Moonstruck | A Remus Lupin Love Story

Chapter 3 : Boggarts

Esmeray lay in bed, unable to sleep. Today had been one of the most exciting days of her life. Is this what it means to feel human, she thought as she reminisced. The dining hall was nothing but spectacular, just as Albus had described it. Fortunately, she was able to sit at the Gryfindor table with Harry, Ron and Hermoine, allowing her a small sense of comfort. The sorting hat ceremony had been performed in private, Albus concerned for the what the outcome may be thanks to Esmeray's way of exisitng, her 'father' and her ever-growing power. The sorting hat had much difficulty locating a house to place her in. It scratced every inch of her brain, so intenesly that smoke started to rise from its point. In the end, it bestwoed the choice upon Esmeray instead. She decided that she would represent Gryfindor. Her family that raised her, that she looked up to, that fought evil and showered good on the world, were all Gryfindor's. This way, it was a step to being good. To proving to herself, she was good.

A thousand candles danced around the room, reflecting off the shimmering souls that glided about. She had glanced to the front of the room, and felt at home. Albus' eyes twinkled as they found hers, sharing a nod towards Esmeray. She had caught Minerva's smile, Hagrid's toast, Sprout's chuckle and even Severus' glare. All gifting her a touch of courage, a touch of comfort, a touch of love and a touch of home. But this wasn't why she couldn't sleep. This wasn't why her heart was trying to escape the cage of her chest. This wasn't why her mind was plagued with the memory of a certain new professor. Albus had introduced Professor Lupin at the welcome dinner, recieving a loud applaud from her new band of friends. But as he rose, and took a deep bow, his eyes connected with Esmeray's. The same familar zap spread through her body, without even coming into contact with him. Those eyes never left hers the rest of the night. Every time she glanced back up, those caramel swirls were already on her. He would instantly glance away, shifting awkwardly in his seat, but soon enough, she would feel the heat of those amber orbs. The feelings were so intense, so much it made her powers start to buzz, to a point where she felt queazy. She left soon after, but not with out catching one more glimpse of him, his kind smile, his warm eyes and those two scars. She had DADA first thing in the morning, and she was dreading it. Not because of the class, or even the teacher, she just didn't want to let these powers get in the way. And if they were this intense from a look, who know's what would happen tommorow. Eventually, after hours of torment, her body gave into exhaustion and she passed into a deep slumber.

The next day

She stood at the back of the class line, anxious for a certain Professor to show up. Her second hand uniform hung heavily around her frame, the sweater reaching just above her knees. Her skirt was faded, her shirt was wrinkled, and her socks had runs in them. She looked like an outcast, hugging her faded and torn textbooks to her chest. One year. Only one year and I'll be a graduate, she tought One year, and I may just fit in. She was so excited to learn, but so terrified to fail. A chipper voice threw her out of her train of thought, as Professor Lupin welcomed the stuents inside.

His classroom was a like a magic museum. On display were all types of creature's skeltons, ancient books and scrolls, old relics and magical artefacts. Esmeray's jaw hung wide open. It was truly wonderful.

'Over here please', Professor Lupin said, giving Esmeray a pointed expression as she had begun drifitng toward an ancient tree druid fossil. They surrounded what looked like a vintage wardrobe. Bang! The wardrobe rattled. Bang! Bang! The students jumped slightly.

''Alright class, My name is Professor Lupin and I am the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. We are going to start this year with a bit of fun! Who here can tell me what a Boggart is ?"

All the 7th years glanced amongst each other, unknowing.

"Come on, Lockheart couldn't of been that bad, be brave! Who can tell me ?"