inspired2morrow

inspired2morrow @ 2008-01-09T22:08:00

2008-01-10T05:09:37Z

Rachel?

Just so you know...

I love you a ton. And I would definitely be online right now (well, and earlier, since it's getting late for you now) to talk to you if I wasn't absolutely positively swamped.

All nighter, maybe?

Uh oh.

2007-12-28T04:31:10Z

Let's just say I've gotten myself into a pickle this time.

inspired2morrow @ 2007-12-25T17:26:00

2007-12-26T00:27:10Z

"Happy Christmas, Ron."
"Happy Christmas, Harry."

Happy Christmas, Rachel.

I love you. ;)

inspired2morrow @ 2007-10-21T00:30:00

2007-10-21T07:18:44Z

I'm torn apart.

I have no purpose, no life, no feeling. Four years...four years, for this? I never counted on this...I thought I'd prepared for everything. But nothing could have prepared me for this, nothing. I don't know what to do with myself. This is where my heart and soul were placed, and they were there for a reason. Tonight, both were viciously ripped from me and shredded to pieces. It was coming, I knew that. It's just amazing what an impact only a few hours can have on you.

It's done, it's over. Never again. What could have been never was, and I feel like nothing but a shell. It could have been a satisfied shell, drained but accomplished - instead, it is an empty shell, a carcass. I feel as if I am mourning the loss of a person....but perhaps that only comes from the fact that I am crying over the little part of me that died tonight.

inspired2morrow @ 2007-09-17T15:02:00

2007-09-17T21:04:54Z

Rachel!

I now have $210 to my name. So...I think I'm pretty close to making it to Michigan! I'll definitely be saving that - I won't spend a penny! I think I'll need a bit more, but I'm $50 closer now than I was half an hour ago.

:)

Haha, we talked about something else in AP Literature today that reminded me of you...oh, Freudian! Oh, it made me giggle.

I'm running off of three hours of sleep. So I'm probably even more loopy today than I was yesterday. But that's okay. :D

May I complain for a moment?

2007-09-12T02:17:26Z

GAH!!!!!!!

What more do you want me to do?

Okay, I'm done now.

inspired2morrow @ 2007-09-05T15:41:00

2007-09-05T21:46:26Z

RACHEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm liberated!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Horray!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*eats gummy bear*

Anyway.

Since neither of us are going to be online as much, I have the feeling you'll still be checking here. And no one else reads this, so why not just write you messages here?

I miss you! Hopefully I'll get to talk to you tonight, but if not there's always tomorrow...or the day after that...or the day after that...or the day after that...or....well, somewhere in there, I hope.

Hope school's going alright for you. :)

Because I refuse to post surveys anymore...

2007-09-03T02:30:11Z

I'll do it on here because quirkie is the only one who reads it.

JANUARY
1. Who kissed you on new years?
Nobody.

2. Did you have a new year's resolution this year?
Yes. And I've kept it.

3. Does it snow where you live?
Definitely. We were killed this year, actually.

4. Do you like hot chocolate?
Duh.

5. Have you ever been to Times Square to watch the ball drop?
no.

6. Who's birthday is this month?
Nick's.

FEBRUARY
1. Who was your Valentine?
Brad.

2. When you were little did you buy Valentine's for the whole class?
Of course!

3. Do you care if the groundhog sees its shadow or not?
No.

4. Who's birthday is this month?
February? Um...Ash-i-ley! I miss her...

MARCH
1. Are you Irish?
Nope. :(

2. Do you wear green every Year on St.Patricks day?
I don't own much green, which is kind of weird, for me...

3. What did you do for St. Patty's Day in 2007?
Nothing important, because I don't remember.

4. Are you happy when winter is pretty much over?
Yes. I'm usually ready for winter to be over by the time January is halfway over. Unless it snows, then I'm okay until about halfway through February. I just hate it when it's cold and cloudy but not snowy.

5. Who's birthday is this month?
Sarah's birthday is in March.

APRIL
1. Do you like the rain?
YES!

2. Did you play an April fool's joke on anyone this year?
No.

3. Do you get tons of candy on Easter?
Not tons, but some.

4. Do you celebrate 4/20?
Uh, no.

5. Do you love the month of april?
I usually die during that month, but I'm also usually really happy...no, not because I'm dead.

6. Who's birthday is this month?
My mom and Brad

MAY
1. What is your favorite flower?
I like roses.

2. Finish the phrase "April showers...":
are nonexistent.

3. Do you celebrate May 16th: National Piercing Day?
I didn't know there was one...May 16th is Myraiah's birthday, though.

4. Is May anything special to you?
No.

5. Who's birthday is this month?
My aunt, Myraiah, Kelsey.

JUNE
1. What year did/will you graduate from high school?
2008

2. Did you do anything fun during this month?
Um...I got to hang out with a bunch of my friends a couple of times, which is a big deal for me *lame*

3. Have a favorite baseball team?
Nope.

4. Whose birthday is this month?
RACHEL!

JULY
1. What did you do on the Fourth of July?
I went to my aunt's house, like always.

2. Did you go on any vacations during this month?
Si, fuimos a Mexico.

3. Did you blast the A/C all day?
The swamp cooler, yes.

4. Did anything special happen this month?
Harry Potter! x2, tubing, Mexico, hiking...

5. Whose birthday is this month?
Bethany and Jackie!

AUGUST
1. Are you doing anything special at the end of your summer?
Um...band camp?

2. What was your favorite summer memory of '07?
I think tubing and Mexico, and talking to Rachel so much. That really meant a lot to me. :)

3. Did you have a sunburn?
No, just a line where my hairline starts, because when I'd pull my hair back really tight for band camp, I'd always miss that spot with the sunscreen. It was really painful.

4. Did you go to the pool a lot?
Every weekend but one...

5. Who's birthday is this month?
Claire's!

SEPTEMBER
1. Will you be attending college/school?
Yeah.

