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shivstar · 1 year

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Some asked me why I hate the character Remus Lupin so much.

And people who have read my posts will think that probably it is related to my even more strong dislike for wolfstar. But surprisingly it is not at all related to that.

So, long story short is that I read a fic which was done so nicely that from there on me and remus were always on odds.

For those who want long story-

I was actually into time traveling fics a few years back. You know where hermione goes back in time and makes all things right.

This was one such fic. Where she is reborn as the twin sister of james Potter.

Now, one thing people should know about these fic is that here she is paired with prominent people we know from first war time.

More often it is not james, because of his epic love story with lily or the fact that her best friend will not be born if she is paired such. Others who are often paired with her are sirius, remus, Regulus and snape.

I was into sirius-hermione pairing and read all of them like drugs.

Now my expectations when reading such fics is that the romance take a little back seat and the drama related to war should provide more entertainment.

So mostly avoided fics where she travelled through 2-3 boyfriends to reach to her final guy. Sirius. But this story was exception.

I was reading one such fic in which this pairing was taged. Sirius and Hermione

In it sirius and remus both have feelings for hermione. And neither made a move because they knew about how the other felt and didn't want to come in the way of rthe other out of brotherhood.

We as reader are not told which one of them she has feelings for. Maybe both??????????????????The player witch😎.

Anyways. But this change when after the incident with snape in the shack, remus lets go of all his concern for his friend's feelings and makes a move to the girl.

All is well and good. And they slowly and steadily ease into the relationship. And things are in early stage.

This carries on for a few months where sirius is shown to be feeling remorseful for what he did to his friend. And is also a little heartbroken seeing the two together but he takes it like a champ and does not feel any ill will towards the new couple.

One day the marauders are planning some prank. During which remus starts taunting sirius because he still feeling bitter. Peter and james try to handle the situation but it keep on accelerating to no avail.

In the heat of the moment, remus decides to taunt sirius that he has got the girl they both wanted and tells in detail about what the two got up two just the last night. ( about their bedroom activities).

James first of all punches remus and breaks his nose for speaking like this about his sister. As if she were an object.

Turns out hermione was also nearby and listened to all this and confronts remus about using her and their relationship to make sirius suffer. She asks him if he would have asked her out if it weren't for his desire to punish sirius by asking her out.

This scene was done so fantastically that after that day lupin's character was gone for me. As soon as he comes as a prominent character in any fic, I take my leave or skip those parts.

Now obviously, the Hermione, sirius and james in that particular fic forgave poor lupin. But I never could find it in me to be able to do so. I simply was hoping till the end of the fic that they will just kick him out of their life.

This is my problem as a reader. I get too emotionally attached when the story is really well done. yeah I am malleable like that. 🥺🥺

I am once again reading a fic with sirius/ harry pairing, this too has a problematic remus but the author says that they are trying to aim for his redemption. It is called "RETURN FROM THE VEIL BY @jmagnabo92

This fic too is such where in the end the protagonist will forgive the bad guy but I will be left with even more bad feelings about this particular character than before.

So, this is the reason of me hating remus, not because of canon or wolfstar or any toxic story I read, simply a well done fic where he tried to take away the female protagonist from her destined male protagonist.

#remus lupin #remus lupin critical #anti remus lupin #sirius black #anti wolfstar #sirimione #time travel

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queen-swagzilla · 5 years

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Hermione Granger and the Pit, Chapter 1

Read it on Ao3

A thrum of terror and excitement ran through Hermione’s spine as the door shut behind the last few Order members who trickled in. The only person on the other side of the door was Ginny (who had been thoroughly hacked off), and now she, Harry and Ron were all at the table. Harry was positively effervescent with anticipation, and it was rubbing off on Hermione. This was the most responsive and alive Harry had been since Sirius fell through the veil just three months prior. That had been the catalyst—Dumbledore had finally realized that keeping them out of Order business did more harm than good, and had agreed to let them sit in on meetings and take on minor and informational assignments.

“Welcome, all.” Dumbledore greeted them quietly. “We’ll start by welcoming our newest members. Then, each of you will explain your assignments, and give a status report so that they can catch up to our intelligence thus far. Any objections?” Molly huffed loudly, but stayed silent. It had been a point of contention for going on two months. “Excellent. Harry, Ronald, Hermione, welcome to the Order. I can’t say that I’m happy you’re here, but recent events have certainly necessitated your involvement.” He sighed. “In the interest of getting you filled in, We’ll start with Kingsley.”

