he lounged - almost cat-like in his boneless relaxation.
I didn’t voice that sentiment, though. Sirius would take it as an insult, and his furious ‘oy!’ was legendarily uncontrollable. I didn’t want the attention of the class upon us.
He waved an unconcerned hand, and grinned at me. “Just try to stay with us, alright?”
I gave him a thumbs-up with almost military sharpness, and flashed him a sheepish grin back.
When Sirius turned away, I let out a soft breath, and re-focused my attention to the front of the class.
It would be fine.
I would be fine.
And, finally, the door opened.
My eyes instantly found the professor coming into through the door, and my nose twitched. The next full moon was uncomfortably close - it was part of the reason I was a little irritable, and it was how I had been able to smell some of the emotion radiating off everyone the last day.
It proved quite lucky, because the scents I caught from the professor coming in the door eased my fears a bit.
Utter confidence. A little arrogance, but not enough to be worrying. Spirit. Life.
She moved with an ease that spoke of a complete lack of concern, as the students shuffled to their seats. She closed the door behind her with a slight flourish, and stood at the front of the class, blackboard behind her.
She inspected them for a moment with a small smile.
She was tall. Quite tall, actually, considering she looked fairly young. Her arms were behind her back, long and pale. Her red hair - light auburn, not like Lily’s strawberry red - was tied back into a loose tail. Loose enough that a few stray hairs still fell into her face. Her skin was unblemished, and her sparkling blue eyes spoke of an easy, if adventurous life.
She kept smiling that tiny, cheerful smile as she began to speak.
“My name is Patricia Rakepick. You may address me as Ms. Rakepick, or Ms. R.”
She turned smoothly and wrote her name on the board.
“Now, we’re going to start with just a tiny getting-to-know-you exercise. It helps me remember names, and I don’t want to end up switching around anything because of my forgetfulness.”
She tilted her head slightly, and tapped all her fingers against the line on her jaw, one after the other. She seemed to think for a moment, and then smiled again, and opened her desk drawer.
She reached in and pulled out a baseball.
Considering the class was Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, more then a few people recognized the item. Every Marauder recognized it, too, because I had made the mistake of telling them there was a muggle game where you smashed a ball as hard as you could with a stick and everyone but Peter had instantly wanted to give it a shot.
“I’m going to toss this ball,” Ms. Rakepick said, holding the ball in question between her thumb and forefinger. “The person who catches it tells the class their name, and one interesting thing about themselves.”
Every Hufflepuff in the room looked delighted to be given such an easy and fun activity to start off with. The Gryffindors looked equally appreciative - though probably more because this exercise indicated that the class wouldn’t be a tough one.
Ms. Rakepick tossed the ball, and a boy with short-cropped brown hair caught it.
“Remus Lupin.”
My voice came out a little quieter then I intended, considering the eyes of the class were on me. I recited the fact I already had prepared - a boring one, easily dismissable.
“I love dark chocolate.”
The tiny voice that said say ‘I’m a werewolf’ was almost surely there only because I had spent too much time around Sirius.
Ms. Rakepick grinned and nodded, as if in approval, as I tossed the ball back.
The next few people came and went, the facts they recited going in one ear and out the other. I waited, picking at my sleeve whenever my mind began to wander.
Occasionally, I would tune back in, though it was rare. I heard clearly the voice of Marlene McKinnon, Sirius’s last girlfriend, who told the class about her pet rabbit. I also tuned in when Evans spoke, almost instinctually - because James had ordered long ago that we memorise anything we could about Lily, and, though Sirius hounded him about it (pun intended), we still did it. James’s word was law, after all.
She just said that she was muggleborn.
When the ball came to James, he bragged about his position on the Quidditch team. When it came to Peter, he squeaked something about his abysmal potion grades. Sirius spoke with a kind of quiet gravity that I very rarely heard in his voice, and just a hint of pride, when he said that he was the only Black to go into Gryffindor since Dorea.
That one caused an approving look from Ms. Rakepick, who said that she had been in Gryffindor too.
I began to mentally track how long it was until the class ended after that, deciding that there were no more people I particularly wanted to hear from. I began to pack up my things and shuffled around to get the books for my next class on the top.
I was done with that and picking at my sleeve when the ball was tossed again, to the very back of the room, and a voice spoke.
“Harry Maeyres.”
I wasn’t quite sure, in the moment, what made my ears twitch and focus sharpen when I heard that voice. It wasn’t a particularly confident one, or even a particularly nice one. It was scratchy. Gravelly. Quiet, and soft, and maybe just a little bit broken.