2. Who was/is your favorite teacher?
Mr. Stansberry...Mr. Warner...Mrs. Barbato...

3. Do you like fall better than summer?
I think so.

4.Who's birthday is this Month?
Paige's

OCTOBER
1. What was your last Halloween costume?
I was a cat. And then the other Allison showed up as a cat, too. It was kind of amusing.

2. What is your favorite candy?
I like chocolate. And caramel, even though I can't eat it....

3. What is your favorite thing about this month?
marching band!

4. Whose birthday is this month?
Emily.

NOVEMBER
1. Whose house do you go to for Thanksgiving?
My aunt's, always.

2. What's best about this month?
I'll agree with Rachel...when it's over.

3. What are you thankful for?
My life and everyone/everything in it. Minus homework.

4. Do you love stuffing?
Yes!

5. Who's birthday is this month?
Lindsay, Shelia.

DECEMBER
1. Do you celebrate Christmas?
Yes.

2. Have you ever been kissed under the mistletoe?
No.

3. Get anything special last year?
I got a new cell phone, even though I really really didn't need one.

4. What do you want this year?
Place ticket to Michigan. :)

5. Do you like cold weather?
Only if it's snowing.

6. Whose birthday is this month?
Amanda, Jenn, Mallorie.

inspired2morrow @ 2007-08-29T22:13:00

2007-08-30T04:15:49Z

prompt: matches

"What's this?"

"It's a match."

"A what?"

"A match."

"What does it do?"

"Scratch it on the box, and you'll see."

Scritch, scratch, scritch...

"OW!"

Parte tres

2007-08-30T04:06:49Z

prompt: Greece

Harry blinked and straightened, confused. He thought that he was going home but he was pretty sure he was a long way away from there. It didn't even feel like home. It was hot, it was muggy, and there was certainly nothing like this structure anywhere in England, or even Scotland or - as far as he know - anywhere in the British Isles.

He look around nervously, suddenly unsettled. This place was ancient, older than any building he had ever been near, let alone inside. Its walls were crumbling, dust covering its worn and used floor. He turned slowly on the spot, a chill creeping up his neck. There was history here, but all that remained was a sad, lonely building that had once been glorious. He knew where he was, and he knew that thousands and thousands of years had passed since this place had seen anything living. It seemed to have lost its memory for the life that once bustled and surrounded it, but now he could feel it reaching out to him curiously.

But enough was enough. He turned on his heel and vanished, hoping that he wouldn't end up somewhere across the ocean this time.

inspired2morrow @ 2007-08-29T21:13:00

2007-08-30T03:21:18Z

Prompt: toes

"Very good, Dudders!" Petunia cried happily. "You're our little gentleman." She swooped down on Dudley and kissed him on the cheek

Little Dudley tottered around the room, pretending to waltz with an invisible girl, dressed in a pair of jeans and t-shirt with a blanket tied around his neck for a tie, though it ended up being a bit more like a cape. Petunia clapped ecstatically, as though he had just accomplished some sort of amazing feat.

Then he stumbled and ran into the table, promptly beginning to cry mercilessly, his foot with four bruised toes flailing wildly through the air.

inspired2morrow @ 2007-08-29T20:36:00

2007-08-30T02:36:17Z

quirkie tagged me. Unfortunately, you're the only one that reads this, and you've already done it.

1. List seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself.
2. Tag seven people to do the same.
3. Do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag whoever wants to do it.

1. If I'm upset or stressed, I work myself harder.
2. I love tapioca pudding. And calypso pie. Or anything chocolate.
3. My last name should really be Golliez, except not really.
4. I exist because of a bolt of lightning.
5. If I want to, I can close myself up to the point where no one can reach what I'm hiding.
6. I'm preparing to give up everything.
7. If I don't like something, I'd rather take action and change it than leave it be.

Drabblethon

2007-08-30T02:32:11Z

Prompt: aardvark

It was late, and Minerva had been grading papers for the past four hours. She set aside a rather abysmal one, which she had marked at a 'D', then got up to slip into her nightclothes. Even if she wasn't finished grading, she'd return to them later.

She reentered her office, dressed comfortably in a bathrobe with her hair set free from its usually tight bun, trailing down her back. Minerva sat back down at her desk, drew her quill from its inkwell, and grasped the next paper.

Minerva, I would like to extend an invitation to you to join me for dinner on Thursday evening a eight o'clock. Kindly respond immediately.

What kind of an essay was that?

"But where...?"

And there it was, lumbering across her office floor, scattering her students' papers - graded and ungraded - all over the floor. She summoned the papers into a neat pile on her desk and watched the armadillo waddle through the desks and around the chair legs. For a moment she was angry, angry at whoever had broken the lock on its cage (she had been using it with her sixth years the previous day) or perhaps even at the armadillo itself for not staying where it was meant to be.

But then...it really was a bit adorable.

For Quirkie

2007-08-27T05:07:51Z

I can't do much, but....

Takes place in Prisoner of Azkaban.

\

It was another morning of another day. She lay in bed for a moment, curled up between the sheets. It must be early, because the sky was still grey with a pinkish tint. The heavy breathing of the sleeping girls around her filled the room, and usually she was able to block them out, but today they bothered her. Everything bothered her. She wasn't even sure she liked herself anymore.

Her stomach contracted and squirmed inside of her, and she twisted the sheets tighter around herself, rolling up in a little ball. It didn't help. The guilt did not go away, and she wondered when she would stop kidding herself. She had felt like this every morning for the last few weeks, ever since Scabbers had gone missing.

