End of the Tunnel

For a wonder, a story that's not a part of a series. I hope you like it. It took several attempts to get it to this stage, though I've had the idea for a long time.

Disclaimer: Remus, Minerva and the others belong to J K Rowling. No infringement of copyright intended.

~

The broken springs of the bed creaked ominously as Remus turned over. His head throbbed, every inch of his body felt as though he had been beaten. He lay utterly still, willing the pain to leave him. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked around the room. In the corner, there was a slow drip onto the threadbare carpet, and there were damp patches on the peeling paint of the walls. The table that stood in the corner was broken, one of its legs crooked beneath it. With the little money that remained to him, he had only been able to rent this dilapidated flat in the poorest area of wizarding London. He sighed.

It didn't matter, anyway. Nothing mattered. A sudden hoarse cough seized him, and he winced as he tried to suppress it. The dull morning light fell through the barred window, and he could see the motes of dust floating in the air. He coughed again, and slumped back, shivering. His head was aching, and he felt far worse than was normal after a transformation. His memories of last night were blurred, but he could see the broken furniture and feel the bruises that attested to a particularly unpleasant time.

Normally, he managed to get out of London on full moon nights to transform in safety. He would go to Much Muckle, to the shed behind Sirius' old house, now long empty. But last night he had been so exhausted from his work at the shipyard that he had scarcely been able to walk home, much less make the journey out of London.

He tried to turn his mind away from thoughts of Sirius. There was no point in continually running over the same tracks. Sirius was a traitor, he was in Azkaban. Thoughts of him were too painful. They brought back the same memories, that same terrible picture in his heart.

He closed his eyes, and tried to sleep. Perhaps he would feel better later. But sleep did not come. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes wearily. When he closed his eyes, he could see Sirius' face, laughing in the unearthly image that had been plastered across the front of the Daily Prophet. And behind it were three other faces, accusing. Where were you when they died? he demanded of himself. Again you failed, he told himself angrily. Had you been human, you could at least have died with them. He swept his hand roughly across his face, trying to think of something different.

The twelve years that had filled that time had passed painfully, from full moon to full moon. He had learned that nobody in the wizarding world would have anything to do with a werewolf, and after a few failed attempts he had worked mostly for Muggles in manual labour – his hard-earned qualifications from Hogwarts and Seven Groves counted for nothing amongst the Muggles. Before, in his work for the League and at Hogwarts, he had been shielded a little from the full brunt of this hatred, since Dumbledore had protected him, and he had had friends to encourage him. His thoughts ran back in circles. As he was slipping into an uneasy sleep, a thudding dragged him back to wakefulness.

Someone was knocking on the door, loudly, and a voice called, 'We know yer in there. Open up!' Whoever it was, he sounded angry. Remus could guess what was coming. It had happened so many times before. Last night his howls must have been audible all through the building, and every wizard would have recognised him for what he was. If only he had been able to get out of London to somewhere isolated …

'Open the door or we'll break it down!' Well, there was no point in hoping they'd go away. With a weary sigh, Remus stumbled to his feet, pulling his robes on, and lifted the heavy wooden bar down from the door. Putting it up had been the last thing he'd done yesterday evening, almost automatically. It had held firm through the long night, though great chunks of it had been gouged out by the werewolf's claws. He struggled with it for a moment, his arms trembling slightly.

The door slammed open, and he had to clutch at it to keep upright. Four men were standing there, their faces angry and their eyes afraid. They looked taken aback when they saw his pallid face and worn robes, but then the foremost said, 'You'd better get packing, you vermin. We won't be havin' with yer sort 'round 'ere.' He pointed his wand threateningly at Remus' face, and behind him the others gave angry mutterings.

Remus could see they would set upon him if he protested. There was no choice.

'All right,' he replied as calmly as he could, and coughed.

' 'urry up, then.'

Remus stumbled around the room, picking up what few possessions he still had and putting them into a battered case. He paused to lean on the crooked table and catch his breath.

'Out!' Picking up his case, he walked to the door. He realised he still had the key to the flat, and reached into his pocket. All three men stepped back abruptly, and he almost smiled.

'I guess you'd better keep this.' One of the men snatched the key from him.