Shacklebolt cleared his throat before addressing the teenagers. “At the present, we have been putting the bulk of our efforts within the ministry towards protecting Minister Scrimgeour. With the Dark Lord back for the world to see, we need to be ready for escalation, and I have no doubt that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has a candidate of his own in mind.”

Tonks continued for him. “Dawlish and I tail him most days, if he’s not with Kingsley himself.”

Fred and George were next. “We’ve opened a joke shop in Diagon Alley. Thanks for the seed fund, Harry.” George threw him a wink. Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry, who grinned sheepishly, and shrugged. “We’ve been using the profits—”

“The sizeable profits.” Fred injected.

“Sizeable indeed—we’ve been using them to fund research into defensive and offensive products. Some diversions. So far we’ve come up with Decoy Detonators and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.”

This time, Hermione raised both eyebrows. “What?”

“Decoy Detonators are little devices you can use to make a distraction. If you need a diversion, you drop them, then they run in the opposite direction and explode. Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder is more of a concealment or ambush tool. Take a palmful and throw it in the air, and the space you’re in will go pitch black.” Fred explained quickly.

“Sometimes I forget how brilliant you two are. Perhaps because most of what you do is so asinine.” Hermione jibed. The twins plastered on identical looks of hurt.

“So cruel.”

“So cold.”

Bill and Fleur explained quickly that they were setting up safe houses around Europe, and Remus recounted his attempts to recruit the werewolf population.

Harry and Ron stayed nearly silent the whole way through, trusting Hermione to make the most pertinent observations and probing questions.

“I have been trying to find out what the Dark Lord has planned for the students who still reside at Hogwarts.” Snape said quietly. Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Please hold your questions until the end, Miss Granger.” She nodded. “He’s furious with the Malfoys. Lucius failed to retrieve the prophecy and ended up in Azkaban for his trouble. We know that his greatest desire is to perpetuate his beliefs in the minds of Hogwarts’ students, but we aren’t sure how he plans to infiltrate the castle walls. I will be spending increasingly less time at Headquarters in order to make myself at his disposal and cement his trust in me.” He informed them silkily. “Narcissa Malfoy has looked frantic and sick all summer. Knowing her, she’s concerned for her son. And if one Slytherin student has been asked to do something, there’s a strong likelihood that they all have. Nott, Parkinson, Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode may all have missions that they’ve been set to complete.”

“Like what?”

“I would be surprised if the Dark Lord trusted such young wizards with much more than recruitment and blackmail. But then, he does dole out rather terrible surprises.”

Hermione hummed her agreement.

“Thank you all. This meeting is adjourned. Miss Granger, if you don’t mind staying behind, I’d like a word.” Dumbledore sounded tired to his core. The rest of the Order filed out into the sitting room of Grimmauld Place, where Molly had set up a dining table.

“How can I help you, Professor?” Hermione asked gently.

“I have an assignment for you. I have been handling this personally, but given recent developments, I fear I must pass on some of my outlying interests. I trust and believe in your abilities and discretion far more than most, Miss Granger.” He smiled softly.

“Does this have something to do with your hand, sir?” He raised an amused eyebrow. “Harry mentioned that there was a story behind it that you wouldn’t tell. When you went to see Mr. Slughorn.” She explained.

“I suppose it has something to do with my hand. I find myself older than I remembered. And far more tired.” He told her. “Of course, I trust everyone in the Order. But few are as open minded and logical as you. You are passionate and loyal, but you are also unfailingly kind. You reach out to people in need, and the people you are going to deal with are certainly in need.”

Hermione eyed him warily. “Alright…”

“Would you be willing to travel with me? I find that showing is sometimes better than telling.”

“Of course, sir.”

With some effort, he rose to his feet. She took his arm when he held it out for her, and then disapparated them away.

When they reappeared they were in front of a modest home, surrounded by forest. It seemed familiar to her somehow, but she didn’t dwell on it. Dumbledore drew her closer to the door, and whispered: “Watch closely.” Before drawing his wand and tracing a pattern into the door with his wand. The rune and the slender wand glowed delicately, then faded as the door swung open. “Miss Morelle?” He called into the house once they’d stepped inside.

