FIC: Remus Lupin and the Revolt of the Creatures, Chapter 2 / 21 (PG-13)
Title: Remus Lupin and the Revolt of the Creatures, Chapter Two: A New Host at the Headquarters
Author: PaulaMcG
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: (subtly, eventually) Remus/Sirius
Era and universe: Summer and autumn 1996, an alternative world after OotP
Chapter summary: Remus finds some work that can mean more to him than he dared hope.
Word count: around 10,100
Disclaimer: Remus won't help me make any money.
Notes: EDITED on the 1st of February 2010. I’m happy to declare that this 21-chapter novel can now be regarded as completed Thanks to invaluable feedback from my f-list, particularly kellychambliss’s excellent nit-picking, I’ve mananged to fix some mistakes and to make other improvements also in this chapter, which I posted here f-locked in July, having started to revise the early chapters.
Chapter One can be found here
Chapter Two: A New Host at the Headquarters
It was still such an early hour of the morning that Privet Drive was completely quiet, but darkness was already withdrawing. The very shortest, gentlest nights of the summer were behind, though. While the warmth of days had increased almost unbearably towards the end of July, the nights had grown cooler. On this cloudless dawn again humidity had condensed on the ground. Remus surveyed the neighbourhood, standing on Mrs. Figg’s threshold, and turned to look back as he heard that his hostess had entered the hall.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Figg. I didn’t mean to wake you up, but maybe I should have, in order to thank you for everything.”
“Take care of yourself, Professor Lupin. And welcome back when it’s all over, and even before that, at any time you wish.”
She stepped forward and offered a farewell hand. To avoid giving another speech, Remus lifted her fingers and kissed them lightly. He turned, and after glancing around once more, he walked quickly to the Dursleys’ gate, opened it quietly and made his way around the house to the back garden.
Standing on the dewy grass with his toes getting wet Remus looked up and saw the rays of the sun, though it was still behind the horizon, reflect on black shiny figures, which were approaching with great speed high up in the air. Could they not have thought of something less extravagant? On the other hand, Thestrals could not be seen by muggles or not even by such wizards who had not seen anyone die. In any case, Voldemort would have had no trouble seeing them.
Remus stepped back, as the four beasts landed on the lawn. There was nobody riding them, but suddenly an opening appeared in mid-air behind them, and Remus realised that the animals had been pulling one of the Hogwarts carriages hidden with the Disillusion spell. Out of the opening leapt down a tall dark man, and Remus recognized Kingsley Shacklebolt’s muscular handsome figure.
“Morning, Remus. Want a ride?”
“Yes please, Kingsley. So they couldn’t spare a bigger escort. But I’m glad they sent the best man of all.”
The beautiful teeth and eyes shone in Kingsley’s black face, when he answered, “Don’t flatter me, Remus. Where is Harry?”
“I thought he shouldn’t get up before everything is ready for the departure. I wonder if he’s still not awake…”
Remus took out his wand and pointed it towards Harry’s room. Immediately after he saw a figure approach the window and disappear again.
“I just tickled him a little. Now he is coming. It’ll only take him a minute to go to his aunt and uncle to say: ‘See you!’”
In a moment the back door opened and Harry came out, dragging his trunk, his broom and a birdcage. He was dressed in fancy dark green robes, which suited perfectly his emerald eyes, and those eyes were shining of excitement. Kingsley hurried to clap him on the shoulder and to take his trunk. He thrust it easily into the carriage, so it disappeared out of sight.
“Good morning, Harry. Did you get any sleep?” Not waiting for a reply, Remus took the cage and opened the lock with his wand but placed the cage inside the carriage, too, without letting Hedwig out.
Harry hardly paid attention to him but stared at the Thestrals. Remus wondered if Harry now saw them even more real than before. But there was no time to waste.
“We are leaving immediately. I just have to check one thing. Did you do as Dumbledore advised in the letter?”
“Yeah, on my way down I opened their bedroom door and said: ‘You told us you wouldn’t mind if I go with my teacher. I’m going now. I’ll be back home for another holiday.’ They barely woke up and didn’t say a word.”
“So, let’s go before they do. Get in, quickly! Just remember you have also been advised to empty your mind, at the latest this moment.”
Kingsley hurried to give orders, too. “You sit in the middle, Harry. And keep your broom. I have one for each of us, too, Remus. We’d better have a hold of a broom all the time, just in case…”
“Is this precaution prescribed by Moody?” Remus asked, smiling.
He was happy that they could sit inside the carriage on comfortable seats. Kingsley had already bent forward and whispered the address to the Thestrals. The strangely graceful creatures had bent their necks and ears to take the orders, and they now leapt up in the air and rose soon so high that even if any wizard who had witnessed death had happened to be out in this early hour, looking up to the sky, he could have mistaken them for birds.
“Yes, and some of his ideas would be a bit more trouble to follow, but don’t worry, we are not going to take the route he planned through Iceland. But this is serious. You were right to bring the owl in. It must not be flying behind the carriage to give a hint at who is travelling inside. But maybe you like to let it out of the cage, so it, too, can save itself by flying if something happens. And Remus, you have a constant watch out of the back and right side window, I watch left and forward. I’ve understood Harry is supposed to not even think about the fact that he is on the way.
Remus glanced at Harry, who was leaning back between him and Kingsley. Harry seemed to notice his gaze but quickly turned his eyes straight ahead again and then closed them. He looked very determined and serious. Remus hoped that Harry had told him the truth when saying that he had actually practised Occlumency during the summer. Dumbledore had written that Harry would have to do his best to keep any thought of his departure out of his mind and especially not think of the journey during it. He had better go back to sleep after totally emptying his mind.
Having his lookout of the back window, Remus could continuously steal glances at Harry. He told himself it was important to check if Harry’s face revealed any thought of his own or even of somebody else’s or anything he might sense on his scar. But Remus could not help looking at Harry mainly because he felt a longing to be alone with James’s son. He almost wished that it would take them a long time before they arrived where there would be too many people around Harry.
Kingsley seemed to take the risk of an attack seriously. Besides watching out he was listening intently. The silence, of course, also helped Harry to keep his mind empty. But Remus wondered if Kingsley was just glad about the excuses not to have a conversation with his Order fellow. After stretching her wings by circling in the carriage for a while Hedwig had settled on Remus’s knees, and he caressed her beautiful white feathers.
But the journey did not last much more than one hour. When they arrived in London, it was still early morning and the square in a shabby neighbourhood was deserted. The Thestrals and the carriage stayed behind in a dark corner in order to depart soon after they would have entered the headquarters. Kingsley carrying the trunk and Remus the cage and his own briefcase, and Harry walking between them, holding his broom and with his eyes still almost closed, they proceeded quickly and stopped between numbers eleven and thirteen, Grimmauld Place.
“Now you must think of it, Harry,” Remus said, touching Harry’s shoulder.
Harry opened his eyes and must have seen the front door and steps of number twelve, Grimmauld Place appear, just as Remus did, because he came up with them.
Not until the door had closed behind them did Harry’s blank face relax to suddenly express the ambiguous emotions raised by his being back at Sirius’s home. Immediately after he clutched his forehead with his both hands and would have collapsed on the floor, had Kingsley not caught hold of him. Remus bent over Harry in despair.
Harry lifted his head, still rubbing his scar but with a smile. “He is just in fury. He knows that I am safe and…” Harry’s expression changed to show utter surprise, as he continued, “… that his plan has failed.”
At that moment Molly Weasley rushed at them and took Harry in her hug straight from Kingsley’s arms. Without letting him free from her embrace she started quickly leading him down the stairs to the kitchen. Kingsley followed and so did Remus, more slowly, though, after putting his briefcase against the wall next to the door.
When Remus got down, Molly had seated Harry near the table and was sitting next to him holding his both hands and surveying him with tears of love and concern in her eyes. “Welcome home, Harry, finally,” she said.
Kingsley pulled out a chair on the other side of the table, eased his lithe body onto it in a nonchalant fashion and cut in, “Yes, it’s high time you arrive to welcome us!”
Harry’s face expressed even more astonishment than a moment before in the hall.
Remus placed Hedwig’s cage on the table at the end closest to the stairs and remained standing there. He did not take the effort to hide the reproach. “Did nobody even tell Harry about that? Yes, this house belongs to you now, and so does all the gold Sirius had at Gringotts. He left it all to you in his will. He just obliged you to let the Order of the Phoenix use the place as the headquarters, until Voldemort is defeated.”
Molly was clearly shaken by the sound of the name Voldemort, but if Kingsley was, he hid it quickly in a change of his position, as he turned to say, “I suppose Dumbledore himself simply took care of paying the inheritance tax out of the gold in the vault.”