'Get lost! If we see yeh round 'ere again, yeh'll wish yeh'd never been born.' He gave Remus a shove down the rickety staircase, and Remus had to clutch at the banister to keep himself from falling.

Slowly, he left the apartment block and stumbled down the street. His throbbing head redoubled its attack, and he shivered violently in the mild July air. A fine drizzle was falling, beating into his bones. He walked mechanically, not really sure where he was going.

As he passed, mothers snatched hold of their children's hands, and young women crossed over the road. Dazed as he was, Remus scarcely noticed them. He found his way to an entrance to the Muggle world. His wand trembled as he performed the simple spell that would admit him. It took him several tries to make it open. Finally he dragged himself through and into the alley on the other side.

After a few stumbling steps, Remus' legs finally failed him. He sank to the ground exhausted, his head spinning. Now, if only he could lie there forever, on the concrete that felt so comfortable. He rested his head on the pavement and closed his eyes.

~

The fine rain was slowly soaking through even the cloak Minerva was wearing. It was getting dark as she made her way along the road, and the air was colder than was normal for July. She had not had time to change back into Muggle clothes to go through the streets, and people looked askance at her. But in London there were so many people dressed oddly that she did not stand out too much.

She sighed as she turned down a narrow alley that led to an entrance back to the wizarding world. It was very dark, and she took out her wand automatically to give some light, enchanting it so it would seem like a torch to any Muggle who might see. There was a person, huddled in a doorway. She looked pityingly at him. It was not an unusual sight, for Muggle London was full of homeless men and woman on the streets, all bedraggled and miserable. They ought to do something about it, she thought. Her eye lingered on him for a moment, and then she walked slowly past. But there was something not quite right about him, she thought vaguely, and she looked again.

And then it struck her. The man was not wearing the strange clothes Muggles wore, but wizard's robes. She stopped. What was a wizard doing lying in the street? For a split second she thought instinctively, You-Know-Who, before remembering with a scowl for her stupidity that he was long gone. Puzzled, she strode over to where the man lay. His face was hidden under a fold of grey cloth, but she could see the wand at his belt, and knew she was right.

She crouched down in the road beside him, shining the light from her wand upon his covered face. He stirred, and she watched him keenly.

'Hello? Are you all right?'

The man groaned in reply. Then he seemed to waken, and he pulled the cloak away from his face with a thin, trembling hand. Minerva gasped as she recognised him. The changes the years had wrought in him appalled her. His hair was turning to grey, and his face was gaunt and drawn with pain.

Remus turned eyes dazzled by the sudden light onto the face of the woman kneeling before him. He blinked, wondering if this was only a vivid dream. With a struggle, he sat up.

'Minerva?' he croaked incredulously. She put a hand on his arm, and he knew it could not be a dream. But he couldn't think properly, his head was still aching and the world seemed strangely distant. The hum of the traffic on the road was confusing his hearing.

'Remus, what's happened to you?' she demanded, her voice rough from the surprise. He tried to pull himself together.

'I was evicted … this morning … and -' he broke off in a fit of coughing. Minerva looked on worriedly as he doubled up. He began to shiver again, his damp robes chilling him to the marrow.

Minerva looked at his glassy eyes and chalky face uncertainly. She put out a practiced hand and felt his forehead.

'Goodness, Remus, you're burning up with fever. You can't stay here. Why don't you come back to where I'm staying, and I'll get a Healer to come and see you.' It was more of a command than a question. 'Come on, up you get. It's not far.'

Remus struggled to his feet and stood swaying. Minerva took his arm.

'I can … manage,' he protested weakly, stumbling against her. She gave a dry laugh and supported him more firmly. For a moment her eyes were vague as she made some mental calculations, and then she nodded in comprehension.

'Full moon last night, was it?'

He winced, and nodded, shivering.

'Here, put this on. I don't want you down with pneumonia.' She draped her cloak across his shoulders gently. He did not protest, for it was taking all his concentration to remain upright. They were silent the rest of the way, as Minerva led him through the streets. Then she hauled him along Diagon Alley to a house there, which he vaguely recognised from his days as a League member. But they were long gone now.