The interior of the home was much larger than the exterior (as was the tradition in wizarding homes, it seemed). He led her into a classy yet comfortable living room, fit to seat about thirty people. To her surprise (and gentle delight), a television hung from one wall, and a piano stood against another. The rest of the walls were lined with shelves that were stacked with books. Upon closer inspection, they seemed to be sorted by subject, author and title—exactly how she would have sorted them. “Oh my god.”

Professor Dumbledore smiled fondly down at her. “I’m glad you like it, Ms. Granger. I curated this collection myself, and I’m sure you’ll end up spending quite a lot of time here.”

“Dumbles? Is that you?” A sharp feminine voice called from somewhere overhead. Hermione heard footsteps on the staircase to her right. She spun to greet the newcomer. “Oh! You brought...a guest…” The woman stated apprehensively.

“Miss Granger, I’d like for you to meet Peregrine Morelle. She’s a former student of mine, and quite a precocious one at that. Miss Morelle, this is Hermione Granger.” Hermione observed quietly as Peregrine’s eyes widened in recognition.

“You look taller in the papers.” Peregrine informed her after a long moment of silence.

“The Prophet isn’t exactly known for painting an accurate picture of me.” Hermione said uncomfortably. “It’s nice to meet you Peregrine.”

“Oh please. Call me Grin. Or Morelle, if you prefer the stuffy, formal last-names-only tradition.” Grin smiled tightly.

Hermione cracked a smile. “Grin it is.”

“Not to be rude, but why is she here?” Grin demanded.

“Due to some unfortunate developments on my end, Miss Granger will be taking over as handler for the Pit.” Dumbledore informed her somberly. Grin’s face dropped.

“She’s a Gryffindor. D’you honestly expect her to trust any of us?” She asked bitterly. A lightbulb flickered dimly in Hermione’s head.

“Miss Granger is singularly fair minded. You couldn’t ask for someone more loyal, trustworthy and intelligent to take my place.” Hermione flushed thoroughly at the headmaster’s compliment. “She’s also a fairly excellent option for your recruitment strategies. Brave to a fault, and completely unafraid of walking into a snake pit.”

Grin scrutinized her thoroughly. After a long, incredibly uncomfortable silence, she exhaled noisily. “Welcome to the Pit, Miss Granger.”

“You can call me Hermione.”

“Hermione, then. Do you know what the Pit is?” Hermione shook her head slowly. Grin glanced back up at Dumbledore. “Do you want me to explain? Or will you be making the sales pitch?”

“I’ll leave you to it. After all, you two need to get to know each other.” He smiled, eyes twinkling. “I’ll come back for you in a couple of hours, Miss Granger. I’ll wait for your Patronus.”

Once Dumbledore had left, Grin turned her scrutinous stare back on Hermione. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Firewhiskey?” She offered, still visually dissecting her.

“Coffee, if it’s not too much trouble. I’ve been knackered lately.” Up late researching advanced combative magic and protective charms. Studying the ancient practice of runic tattooing. Crying over spilled milk.

“Oh?”

“We did something stupid a few months ago. We suffered a loss. I got injured. Nightmares.” She offered shortly.

“Ah. The Department of Mysteries.”

Hermione blinked, surprised. “Professor Dumbledore told you?” Grin nodded. She pulled out her wand and flicked it casually towards the kitchen.

“We had family down there. Some of us on both sides.” She murmured as the coffee pot floated out of the kitchen, full and steaming. “Sirius Black was a terrible loss for the Order. And, due to the rather inbred nature of Pureblood families, a terrible loss to many of our families.” The words were dispassionate and clinical, but something on her face bore an undercurrent of sorrow.

“He was...really quite important to me. And to my friends.” Hermione agreed. Grin nodded mutely. “Are you going to tell me what the Pit is?”

