Mischief Managed Y2 Part 2: The Truth of the Tournament

Chapter Seventy-Five: Mind Games

Summary:

A problematic recovery takes a sharp turn when none other than Dumbledore wants a werewolf's help. An elated Remus knows he would do anything the headmaster asked, anything!

Song: Human by Chrstina Perri

I can stay awake for days if that's what you want

Be your number one

I can fake a smile

I can force a laugh

I can dance and play the part if that's what you ask

Give you all I am

I can do it

/

I can hold the weight of the worlds

If that's what you need

Be your everything

I can do it

I can do it

I'll get through it

AN: The lyrics chosen in this case are as important as the ones that were left out from this song (the whole part about being human and acknowledging one's weakness), as Remus does not see himself as a human nor believes it is acceptable for him to fall apart, especially when he is trying to be 'useful' to Dumbledore. UGH>< There is a particular message I'm trying to send with this chapter and song, and we will be seeing the repercussions of this chapter during third year and onwards. (See note at end of chapter for more information)

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Remus opened his eyes slowly, soft voices flitting around him. The fuzzy and faraway sensations persisted, and the fact that it sounded like multiple people were around him rang distinctly wrong. The werewolf must be in the hospital wing after another bad moon, which would explain his aching body, the taste of iron in his mouth, and the persistent ill feeling coursing through him. Then why was he in the main hospital wing area? He didn't dare open his eyes, half convinced when he did, he would find a jeering audience pointing at him and demanding the filthy beast face Azkaban. His heart felt like a frantic bird trying to escape by hopelessly slamming itself against his chest. The werewolf had to force all thoughts away to breathe correctly. In and out. He ignored the sharp pangs in his chest until his persistent breathing dulled some of the tightness.

Quite adept at using his other senses, Remus strained his hearing. A bunch of voices carried on further away than the closer whispers. He let in the chaotic mix of louder students complaining to, presumably, the matron. They whined about the injuries sustained, wanting faster help for themselves or their friends. Bile stung the back of Remus' throat. Injuries? Did he...had he?

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Madam Pomfrey's enchanted voice thundered over the crowd. "Those who have minor injuries will wait outside in the hall. Several prefects have the training to heal cuts and bruises, so if that describes you, please locate someone with a green armband on. I will get to you all eventually, but I must prioritise those with more immediate needs first. Several healers are arriving from St. Mungo's, so for Merlin's sake, be patient!"

The cloud in Remus' mind vanished as fast as James could disappear underneath his cloak. The arena! James...

"JAMES!" Remus sat bolt upright as the scream wrenched itself past his lips. Ignoring his pain, he opened his eyes, surprised to find everything bathed in a hazy fog. He couldn't see much. Years of facing a variety of injuries kept him from panicking. His vision should return even if he couldn't pinpoint how he'd lost it.