'I'm staying here. Come on up.' She put her arm around Remus as he nearly fell, and dragged him into the warm sitting room. He collapsed onto the sofa and put his head in his hands.

Minerva bustled around, fetching him a drink and getting a blanket to put around him. He sank into the unaccustomed luxury of the sofa and tried to relax, but the violent coughing seized him again. Minerva wrapped the blanket around him and felt his forehead again. It was still burning hot.

'I'm going to call for a Healer straight away,' she said, but he made no response.

When she returned from the magical mirror that had put her into contact with the small Healing Hall in London, Remus was tossing fretfully on the sofa. He had thrown off the blankets, and was shivering, a dark sweat across his forehead. Minerva swathed him in the blanket again and wiped his face dry. Even almost twenty years after he had left her care, she was still running around after her student, she thought wryly. Clearly a sign that she had no life outside of Hogwarts.

Remus suddenly stiffened, and opened his eyes. He looked up at her unseeingly.

'Andrea,' he breathed. 'Andrea.' He reached out and grasped her hand in a grip so tight it was almost painful.

His confusion sent a shiver down Minerva's spine, and she looked at him with grief.

'No, Remus, it's Minerva.' He must be hallucinating, she thought, and she did not try to detach his thin hand from hers. 'It's not Andrea,' she repeated as he stared wildly at her.

Then his eyes re-focussed, and he seemed to see her. He squinted without understanding, and closed his eyes, relaxing his grip. Minerva sighed, and sat down beside him. He was still for a while.

Then, in another dream, he spoke again.

'No … no … James, don't come any closer … no, someone, help, stop me … ' Minerva winced a little, wondering if she should wake him. His voice was tormented and desperate. She squeezed the hand he was clutching, miserably wishing there was something more useful she could do.

'It's okay, Remus, you're all right, everything's all right,' she said soothingly, as if talking to a child, and she pulled the blankets around him with her other hand. He cried out wordlessly, and then fell silent.

When she heard a knock at the door, she detached her hand from Remus' grip gently.

'Oh, Cathy, good,' she said, a little breathlessly as she opened the door. The small dark witch who stood on the doorstep smiled. Minerva recognised her from the days when Cathy had been a prefect for Ravenclaw at Hogwarts.

'I haven't seen you for a long time, Professor,' said the Healer. 'Our receptionist said there was a man with some kind of fever here?'

'Yes, it's Remus Lupin. Heaven knows what he's been doing, I found him in the street.' She was leading Dr Lewis up the stairs as she spoke.

'Lupin?' Catherine Lewis' eyes widened. 'The – the same?'

Minerva sighed. 'Andrea's Lupin. Yes.' She looked away for a moment.

'Oh dear. And he's feverish, did you say? Hmm …' She looked at the floor introspectively. 'He was the one – the one Andrea used to make the Wolfsbane Potion for?'

'That's right. And it was the full moon last night. No wonder he's in such a state.'

'The transformation shouldn't affect him like that,' replied Dr Lewis at once. Her forehead was furrowed with thought.

They went into the room where Remus was tossing back and forth on the sofa. Dr Lewis made the routine examination.

'No, well, the transformation has weakened him rather a lot,' she said after a few moments, 'but he's just got a bad case of 'flu. Lying out on the streets won't have helped.' She frowned. 'I really don't know what we're coming to, wizards on the streets. No better than the Muggles. Anyway, I'll give you some potions for him. He'll need to rest in bed for a few days, I think.'

She raised her wand, and began to summon the potions she needed. Then she shook Remus' shoulder to wake him, and he winced before blinking his eyes open. Minerva saw the same unseeing look in them as before, but this time he did not speak. Dr Lewis poured some of a green potion onto a spoon, and deftly forced him to drink it.

'That'll help the fever. There should be an improvement by tomorrow morning; if there's not, call me again. Otherwise, this potion will help his cough. But bed rest is what he needs most of all. He'll pull through, don't worry.'

Dr Lewis pulled her cloak on again, and Minerva thanked her and showed her out.