After what seemed like ages, though, she untangled herself from her covers and slipped her bare feet on the cold floor. She started to absently change into her school robes before she realized it was the weekend. Instead, she chose a sweater (as she rummaged through her drawer, she picked up the one that Mrs. Weasley had knitted her for Christmas the previous year - thinking of Scabbers, she dropped it) and a pair of pants, not really caring what she looked like. Silently, she tread down the stairs of the girls' dormitories and stood in the still-dark common room. She was so tempted to just curl up again in one of those big, comfy scarlet armchairs by the fire and just sit there. She knew, though that in just a few hours the others would come down and find her, and she didn't want to be around them. She felt dirty, unfit to be here. Sneaking around the chairs and skirting the shadows, she made her way to the portrait hole.

Gryffindor, she thought, where dwell the brave at heart. She shook her head sadly. I should have been in Ravenclaw, because I'm obviously too scared to admit that I'm wrong and he's right.

She stopped in the corridor outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, who gazed blearily at her. Where was she supposed to go? The library wouldn't be open for several more hours, she had no reason to visit the owlery, and the Great Hall...well, she didn't really know what happened to the Great Hall at night. She decided to go there.

It was open, but empty, though she was just as happy that way. The sun was dawning clear and bright on the ceiling, haze from the previous night burning away slowly. She sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, wishing for everything that couldn't be true. It was times like these when...

"Hermione? What are you doing here?"

Hermione blinked for a moment before Harry came into focus. Her stomach squirmed even more.

"Not waiting for breakfast, are you? Sorry, Hermione, but that's not for another two hours." He smiled a little bit, a sort of half-smile. His hair was ruffled but his eyes were bright.

"Come on. Let's go on a walk."

She got to her feet gratefully and walked with him out of the Great Hall into the dawn. It was times like these when she was lucky enough to have a friend to help her out of the darkest of times.

Drabblethon again

2007-08-22T05:23:56Z

Prompt: calendar

It had only been a few weeks. Well, maybe it had only been a few months. Or perhaps it had only been one long day. She didn't know anymore. She didn't care. Now that she thought about it, she didn't even want to know.

She stuffed it into the trash can, refusing to look at it. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.

Unless it showed her yesterday, yesterday once more. But no calendar could do that, no matter how magical it was. The day was gone, the time run out, leaving only the sad and crumpled remains behind to ravage her thoughts - and her heart.

inspired2morrow @ 2007-08-16T23:43:00

2007-08-17T05:53:15Z

Okay, I lied.

Except it doesn't matter, because only one person reads this anyway.

Prompt: cap

Molly stirred the pot one last time and quickly skimmed Lockhart's book (even if he is useless now, that doesn't mean that what he once wrote is, she kept telling herself) to make sure she hadn't done anything the wrong way.

She poured it into a couple of flasks, then reached for their stoppers. But then they weren't there. She frowned, her hand hitting only the bare counter.

"But where---?"

There, on the table. She reached for them again, but then she pulled her hand away again, empty. Searching around again, they were on top of the stove. "Accio caps!" But they disappeared again.

"Fred? George?" she called, somewhat torn between amusement and frustration.

"Well, we needed something to practice on, didn't we?"

inspired2morrow @ 2007-08-16T23:11:00

2007-08-17T05:20:29Z

One more, one more.

Prompt: drapes

Hermione stuffed her fist in her mouth and lowered her eyes so no one could see her amusement before using her free hand to grab a nearby book to hide behind. This, of all things, was priceless.

"Eesn't eet wonderful? I made zem myself." Fleur smiled fondly at the gift.

Ron was gaping at the long, lurid pink drapes with disgust. "Erm...thanks...Fleur," he choked out at last. "They'll look marvelous with our...erm..." But he was spared an excuse.

"Look, zey'll eeven charm zemselves to be zee perfect size for zee windows!"

Another one

2007-08-17T04:39:12Z

Haha, here's another.

Prompt: kite

He was crouching behind the bushes again, poking the ground with a stick angrily. His mother had just had another row with his father, and their voices would not stop echoing around his exhausted mind. He felt slightly guilty at even thinking, just once, that he wished that his father would move out. It would make things so much easier.

The ground nearby started to crackle as two children were making their way to the park. He shrank into the shadows as they passed him and waited until they reached the grass. He recognized the girls' giggles, and he curiously poked through the bush until he had forged a hole to see through. He couldn't see them, only the cloudy gray sky. But a moment later, a blue kite took to the sky, fluttering gently in the wind.

And knowing who was holding it down below, the echoing voices in his head ceased their arguing, and he was left smiling serenely at the thought of the pretty little redhead holding the end of that string just a few yards away, wishing that his heart was on the other end of it.

Drabblethon with Quirkie!

2007-08-17T02:24:06Z

Prompt: box

He had spent most of the day wandering around, sitting on the old, dusty couches, admiring the portraits, and thinking. Once, he had a life here, but it frustrated him that all he could remember of it was the point at which that life had ended and his new one had begun. It was another time, as foreign to him as a Japanese delicacy.

He had been avoiding going upstairs, unsure of what he would find there. But finally, after restlessly stumbling around the bottom level for close to an hour, he headed up the stairs, which creaked slightly under his step. He entered the first room on his left, and discovered a bedroom, by the looks of it, his parents'. It was neatly decorated - not too cluttered, but quaint.

Strangely, the only thing that caught his attention was the corner of a box sticking out of the bottom of the bed. He quickly strode to the box and knelt beside it, pulling it out. Harry reached inside and grasped a handful of papers bearing his mother's writing, some with pictures attached. The topmost was a picture of a little boy with black hair and emerald eyes, giggling slightly as he stood proudly in a set of wizard's robes; it was clearly Halloween. It must have been the last picture Lily and James Potter had ever taken.

It was quite awhile before Harry was able to tear his eyes away from the picture, wiping the wetness from his cheeks. He was holding one of the last things the Potters had ever touched.

Another....Same As It Ever Was

2007-08-05T03:40:01Z

Chapter 1

King’s Cross train station was exactly the same as it had been sixteen years ago when he had last taken the Hogwarts Express his seventh year. Muggles were crowding the sweeping station, rushing this way and that, oblivious to the fact that magic was hidden in their midst. Remus strode almost automatically to the barrier separating platforms nine and ten. He carefully checked to ensure that no one was around, then hastily stepped through it.

