#atshhb

Hello to like the three people that follow me on here. I have been writing a fanfic since 2018 that is very near and dear to my heart and even though I don't think many people will see this, I wanted to post about it.

The Marauders and the first Order of the Phoenix occupy a lot of my headspace and I started daydreaming about them a lot, which is how the first installment of this story was conceived. I wanted a plausible prequel to the events of the HP series following the first wizarding war. (My ships, maybe not so much but 🤷‍♀️)

I'm currently in the midst of the sequel, which is retelling of the Harry Potter series from the perspective of (mostly) Remus Lupin. I try to post a new chapter every week.

Anyway, if anybody was interested, here's a snippet from the WIP:

Before he even opened his eyes, the smell that hit him as he stepped out of the green flames was enough to make his insides flutter. That musky, saccharine, and at times, sort of sweaty smell was not only instantly recognizable; it flooded him with nostalgia to the point of giddiness. Dumbledore had very kindly requested that he Floo to this fireplace, as opposed to the one in the Defense Professor’s office on the second floor. When he thought about it, it would’ve made more sense to meet there - but Remus suspected Dumbledore was granting him a bit of time to relive the good old days first. 

So he capitalized on it, and arrived a few minutes early to do just that. As soon as the crimson carpets and furnishings came into view, Remus felt an overwhelming sense of calm; he couldn’t describe what it was. Helping himself to a seat in a cushy armchair across from the hearth, he ran his hands down the upholstery and let out a chuckle. 

There were few places that held fonder memories than the Gryffindor common room. And if Remus concentrated very intently…

Merlin, I can still hear them.

“Saint Moony!”

“What’ve I missed?”

“Wormtail’s making grand plans to ask out Mary.”

“Godric- Prongs- Could you keep your voice down? I am not!”

“Well, you ought to be.”

“And are you offering your expertise?”

“What expertise? Evans must’ve turned him down a hundred times!”

“She’ll come ‘round one of these days, you’ll see. Now that this is all of us, we need to discuss the aging potion prank. As much as I’d love to target Snivellus, I think he might be too obvious. Thoughts, Padfoot?”

“Who cares if it’s obvious? It’ll be well worth it to see how huge his proboscis gets when he’s a geezer!” 

At the sound of the last voice, Remus shoved the memory back down to its depths. 

He stood and strolled by the empty notice board, brushing his fingertips against the cork and remembering positively nefarious messages they used to leave for him to remove as part of his prefect duties:

Dear Remus, 

I cannot deny my feelings for you any longer. I need you like a flower needs a bumblebee. Meet me at the Three Broomsticks this weekend so we can finally run away together. 

Sincerely, 

Madam Rosmerta 

To the particularly flatulent resident of the boys dormitory,

Please, for the love of Merlin, stop by the hospital wing and have Madam Pomfrey test you for a food allergy. You’re disturbing the peace.

Sincerely,  

We can smell you from the top floor

Ladies and Gentlemen of Gryffindor House,

We are pleased to inform you that Mr. Peter Pettigrew is single and accepting applications. Bribes welcome and encouraged, particularly if they are paid in homage to his roommates. Must be sixteen or older to apply. 

He couldn't help but laugh again. Gits. Only when James became head boy had they let up a little - and only a little. 

Passing the staircase, he had half a mind to go take a peek at the dormitories, but even with them empty, it felt improper. Instead, his path took him all the way up to the large window facing east. It was a lovely, sunny afternoon in the highlands, and the visible stretch of the lake sparkled. He couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day. 

Recollections seemed to hang in the air like that sweaty smell: Post-quidditch celebrations; Gobstones; card games; the collective huddle around the fire after a wintery weekend trip to Hogsmeade; Remus could’ve plucked them out of the air like lacewing flies and kept them in a jar. Even with the headlines circling about civil unrest and talks of war back in those days, it seemed things like that could never touch them in here. Not in the common room. This was their sanctuary. 

Hearing the portrait hole open, Remus turned. He expected Dumbledore, but was thrilled to see the conical black hat instead. 

“Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall,” he called out with a wide grin, suppressing the great urge to embrace her. 

McGonagall inspected him over her square glasses. “Back to cause more trouble, Mr. Lupin? Or should I be calling you Professor?”

He came away from the window. “Let’s not jump to conclusions until I’ve spoken with the Headmaster.” 

When he reached her, she surprised him with an uncharacteristic squeeze on the arm. “Welcome home.”

Ah. That’s what the feeling was. 

...

In no time at all, they rounded the corner and saw the gargoyle. Remus could recall, on several occasions, passing this corridor with his friends and blurting out guesses as to what the password was; none of which ever ended up being correct.

“Cauldron Cakes,” Dumbledore stated loud and clear.

The gargoyle stepped aside, allowing them to ascend the spiral staircase. Remus was fairly certain James had thrown that one out once or twice. God, if James could see him now. Professor Moony.

“And now for a nice celebratory tea, as promised,” Dumbledore fizzed, starting up the stairs.

Remus stared begrudgingly at the steps, but followed nonetheless. “I meant to bring some biscuits, but the ones I had were stale.”

“That’s alright. I keep some in my desk for emergencies.”

Remus had just made it up the spiral staircase when he saw that there were four or five people already in Dumbledore’s office, one of them being Cornelius Fudge. He also recognized Amelia Bones - the late Edgar’s sister - now the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Remus tensed up a bit, as he always had around personnel from the Ministry. 

“I thought we agreed on two thirty, Dumbledore,” Fudge quibbled disapprovingly. “I hope you won’t mind, we’ve helped ourselves to the tea that was set out.”

“My sincerest apologies Minister, I must have lost track of time. I was orienting our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” Albus stepped aside so that the wizards and witches present had a clear view of Remus. 

Across the office, a teacup shattered on the floor.

You’d have thought Black and Potter were brothers!” Filius squeaked. “Inseparable!”

“Of course they were,” Fudge touted. “Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends.” 

Fudge spoke of James like he knew him personally, which Remus noticed happened a lot after their deaths. By virtue of their involuntary martyrdom, the rest of the wizarding world had decided that the Potters were public domain, regardless of antemortem affiliation. Remus wondered if Jesus’s disciples ever felt the same tinge of possessiveness he did - the one he probably would’ve felt at their funeral if he was in any state to feel anything. How could Fudge know that about his friend? 

“Nothing changed when they left school,” Fudge continued. “Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry.”

Mentally, Remus ate his own words - because Fudge could know. Everyone could. James had made it very clear in all of these acts who he trusted the most between the three of them, and that was Sirius. It was Sirius every time. It made his treachery all the more sickening. Remus would’ve taken better care of James’s trust if he’d only let him.

Fudge’s voice got so low, Remus had to squish his face all the way against the wood to have any hope of hearing him. 

“Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbeldore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn’t an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm.”

His mind had this nasty habit of dragging him back to it all in his nightmares; but hearing Filius explain the charm to Rosmerta thrust him into a sort of waking nightmare, progressing in what felt like flickers of a bulb behind his eyes. Being stuck in that safe house in Exeter and forbidden from seeing James. Flick. The light of the candles on his exhausted face in St. Jerome’s. Flick. “Love you, mate. See you soon.” He never saw James again. Flick. The way he forgot how to breathe, as if James had been the reason he ever learned how.