~

Remus opened his eyes and looked confusedly around the room. He had no idea where he was, and he felt a twinge of fear. It took an effort to raise his head, and he felt oddly limp and weak. Perhaps he'd been ill? Then his gaze fell on the chair opposite, where Minerva was sitting with her head sunk in sleep. What was she doing here? Slowly his mind focussed, and he remembered being evicted from the flat. His memory were confused, but he could recall Minerva speaking to him, and a vague journey in the dark. He coughed painfully.

Minerva's head jerked up, and she blinked rapidly. Remus smiled a little at her expression.

'Oh! You're awake. Good.' She came across the room to him. 'How do you feel?'

'All right,' said Remus, unnerved by the deep concern on her face. 'Where – how did I get here?'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Yesterday night.' Remus' eyes flickered to the window, and he saw that it was late evening. 'You were on the street – don't you remember?'

As she spoke, Remus began to remember some more details. 'Have I been ill?'

Minerva gaped at him and then laughed grimly. 'Yes. Most definitely.'

'Oh.' He was beginning to think more coherently now. 'And you brought me here?' He looked around the room uncertainly.

'That's right.' Minerva sat down on the chair beside him. 'You were in an awful state. You collapsed when we got here.' Her eyes were full of gentle pity, and it was more than he could bear.

'And in your infinite kindness you though you'd do a Good Samaritan imitation and bring me here?' he demanded, suddenly angry. 'What makes you think I want your charity, or your pity?'

Another fit of coughing seized him. When he looked up, he saw Minerva's startled and pained expression, and felt worse than ever. Remorse filled him.

'Oh, God, I have no right to yell at you like that. I'm an ungrateful wretch, nothing but useless vermin.' He turned his face away.

'Don't worry,' said Minerva as calmly as she could. 'I'm not offended.'

Remus did not believe her.

'But what did you save me for?' came his half-stifled voice. 'There's nothing I can do, nowhere to go, but I'm not going to eke out the rest of my life on your charity, or anyone's.' His tone was bitter. 'You saw what life I've got ahead of me. But I'd prefer that to spending my time beholden to anyone.'

'Don't be silly,' replied Minerva bracingly. 'You didn't think I was going to leave you to die in the streets, did you? Why don't I get us some supper? You'll feel better when you've eaten.'

Weighed down by self-pity, Remus did not try to argue. He wanted to refuse, but knew that if he opened his mouth he would shout at Minerva again, and he was thoroughly ashamed of his outburst. The debt he bore her was heavy upon him. He heard Minerva leave, and realised that he was famished. Another thing he would owe her.

When she returned with a steaming bowl of soup and some fresh bread, he ate it in silence. Despite himself, he found that he was savouring the taste and the sensation of a full stomach. But his expression was still black and troubled. When he had finished, he said, 'There is no way I can pay you back for this, you know. And I won't stay here any longer now.' As he spoke, he tried to stand. But he was still weak from his illness, and Minerva grasped his arm to keep him from falling.

'Sit back down,' she ordered him. 'You can't go anywhere until you're better.' She found herself using her sternest teacher-voice on him, and old instinct made him obey. He shut his eyes, his head spinning slightly.

'Lie down.' He felt himself pushed back onto the sofa and covered with a blanket, unable to object. When he opened his eyes again, she was watching him with her beady eyes.

'Why do you do all this for me?' he asked wildly. 'What's the point? I'm not worth the effort, and there's no way I can pay you back.'

'Why?' Minerva frowned. 'Would you do any less for me, or for any other friend of yours?'

'I don't have any friends,' he responded bitterly, automatically.

She snorted. 'Perhaps you think so, but everyone at Hogwarts has been wondering what's become of you these long years. We all missed you. And if you're asking such silly questions, you must really need some sleep. Go on, rest.'

She pulled the blanket around him, and he quailed in embarrassment. Seeing there was no other option, he closed his eyes.

~

Minerva went to the office. She picked up a silver-handled mirror that lay on the table, and murmured a spell. Then she said, 'Ah, Albus, can I have a word?'

The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore appeared before her. 'Minerva, my dear. How lovely to hear from you. Have you made any headway with a new teacher for us?'

'I can't find a teacher anywhere. There's not a single person who wants the job.' Her tone was dark. 'You might have to give it to Snape after all.'