There was no one there. As Platform Nine and Three-Quarters materialized in front of him, he realized that he was alone. Good, that was the way he wanted it. He had, after all, arrived an hour and a half early for that particular reason.

The Hogwarts Express was sitting complacently on its tracks, and Remus vaguely wondered if it sat in this precise spot the majority of the year before a wave of memories crashed over him.

He was a first year, running through the barrier with his parents in tow. As soon as young Remus went through it, though, his eagerness vanished and was replaced by a bad case of shyness as he watched hundreds of other students excitedly putting their possessions on the train, gathering in clumps to greet their friends, and hugging their loved ones farewell. Remus recoiled from the others, remembering that he was different. For a moment he wondered if he should even bother making friends, fearing that he would be shunned by them if they found out what he really was, but it scared him far worse to know that if he became part of their lives they would be in grave danger. He was different from everybody else, and these differences made him feel isolated. But the next moment a boy had strolled up to him, introducing himself as “Serious” (what kind of a name was that?) and asking him for his name in return.

It was third year, and the four of them were in a compartment together as the train rolled past a country field of green mixed with yellow. The sun was still high in the sky, meaning that a good portion of the journey was yet to come. They were playing Gobstones as they munched merrily on the treats that they had bought from the woman with the trolley. Peter was taking his turn but it was apparently a bad move – the Gobstones turned on their places on the board and spewed a liquid with a rather disgusting odor all over poor Peter. He looked so bewildered and utterly shocked that the other three could do nothing but laugh hysterically, rolling around on top of their cushioned seats as Peter and his brand new robes were drenched with the black, inky fluids. Before long, though, even Peter couldn’t help but smile.

Now they were sixth years and they were rather recklessly throwing magic around the compartment, both to amuse each other as well as show off. Remus’ prefect duties for the ride were over and he had returned to his friends, but Lily was still patrolling the corridors and she told them off when she caught James carelessly transfiguring Sirius’ head into a pumpkin. She put it back with a swish of her wand and Sirius’ head returned, looking disoriented. Lily shouted a bit at Remus about being a prefect, and as her robes swished out of sight and the compartment door made to slam close, Peter transformed into a rat, scurrying down the corridor until he reached the witch with the cart full of sweets. He made several trips, returning with only as much as he – in rat form – could carry, until the woman caught him and caused a ruckus at the sight of a rat. When she arrived at their compartment some time later, they hid the robbed good innocently in their robes and bought some more.

It was seventh year and this time Lily was with them as the train headed back to King’s Cross station for the very last time. She sat next to James and shrieked with mirth at their jokes, sometimes torn between horror and amusement. Snape spent an awful lot of time stalking past their compartment, as if he wanted to catch Lily and James doing anything he did not approve of. Luckily, he found nothing of the sort, and Lily glowered every time he skulked past until James made her laugh again. They enjoyed pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs together, as well as one final game of Gobstones for old times’ sake. The four of them – no, five of them – were given one last chance to curse old Snivellus, and to the surprise of the boys, Lily joined in the laughter. They stepped off the train and onto the platform, knowing that they were now free in the world of magic...

“No, no, NO!” Remus yelled at himself, finally putting a cork in the flow of memories. He staggered to a bench where the early birds could sit and wait. His heart was pounding as if he had just encountered a chimaera (and fought it off), and his breath was coming in great rasps, slightly choked with dry sobs.

Even though he had spent the last two months planning this school year, even though he had written pages of notes and ideas for lectures, he had never counted on this.

His friends had meant the world to him. They were there when he needed them, and they had given up and done so much for him. They had accepted him when he thought that no one else would, even when they did discover his secret. He had thought that the four of them would never be torn apart, not after all they had done together and been through. But now, he was the only one left, struggling to deal with the inner demons that haunted him with memories of what had been and never would be again.

Well…perhaps he wasn’t the only one left.

He pulled out the newspaper bearing the face of Sirius Black, and man he thought he had known. Remus looked sadly at the picture. His eyes were gaunt and hollow now, no longer full of light and life. His skin was waxy, his hair a tangled black mane. He was but a ghost of the handsome man he had once been.

But then, Remus thought angrily, shoving the newspaper aside, what made him do it? He had sent three people – three of his best friends, for that matter – to the gates of heaven many, many years before they had been due to arrive there. Sirius, who had been the best man at James and Lily’s wedding. Sirius, the moody but brilliant one. Sirius, who had befriended him in the first place. Sirius…who had betrayed them all.

Suddenly, Remus was exhausted. The full moon had been less than a month ago, but it was a little over a week away now. In his frantic rush to have everything ready for his new job and his haunted memories of the past, he had slept very little. Shaking off the last of his goose bumps, he walked to the Hogwarts Express and seized a door that magically popped open as he drew closer. Remus chose a compartment as far back as he could possibly go, hoping that the students would be content to leave him alone here. He stowed his case with the words ‘Professor R.J. Lupin’ inscribed on the corner in the luggage rack, then settled himself next to the window.

There were a few people on the platform now, milling about aimlessly. Remus let his head rest wearily on the windowpane, gazing unseeingly at the young wizards and witches outside. His brain felt fuzzy and darkness was gathering at the corners of his vision. Oh, how wonderful it would be to sleep for once…

He succumbed to it and drifted away.

“Who’s that?”

“Who’s that?”

“Ginny?”

“Hermione?”

“What are you doing?”

“I was looking for Ron—”

“Come in and sit down—”

“Not here! I’m here!”

James?

“Ouch!”

“Quiet!” Remus said, suddenly realizing why the compartment had gone pitch-black. He whipped out his wand and muttered a few well-chosen words, and then the compartment was filled with flickering light. He took inventory of the others sharing his compartment: three boys (James, he thought with a lurch) and two girls.

