Symphony || Remus Lupin

XX

Warning: Descriptions of abuse and torture.

---

"Gumdrop?" No response.

"Lemon Sherbert?" Nope.

"Acid quills?" Nada.

"Cockroach Cluster?" Zilch.

Once again, Myra had been walking to Dumbledore's office with her permission slip in her hand. She could barely contain her excitement. Her grin was never fading as she traveled through the twisting corridors, the torches flickering happily along with her. She neared the gargoyle until she started slowing down. She didn't know the password. She had tried guessing but that wasn't working. Clearly.

As Myra looked up at the stony face of the gargoyle, it stared ahead, not moving. She let out a huff.

"What's the password?" She muttered. There was a sound of someone sighing heavily. Jumping, she looked up to see the gargoyle glaring at her.

"Couldn't you say 'please'?" It asked grumpily before starting to slide aside, "He's waiting for you upstairs." Dumbstruck, Myra climbed up the stairs, a smile once again plastered on her face. She reached the door and knocked on it twice.

When she got no response, she knocked again. This time, the door swung open on its own. As she stepped inside, the familiar clicking and whirrs filling her ears, she looked around for the old man. She saw him bent over a large bowl, his face completely submerged in its waters. The water looked strangely milky and Myra thought she could see slight images reflected deep within it.

"Sir? Headmaster?" She timidly asked. He rose his head up from the bowl, his face completely dry.

"Yes, Ms. Lestra—wait. It's Potter now, isn't it? Ah yes. Pardon me for forgetting. I've had a bit of a forgetting spree. I almost forgot a very important meeting with the Minister for Magic."

"It's alright, sir," Myra said, watching as he went to his desk and gracefully sat down.

"What can I help you with?" He asked, his blue eyes peering into her own. Myra held out her permission slip.

"I wanted to give you my permission slip." Giving Myra a curious look, he held the slip in his hands and looked down at it. Myra fidgeted with her fingers as she waited for Dumbledore to finish reading. She didn't like these silent pauses.

With Remus, it never seemed to be a problem. She could just sit there and he would just sit there and she would soak up his presence and-

When had she started thinking about Remus? That was completely random.

"Miss Potter? Are you alright?" She heard Dumbledore say. Myra blinked.

"Yes, sir." He stood up and gave her the slip back.

"Give this to Mr. Filch on the next Hogsmeade day. He'll let you through." She gently took it from his hands and tucked it into her pocket.

"Headmaster, I have a question," She stated. He gestured for her to continue, "I was wondering what that bowl was. The one your head was in."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, "That is a Pensieve," He waved his hand and a screen slid open and Myra could see the bowl from before, glistening with a ghostly blue light. She felt herself be drawn towards it, the light captivating her, pulling her, pushing her, being a tide.