“Yes, why not, the tax must have been an amount hardly to be mentioned in proportion to the whole value of the gold, though the tax is quite high when immovable property is left for somebody who is not related. Not so high, though, as it would have been, had he left his house or gold to a non-human creature. Yes, Harry, you have inherited another fortune.” Remus complemented the conclusion with a smile, rather uncertain if he had managed not to let any bitterness in his voice.
At that moment he heard hurried footsteps on the stairs and turned to see two redheaded teenagers dart past him. Ron and Ginny Weasley almost pushed their mother aside, and she retreated, muttering something about breakfast. Remus watched Harry being hugged by his friends. He had stood up and looked small on Ron’s side, and confused albeit pleased when receiving a kiss from Ginny, who did not have to stand on tiptoe to reach his cheek.
Remus turned away and started climbing up the stairs.
“Remus, are you not staying for breakfast?” Molly’s voice sounded absentminded in his ears.
“No, thank you. I must get to my place and see what work I have for today.”
“All right then, but you must be back tonight. In his message Dumbledore mentioned that he would come and want a word with you, too.”
Harry must have now noticed that Remus was leaving, as he hurried to say, “Thank you, Professor Lupin.”
Remus mustered only a nod and rushed to the hall.
He grabbed his suitcase and went quickly out to the square, which was still quiet. The inhabitants of this neighbourhood preferred nightlife to getting up early and going to work in the morning. Remus walked to even shabbier alleys, until behind some garbage bins at the bottom of a dead end he conjured with his wand a gate in a brick wall, so as to enter another alley not much different. Just the smell of rotten waste, the local fragrance of the hot days of July, was here even more penetrating.
After a few blocks he stopped outside a gloomy tall and narrow building and searched for the keys in his pocket. In these parts the burglars could be kept out only with combinations of spells and muggle locks. Remus started climbing the almost dark and very steep staircase extremely cautiously, trying to make no sound, but before he had reached the second landing, the door on the first landing opened.
His landlady’s shrill voice echoed in the high space, “Don’t try to escape me, Mr. Lupin!” The sarcastic tone in her addressing of him as mister was full of overt contempt.
He stopped and closed his eyes momentarily, drawing a deep breath. “Good morning, Mrs. Porchead. I thought you might wish not to be disturbed this early in the morning.”
“Don’t shout at me! Come down here!”
Remus put his briefcase down and returned to the first landing. He bowed his head slightly when repeating, “Good morning, Mrs. Porchead.”
At this moment Remus found it difficult to see anything fascinating in the squat elderly lady’s peculiar features, as her large mouth was twisted in a pessimistic grimace while the last trace of greedy hope of something to be gained from her tenant still glinted in her tiny eyes under the bushy eyebrows. He also considered whether he should stick to his decision to call her a lady in his mind. He knew that her manners did not actually justify it, and her silk robe with gold embroideries and a hat decorated with an enormous feather of a peacock could hardly compensate for that.
“So! Your rent is due right now. For the whole of the summer. Those veela whom you put to stay here during your absence - I got nothing from them. They just terrorised everybody with their awful singing. I’m considering what kind of an amount I should claim damages against you.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Porchead. It can help me take care of payments, if you are so kind to tell me whether there’s been any owl for me.”
Mrs. Porchead apparently enjoyed keeping him in the dark for a while. She turned abruptly and went into her flat without a word. Remus was about to leave, but she did return with a letter, which clearly had been opened - and with her lips pressed together in a slight malicious smile.
He had no need to take a look at the letter before deciding whether to make a further request. “I have to ask you for another favour. Could you please lend me a newspaper?”
The landlady possibly considered what would be the most insulting words for a refusal, but rather to Remus’s surprise she disappeared for another moment and appeared with a crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet.
“You may keep it. It’s yesterday’s but you can find job ads in it. And you’d better find a job and pay at least a part of your debts tonight.” She banged her door closed.
Remus returned to his briefcase and climbed with heavy steps two more flights of stairs up to his door, which opened when he just pushed it.
He had a quick look around, because he never knew what the landlady had done to the room while he had been away. He was again amused by the thought that the room could, in fact, have been not too bad as an atelier. It was quite spacious and had big windows covering almost the whole of one wall, facing south. In reality the room was simply unbearably hot in the summer, and unbearably cold in the winter, as there was no fireplace. And there was hardly any furniture at all.
If there had ever been any, like a bed, it would have probably disappeared during his latest absence: the landlady would have taken it for the rent. But his shabby bedclothes were intact in the corner. Only the mattress which had belonged to her was gone. He checked that his books were safe in another corner, transfigured into a pile of old magazines so she would not take and sell them. For a table he had placed a broad board on two cardboard boxes in the middle of the room, and she usually let it alone.
He lifted his suitcase, the newspaper and the letter on the board and took out his wand. Now he needed to concentrate in order to succeed in conjuring a chair. He still was not nearly as good as Dumbledore at this spell. But perhaps he could as well specialise in this kind of magic of comfort, as it seemed to have become so important for him these days, when he continuously felt exhausted. He managed to make even an armchair appear, a bit shabby one, though. The problem was the fact that the conjured furniture never lasted for longer than a few hours. So it would be no good using a spell to have a bed for the night, unless he wanted to make sure he would fall in his dream again. Though he knew he would, in any case.
Sitting at his ascetic desk, he read the letter through.
Dear Sir,
We would appreciate it if you stopped approaching us with applications for work assignment. Even in our translations department we can only accept fully human witches and wizards, because the work requires frequent personal contact with editors and clients and above all complete understanding of the human perspective.
Yours sincerely
Burke Splashspear
Managing Director
Gutterberg Publishers
In a surge of bitterness and despair, which was about to explode into downright anger, Remus took the parchment in his hands to tear it in pieces. Then he turned it over and pressed it against the uneven table top with his both hands and smoothed it carefully. He walked to the corner and placed the parchment under a few magazines in the transfigured pile of books.
After returning to his new chair he spread the Daily Prophet on the desk. For a while he eyed the grimacing faces of the goblins in a row of photographs on the front page under a heading ARRESTED TODAY. He glanced at the names under the pictures and wondered if any of them was close to Mrs. Porchead. Not that he would have felt pity or malicious delight if it had been so, but an inheritance might have calmed her down a bit. No, if she was to get anything, she would have got it already. According to their own traditional rules of inheritance, a goblin’s property went - and as soon as he was just absent without taking precautions - to his closest relative, which meant the one who managed to get there first. The Minister had tried to apply the inheritance tax on these frequent changes of ownership and caused an unsolvable conflict.
Remus thought it would be soon enough to hear the latest news about the actions of the ministry on the explosion when visiting the headquarters in the evening. He quickly turned to the last pages of the paper to glance through the ads.
His eye was caught by the word painter, and feeling slightly amused he read the whole ad, which was not much: Painters wanted on construction, number 13, Diagon Alley. He memorized the number, folded the paper and opened his suitcase to take out his other, more patched robes for going to work.
Between the clothes, carefully packed by Mrs. Figg, he found a closed bowl of chocolate mousse and a bundle with fresh rolls of bread. In embarrassed but mainly pleasant surprise he placed the food on the desk. Having changed robes he summoned a spoon from behind the magazines. After eating some of the mousse and putting a couple of rolls in his pockets for lunch he transfigured the rest of the food into a rusty tin jar and a bundle of rags and took them carefully next to the magazines.
His knocking on the landlady’s door on the first landing generated a flood of weird swearwords inside. As soon as the door swung open Remus hurried to say, “Excuse me Mrs. Porchead. In order to go and collect some money for the rent I would need you to allow me to use your fireplace. You can add the floo powder in my debt.”
“What kind of wizard do you think you are! Can’t you apparate! And stop asking for favours with that disgusting politeness. Why don’t you just try to steal a newspaper or sneak in while I’m asleep, so I can strangle you!”
“I am sorry, Mrs. Porchead, but these days I am usually not in a condition of health good enough to apparate, otherwise I would not…”
Mrs. Porchead eyed him suspiciously and spat out, “I guessed that! And you think you can stay here spreading disease and even intrude on my privacy…”
“Please, Mrs. Porchead. This is not contagious, you know it’s only because…”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear about that. You should be locked up in St. Mungos’s, but I guess the hospital fees are a lot higher than my rent even for beggars! Go to the fireplace and don’t touch anything and leave quickly!”
She stepped aside to let Remus pass without a risk of him touching her and followed him to the fireplace. She took and dropped a small amount of floo powder on his hand. He lit a small fire with his wand, threw the powder in it and stepped in saying, “Diagon Alley.”