“Stay where you are.” His voice had not yet woken from its nap. Remus moved toward the compartment door with his handful of dancing flames stretched out in front of him. Unfortunately, the dementor had beaten him to it. It drew a rattling breath and the familiar cold gripped them all. He watched the boy that looked so much like James collapse, sprawled on the floor and twitching. Remus stepped around the boy until he was so close that he could touch the dementor.

“None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.” But it was to no avail. The dementor merely stood there, obviously enjoying the terror it was inflicting on the students. Very well then, he would have to help it along. He summoned the memory of James, Lily, Sirius, Peter, and himself sharing a compartment on this train for the last time before they were dumped on the doorstep of the merciless and unforgiving world. “Expecto patronum,” he said very quietly, and his silvery Patronus charged at the dementor. It glided backward and the door slammed as the Patronus chased it through the corridors.

Remus turned to face the children. The redheaded girl – Ginny, he thought he remembered – was shivering uncontrollably, and a ginger-haired boy that may have been her brother was gaping wordlessly at the door. The other girl had eyes round as saucers, and the round-faced boy was very pale. Harry was on the floor, though he had stopped twitching.

“Are you alright?” he asked kindly, and they all nodded, still looking uneasy. “What are your names?”

The boy with red hair answered first. “I’m Ron Weasley, and that’s my sister, Ginny.” Remus nodded. His suspicions had been correct.

“Neville Longbottom,” muttered the other boy.

“My name is Hermione Granger.” Her eyes were normal-sized now. “And this is Harry…Harry Potter.” She gestured to the unconscious boy on the floor and glared at Remus as though daring him to gasp at the name. The lights flickered on and very slowly the train began to pick up speed again.

But Remus remained impassive and calm. He had, of course, known that this was James and Lily’s only son, had known it before he had even seen him. The students called Hermione and Ron – he should have known him, too, he was Arthur’s son – had slid off their seats and were kneeling on either side of Harry, gently prodding him and calling his name softly. Neville was standing next to him, watching Harry, Ron, and Hermione with concern. It wasn’t until Ron and Hermione had progressed to tapping his cheeks and yelling that Harry stirred. His brilliant green eyes – Lily’s eyes – flickered for a moment before he sat up, and Remus saw that he was drenched with sweat. Ron and Hermione seized him and put him back on his seat as he started stammering questions. Remus pulled a gigantic piece of chocolate out of a wrapper from his robes and started breaking it into pieces. He offered one to Harry.

“Here. Eat it. It’ll help.”

Harry accepted it but didn’t seem to acknowledge what he had said. “What was that thing?”

Remus was giving chocolate to everyone else now. “A dementor. One of the dementors of Azkaban.” He stared around at them all as he rolled up the empty wrapper; none of them had eaten that chocolate. “Eat. It’ll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…” And with that he strode out of the compartment and into the buzzing corridor.

Apparently the dementors had checked the entire train, because as he moved past every compartment he saw students that were pale, shaking, jumpy, or all of the above. He had been planning on some sort of check by the dementors and had been prepared with some chocolate but not enough for the entire train. He cared for those that seemed to be the worse for wear, though none had reacted quite as Harry had. He finally made it to the front of the train where he encountered the witch that pushed the trolley, the very same one as when he had been a student. He quickly asked her if there was a way he could convey a message to Hogwarts. The witch smiled and pointed at a very old owl perched on the edge of an empty luggage rack. He borrowed a piece of parchment and a quill and hastily wrote a message to…Professor McGonagall, he decided. Harry was a Gryffindor, he had seen as much from his Hogwarts robes, and she was more apt to take care of this situation than Dumbledore was. The owl hooted mournfully when Remus attached the note to its leg but flapped off into the lashing rain.

“How long until we reach Hogwarts?” he asked the lady pleasantly.

“About fifteen minutes, I believe,” she replied as she put the items she hadn’t sold back into a storage bin with a wave of her wand. He thanked her and headed back to the other end of the train once more.

When he reached the compartment, he couldn’t help but smile when the chocolate he had distributed was still uneaten. “I haven’t poisoned that chocolate, you know…”

Harry took a bite and Remus was pleased to see a little bit of color seep back to his pale face.

“We’ll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Are you alright, Harry?”

Harry told him he was, but Remus could tell that he was troubled by the night’s events. He let the subject drop.

The carriage ride, this time, was a lonesome one, though the sight of the thestrals was a bit shocking at first. It didn’t take him long to figure out what they were, it was only that he hadn’t been expecting them. He did not dwell on them, though, and just let the creatures pull him along. When he got out of the carriage, carrying his battered case, he heard a drawling voice taunting someone, then a more familiar one responding.

“Shove off, Malfoy.”

Aah. The Malfoys.

“Did you faint as well, Weasley? Did the scary old dementor frighten you too, Weasley?”

“Is there a problem?” This wasn’t prefect duty, he was a teacher now. He wasn’t about to let a fight break out right under his nose. He saw the blonde boy size him up, taking in his tired eyes, darned robes, and the sad little case.

“Oh, no – er – professor.”

He caught the sarcasm but did not care. He was used to rejection.

The students gathered in the Entrance Hall and Remus followed them as well. However, instead of going through the doors to the Great Hall he slipped into a hallway to the left. He followed the passageway, smiling to himself; this corridor was usually only for the teachers but Sirius had discovered it in his fourth year, and now Remus no longer needed to use the Invisibility Cloak to access it. This corridor led to the room behind the Great Hall, where he knew several staff members would probably be seated, waiting for the students to arrive.

Sure enough, when he pulled the tapestry of a medieval minstrel open, he found Professors Flitwick, Hooch, Sinistra, and Snape sitting comfortably on the couches and chairs. The patched and frayed sorting hat was sitting in a corner on a stool, waiting to be carried into the hall. Remus paused for a moment; he hadn’t known that Snape was a professor at Hogwarts. He willed himself to remember that times had changed and Dumbledore trusted him.

