HIS CHOSEN GIRL [MAJOR EDITING/REWRITING]

third year ➤ron's five galleons

HIS CHOSEN GIRL ❥ XCIX, Goodbye&Farewell
Harry's P.O.V

I wandered into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for the last time I ever would in my third year at Hogwarts. Classes themselves had already technically ended but I hadn't spoken to Lupin since 'the incident'.

I climbed the stone staircase leading up to his office, already aware that he was there from the loud jazz music emitting from his record player, the same music he played when he introduced us to the bogarts.

I raised my arm to knock before I heard his tired voice groggily say, "Hello, Harry."

Puzzled, considering the professor was facing away from me, I slowly stepped into his office.

"I saw you coming," he says gesturing to the muaraders map laid out on the desk beside him, after sensing my confusion. He flicks his wand ever so slightly and on command, the small storage chest on the table beside me packs itself up.

I watch him worriedly. He looked illy awful. His face was pale and the dark bags under his eyes suggested that he hadn't slept since the
night of the full moon. All in all, he looked although he were dying.

"I've looked worse, believe me," he says attempting a reassuring smile.

He continues around his office, flicking his wand every so often causing miscellaneous items to fly into the several open suitcases scattered throughout the room. It took me awhile to become aware to the fact that he was packing all his belongings rather than only the ones he would need to make it over the summer break.

"You've been sacked," I say in realization.

"No, no," Lupin replies casually. "I resigned actually."

"Resigned? Why?" I ask with disbelief clear in my voice.

Professor Lupin has been the best DADA professor that we've had since I've come to this school. Each student adored him and the other professors were quite fond of him as well. I myself was not only appreciative of him as a professor, but I now look up to him on a much deeper level.

"Well, it seems that somebody let slip the nature of my condition. This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving and parents will not want a, um... well, someone like me teaching their children," he says as if it were no big deal although I detect a hint of sadness in his voice. It was easy to see how he loved his job.

"But Dumbledore-"

"Dumbledore has already risked enough on my behalf. Besides, people like me are, um... Well, let's just say that I'm used to it by now."

With another flick of his wand, a large trunk standing on its side, neatly tucks away one of his coats, a pair of shoes and a stack of books. The trunk then closed and locks thrice before the music then ends on a long high note as if it were to say 'ta da'.