He had closed his eyes so as not to get ash in them, but while travelling in the whirl he felt them fill with tears all the same.
He actually enjoyed working that day. The paint spreading from his brush on the doors and the window frames gave him pleasure, and even the intoxicating smell confusing his mind did not really cause him a headache but just strangely helped him distance himself from the reality. He concentrated on refining his work and he felt confident of being quite skillful at it.
The manager of the construction, a heavy-handed and well-nourished wizard, had first been reluctant to talk to Remus. But then he had revealed that they did need one more painter, though only a professional who could do quality work by hand. The manager had explained that the company, which was having a new pet shop built on this lot, had got it as remedy for unpaid geese from the owners of the exploded shop. This company did not want any paint splashing spells, especially not on the window frames, which were to represent the quality service and products the shop was going to offer.
He had hardly believed Remus, who had claimed to have exactly the experience required, but he had been convinced after allowing him to show what he was able to do. He had just said that Remus was a bit slow but that it did not really matter, because he would pay for the finished job regardless of how long it took the painter to do it. By the time the manager checked Remus’s identity certificate he must have already felt that this painter was irreplaceable. He had hired Remus on the condition that he would not go inside the building when there were other workers in there.
Remus had not tried to talk to anyone else. At first he had been curious to see what kind of people ended up in this work. He had noticed that the ceilings were being painted by two such tall men that they could have had giants among their ancestors. Then he had felt disgusted with himself, speculating what kind of blood people could be blamed for having in their veins. And he escaped to the colour, texture and smell of the paint.
When he heard the other workers gathering inside the building and the manager announce a lunch break, he put the paintbrush aside. Only now did he realise how tired he was, and feeling dizzy he sat down on the front steps of the building.
He had started enjoying his second roll of bread, when he heard an astonished voice of a young girl, “Professor Lupin, good morning!”
Hiding the roll in his pocket he looked up to see a familiar bright face framed by a wonderful excess of hair. It was one of Harry’s closest friends, Hermione Granger. Remus was about to stand up, but Hermione immediately sat down on the step placing a tall pile of books between the two of them.
“I need a rest, too. I’m afraid I got carried away in the bookstore and now I can hardly carry all this.”
“May I look? Oh, sorry, Hermione, my hands are a bit dirty, maybe you’d like to show me what you have bought. Has the booklist for your sixth year arrived?”
“Oh no, unfortunately not yet, but these ones I’ll need in any case. And this one is for the interests I have besides school work, although I wonder why they don’t find it necessary for everybody to learn.”
She took up and opened a thick volume titled “The Indigenous Culture of the Elves - a Field Study”.
“You are quite right.” Remus bent his head beside hers, as they both started eyeing the introduction. “I’ve heard you are interested in securing the rights of the house-elves. In your endeavour it is wise to seek knowledge and venture upon an understanding of their own perspective on the basis of the elfish culture.”
“But what are you doing here?”
Could Hermione’s abrupt inquiry mean that she had eventually become aware of the paint stains on his hands and robes?
“Painting, as you can see,” he answered, grinning. “Painting is actually a kind of hobby for me - a passion, in fact. I just don’t have enough time for it.”
Hermione closed the book and looked at him in genuine interest. “Really? Do you paint other things besides..?”
“Besides doors and window frames, yes, but mainly just landscapes.”
“No portraits?”
“No, I don’t. That is a fascinating art, which I just wish I had the chance to explore.”
Remus wondered how easy it was to talk to her, even in a situation like this and even about a topic like this. “I would like to help you carry your books, but I must continue my work in a moment. Where are you going next?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s just a short distance to walk. I’m staying at the inn here on Diagon Alley for a few nights with my parents. They were eager to have at least a short holiday trip to the magical world after we just returned from a long tour of Lapland. There were some landscapes there you should have seen. But I’ve heard you’ve been travelling this summer, too.”
“Yes, I have, but let’s not talk more about that until maybe later at the headquarters. I don’t think I’m guessing wrong when saying that you have an invitation to visit the headquarters waiting for you at the inn. Ron and Ginny must have sent an owl if not Harry himself. I just brought him home from the Dursleys’ early this morning.”
Hermione’s face grew even brighter if possible. She sprang to her feet and Remus helped her pile the books on her arms.
“So, I hope to see you there tonight, too,” she said and turned to walk away, but suddenly she stopped. “But… Professor Lupin, this must be the lot where the explosion took place!”
“Yes, it is.”
“How could they allow anybody to start building on it already? Could they have finalised the investigations so quickly?”
“I doubt that, too. It seems to have been arranged pretty effectively. I found out that this lot and new pet shop now belong to that company which had provided the geese and not got paid before the tragedy.”
Hermione nodded, frowning, and Remus waved her goodbye. It would be nice and even useful to discuss these matters with her another time. Maybe she even still respected him, now thinking that he had been here for some confidential business in a worker’s disguise. In the evening he would have to convince Dumbledore that he had better allow Hermione to stay at the headquarters.
When climbing wearily up the steep staircase late in the afternoon Remus tried to let on the foreground of his mind the least embarrassing moments of his working day and the encounter with sweet Hermione. He refused to think of the words he had just heard when he had emerged from Mrs. Porchead’s fireplace with still no money at all to pay the rent. The manager had told him he would be paid after finishing the job on the following day or the day after that. Having entered his room he just wanted to sleep and was tempted to immediately throw himself on the bedclothes.
His bedclothes on the floor did not look like he could make them any more untidy even if he went to sleep wearing his dirty robes, but he reminded himself that he had decided not to give up and live in filth. Having straightened and cleaned the bedclothes with his wand, he took his nightgown and a towel from the briefcase and returned to the previous landing to go to the bathroom. He descended the steps as quietly as possible, but after closing the bathroom door he could hear his landlady start swearing again.
He woke up without any new bruises, as with no bed it had not been possible for him to fall down except in his dream. He had just seen Kingsley Shacklebolt fly towards him carrying a Firebolt and heard the proud voice. “I caught the broom at least. Did you not catch anything?”
It was already getting dark and Remus thought he was probably late for dinner. He quickly put on his better robes.
After sleeping relatively well he could venture to apparate, as Grimmauld Place was not too far. In a moment he was in the same dark corner of the square where the Thestrals had landed in the morning. There were local muggles walking through the square and hanging around, so he had to wait for a while before approaching the hidden number twelve.
The members of the Order and the children gathered for dinner in Harry’s kitchen had already finished the main course. Remus descended the stairs, excusing himself and checking that Dumbledore had not arrived yet. He decided to walk around the table and greet everybody to show that he had just come to meet them and not mainly because of the food. Hermione was there, and Harry was sitting between her and Ron Weasley at the head of the table.
Remus considered it appropriate to greet the host first. “Hello, Harry. I hope you are feeling at home.”
Harry had changed to more simple black robes, but they were clearly tailored and of expensive fabric, too.
“Yes, thank you, Professor Lupin. Thank you.”
As he repeated it Remus wondered if it was just his own wishes that made him hear more than a polite phrase in it. Why had he not asked Harry to call him by his first name and why did he have to feel shy to say it to him now? Harry’s eyes looked brighter than ever, maybe because somebody had fixed the scratches on his glasses.
Remus turned to Hermione, who surprised him with eager thanks, too.
“Thank you, Professor Lupin, I’m so glad I met you in Diagon Alley and you advised me to go back to the inn. Ron had written to me about Harry’s arrival and Hedwig had found the place where I stay these days. These owls are just incredible.”
“Did you use Harry’s owl, Ron? That was a good thing to do. Hedwig needed some flying around after such a hard time of imprisonment. She is incredible even among magical owls, while they all render us irreplaceable services.”
“Did you go down to Diagon Alley today, Remus? Why didn’t you come to see the latest jokes in our shop?”
Remus had to smile to Fred and George Weasley, who were jinxing plates to pirouette above the table before turning them into butterflies, which fluttered to the dishwashing basin.
“I’m sorry, I was occupied the whole day, but I will certainly come some day to see if you can make me laugh.”
“That’s better,”George said. “When you came in I thought for a moment it was good old Snape. You looked so gloomy.”
“Did I really? I apologize. But now you are already cheering me up. I’m glad to see you all here.”
Remus continued towards the other end of the table to clap Arthur’s and Moody’s shoulders and to stretch out his hand to Nymphadora. “It’s nice to see none of you is so busy tonight as you have been the whole summer and up till this morning.”
Before any of them had time to reply Molly and Ginny Weasley came from the pantry carrying the puddings.
“Remus, where have you been? Take a seat. And Ginny dear, go and bring the starters and the main course for Remus.”
“Oh, please don’t bother because of me.”