He broke from his reverie and stepped forward with a smile. “Severus! I must admit, I am surprised to run into you here, but pleasantly so.”

Snape looked, for a moment, as if he was about to raise his eyebrows, but he managed to stifle it. “I am the potions master here, Lupin.”

“Listen – Severus –” He knew he had to do this…he wished that he had done it many years ago. But unfortunately, he hadn’t and now that time had come. “I know that our schooldays together are not exactly fond memories. I know that we were —” Snape stiffened “— often very cruel to you, and I know that it is not possible that after all that has happened between us for us to become friends. I also want to let you know that I have felt guilt and remorse for every time we taunted you.” He paused, waiting for the last line to sink in. Snape’s eyes pierced his own. “I’m sorry, Severus. I know that wounds this deep will never heal, and that it is hard to forgive and forget; I understand that. But I’m sorry, and I hope that, while you may not forgive me for damage done in the past, you will find it possible to work together as colleagues.”

Snape's face remained stony and impassive. Apparently he could not think of anything to say, because he stalked to the door at the other end of the room. He wrenched it open and turned back to Remus.

“You’re right. I will never have room in my heart to forgive you,” he hissed. “By the way…if I get any wind of you helping your dear old friend back into the castle, you may find that my tongue will slip and the whole school shall know of your…monstrosity. Oh, the parents won’t like that, will they?” He sneered and slammed the door behind him. Flitwick, Sinistra, and Hooch looked at Remus curiously; they had been deep in discussion during his exchange of greetings with Snape. Remus sighed and moved to hold open the door for the others as the students filed into the Great Hall.

The Sorting ceremony passed uneventfully, and Remus spent the majority of his time in wonderment. How very strange it was to be sitting facing the students instead of the other way around! Dumbledore made his usual speech and introduced him to the school. Remus was perfectly aware of Snape’s twisted, loathing glower and he did his best to ignore it. He couldn’t honestly be bothered – he had extended his apologies and a hand of friendship, or at least of truce, and it would be Snape’s choice to take it or leave it. But, he thought as he munched on a spiced chicken breast, it’s rather difficult to eat when someone’s throwing hate glares at you.

Just the Start

2007-07-27T04:54:58Z

A first attempt in something I haven't done in a long time...or, well, I've written, but haven't posted. Let me know what you think! It's only a first chapter. :)

Remus Lupin’s once-steaming coffee was now cold, and a piece of toast smothered in marmalade was left half-eaten and forgotten on his plate. His brown-grey hair was tousled and unkempt, and he was dressed in a tattered bathrobe that may have been black once but had been worn to a faded grey. He was alone in his flat, which overlooked a deserted Muggle street. It was quite early in the morning, and the horizon was just beginning to turn a bright pink and orange color, forecasting another bright and sunny summer day.

He was reading the copy of the Daily Prophet that a medium-sized grey owl had delivered to him, having just taken off through the open window, a few more Knuts jangling in its pouch. He looked at the front page only briefly, wincing, thinking that he would read it later, and paged through the rest of it. His eyes came to rest on an article about halfway through the paper, directly above an advertisement for Flourish and Blotts bookshop.

MINISTRY CRACKS DOWN ON DANGEROUS CREATURES

On Thursday, the Ministry of Magic passed a law allowing for background checks of all wizards applying for jobs, as well as those already employed. The bill, written by none other than Ms. Dolores Umbridge, is intended to keep all employees, employers, and all businesses safe. Her primary course of action is to keep werewolves out of the workplace. Though they only transform into wolves but once a month, she – and many other Ministry workers – believe that these transformations are extremely harmful to employees that work with the werewolf, bringing danger into their daily lives.

Many witches and wizards throughout the country are pleased with this new law, as many have been speaking out against werewolves, believing the influence endangers not only themselves, but their families and livelihoods as well. Says Ms. Tracy Ganyor, “I feel much better about allowing my husband to go to work every day with this new law in place. It wasn’t that I was really all that worried about him being attacked by werewolves every day, but often if he was working late at night, I would wonder if there was ever even a chance….I feel much more at comfort knowing that there is more security now.” Mr. Ogden Kent spoke with a reporter after news of this law had been released from his home in Amesbury. “Creatures such as werewolves deserve no place in the working world. Hard-working wizards should not be cheated out of well-deserved jobs by werewolves, which make employment much more hazardous. Needless to say, I applaud Dolores Umbridge for this new law, very well done indeed.”

The law maintains that all employers must conduct background checks and surveys on any and all employees, firing or refusing to hire any that may be dangerous. “The ultimate goal,” says Ms. Umbridge, “is to eliminate werewolves from the wizarding business world. They are seen as unworthy in the workplace. Perhaps this law will eventually stem others that increase the safety of wizards from werewolves, not only in the workplace.

Remus closed the paper and set it on the table, returning to his toast, which he was really no longer hungry for. Well, at least he had already been fired from his last job when it had become known that he was a werewolf – now he wouldn’t have to undergo a survey and search that would prove he was a werewolf nonetheless. The problem remained, however, that he was indeed a werewolf, and now it seemed that his search for a new job would be fruitless. It would not be long before they discovered, once again, that he was one of these dangerous creatures, and now that the Ministry seemed to be doing thorough checks, it may be entirely possible that he would not be able to work at all.

But how many werewolves were out there, anyway? Surely it wasn’t enough that could overwhelm the wizarding population…and the ones that were the most dangerous had withdrawn from society, everyone knew that. The Ministry would be seeking the very few werewolves that actually did try to find a job, and why was that enough to make a law? Nevertheless, he knew that Dolores Umbridge was not exactly friendly with “half-bloods”or magical creatures – he remembered a Daily Prophet article from several years ago, which had given details of an enraged Umbridge over the rights of the goblins.

