Spells and Handcuffs (Remus Lupin)

The difference is from earth to heaven - I

I woke up before the nightmare's end. But I could still feel the feeling of falling down. I could hear my heavy breathing and the sweat from my forehead was enough to fill an entire bottle. It was just a nightmare, I was trying to convince myself. But why did I keep dreaming the same thing?

The wolf, the graveyard, the feeling that I lost something.

And the witch. Her prophecy. Her words. They were engraved with embers on my skin, and when I closed my eyes I could see burning letters written on the backside of my eyelids, and her hoarse voice echoed in my head.

I was a fool. To worry about some dreams and one memory when the world around me was actually falling apart. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the nightmare. I licked my lips, they were dry as straw, I needed a glass of water. I got out of bed carefully, trying not to wake Remus. I left the room quietly and looked around for the large green kitchen door. I was used to the constant change of the rooms' locations in this house, and as much as Remus complained about confusing the toilet with the closet, I liked it.

Entering the small but cosy kitchen, I was surprised that I was not the only one awake at this time of night. Lyall was sitting at the table with a cup of tea and an open book in front of him. He looked up at me and smiled warmly.

"You can't sleep?" he asked me.

"Something like that," I replied.

"Remus told me you had nightmares."

"Nothing special," I said, worried that my husband had shared this with his father. But Lyall always gave me the feeling that I could tell him everything and find solace and advice. Perhaps it was this that provoked me to continue the conversation: "It just repeats the same thing every time and it looks so real. At first, I attributed it to pregnancy, but that time has passed and the nightmare remains."

"Come on, let me pour you some tea and you'll tell me," he told me, pointing to the silver teapot beside him. Dainty cups and saucers of egg-shell china were grouped about it; a miniature silver tray held a sugar-dish and a cream-pot and a half-dozen gold-lined spoons. Everything was arranged as if he was waiting for someone to join him.

I sat at the table and watched how carefully he poured me a cup of hot tea. Memories were often invoked by a fragrance, for me, it was this smell. The scent of herbs blew me away and brought me back to my childhood with my grandmother.

"I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea. That's what my grandmother used to say. " I said, and gratefully took the glass from Lyall's hands.

"I would like your grandmother if I had the opportunity to know her."

I smiled and stared at this old calm face, in which I found so many familiar features with the man I loved so much. And the strangest thing was that I hadn't told Remus in detail about my dreams, perhaps for fear that if I said them out loud, they would come true. But now, with a cup of tea in my hand, I was able to tell my father-in-law everything. The nightmare. The fear of the witch and her prophecy. The Boggart.

He was silent for a few minutes after I finished my story, frowning slightly and looking thoughtfully at a point in front of him. Finally, he spoke:

"I can't say anything about the nightmare, it looks torn to me. The strange thing is that it seems to follow the words of the witch, but I do not see how it could be related. As for your fear and the boggart, my son was right. Your fear is provoked by the idea of prophecy rather than its contentу. The fear of predestination, perhaps. Fear of fate. Fear that no matter what you do, in the end, your choices don't matter. "