Remus walked around and sat down next to Nymphadora. He looked at each of his three closest Order fellows in turn while continuing, “You didn’t have too much correspondence with Harry while I was on my tour, did you? No use mentioning any visits at all. Did even one of you send a letter to him during his second week at the Dursleys’?”
They did not seem to be sure if he really wanted an answer, but as he kept waiting, Nymphadora started, “Well, no, I’m afraid…”
She dropped a spoonful of pudding onto Remus’s steak, which Ginny had just placed in front of him, but Remus did not regard that as a sign of guilt or embarrassment, because that was Nymphadora’s usual manner of acting at the table.
“I remember Harry made it clear during the first week that the muggle dared do nothing to him anymore, after he had got it into his thick skull that we had been threatening him,” Moody said with a grim laugh.
“Yes, Ron had correspondence with Harry all summer, didn’t you?”Arthur said, turning to his youngest son.
Catching Harry’s eyes Remus exchanged a look with him. When he had a chance he should remember to ask Harry to check if Ron remembered sending him a message on the second week and not getting a reply. Remus doubted it. It was unlikely Ron would have used an owl unknown to Harry.
Remus spoke no more but started to eat. It was clear nobody had been told about the conditions at the Dursleys’ except Molly, who had evidently got a word about Harry’s arrival beforehand and who was now fussing over Harry’s plate in a worse manner than she sometimes did over Remus.
Suddenly Hermione raised her voice and Remus realised that the company was talking about Diagon Alley again. “Don’t you, Professor Lupin? Would you like to tell the others what you found out about number thirteen, Diagon Alley?”
Having just put a big piece of steak into his mouth, Remus had to continue chewing, while everybody turned to stare at him. He lifted the napkin on his mouth, swallowed and said, “Well, I actually know little more than what is just too clear for anybody to see, when such a grand building has risen so suddenly on the spot where the explosion took place a week ago. The new pet shop will be ready, even painted tomorrow or the day after. And while in the painting they only accept quality work by hand, there must have been some use of magic and also violation of construction safety rules in order to finalise such a building so quickly. And probably some laws of criminal investigation procedure have been violated as well.”
“But what more would they have needed to investigate?” Moody asked. “It was a goblin’s bomb, and no evidence of connections to You Know Who could have been found on the spot, anyway, though it is obvious that this is just the first blow of his launching into total destruction of our civilization…”
Remus sighed and put his fork and knife down again. “Moody, I appreciate your ability to sense the signs of the worst, and in addition to that I trust you have a keen sense of the more treacherous plots of the evil. In order to do justice to every creature, the ministry should act on only the facts that have already been proved. It is always possible that the case is even more complicated. Or it may be simpler, and as far as I know there has been no proof of the whole goblin community being guilty of anything. I understood I was not the only one in the Order to disagree with Fudge’s actions.”
“But aren’t goblins always ready to join other goblins in any mischief? asked Fred.
“Well, negotiating with them has proved at least that they are not that ready to join us in a war against You Know Who,” Nymphadora replied.
“I suppose you could really get to know the goblins only if you lived with them,” said Hermione.
Remus wondered if she had already started reading the field study report on elves.
“So, Remus, you can tell us something about that. Your landlady is a goblin, isn’t she?” said Kingsley, who had just arrived and sat down opposite to Remus without bothering to greet anybody.
“Well, I do not actually live with her, whereas she certainly doesn’t avoid conversation with me.”
“So how is her behaviour with you? Would you conclude the goblins have any moral code or not?” asked Arthur.
“I have mainly formal interaction with Mrs. Porchead. If there is anything to doubt about her moral or manners… well, she has spent a long time among the worst of wizards in my neighbourhood. She is probably not the best example of genuine goblin culture. And
I would not conclude anything on the basis of her conversation with me. You may know I’m not the best of tenants. For my absence this summer I arranged some veela to stay in my flat and… No, just for my absence, George! I may not have so much experience on dating young ladies as you have, but I have learnt to avoid the dangerous ones.”
The company was clearly not satisfied with his cautious words, but he had spoken long enough to make them lose interest in the topic and change to another one. He could concentrate on eating again, while Ron questioned Fred about George’s affairs with the seductive nature spirits.
Remus half wished he could at least make jokes about his landlady’s behaviour if not look for sympathy. But he felt it was out of question to reveal any negative information on her exactly because she was a goblin. His complaints would have just strengthened the prejudices evidently shared by some of the members of the Order, too.
Remus was left alone to wait for Dumbledore.
Molly had asked her children to help her clear the table and then go upstairs with Harry and Hermione. Fred and George had protested, saying that they had finished school and therefore should be allowed to finally join the Order as members. But Arthur had reminded them of the fact that they had left school without finishing it and the matter was still to be discussed with Dumbledore. That seemed to have made Harry suddenly remember having heard from Molly in the morning that Dumbledore had promised to come. But he had not asked for a permission to stay and meet his headmaster. He had agreed to go to bed early, and Hermione was to stay overnight, too.
When passing Remus Harry had hurried to mention, “Ron told me he had been glad to always receive a quick reply from me to all his owls. And Hermione said the same.”
Remus had nodded as thanks for the information and said, “I hope you don’t mind if I talk about you to Dumbledore. I suppose he still has his reasons not to meet you personally.”
Arthur, Moody, Nymphadora and Kingsley were obviously not eager to continue conversation with Remus. They all soon said goodnight, and so did Molly after bringing some fruits and coffee to the table.
But Remus did not have to wait for more than a moment before the serene figure of the respected wizard suddenly materialized in front of him. The long hair and beard seemed to radiate silvery light. Remus turned his eyes on the ceiling from Dumbledore’s smile, which he could not help interpreting as an irritating expression of self-satisfaction.
He exaggerated his astonishment, so as to use it as an excuse for failing to greet Dumbledore warmly and politely. “I’ve thought it’s not possible to apparate into this building. Have you changed the secrecy protection?”
“No, definitely not. I simply could not resist coming downstairs with style.”
Remus caught himself disapproving of Dumbledore’s endless concern about style or rather his easily achieved performances thereof. At the moment he despised all lightheartedness while at the same time he detested himself for acting and feeling gloomy like Snape. A longing to be one of the reckless Marauders surged to his mind, and he pushed it away as painful. He had to just struggle to keep his current style of dry witty jokes at least, though the source of even those seemed to have run too dry.
As if completely aware of Remus’s mood Dumbledore sat down next to him and sighed to express sorrow himself. He lifted his hand to take some grapes from a bowl but stopped himself, and Remus knew it was all a trick and felt he was being made fun of. He wanted to start whatever negotiation was needed, to get to the point and to finish it quickly, so he talked without introduction.
“Voldemort read Harry’s mind at the moment we had arrived. Harry felt such pain on his scar that he almost collapsed and then he said: ‘He is just in fury. He knows that I am safe and… that his plan has failed.’”
To his irritation, another reconciled smile lingered on Dumbledore’s face to accompany the soft voice. “Very well. Harry did very well. I could not be quite sure, even if you told me in your latter message that he had claimed to have practiced. When Voldemort got through, it was too late.”
“I suppose the location of the headquarters cannot be revealed to Voldemort even through Harry’s mind.”
“No, that secret is hidden only in my mind. Do you have a theory concerning that owl of the second week?”
Dumbledore’s voice was so peaceful that it was closing to indifference, and he could not resist the grapes any longer. Remus was wondering why Dumbledore bothered to come and waste their time, if there was nothing urgent to discuss.
“I checked it had not been sent by any of Harry’s young or older friends,” Remus said.
“No, I would say it had not been sent even to him.”
“To Petunia,” Remus said, refusing to make it a question.
“Most probably. We don’t have to bother about the details of Voldemort’s failed plan. But I would guess he told Petunia to mistreat Harry in order to make him run away and lose the protection of blood, which Lily had given him and which I had tied to that home of his. And Harry did very well. Voldemort did not take into consideration the possibility that Harry would not wish to risk anybody getting in danger trying to save him. And the pain he has suffered all his life has given him such patience and endurance…”
Remus now found it more difficult than ever to control his fury. Hearing Mrs. Dursley’s malicious words was nothing compared to witnessing this benevolent voice justifying Harry’s suffering. But Dumbledore was looking at Remus intently over his half-moon-shaped glasses, and to his further infuriation Remus realised that his slightest expression was being interpreted correctly and Dumbledore was just curious to compare his explicit reaction with the deeper emotion behind it. He decided to word only his final conclusion.
“What’s the use telling you how serious a crime I know of experience it has been. You let them deprive Harry of what every creature has the right for. But you regard only yourself as wise enough to know when it’s necessary to subject him to more pain to train him in endurance!