'No, I don't think that would be wise.' Dumbledore frowned, looking at her unhappy expression. 'Are you all right? Is there a problem?' he asked mildly.

'It's Remus Lupin.'

'Young Remus? I haven't heard anything from him for ages.'

'Twelve years, in fact,' responded Minerva fiercely.

Dumbledore chose to ignore this allusion. 'How's he getting on?'

'Badly. He's been ill, and he's staying with me here, but he wants to leave, and he … oh, I'm terribly worried about him. He seems to think there's no point in life.'

'No point to life?' echoed Dumbledore. 'Dear me. That's unlike him.'

'Yes, and he won't take anything from me, and he's ever so proud.' Her voice was hopeless. 'I just don't know what to say to him.'

'Hmm….' Dumbledore was silent for a moment. 'And you haven't found a teacher anywhere?'

'No,' replied Minerva with surprise. 'You don't think…?'

'Of course, you wouldn't remember when Remus taught Transfiguration here for about a week?'

Minerva shook her head. 'Was that when I was … ill?'

'Yes. He did make an excellent teacher, though Transfiguration isn't his strongest subject. I recall he was particularly good at Defence Against the Dark Arts. Well, this could be the answer to all our problems. It might even answer some of poor Remus'. Ask him to take the job. Tell him I specifically asked you to, if he objects.'

'But won't people object if they know he's a werewolf? And will he be safe?' Minerva looked piercingly at Dumbledore's smiling face.

'Oh, well, I'm sure I will be able to work something out. I heard only last month that a team of research wizards and witches have succeeded in replicating the Wolfsbane Potion, at last. And they've simplified it a bit. It should be well within Severus' capabilities.'

'Snape?' asked Minerva tersely. 'But he – I mean, he and Remus have never been friends.'

'Well, no doubt he can be persuaded. I'll arrange things with him. You speak with Remus.'

Minerva looked unconvinced, but she said, 'Well, I'll do my best. I'm sure he would be a good teacher.'

'Of course he would.' With that, Dumbledore broke off the connection, and Minerva set the mirror down.

When she returned to Remus' room, he had fallen asleep again. She could see from the way he was tossing about that he was deep in some dream, and she drew the curtains as quietly as she could. Outside, the waning moon glinted silver on the rooftops, and even in the bright London lights she could see the stars.

~

Remus was already up when Minerva entered the room in the morning.

'Good morning,' she said pleasantly.

'Good morning.'

'How do you feel?' she asked diffidently, worried that he would take offence again.

Remus sat up and was surprised to find that he felt much stronger.

'Better,' he said quietly.

'Why don't you go and wash, then?'

On legs that were still a bit shaky, Remus went to wash. Feeling much better, he returned and sat on the sofa. Now he would be able to leave, he thought, with a mixture of regret and relief.

Minerva came and sat beside him on the sofa. 'I spoke to Albus last night,' she began hesitantly.

Remus restrained his tongue. He was sure Dumbledore would have suggested some arrangement he could make for him. Dumbledore whose trust he'd betrayed. He took a deep breath.

'I don't think I mentioned why I was in London,' she continued. 'We've been having some difficulties at Hogwarts recently. Ever since Professor Lamia retired four years ago, we've had very little luck with our teachers for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Rogers ran off with the assistant barmaid at the Three Broomsticks, and Professor Young was paralysed in an accident on his broomstick, and Professor Quirrell …' Her voice trailed off. 'Professor Quirrell was working for You-Know-Who.'

Remus caught his breath. 'I thought – he was gone.'

'So did we all. It seems we're safe for the time being, though. But Quirrell was killed, and then last year we had Gilderoy Lockhart.'

'The man who wrote all those dreadful books?'

'That's right. Anyway, he was involved in a very strange accident – he wiped his own memory; I'll explain it some other time. But the long and short of it is that we haven't got a teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts. I've been searching everywhere, and there's not a soul who wants the job.'

She looked expectantly at Remus.

'And Albus suggested that you would be an excellent teacher. We really do need someone good, the students aren't getting the best education at the moment with all this chopping and changing. '

'I – I don't know.' Remus looked doubtfully at her.