He Vanished his unfinished breakfast and wandered the house restlessly. Last night he had thought that he would spend the day searching for a job, no matter how short-lived it may be. This changed things, though. Was there a point now, if he was to be discovered? Would he be forced to resort to living with the other werewolves underground? What would he do with himself without a job? He had no living relatives and his three friends….well, two were dead, and one was in Azkaban.

But at that moment, another owl swooped in through the still-open window, this one handsome and tawny. He thought he recognized it, but….it couldn’t be. Not now, not after it had been years….

He fumbled with the ribbons attaching the letter to the owl’s leg, and when he succeeded in untying them the owl soared back out again, flapping easily through the morning air. The envelope was not thick as his letters had once been years ago, but there was no mistaking that handwriting. Flabbergasted, he stared at the writing. What on earth had prompted this?

He tore open the letter, not entirely sure what to expect inside it. He unfolded the contents, which consisted of three sheets of parchment. The first was a letter, written in long, thin, slanted writing, just as the envelope had been.

Dear Remus Lupin,

I hope I have found you in good health and well-being. I am sure you are somewhat surprised at this letter, but I have a bit of a favor to ask of you. You may, of course, decide to refuse this offer, but I am also sure that after reading today’s paper, you may be quite pleased with the offer that I am about to make.

I find myself, once again, short a staff member. You have always shown remarkable talents in Defense Against the Dark Arts – I seem to remember you receiving an O on that particular O.W.L. I was hoping that perhaps you would consent to taking up the position. I know you will have your doubts and misgivings, given your condition, but the Whomping Willow is still very much alive and vicious as ever. I also have a Potions Master who would be fully willing to creating the Wolfsbane Potion every month, which will keep the students and staff of the school very well protected. The staff, naturally, will have to know about your curious calamity, but it will be hidden from the students. I will do everything in my power to keep both you and the students safe.

I also have the feeling that, with Black’s escape from Azkaban, inquiries about his relationship with James Potter may surface, from none other than James’ son. I feel that in this case, you may also be helpful to Harry, because you were closer to James than I ever was. I think that you may be a bit of a comfort to him as questions about his past arise.

Kindly respond as soon as you have made a decision. I hope that you will take the post, but if not I completely understand that your life’s ambitions may take you elsewhere.

Albus Dumbledore

Well.

This was certainly a change of plans, the second change of plans he had experienced in one morning. Perhaps he shouldn’t see it as a change of plans yet, because he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but it definitely open up a whole new set of doors. Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; it had once been a dream to returning to Hogwarts to teach, but never thought it was possible because of, as Dumbledore had politely put it, his “calamity.” But should he take it?

He busied himself with redressing in a set of robes for daywear, though he wasn’t sure that anyone comparing the bathrobe and his normal ones would know the difference, then with cleaning the house listlessly. It didn’t really need it, because he was already generally organized, but he needed something to keep his hands occupied while his mind whirled with excitement and anxiety.

There was so much at stake. He could take it, and risk the lives of the students and staff. He could not take it and sit at here, twiddling his fingers while he was a human and biting and scratching himself as a wolf. He could take it and have a job, a job that he knew he would love, a job at the place where he had spent seven of the best years of his life. He could refuse it and search in vain for a job, perhaps come across a Muggle business that would never need to know he was a werewolf. He could take it and return to the castle he had once called his home. He could turn it down and stay here, where he had never felt less at home.

He stared around at his dingy little flat, living among the Muggles and cut off from the wizarding world because it would not allow him into it. But Dumbledore….Dumbledore was allowing him the chance to re-enter the wizarding world, to form connections with the students, to be something other than a werewolf.

But still, his dilemma was the same. “The Whomping Willow is still very much alive and vicious as ever. I also have a Potions Master who would be fully willing to creating the Wolfsbane Potion every month.” But neither of those were foolproof….he thought of all the times that he had been so close to attacking students on accident. What if something went wrong, what if he didn’t make it to the Whomping Willow or take his potion in time? What if the students noticed his regular disappearances?

Oh, how tempting it was.

How deeply afraid he was.

But Dumbledore had never broken a promise to him. If he said it was possible…and if he was willing to do this….but did he have the power to over-rule the Ministry of Magic, at least in a case such as this?

His mind had made itself up – or perhaps it was actually his heart that had shown him the way. He pulled out a new sheaf of parchment and hurriedly scribbled his reply on it before his heart could change its mind again.
By the time he had sent off his reply, he had realized there were still the other two other pieces of parchment enclosed in the envelope that he had not even looked at yet. The second sheet asked for a list of the books he wanted the students to buy for his class. Bewildered, he regretted sending his reply so soon without looking at the other contents of the envelope. He wanted, least of all, to be pestering Dumbledore with owl upon owl, sending all the information he repeatedly forgot. Luckily, as he read the instructions at the top of the parchment, he merely had to copy the names of the books and their authors onto it, and then the charm placed upon it would copy it onto the hundreds of letters to be sent out to the students. The third sheet of parchment merely indicated the routes previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers had taken with their coursework, as a sort of guideline for what would be expected of him, though it clearly stated that he was free to modify it as much as he liked. The Ministry of Magic guidelines for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were also given.

Finally, it settled upon him. He was going back to Hogwarts, he was going to teach there….the dream that had left him long ago, once he had joined the Order, had returned in full flame. It swelled in his chest like a balloon, and left him grinning to himself in his lonely little flat.

Remus received a reply from Dumbledore the next morning, much quicker than he thought he would. He was rather surprised by the response.

Dear Remus,

I’m very pleased that you have decided to take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I think you will find that the students will welcome you back to the place you once called home, and I can only hope that you enjoy the job more than your previous ones.

However, I have several concerns I would like to discuss with you. I would like to arrange to meet with you tonight, if that is alright, at around 8:00. Please let me know immediately if this does not work out, and I can reschedule.