Dumbledore faced Remus’s accusation with tears in his eyes, and Remus now at least slightly doubted the tears were totally fake.
“I did not mean to defend myself. I admit I underestimated the scope of the deprivation Harry would suffer for ten years. Humanly evaluated I made a serious mistake. But whatever we have done, there is a meaning in it. In any case we must look forward. And one fact is that, thanks to my mistake, Harry now possesses some strength which has already proved significant in preparing him to face what he is destined for, or at least in keeping him alive until it is time… I am sorry. Remus, I mean it. I am just trying to speak wise words to cover my bad conscience. I apologized in the letter, and I am willing to do it again and again. Do you think Harry accepts the fact that it is too risky for me to meet him?”
Remus did not feel like showing signs of reconciliation so easily. He thought Dumbledore was quite cunning to pose such a question which he could not resist answering. “Yes, I think so. He didn’t ask to meet you, and he didn’t object when I told him I’d talk to you instead of the two of you getting face to face. Maybe he accepts your reasons. Or maybe he’s so embarrassed that he doesn’t feel like seeing you. He may feel ashamed of eventually begging for your help in that letter. And the deprivation in his life has, while enhancing his endurance, also harmed his self-esteem so much that he may not want to discuss those conditions with anyone but rather tries to forget all about it now that he is rich again.
“You must be right, Remus. I admit I did not think about that. And don’t think I ever even imagine I could understand all the emotions of everyone. If I give such an impression, it is based only on style.”
And Dumbledore winked and smiled so sweetly that Remus did not know what to believe. Was Dumbledore able to interpret less or more than Remus had thought? In any case it was impossible to continue to show explicit anger to him.
“Before leaving Harry talked to his aunt and uncle the way you advised. Did your advice mean you plan to still send him there? If you ever do it, I trust you’ll take care of the threatening yourself and won’t send me on a world tour while Harry is there.”
“That is sensible advice. And before sending him home to the Dursleys’ I suppose I should, instead of considering myself the only wise man, discuss the alternatives with others, including Harry himself.”
“He didn’t even know that all the time he had another home, which is rather well protected, too.”
“You are right again, Remus. We can still protect him here as well as at Hogwarts, until it is time for Voldemort to face his equal.”
“I would like to advise you to consider protecting also those who are closest to Harry. He may now be careful enough not to be fooled to go and save somebody on a basis of a false image in his head only. But what if a friend of his was to really be taken hostage? I don’t think Hermione Granger is safe among muggles, and I hope you let her stay here until it’s time to go to Hogwarts.”
“I agree. She is here tonight, isn’t she? Harry can invite her to stay, and the Order has nothing against it. But there is another friend of Harry’s whom I am afraid I have ignored for too long… Remus, I wish you told me if there is anything you need. It has, after all, been my fault you haven’t had much chance to take care of your personal affairs this summer.”
“Well, I would, in fact, need a rest before another world tour. To be honest, I would not mind being stationed somewhere else than this neighbourhood, at the expenses of the Order if possible. But I’m not actually looking forward to making another tour to the werewolf communities to explain how Fudge’s new degree supports our friendly relations with them. Anyway, aren’t we wasting time on these personal matters, while Fudge has destroyed our strategy and will destroy more than that? I won’t be surprised if his policy leads to a revolt.”
“We need to renew our strategy, not give it up, and for the moment we continue with it the best we can. I promise to discuss that later with you before making decisions, even if I cannot help acting a gentle despot. I am considering if I should strictly order you to live at the headquarters.”
“No, I’m asking you not to do that. I wish I could invite Harry to be my son and come and live with me. But it cannot happen. I must continue my own training, it seems, and I hope to grow in endurance to do my share in what you call the war.”
“Please, Remus. I have always had faith in you.”
Like hell you have, Remus said in his mind, and the spontaneous, crude wording amused him so that he had to smile through all his bitterness - which he had no need to express now. What he needed direly at the moment was simply some money. Dumbledore certainly knew that, and it was out of question for Remus to take it up.
“Perhaps I haven’t always been worthy of it. If you haven’t got anything less personal, I would consider this the end of our conversation. Tomorrow’s going to be another working day.”
“Very well. But I order you to visit the headquarters daily if possible. I am not too proud to admit that I need your help.”
Dumbledore stood up and seemed to wait for a moment to see if Remus would agree to add anything. But Remus still had a style to keep up, too. They both apparated into the hall, walked together in silence to the other side of the square and continued apparating to their separate directions.
Back in his room Remus went straight to the pile of magazines and took out the piece of parchment which he had smoothed out in the morning. In his briefcase he looked for his quill and a bottle of ink. The ink was almost finished, so he filled the bottle with a spell. The jinxed ink would not be permanent, but he would make only a draft in any case.
Overwhelmed by a feverish urgency he started sketching and produced quickly the figure of an owl. Reliving those moments of early morning which he had spend holding Hedwig, he felt an almost painful longing to represent the shades of white in her feathers with oil paint and to add to the image the magic of movement.
Remus felt his head spinning when he stared at the white wall, and he had to sit down on the floor of the empty room. He had just finished the labour of painting the doors, the window frames and other details inside the new pet shop. The walls had been painted by somebody else, but he suddenly saw them unfinished.
That morning he had woken up - too early like always - after watching the young man with the face hidden behind black hair plunge down on a broom and leave behind an empty white canvas.
Hearing footsteps approach, he stood up, taking hold of a wall where the paint was no longer fresh. He pressed his palm against the smooth surface. The sturdy wizard entered the room and surveyed it, looking satisfied. Feeling unrestrained, high on the intoxication of the paint, Remus astonished himself by not hesitating to suddenly talk to the manager.
“Would you mind proposing to the owners a further improvement in their shop? The reputation of a pet shop of exceptional quality would benefit from exceptional interior decoration. Instead of the white walls I would seriously recommend a wall painting representing a landscape, and some creature, perhaps, an owl…”
The manager seemed slow to understand what he was talking about. “A picture of an owl?”
“Yes, I would suggest a painting here opposite to those windows, an impressive northern landscape and on the foreground a snowy owl. I suppose that is such an exquisite creature which they are going to have available at least on an order of a client.”
“I don’t know about such paintings…”
“Can you talk to the owners? I believe you would get a share of the commission.”
“Yes, why not? Do you mean you are that kind of a painter yourself? That explains why you have done your work so slowly - and well. Yes, very well… I’ll talk to them and we may get an extra commission. A snowy owl you said… And how much would you ask for it?”
“Anything they’ll be ready to pay when I’ve finished it. But besides a permission to start I would need them to buy the materials for me.”
“I’d better not mention that yet. I’ll just tell them I have an artist here, and you can yourself convince them about the idea. Come back tomorrow morning. They’ll drop by to check the construction.”
And Remus’s hopeful excitement was complemented with relief, when the manager eventually paid him for the labour of two days.
Before returning home Remus transfigured some of the coins to crumbs of bread, which he put carefully at the bottom of another pocket. He wanted to keep something for himself, because in case he got the commission and the materials paid for Hedwig’s portrait, he would devote himself to that and have no time for looking for and doing any labour.
Mrs. Porchead’s behaviour did not surprise Remus, as he knew she was able to sense the presence of precious metals. As soon as he arrived in her fireplace she rushed to the room and made an instinctive craving gesture with her long fingers, before she seemed to become aware of it and changed to verbal language to demand her money, not managing and probably not even trying to be much more polite. Remus rummaged in one of his pockets, gave her some of the money, and after a few swearwords of hers he gave her some more and showed that the pocket was empty. Then he quickly disapparated from the room, worried that she might still sense the metal even in the transfigured coins, though they were only silver. It would have been impossible to hide gold from her.
That evening Remus got to the headquarters earlier and went upstairs to look for Harry before dinner. He knocked on the door of the room which he remembered Harry had shared with Ron before.
The door opened immediately and Ron almost pushed him aside and started striding up the stairs shouting, “Gred! Forge! What have you done to my broomstick! I just hate you, Come and take those ears off… Oh, Professor Lupin, sorry, but I must…”
“Can you tell me where I can find Harry?”
“Just wait in our room. He went to the bathroom.”
Remus walked into the room, leaving the door open. Hedwig’s figure shone white in the dim light. She was sitting in her cage, but its door was not closed, and as he called her by name, she opened her round amber eyes, stared at him for a moment only and flew straight to him to perch on his shoulder. He turned his face against her feathers.
“Professor Lupin, hello, how are you?”
“Fine, thank you. How are you, Harry? Have you not chosen other rooms for yourself now that they are all yours?”