“Of course.” She conjured a coffee mug, and Hermione guffawed. Emblazoned in silver across the side were the words ‘Espresso Patronum’. “Glad you like it.” Grin grinned. Hermione was sure she’d never seen anything quite as transformatively beautiful as Grin’s smile. The woman before her was all angles—sharp features from head to toe, and slender. Her inky hair was pin straight, and hung to the center of her back in a tight ponytail. Her eyes were thickly rimmed with eyeliner. When she was scrutinizing or frowning, she looked downright menacing. When she smiled, she looked like some sort of angel. A vengeful one, but bright and full of joy nonetheless. You couldn’t help but be put at ease.

Hermione accepted the coffee mug from her gratefully. “When the war ends, you should market these. Clever novelty mugs make a mint in the muggle world.”

“Not a bad idea.” Grin chuckled. “Now, to business.” She took a quick sip from her own mug. “This house is named the Pit, and it houses a secret faction of the Order. We are Slytherins, from high-ranking Death Eater families, who have forsaken ties to Lord Voldemort for a myriad of reasons. For the most part, we work as an invisible assassination and clean up force.” Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Yeah. Not the most pleasant work, but most of us were trained to kill from a fairly young age. We figured it would be better to use that knowledge to prevent genocide than to promote it.”

“That seems reasonable to me…” Hermione said slowly, wrapping her head around the notion presented to her. “Um...who else is in this faction?”

“You’ll meet them all soon.” Grin promised. “First, I’d like to formally introduce myself. I’m Peregrine Morelle.” Hermione’s eyebrow twitched. She didn’t know of any purebloods by that name, but she supposed that relative strangers were entitled to their secrets. Particularly if Dumbledore trusted them. “I’m the founder and leader of the Pit. That’s a co-leader position. From here on out, you’re my other half.” She winked. Hermione blushed. “There are twelve members. We get information from Dumbledore—now you—on who to recruit, and we reach out by owl. Except for Flint. We kidnapped Flint. Bloody hard to get ahold of that bugger. We let them know that they have options. They can be in research, espionage, strike or cleanup. We currently have three members in each group. I am partial to research, but swing into strike when needed.”

Hermione spluttered. “Hold on. How am I supposed to get close enough to Slytherins to know if they’re viable candidates.”

“It won’t be easy. You’re the most notorious muggleborn in Europe.” Grin admitted uncomfortably. “Splattered on the papers, constantly hanging around Harry Potter. Big red target painted on your back for all to see.” As though she could physically see Hermione bristling, Grin held her hands up in surrender. “I’m not criticising. Just stating.” She promised. “It might actually work out in your favor. Nobody will question your loyalty. Besides, I hear you’re notorious for lurking in libraries. Where better to uncover faltering Slytherins than sanctuaries of silence and solitude?”

Hermione considered that point. “You’re not wrong. I overhear an absurd amount of gossip in that library.”

“The students you’ll be recruiting will be older, and will know better than to gossip in the library. You’ll likely have to wait to get indication from younger students.” Grin warned her. “Kids like Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott.”

Hermione snorted. “Malfoy’s not going to turn coat against the Death Eaters. He would lick the ground Lucius Malfoy walked on if it weren’t for the indignity that would follow.”

Grin’s lips pursed and her eyes flashed. “I’m going to need something from you if we’re going to be working together.” She growled. “I need you to not assume that Slytherin is synonymous with evil, and consider that outward appearances in Slytherin are often carefully crafted for our own self-preservation.”

Hermione had the good grace to look ashamed when that revelation washed over her. “You’re saying Malfoy... pretends to be a bigot because it’s safer than being a good person?”

“Don’t judge him for not living by your values. It’s not how he was raised. He may actually believe that muggleborns are filthy, but if he doesn’t, he’d play everything close to the vest, either to protect himself or someone he loves. Lord Voldemort is hardly above holding the people we love against us as ransom.” She said darkly.

“You sound like you have personal experience.” Hermione prodded softly. Grin stared at her coolly. “I trust you. You don’t have to say anything. But if you want to tell me, I’ll listen.”