In hindsight, though, I think the reason I really listened was because - even though his voice was soft - there was an unyielding confidence to it. A hint of steel, that sounded like it belonged in the voice of a Slytherin more then that of a Gryffindor. That same kind of quiet assurance that nothing would dare defy him - and that what would, would be dead before they knew how big a mistake they had made.
The voice paused. I didn’t glance back at it - something in me felt frozen, molten, unable to act.
“...I can cast a corporeal patronus charm.”
That caused a reaction.
Ms. Rakepick blinked, before simply staring at the boy ensconced in shadow in the back of the class - eyes glittering like black-polished emeralds.
I didn’t see any of that. I didn’t see that he was cloaked in shadow, or how his eyes looked in the darkness. I was still frozen. Still. Unmoving.
I couldn’t look back, for some reason I wasn’t able to identify.
All the other Marauders had looked back, though. Sirius was literally slack-jawed, and while the others had less obvious reactions, they still looked pretty damn shocked.
I was a little shocked, too. A corporeal patronus at seventeen? Even just a shield was impressive by that age.
“Can you provide a demonstration, Mr. Maeyres?” Ms. Rakepick said, a smile on her face and shock gone now - though she sounded just a bit disbelieving.
There was a pause.
And then, that quiet voice again - soft and unyielding.
“Expecto Patronum.”
It had no effort put into it - just what sounded like an order.
And his wand clearly complied.
The entire class was engulfed in a white field, thick and bright. I had to squint against it, so great was the burning glow that filled the room.
I finally turned, the glow jump-starting my reaction.
And there was Harry. Wand held like a conductor’s baton. Back straight. Eyes glittering.
I almost didn’t recognize him. I certainly wasn’t surprised nobody else had. With no blood matted in his hair - now tied back into a loose tail - and a change of clothes, along with a shower and change in expression, he looked almost completely different from the boy who had stumbled into the Great Hall just the previous day.
But I could never forget those eyes.
Pupils black. Swirling.
Abyssal.
I felt my breath leave like someone had kicked me, in the soft spot just below my ribs.
Seeing those eyes again was, almost, a literal punch to the gut.
I couldn’t tear myself away from them - those pupils, thick and black and swirling, and that green, a shade I had never known I needed to see and see always-
He blinked, looking faintly surprised by something. The kind of quiet surprise that comes when someone has told you that the date is one day later then you thought.
He tilted his head, just slightly.
And the cloud of nearly-blinding light shifted.
I started, as I realized what it would take another few moments for everyone else to know.
That was the boy’s patronus.
My jaw finally went slack. Just enough that my chapped lips parted, just the tiniest bit. I wasn’t left gaping like a fish - but to get me shocked enough that any part of me actually loosened was more than enough to make you a force of nature, as far as I was concerned.
The cloud of light left the room, and everyone was left blinking.
Ms. Rakepick was the first to look out the window and see where it - it, the boy’s patronus, Harry’s patronus, big enough to fill a fucking room what the actual fuck - had gone.
A dragon was hovering outside. Blinding white, with soft blue flames trailing up and out of its nostrils.
I stared.
The class stared.
Ms. Rakepick let out a breath.
“...Well done, Mr. Maeyres!” She suddenly cried - causing everyone’s awareness to jump-start into functioning again. “Oh my, that certainly is something, isn’t it?”
I almost laughed. I’m sure, in hindsight, that the laugh would’ve been hysterical if it had left me.
“A dragon. Incredibly rare - meaning steadfastness, loyalty. Unwilling to back down from a challenge. Quick to lead.”
She turned to him suddenly.
“...I suggest you look into your patronus, Mr. Maeyres.” She smiled at him. “It has quite the story behind it.”
Harry nodded. I didn’t see it, but I’m sure in hindsight that he did.
I was still staring at the dragon.
Harry flicked his wand - again, I didn’t see it, but I know in hindsight what he does to dismiss his patronus - and the dragon vanished as suddenly as it had erupted from his wand.
A fucking dragon.
Sirius turned to me suddenly. I almost groaned at the sparkle in his eyes.
It was the same look he got when he started pursuing a new girlfriend.
He was going to go after Maeyres.
I almost pitied the boy. But I was too busy pitying myself.
After all - I was the one who would have to watch his movements on the map. I was the only one who stayed up late enough - usually studying. I was never sure how James and Sirius were able to keep up their grades with so little late-night library visits.
I rubbed my temples, already preparing for a migraine.