Immediately after coming in Harry started throwing pieces of clothing from the chairs and the bed into his open trunk. “I have enough in this room to keep it tidy. And I like to stay with Ron. But maybe I should give another room to him.”
Harry nodded towards a portrait on the wall opposite to this bed. Inside the frame Phineas Nigellus yawned and opened his eyes and spoke in a lazy drawling manner, “Well, well, Potter here seems to be popular. Another guest, but this one I have met too many times. What a bore it is to have to stay and watch people growing weary and worn and no wiser or wealthier. Too many times I watched you, Lupin, from the wall of the headmaster’s office as you defended the black sheep of the Black family after his mischief with your father, Potter. And again I had to see you, Lupin, trying to be a professor, and what has become of you… I hope nobody will ever make a portrait of you. Your face is not exactly adorable, though somebody might find those lines of fatigue and grief rather touching…”
“I have to admire the artist who made you so realistic,” Remus said so as to silence him, not bothering to defend himself against the insults of a painting.
“Well, it’s no use cleaning, said Harry. “We’d better go somewhere else, if there’s something you want to talk about with me, Professor Lupin.”
“No, no, don’t let me disturb you. I’m going to my portrait at Hogwarts. It’s hard to feel at home here any longer. Have a nice day.”
When Phineas Nigellus had walked towards the frame of the painting and disappeared, Harry showed a now vacant chair to Remus and sat down on the bed himself. “Yes, Professor Lupin, did you have something… I felt you have something against…”
“No, I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to say anything like that. In fact, I came to ask you for a favour. Would you let Hedwig come with me for a few days?”
Hedwig picked Remus’s ear tenderly with her beak.
Harry stared at the two of them, as if he had not seen her on Remus’s shoulder before. “I didn’t notice you had already taken her out of the cage.”
“No, I did not take her out. She came to me. We kind of made friends on the way from the Dursleys’,” Remus explained.
“So, do you need to send letters?”
“No, it’s not that… Tell me, did Hermione not talk to you about what I was doing in Diagon Alley?”
“She told me you seemed to work undercover to find out about the explosion. You are not taking Hedwig to the pet shop, are you?”
“I’m not going to sell her as a pet to anybody. And she will be free to fly back to you, if she doesn’t like it with me. If you want to know more, you could ask what Hermione would guess. But otherwise I’d rather keep it a surprise for you. Please, Harry, will you let her come, if she wants to?”
Harry looked perplexed but nodded.
Remus turned his face towards Hedwig and said gently, “So, please come tonight or early in the morning. You know where I live. It’s not so beautiful there, but if everything goes well, you’ll see something else, too.”
Hedwig spread her wings and returned to the cage. Remus stood up.
“Please stay and have dinner with us, Professor Lupin.”
“Thank you, I will, of course. In fact, Dumbledore ordered me to come here daily, and I think he meant precisely for dinner,” Remus said, smiling. Then he sat down again and continued, “Oh yes, I actually came up to look for you in order to tell you about my discussion with Dumbledore concerning Voldemort, the Dursleys and you…”
Chapter Three, part one, is here
Author: PaulaMcG
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: (subtly, eventually) Remus/Sirius
Era and universe: Summer and autumn 1996, an alternative world after OotP
Chapter summary: Remus finds some work that can mean more to him than he dared hope.
Word count: around 10,100
Disclaimer: Remus won't help me make any money.
Notes: EDITED on the 1st of February 2010. I’m happy to declare that this 21-chapter novel can now be regarded as completed Thanks to invaluable feedback from my f-list, particularly kellychambliss’s excellent nit-picking, I’ve mananged to fix some mistakes and to make other improvements also in this chapter, which I posted here f-locked in July, having started to revise the early chapters.
Chapter One can be found here
Chapter Two: A New Host at the Headquarters
It was still such an early hour of the morning that Privet Drive was completely quiet, but darkness was already withdrawing. The very shortest, gentlest nights of the summer were behind, though. While the warmth of days had increased almost unbearably towards the end of July, the nights had grown cooler. On this cloudless dawn again humidity had condensed on the ground. Remus surveyed the neighbourhood, standing on Mrs. Figg’s threshold, and turned to look back as he heard that his hostess had entered the hall.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Figg. I didn’t mean to wake you up, but maybe I should have, in order to thank you for everything.”
“Take care of yourself, Professor Lupin. And welcome back when it’s all over, and even before that, at any time you wish.”
She stepped forward and offered a farewell hand. To avoid giving another speech, Remus lifted her fingers and kissed them lightly. He turned, and after glancing around once more, he walked quickly to the Dursleys’ gate, opened it quietly and made his way around the house to the back garden.
Standing on the dewy grass with his toes getting wet Remus looked up and saw the rays of the sun, though it was still behind the horizon, reflect on black shiny figures, which were approaching with great speed high up in the air. Could they not have thought of something less extravagant? On the other hand, Thestrals could not be seen by muggles or not even by such wizards who had not seen anyone die. In any case, Voldemort would have had no trouble seeing them.
Remus stepped back, as the four beasts landed on the lawn. There was nobody riding them, but suddenly an opening appeared in mid-air behind them, and Remus realised that the animals had been pulling one of the Hogwarts carriages hidden with the Disillusion spell. Out of the opening leapt down a tall dark man, and Remus recognized Kingsley Shacklebolt’s muscular handsome figure.
“Morning, Remus. Want a ride?”
“Yes please, Kingsley. So they couldn’t spare a bigger escort. But I’m glad they sent the best man of all.”
The beautiful teeth and eyes shone in Kingsley’s black face, when he answered, “Don’t flatter me, Remus. Where is Harry?”
“I thought he shouldn’t get up before everything is ready for the departure. I wonder if he’s still not awake…”
Remus took out his wand and pointed it towards Harry’s room. Immediately after he saw a figure approach the window and disappear again.
“I just tickled him a little. Now he is coming. It’ll only take him a minute to go to his aunt and uncle to say: ‘See you!’”
In a moment the back door opened and Harry came out, dragging his trunk, his broom and a birdcage. He was dressed in fancy dark green robes, which suited perfectly his emerald eyes, and those eyes were shining of excitement. Kingsley hurried to clap him on the shoulder and to take his trunk. He thrust it easily into the carriage, so it disappeared out of sight.
“Good morning, Harry. Did you get any sleep?” Not waiting for a reply, Remus took the cage and opened the lock with his wand but placed the cage inside the carriage, too, without letting Hedwig out.
Harry hardly paid attention to him but stared at the Thestrals. Remus wondered if Harry now saw them even more real than before. But there was no time to waste.
“We are leaving immediately. I just have to check one thing. Did you do as Dumbledore advised in the letter?”
“Yeah, on my way down I opened their bedroom door and said: ‘You told us you wouldn’t mind if I go with my teacher. I’m going now. I’ll be back home for another holiday.’ They barely woke up and didn’t say a word.”
“So, let’s go before they do. Get in, quickly! Just remember you have also been advised to empty your mind, at the latest this moment.”
Kingsley hurried to give orders, too. “You sit in the middle, Harry. And keep your broom. I have one for each of us, too, Remus. We’d better have a hold of a broom all the time, just in case…”
“Is this precaution prescribed by Moody?” Remus asked, smiling.
He was happy that they could sit inside the carriage on comfortable seats. Kingsley had already bent forward and whispered the address to the Thestrals. The strangely graceful creatures had bent their necks and ears to take the orders, and they now leapt up in the air and rose soon so high that even if any wizard who had witnessed death had happened to be out in this early hour, looking up to the sky, he could have mistaken them for birds.
“Yes, and some of his ideas would be a bit more trouble to follow, but don’t worry, we are not going to take the route he planned through Iceland. But this is serious. You were right to bring the owl in. It must not be flying behind the carriage to give a hint at who is travelling inside. But maybe you like to let it out of the cage, so it, too, can save itself by flying if something happens. And Remus, you have a constant watch out of the back and right side window, I watch left and forward. I’ve understood Harry is supposed to not even think about the fact that he is on the way.
Remus glanced at Harry, who was leaning back between him and Kingsley. Harry seemed to notice his gaze but quickly turned his eyes straight ahead again and then closed them. He looked very determined and serious. Remus hoped that Harry had told him the truth when saying that he had actually practised Occlumency during the summer. Dumbledore had written that Harry would have to do his best to keep any thought of his departure out of his mind and especially not think of the journey during it. He had better go back to sleep after totally emptying his mind.
Having his lookout of the back window, Remus could continuously steal glances at Harry. He told himself it was important to check if Harry’s face revealed any thought of his own or even of somebody else’s or anything he might sense on his scar. But Remus could not help looking at Harry mainly because he felt a longing to be alone with James’s son. He almost wished that it would take them a long time before they arrived where there would be too many people around Harry.
