The Marauders: Year Seven Part Two

Tea with Frek

In the midst of all the pranking happening between the third and seventh year Gryffindors, nobody noticed that Remus was sneaking off during the nights. It was a new habit, something he'd picked up in the days following the Battle at Fallengunder, and something that he very much intended to keep a secret. He would go to bed, wait until Sirius Black's breath was heavy and deep, and he'd sneak out of the dormitory, down to the common room, and out the portrait hole. Sometimes he paused to take along James's invisibility cloak, but more often than not he went without it.

These secret little trips he took down the stairs and to the Defense Against the Dark Arts wing, where he would sneak into the classroom, and sit down on one of the window sills. Professor Urquart had other lodgings in the castle - where, no one was quite sure, but he wasn't staying in the DADA room as that was still belonging to Frek. Therefore, the DADA classroom was perfectly empty, and Remus would sit and think, hugging his knees, his back against the window frame as his eyes roved over the large baby dragon skeleton that hung from the ceiling.

It had been years since Ned Veigler had been a fixture of this room, and even when he had been, Remus hadn't really taken advantage of the proximity. He'd been such a foolish kid, he remembered, afraid of Professor Veigler, even hating him, for so much of their year with him there at Hogwarts. What he wouldn't do now to have that time back... He stared at the floor where the Screechsnap had stood, at the blackboard, where Ned had taught them about the weakest points of a werewolf, knowing about the prophecy and the hold that Greyback had on him at the time... the hold that would eventually lead him to the imperius, to his death.

Remus reached into his jumper pocket and withdrew the letter that Newt Scamander had delivered him. The envelope bore his name and nothing more, and though he wanted to know what was inside, something continuously stopped Remus from breaking the seal. Once he did, after all, he'd have consumed the final words that Ned Veigler would ever say to him. Some part of him felt queasy at the thought of that, at everything that Ned Veigler had to give would be given, and the man would pass into memory. As long as that envelope was sealed, Remus could think of him in the present tense in at least that one respect.

It was a day or two after the Pranking war had come to an end and Remus was sitting there, turning Ned's letter over in his hands, watching how the moonlight glinted off the ink on the front, when the door opened and he dropped it in his surprise. He scrambled to pick the envelope up off the floor, and looked up as Frek came in. Frek paused in the doorway, seeing Remus and he raised his eyebrow.

"What's you doing in here at a hour like this 'un, Mr. Lupin?" Frek asked warily, looking him over.

Remus clutched his envelope. "Sorry sir, just... thinking. I didn't know you were back sir."

"Just come," Frek replied. "He wagged his empty shoulder at Remus and Remus's eyes widened with shock. "Spent a cup'la days in Mungo's."

"What's happened?" Remus asked, scared of the answer.

 Frek studied him a moment, then, "Splinched."

"Blimey, that's a bad splinching," Remus said, voice rich with sympathy.

Frek nodded. "Bloody bad, yes. Dissaparatin' too fast - didn't have no choice, I didn't, but that's what's caused it."

Remus nodded slowly.

"Escapin' You Know Who with just an arm off ain't the worst thing could happ'n to a bloke in this war," he muttered.

"Yeah," Remus agreed.

Frek lugged his ruck sack toward the front of the room. Quickly, Remus slid off the window sill and, quick as he could given how close to the Moon it was getting and his knees were hurting something terrible as well as his ribs, he took up Frek's rucksack. "I've got it, sir," he said.