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"But he might have chosen wrong!" Sirius protested, thumping the table with his fist. "He might have picked the wrong person!"
"He chose the child he thought most likely to be a danger to him. And notice this, Miss Potter," Professor Dumbledore said, returning his attention to Heri. "He chose not the pureblood — which, according to his creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing — but the half-blood, like himself. He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and in marking you with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers, and a future, which have fitted you to escape him not once, but four times so far — something that neither your parents, nor Mr Longbottom's parents, ever achieved."
"But why did he do it?" asked Heri, an uncomfortable chill in her gut. "Why did he try to kill me as a baby? It would have made more sense if he waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then —"
"That might, indeed, have been the more practical course," said Dumbledore, "except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head Inn, which Sibyll chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientèle than the Three Broomsticks. It is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sibyll Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My — our — one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building."
"So they only heard . . . ?"
"He heard only the first part, the part foretelling the birth of a child in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he could not warn his master that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you — again marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait or to learn more. He did not know that you would have 'power the Dark Lord knows not' —"
"But I'm not even a sixth year yet!" said Heri, utterly baffled. "He's decades older than me with just as much more experience with magic! I've only done so well so far because I got the jump on him and managed to smack him around a bit! Never mind that he wasn't ever in a proper body at the times. What power could —? And the end of the prophecy: 'neither can triumph —'?"
"'— while the other survives,'" Professor Dumbledore finished.
"So . . ." said Heri slowly, unsure what to think, "so that means that . . . I'm somehow stopping him from . . . winning his war . . . so no one can stop him from trying to kill me, and to take over . . . except for me?"
"Yes," said the Headmaster, apologies written all over his face.
Heri scooted further into her seat and slumped back numbly. She sucked a deep breath in through her nose. Damn it all if this wasn't even worse than she had anticipated.
The four sat in silence as they thought. The ticking of the clock was the only sound that was being made, outside of their breathing.
At last, Heri sat straight once again and gave the Headmaster a fierce look. One that startled him if the look on his face was anything to go by.
"So," she said sharply, no gentleness left in her tone, "how are we doing this?"
What not many people realised was that Remus Lupin was actually a coward. He had been since even before he was bitten by Fenrir Greyback when he had been just shy of five years old. He chalked it up as a product of his father being a specialist on Non-Human Spiritous Apparitions, things that terrified the average adult never mind small children, and growing up during You-Know-Who's ascent to power. There was likely some natural disposition problems thrown into the mix as well. He grew up knowing very well that unimaginable horrors were out there in the big bad world and that he himself was very small.
When no less a person than Headmaster Dumbledore himself had come to offer him a place at Hogwarts, Remus had been equally excited and frightened. He would get to learn magic among the nation's very finest and most powerful! Oh, but he turned into a savage beast every month and could very easily hurt someone. He might finally have friends and other children around to talk to! But he didn't know how to talk to others and they might be able to tell something was wrong with him.
Meeting James and Sirius after he had been Sorted into Gryffindor was a delight Remus had not thought possible. He was already shocked by his Sorting — a Gryffindor? Surely not! He was so certain it would be Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff — but coming face to face with two cheerful and confident boys who truly embodied the House characteristics that also wanted to be his friends was something that still had him disbelieving well into his adulthood.
Friends! He had made friends! Oh, but why did they want to be friends with Remus? He was timid while they were bold; he was quiet while they were loud; he wasn't at all like them, so what did they see in him that they thought was worthwhile? The only thing he could think he could offer was homework help, and they did well in academics by themselves. Yet, wonders upon wonders, they stuck with him.
Friendship was a bliss that nothing since could measure up to.
Remus' greatest regret when thinking back on those times was the split second it took for him to decide to befriend Peter Pettigrew.
That was the crux of it all, the mistake that would gnaw at him until the end of his days. It was Remus that extended the hand of friendship to the unimpressive fourth member of their dorm-room, not the easily-bored James, and certainly not the picky Sirius. It was Remus that allowed his bleeding heart for underdogs to pull Peter into their circle instead of letting him be overlooked by James' and Sirius' who were naturally more discerning. Hell, the only reason James and Sirius even continued to allow Peter in their presence was because they knew that Remus had taken the short and rather slow boy under his wing.
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