Kingsley seemed to take the risk of an attack seriously. Besides watching out he was listening intently. The silence, of course, also helped Harry to keep his mind empty. But Remus wondered if Kingsley was just glad about the excuses not to have a conversation with his Order fellow. After stretching her wings by circling in the carriage for a while Hedwig had settled on Remus’s knees, and he caressed her beautiful white feathers.
But the journey did not last much more than one hour. When they arrived in London, it was still early morning and the square in a shabby neighbourhood was deserted. The Thestrals and the carriage stayed behind in a dark corner in order to depart soon after they would have entered the headquarters. Kingsley carrying the trunk and Remus the cage and his own briefcase, and Harry walking between them, holding his broom and with his eyes still almost closed, they proceeded quickly and stopped between numbers eleven and thirteen, Grimmauld Place.
“Now you must think of it, Harry,” Remus said, touching Harry’s shoulder.
Harry opened his eyes and must have seen the front door and steps of number twelve, Grimmauld Place appear, just as Remus did, because he came up with them.
Not until the door had closed behind them did Harry’s blank face relax to suddenly express the ambiguous emotions raised by his being back at Sirius’s home. Immediately after he clutched his forehead with his both hands and would have collapsed on the floor, had Kingsley not caught hold of him. Remus bent over Harry in despair.
Harry lifted his head, still rubbing his scar but with a smile. “He is just in fury. He knows that I am safe and…” Harry’s expression changed to show utter surprise, as he continued, “… that his plan has failed.”
At that moment Molly Weasley rushed at them and took Harry in her hug straight from Kingsley’s arms. Without letting him free from her embrace she started quickly leading him down the stairs to the kitchen. Kingsley followed and so did Remus, more slowly, though, after putting his briefcase against the wall next to the door.
When Remus got down, Molly had seated Harry near the table and was sitting next to him holding his both hands and surveying him with tears of love and concern in her eyes. “Welcome home, Harry, finally,” she said.
Kingsley pulled out a chair on the other side of the table, eased his lithe body onto it in a nonchalant fashion and cut in, “Yes, it’s high time you arrive to welcome us!”
Harry’s face expressed even more astonishment than a moment before in the hall.
Remus placed Hedwig’s cage on the table at the end closest to the stairs and remained standing there. He did not take the effort to hide the reproach. “Did nobody even tell Harry about that? Yes, this house belongs to you now, and so does all the gold Sirius had at Gringotts. He left it all to you in his will. He just obliged you to let the Order of the Phoenix use the place as the headquarters, until Voldemort is defeated.”
Molly was clearly shaken by the sound of the name Voldemort, but if Kingsley was, he hid it quickly in a change of his position, as he turned to say, “I suppose Dumbledore himself simply took care of paying the inheritance tax out of the gold in the vault.”
“Yes, why not, the tax must have been an amount hardly to be mentioned in proportion to the whole value of the gold, though the tax is quite high when immovable property is left for somebody who is not related. Not so high, though, as it would have been, had he left his house or gold to a non-human creature. Yes, Harry, you have inherited another fortune.” Remus complemented the conclusion with a smile, rather uncertain if he had managed not to let any bitterness in his voice.
At that moment he heard hurried footsteps on the stairs and turned to see two redheaded teenagers dart past him. Ron and Ginny Weasley almost pushed their mother aside, and she retreated, muttering something about breakfast. Remus watched Harry being hugged by his friends. He had stood up and looked small on Ron’s side, and confused albeit pleased when receiving a kiss from Ginny, who did not have to stand on tiptoe to reach his cheek.
Remus turned away and started climbing up the stairs.
“Remus, are you not staying for breakfast?” Molly’s voice sounded absentminded in his ears.
“No, thank you. I must get to my place and see what work I have for today.”
“All right then, but you must be back tonight. In his message Dumbledore mentioned that he would come and want a word with you, too.”
Harry must have now noticed that Remus was leaving, as he hurried to say, “Thank you, Professor Lupin.”
Remus mustered only a nod and rushed to the hall.
He grabbed his suitcase and went quickly out to the square, which was still quiet. The inhabitants of this neighbourhood preferred nightlife to getting up early and going to work in the morning. Remus walked to even shabbier alleys, until behind some garbage bins at the bottom of a dead end he conjured with his wand a gate in a brick wall, so as to enter another alley not much different. Just the smell of rotten waste, the local fragrance of the hot days of July, was here even more penetrating.
After a few blocks he stopped outside a gloomy tall and narrow building and searched for the keys in his pocket. In these parts the burglars could be kept out only with combinations of spells and muggle locks. Remus started climbing the almost dark and very steep staircase extremely cautiously, trying to make no sound, but before he had reached the second landing, the door on the first landing opened.
His landlady’s shrill voice echoed in the high space, “Don’t try to escape me, Mr. Lupin!” The sarcastic tone in her addressing of him as mister was full of overt contempt.
He stopped and closed his eyes momentarily, drawing a deep breath. “Good morning, Mrs. Porchead. I thought you might wish not to be disturbed this early in the morning.”
“Don’t shout at me! Come down here!”
Remus put his briefcase down and returned to the first landing. He bowed his head slightly when repeating, “Good morning, Mrs. Porchead.”
At this moment Remus found it difficult to see anything fascinating in the squat elderly lady’s peculiar features, as her large mouth was twisted in a pessimistic grimace while the last trace of greedy hope of something to be gained from her tenant still glinted in her tiny eyes under the bushy eyebrows. He also considered whether he should stick to his decision to call her a lady in his mind. He knew that her manners did not actually justify it, and her silk robe with gold embroideries and a hat decorated with an enormous feather of a peacock could hardly compensate for that.
“So! Your rent is due right now. For the whole of the summer. Those veela whom you put to stay here during your absence - I got nothing from them. They just terrorised everybody with their awful singing. I’m considering what kind of an amount I should claim damages against you.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Porchead. It can help me take care of payments, if you are so kind to tell me whether there’s been any owl for me.”
Mrs. Porchead apparently enjoyed keeping him in the dark for a while. She turned abruptly and went into her flat without a word. Remus was about to leave, but she did return with a letter, which clearly had been opened - and with her lips pressed together in a slight malicious smile.
He had no need to take a look at the letter before deciding whether to make a further request. “I have to ask you for another favour. Could you please lend me a newspaper?”
The landlady possibly considered what would be the most insulting words for a refusal, but rather to Remus’s surprise she disappeared for another moment and appeared with a crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet.
“You may keep it. It’s yesterday’s but you can find job ads in it. And you’d better find a job and pay at least a part of your debts tonight.” She banged her door closed.
Remus returned to his briefcase and climbed with heavy steps two more flights of stairs up to his door, which opened when he just pushed it.
He had a quick look around, because he never knew what the landlady had done to the room while he had been away. He was again amused by the thought that the room could, in fact, have been not too bad as an atelier. It was quite spacious and had big windows covering almost the whole of one wall, facing south. In reality the room was simply unbearably hot in the summer, and unbearably cold in the winter, as there was no fireplace. And there was hardly any furniture at all.
If there had ever been any, like a bed, it would have probably disappeared during his latest absence: the landlady would have taken it for the rent. But his shabby bedclothes were intact in the corner. Only the mattress which had belonged to her was gone. He checked that his books were safe in another corner, transfigured into a pile of old magazines so she would not take and sell them. For a table he had placed a broad board on two cardboard boxes in the middle of the room, and she usually let it alone.
He lifted his suitcase, the newspaper and the letter on the board and took out his wand. Now he needed to concentrate in order to succeed in conjuring a chair. He still was not nearly as good as Dumbledore at this spell. But perhaps he could as well specialise in this kind of magic of comfort, as it seemed to have become so important for him these days, when he continuously felt exhausted. He managed to make even an armchair appear, a bit shabby one, though. The problem was the fact that the conjured furniture never lasted for longer than a few hours. So it would be no good using a spell to have a bed for the night, unless he wanted to make sure he would fall in his dream again. Though he knew he would, in any case.
Sitting at his ascetic desk, he read the letter through.
Dear Sir,
We would appreciate it if you stopped approaching us with applications for work assignment. Even in our translations department we can only accept fully human witches and wizards, because the work requires frequent personal contact with editors and clients and above all complete understanding of the human perspective.
Yours sincerely
Burke Splashspear
Managing Director
Gutterberg Publishers
In a surge of bitterness and despair, which was about to explode into downright anger, Remus took the parchment in his hands to tear it in pieces. Then he turned it over and pressed it against the uneven table top with his both hands and smoothed it carefully. He walked to the corner and placed the parchment under a few magazines in the transfigured pile of books.
