The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix - Part One

XII: 9 September, 1993

Remus stood just 'round the bend from the DADA classroom, next to one of the suits of armor. His palms were pools of sweat and he wished he hadn't scarfed down that second helping at lunch. Famished or not, the extra ladleful of thick stew was roiling about in his nervousness.

His fingers clutched tight to the briefcase handle, and his thumb moved over the embossed letters.

Professor R. J. Lupin.

He could hear students in the corridor to his right as they arrived and went into the classroom, some of their voices echoing louder than others, and he held his breath, waiting to hear James's voice - well, Harry's voice - but it didn't come. Harry must not be as loud and boisterous as his father, then, Remus thought, for James certainly would have been heard a kilometer off on his way to DADA.

The hall became quiet.

They'd all arrived.

It was time to begin, he couldn't hide there any longer.

You've got a brilliant lesson prepared, he told himself firmly. Fun, and memorable. They'll not have seen anything like it. Professor Viegler would be proud of such as class as I've planned. James would be, too. And Lily. They'd be proud that I had such a brilliant lesson for Harry.

He took a deep breath.

"Here we go."

Remus walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with as much confidence as he could muster, his heart beating rapidly and his palms still sweaty as he made his way through the rows of desks to the front of the room. He could feel Harry Potter's eyes on him as he passed by the table where he sat. Remus felt a lump rise in his throat, but he pushed back against the emotions - now was not the time, he told himself. Now, he was a professor, now he needed to teach this brilliant lesson - he'd feel the emotions later on.

Putting his briefcase onto his desk, he cleared his throat and turned to look at the class. "Good afternoon," he said, looking around at them, their eyes all trained upon him with curiosity. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

Surprise registered on all the faces in the room, and they exchanged glances with one another. It took a moment of loud shuffling and scraping of chairs for the books to be gone from desktops. Remus allowed himself a moment to watch Harry as he bent forward and shoved his books into his bag, then turn to the ginger haired lad beside him, who Remus immediately recognized as one of the Weasley kids. He tried to remember the name of the youngest boy - the last of the Weasley brood that Bilius had been alive to see born - but for the life of him he couldn't recall it. There'd just been so many Weasley children born in the time he'd known Bilius - seemed every time he'd seen the old gent he'd been talking about Molly and Arthur's latest and another on the way...

"Alright then," Remus said, shaking himself back to the here-and-now, and seeing that everyone had completed the task of returning their texts to their bags. He slid his hands in the pockets of his suit and stepped down from the teacher's desk, headed to the door. "If you'd follow me, please." He pushed open the door and stepped out into the hallway.

The students followed, a herd of black cloaks rustling down the deserted corridor and back the direction Remus had come from. The coat of arms he'd hidden by before class raised a fist and gave him a thumbs-up as he passed and Remus smirked, nodding his appreciation silently to the knight, and leading the way along through the castle.

"LOONY LOOPY LUPIN! LOONY LOOPY LUPIN!"

Remus looked up to see Peeves, dangling upside down in his path, a bright grin upon the poltergeist's face as he sang that old familiar chant, wiggling his toes as he watched Remus approach. Smirking, Remus walked right up to him, even as students hung back a bit, and he saw the thick wad of hot pink bubblegum lodged in the keyhole of the door of the supplies closet. "Oh Peeves," Remus said, shaking his head at the ghost, "I'd take that gum out of that keyhole if I were you. Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."