Albus Dumbledore

He hastily wrote a quick note in return, telling him that 8:00 at his place was perfectly fine. He spent the rest of the day pouring over the third sheaf of parchment that had come with his first letter from Dumbledore, creating sketches of lesson plans and searching for books that went along with them. He spent a brief amount of time in Flourish and Blotts, perusing the selection of Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks, but it didn’t take him long to find the ones he thought to be most accurate and most flexible to go along with his teaching plan. At the end of the day, he wrote the names of those books, their authors, and the years of students that should buy them on the second sheaf before checking them over carefully for mistakes and tapping his wand on the parchment. The writing shined bright red for a moment before returning to their natural black.

The moment he had sent them, there was a soft knock upon his door. Belatedly, he realized he had worked straight through the afternoon and had completely lost track of time. He hurried to the door to find Albus Dumbledore standing serenely before him. Dumbledore gave him a gentle smile, and Remus hurried to let him in.

“Good evening, Remus.”

“Good evening. Er…sorry about the mess.” He flicked his wand at the table, where all the notes and letters and outlines had been spread out in front of him, and they formed a neat stack at the center. “Would you care for something to drink?”

“Thank you.” Dumbledore took a seat at the table as Remus conjured two goblets and summoned a bottle of mead from the depths of his cupboard. The bottle divided its contents between the two glasses and then scooted off to the counter, where it remained quite still. Remus settled in the seat across from Dumbledore, unsure what to do next, but he was saved the trouble when Dumbledore spoke first.

“I hope you know that I am delighted to have you as one of our staff members at Hogwarts, and that I am pleased that you have decided to take the job. I know that there were probably many deciding factors for you, given your condition, but I am confident that we can find solutions to those problems.” He sipped from his goblet. “However, as I mentioned previously, I have several concerns.

“As you know, Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban. I know that things have changed since the time of the Lily and James’ deaths twelve years ago, but before I allow you to take this position, I have to ask you these questions.” Dumbledore’s demeanor was no longer cheerful, but stern. He gazed at Remus with his piercing blue eyes, as though he was able to stare into the depths of his very soul. “During your school years, you were friends with Sirius, starting in your first year. The four of you – that is, James, Sirius, Peter, and you – were very close friends.”

He paused for a moment, still looking sharply into Remus’ eyes.

“Do you know anything about the escape of Sirius Black?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you know anything about the intentions of Sirius Black?”

“Only what I have read in the papers.”

Dumbledore’s eyes were nearly piercing his own. “I need to know if you have anything to do with the escape of Sirius Black from Azkaban, or if you have any aspiration to help him back into Hogwarts.”

Remus looked straight back into Dumbledore’s eyes, determined not to falter. “I have not had any contact with Sirius since the night before the Potters were killed. I have not spoken to him, I have not seen him, I have not written to him. I do not know how he escaped from Azkaban, and I certainly have no intention of helping him back into Hogwarts.” A shadow crossed his features. “After he killed two of my best friends, I don’t think I have any desire to know him at all. I don’t know if I ever did know him at all.”

Dumbledore stared at him for a few moments longer, as if trying to find any shred of untruth from his words. Remus knew he wouldn’t discover any – everything he had just said was infused with weights of truth.

“One last question: Is there anything you wish to tell me about Sirius Black?”

For the first time, Remus hesitated. He knew, for the protection of the school, it would be safest to tell Dumbledore the truth, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was nothing that could be done about what he – what his friends – had accomplished at Hogwarts nineteen years ago, and he did not want to betray the trust that Dumbledore had placed in him, that his friends had placed in him, at the time.

But perhaps, after all he had been through, after all that had happened, his friends had not trusted him at all. Did they deserve the same judgement?

“No, sir.”

"Can I have your allegiance, Remus, that if you find out anything about Black that you will tell me?"

"Yes, sir."

At last, Dumbledore sat back and picked up his goblet once more. “Very well.” His eyes twinkled once more. “I see you have been planning already?” Dumbledore peered at the papers stacked neatly in front of him.

“Yes. I thought that maybe a few sketches or outlines of what we would be covering would be useful.”

“I agree. That is a mistake that many new teachers make – they think they can arrive at the school and the lesson plans will all be laid out for them. I see I have chosen my newest staff member well.” He beamed. “I would love to stay and chat, but I have other business to attend to. Thank you for the drink and, once again, thank you for taking up this post. I will see you on the first of September.”

Remus said goodbye and showed him to the door, watching him check that no one was around and Disapparating under cover of the night, leaving Remus with only a guilty conscience that was split two ways.

inspired2morrow @ 2007-07-09T11:50:00

2007-07-09T17:53:35Z

I've decided I'm going to write again...let's give this a try.... Rachel, you're going to have to teach me a few things when I'm done. Which could be awhile. Eh.

I got my AP scores back...I'm ecstatic for one, and really depressed about the other. I guess it's time to push it into overdrive....

At least I knew that it was coming.

Writing

2007-07-08T23:07:09Z

As I'm rereading the Harry Potter books, I keep finding new inspiration for fanfictions or stories. I haven't written in about a year, or if I have, I haven't posted it. I've deleted some of my old things, and I'm considering deleting some others as well, maybe using the same ideas but re-researching the content and making it actually fit.

I want to write, but I've lost confidence in my ability to do so. I'm afraid of writing something that goes nowhere, like all the others. Maybe I could try something different, maybe I could research more thoroughly, maybe it could actually be good. But will it?

I guess it's always worth a try.

Hmm...

2007-07-06T19:53:01Z

Well, at the moment, the only person that's going to be reading this is Rachel. So I'm just going to have a one-sided conversation to you, how's that sound?

So...remember when I kept telling you that my eyes were killing me? Well, they've been killing me for awhile now, so today I finally went to the eye doctor to get my contacts checked out, because I thought they were causing it. Well...turns out I have an ulcer in my eye. Lovely.

I just wanted to tell you that, I don't know why...so I'm going to go do homework now. Talk to you later! (Maybe tonight).