'You must want to think about it. I'll leave you be for a moment, while I get some breakfast.' She bustled from the room.

Remus closed his eyes. How could he accept this? How could he take up this generous offer? She had given him so much, Dumbledore had given him so much, how could he continue to live on their kindness? He thought of the pity in her eyes, and cringed inside. It was almost worse than the fear and the hatred.

And yet… the idea of living at Hogwarts again, of teaching the students, drew him sharply. He remembered the delight of those few days he had taught Minerva's classes for her, and how wonderful it had been to give all his time and energy to the students with their insights and their questions.

Be sensible, he instructed himself. What else will you do? You have nothing, nobody, what can you hope to lose? The worst that can happen is that you'll get sent away again. And teaching….

When Minerva came back in, she did not ask him if he had made up his mind, and he still hesitated to make his decision final. Instead, they ate breakfast in silence, while Remus wondered whether to tell her. At length he said, 'I've thought about your offer.'

'And?'

He took a deep breath. 'I'd be happy to accept, if you think the school will admit me.'

'Albus says there'll be no problem. You may not have heard that they've succeeded in discovering the active ingredient in the Wolfsbane Potion, and it's less complicated to make. Snape will be able to do it.'

Remus turned pale, and Minerva looked at him with sympathy.

'Oh … right,' he said finally. 'That's – that's good.'

Unbidden his mind was taken back to the last time he had drunk the Wolfsbane Potion. He bit down on his lip.

'Well, I'm glad you'll be joining us,' she said after a weighty pause. 'You'll know that term starts on September first. So there's a month for you to arrange your things and prepare for teaching. I'll be happy to give you any advice you want.'

'Thank you,' said Remus at last. 'I'm – I'm very glad to have the job.'

In his mind, he was still doubtful. Snape was at Hogwarts, and so were a host of memories of his friends, and of Andrea. But it was a chance, a good chance for him. Perhaps this time it would be all right. He smiled at the wall, his eyes warm.

~

Epilogue

'Now, to finish, who can tell me another creature that drags people into bodies of water?' Remus looked around the second-year class. They were still paying attention, though it was last period on a Friday afternoon, and it was pouring with rain. He smiled to himself. After a term of teaching, he was very happy most of the time.

'Mermaids,' suggested a boy at the front hopefully.

'No, they certainly live in water, but they don't drag people in to drown them. Any other ideas?'

'Kelpies, sir,' said a girl in the back row with an air of confidence.

'Well done, Melissa. A point to Ravenclaw. Can you tell me anything else about kelpies?'

'They live in Scotland and they look like horses.'

'That's right. Some people also call them water-horses. They trick people into getting onto their backs, and then they carry them into the centre of a loch or river, and drown them. But we won't be talking more about them until next lesson. Now, for homework, I'd like you all to use the library to find out the most famous incident of someone who was carried off by a kelpie, and write a short summary.'

The class scribbled the title down on scraps of parchment.

'You may go. Have a good weekend.'

They did not leave the classroom in the mad rush that was usual after other lessons. A handful of students went to stand around the Grindylow's tank, tapping at the side and waving their wands threateningly at it. Remus smiled and went to join them.

'Where did you get him, sir?' asked a Hufflepuff girl curiously.

'I caught him in the lake by the forest. It took me a long time to find one, because Mr Hagrid keeps such a close eye on everything, but he told me when a colony of them moved in. They're getting quite rare in settled places now, which is a very good thing. When I was younger, I remember that one pulled a little girl away when she was playing outside in the village where I lived.'

The students made sympathetic noises.

'Well, they won't get to do that whilst I'm around,' said one boy with a threatening gesture at the Grindylow, and Remus smiled.

'Defence Against the Dark Arts has many real-life applications.' He began to put his notes and papers into his bag, and closed the window. 'I think you'd better be getting back to your houses now,' he said. 'You don't want to miss supper, do you?'

They agreed, and with a chorus of 'Thank you, sir,' they left.

Remus looked out at the grounds with a sigh of contentment. What more could he want? He picked up his briefcase and went along to the staff-room. Teaching was everything he could have wished for.

~

Well, only one thing to say after that. Please review!

Blaise

18^th February 2000