“I can’t tell you much.” Grin sighed after a long moment. “I’m still not sure what curses were placed on me when I was disowned. But I came from a Sacred Twenty-Eight family, and was sorted into Slytherin. For a while, I was my father’s pride and joy. Then, I was partnered with a Ravenclaw girl for a month-long Potions project. She was brilliant and gifted, and so kind. She helped me and tutored me when I struggled. She was also a muggleborn. One of my housemates told my father that I was befriending her, and he shattered half of my arm with a blasting hex when I came home before warning me to stay away from her. I was confused and unsure, so I reached out to another black sheep in the family. It wasn’t easy, either. He told me in no uncertain terms that I should do what I felt made me a better person. That there would be fallout, but the relief for my soul would be miraculous. So I didn’t abandon my friend, and my father disowned me. When my younger brother was old enough to potentially start thinking for himself, I started owling him with Amalia Rosier’s owl. My father caught on after almost a year, and recruited Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange to have me killed. I changed my name and appearance to hide from them.” Hermione’s mouth hung ajar by the time Grin finished her tale. “The few friends I still had in Slytherin helped to conceal me. When I went to Dumbledore to start this faction, I dragged them with me. Two of them are acting as spies, and one is acting as a striker.”

“What’s a striker?”

“Essentially an assassin. But I suppose the muggle terminology would be a Black-Operations soldier.” Grin shrugged.

Hermione nodded absently, compiling the information in her overflowing mind as though she were stacking an already-full library shelf. “Who are the other members of the Pit?”

“Can’t wait to meet them in person?” Grin asked, amused. Hermione blushed. “Alright then. Meridian Fawley, Lawrence Greengrass, Primrose Parkinson, Amalia Rosier, Theomer Rowle, Joshua Selwyn, Anwar Shafiq, Adonis Pucey, Marcus and Calendula Flint, and Rhianon MacDougal.” She recounted blithely, ticking off her fingers. Hermione’s eyebrows shot up.

“Those are mostly Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

“I’m technically Sacred Twenty-Eight. What’s your point?”

“No...point. Just a...surprised observation. And I’ve never heard of most of them before.”

“Well you can’t imagine that our families were particularly fond of the notion that we were turning on them. I imagine our younger siblings have been forbidden to talk about us. Damnatio Memoriae is still a rather fond practice in the upper Pureblood rungs.”

“The condemnation of memory?”

“To strike the memory of the people we’re ashamed of out of existence. Forget their names, erase their existence. Preserve the faith and the bloodlines.” Grin shrugged. Hermione started when she heard the front door slam. “Looks like someone is home.”

“Anyone home?” An unsettlingly familiar voice called from the hallway.

“Oh god.” Hermione went pale.

“What?”

“Um...we don’t exactly have the best history…” Hermione squeaked. She did her best to fade into the couch when Marcus Flint rounded the corner into the living room. He saw Grin first.

“Evening boss.” He smiled.

“Marcus.” She greeted him steadily. “Are you acquainted with our guest?”

“Guest? What…” He turned to look at Hermione. “Guest. Oh. Granger.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Hello.”

“Hi.” She squeaked again. “How have you been, Flint?”

“Could be better. Could be worse. You?”

“About the same.”

“I heard about Black. I’m sorry for your loss.” He said sincerely. Had Hermione been watching Grin, she would have noticed the woman shift uncomfortably and avert her eyes. “He was really good to us.”

“You knew him?” Hermione asked tightly. Sorrow was gripping at her chest like a vice.

“He was going insane cooped up in that house with all of his terrible memories. As a last ditch effort to keep him out of trouble, Dumbledore had him come here every now and then to help us with research and skills practice. He was brilliant.” Marcus confirmed. “He actually helped me become half decent at Transfiguration.”

“Thank you.” She whispered, awfully close to tears.

Marcus’ face melted into confusion. “What on earth for? I should be thanking you for saving him in the first place.”

“For giving him a purpose and an escape. He was so miserable there, especially when Harry wasn’t around. I wrote him sometimes, just to check in. And he was miserable there. He hated hearing his mother’s voice every time Tonks tripped in the hallway. He hated Kreacher. The only person he loved in that house left him behind and died for it. Sometimes, when he thought he was sitting alone, it was like watching a ghost.”

Grin studied her thoroughly. “Do you like Ancient Runes, Hermione?” She inquired abruptly.

Hermione's eyes snapped to her new acquaintance. “What?”

“Ancient Runes. Are you any good at translation? I’m working on translating something, and I think I’d like your help, if you think you’re up for it.” Grin offered vaguely. Marcus’ face twisted into something resembling amusement. Granger had no idea what she’d gotten herself into.

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