After returning to his new chair he spread the Daily Prophet on the desk. For a while he eyed the grimacing faces of the goblins in a row of photographs on the front page under a heading ARRESTED TODAY. He glanced at the names under the pictures and wondered if any of them was close to Mrs. Porchead. Not that he would have felt pity or malicious delight if it had been so, but an inheritance might have calmed her down a bit. No, if she was to get anything, she would have got it already. According to their own traditional rules of inheritance, a goblin’s property went - and as soon as he was just absent without taking precautions - to his closest relative, which meant the one who managed to get there first. The Minister had tried to apply the inheritance tax on these frequent changes of ownership and caused an unsolvable conflict.
Remus thought it would be soon enough to hear the latest news about the actions of the ministry on the explosion when visiting the headquarters in the evening. He quickly turned to the last pages of the paper to glance through the ads.
His eye was caught by the word painter, and feeling slightly amused he read the whole ad, which was not much: Painters wanted on construction, number 13, Diagon Alley. He memorized the number, folded the paper and opened his suitcase to take out his other, more patched robes for going to work.
Between the clothes, carefully packed by Mrs. Figg, he found a closed bowl of chocolate mousse and a bundle with fresh rolls of bread. In embarrassed but mainly pleasant surprise he placed the food on the desk. Having changed robes he summoned a spoon from behind the magazines. After eating some of the mousse and putting a couple of rolls in his pockets for lunch he transfigured the rest of the food into a rusty tin jar and a bundle of rags and took them carefully next to the magazines.
His knocking on the landlady’s door on the first landing generated a flood of weird swearwords inside. As soon as the door swung open Remus hurried to say, “Excuse me Mrs. Porchead. In order to go and collect some money for the rent I would need you to allow me to use your fireplace. You can add the floo powder in my debt.”
“What kind of wizard do you think you are! Can’t you apparate! And stop asking for favours with that disgusting politeness. Why don’t you just try to steal a newspaper or sneak in while I’m asleep, so I can strangle you!”
“I am sorry, Mrs. Porchead, but these days I am usually not in a condition of health good enough to apparate, otherwise I would not…”
Mrs. Porchead eyed him suspiciously and spat out, “I guessed that! And you think you can stay here spreading disease and even intrude on my privacy…”
“Please, Mrs. Porchead. This is not contagious, you know it’s only because…”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear about that. You should be locked up in St. Mungos’s, but I guess the hospital fees are a lot higher than my rent even for beggars! Go to the fireplace and don’t touch anything and leave quickly!”
She stepped aside to let Remus pass without a risk of him touching her and followed him to the fireplace. She took and dropped a small amount of floo powder on his hand. He lit a small fire with his wand, threw the powder in it and stepped in saying, “Diagon Alley.”
He had closed his eyes so as not to get ash in them, but while travelling in the whirl he felt them fill with tears all the same.
He actually enjoyed working that day. The paint spreading from his brush on the doors and the window frames gave him pleasure, and even the intoxicating smell confusing his mind did not really cause him a headache but just strangely helped him distance himself from the reality. He concentrated on refining his work and he felt confident of being quite skillful at it.
The manager of the construction, a heavy-handed and well-nourished wizard, had first been reluctant to talk to Remus. But then he had revealed that they did need one more painter, though only a professional who could do quality work by hand. The manager had explained that the company, which was having a new pet shop built on this lot, had got it as remedy for unpaid geese from the owners of the exploded shop. This company did not want any paint splashing spells, especially not on the window frames, which were to represent the quality service and products the shop was going to offer.
He had hardly believed Remus, who had claimed to have exactly the experience required, but he had been convinced after allowing him to show what he was able to do. He had just said that Remus was a bit slow but that it did not really matter, because he would pay for the finished job regardless of how long it took the painter to do it. By the time the manager checked Remus’s identity certificate he must have already felt that this painter was irreplaceable. He had hired Remus on the condition that he would not go inside the building when there were other workers in there.
Remus had not tried to talk to anyone else. At first he had been curious to see what kind of people ended up in this work. He had noticed that the ceilings were being painted by two such tall men that they could have had giants among their ancestors. Then he had felt disgusted with himself, speculating what kind of blood people could be blamed for having in their veins. And he escaped to the colour, texture and smell of the paint.
When he heard the other workers gathering inside the building and the manager announce a lunch break, he put the paintbrush aside. Only now did he realise how tired he was, and feeling dizzy he sat down on the front steps of the building.
He had started enjoying his second roll of bread, when he heard an astonished voice of a young girl, “Professor Lupin, good morning!”
Hiding the roll in his pocket he looked up to see a familiar bright face framed by a wonderful excess of hair. It was one of Harry’s closest friends, Hermione Granger. Remus was about to stand up, but Hermione immediately sat down on the step placing a tall pile of books between the two of them.
“I need a rest, too. I’m afraid I got carried away in the bookstore and now I can hardly carry all this.”
“May I look? Oh, sorry, Hermione, my hands are a bit dirty, maybe you’d like to show me what you have bought. Has the booklist for your sixth year arrived?”
“Oh no, unfortunately not yet, but these ones I’ll need in any case. And this one is for the interests I have besides school work, although I wonder why they don’t find it necessary for everybody to learn.”
She took up and opened a thick volume titled “The Indigenous Culture of the Elves - a Field Study”.
“You are quite right.” Remus bent his head beside hers, as they both started eyeing the introduction. “I’ve heard you are interested in securing the rights of the house-elves. In your endeavour it is wise to seek knowledge and venture upon an understanding of their own perspective on the basis of the elfish culture.”
“But what are you doing here?”
Could Hermione’s abrupt inquiry mean that she had eventually become aware of the paint stains on his hands and robes?
“Painting, as you can see,” he answered, grinning. “Painting is actually a kind of hobby for me - a passion, in fact. I just don’t have enough time for it.”
Hermione closed the book and looked at him in genuine interest. “Really? Do you paint other things besides..?”
“Besides doors and window frames, yes, but mainly just landscapes.”
“No portraits?”
“No, I don’t. That is a fascinating art, which I just wish I had the chance to explore.”
Remus wondered how easy it was to talk to her, even in a situation like this and even about a topic like this. “I would like to help you carry your books, but I must continue my work in a moment. Where are you going next?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s just a short distance to walk. I’m staying at the inn here on Diagon Alley for a few nights with my parents. They were eager to have at least a short holiday trip to the magical world after we just returned from a long tour of Lapland. There were some landscapes there you should have seen. But I’ve heard you’ve been travelling this summer, too.”
“Yes, I have, but let’s not talk more about that until maybe later at the headquarters. I don’t think I’m guessing wrong when saying that you have an invitation to visit the headquarters waiting for you at the inn. Ron and Ginny must have sent an owl if not Harry himself. I just brought him home from the Dursleys’ early this morning.”
Hermione’s face grew even brighter if possible. She sprang to her feet and Remus helped her pile the books on her arms.
“So, I hope to see you there tonight, too,” she said and turned to walk away, but suddenly she stopped. “But… Professor Lupin, this must be the lot where the explosion took place!”
“Yes, it is.”
“How could they allow anybody to start building on it already? Could they have finalised the investigations so quickly?”
“I doubt that, too. It seems to have been arranged pretty effectively. I found out that this lot and new pet shop now belong to that company which had provided the geese and not got paid before the tragedy.”
Hermione nodded, frowning, and Remus waved her goodbye. It would be nice and even useful to discuss these matters with her another time. Maybe she even still respected him, now thinking that he had been here for some confidential business in a worker’s disguise. In the evening he would have to convince Dumbledore that he had better allow Hermione to stay at the headquarters.
When climbing wearily up the steep staircase late in the afternoon Remus tried to let on the foreground of his mind the least embarrassing moments of his working day and the encounter with sweet Hermione. He refused to think of the words he had just heard when he had emerged from Mrs. Porchead’s fireplace with still no money at all to pay the rent. The manager had told him he would be paid after finishing the job on the following day or the day after that. Having entered his room he just wanted to sleep and was tempted to immediately throw himself on the bedclothes.
His bedclothes on the floor did not look like he could make them any more untidy even if he went to sleep wearing his dirty robes, but he reminded himself that he had decided not to give up and live in filth. Having straightened and cleaned the bedclothes with his wand, he took his nightgown and a towel from the briefcase and returned to the previous landing to go to the bathroom. He descended the steps as quietly as possible, but after closing the bathroom door he could hear his landlady start swearing again.
He woke up without any new bruises, as with no bed it had not been possible for him to fall down except in his dream. He had just seen Kingsley Shacklebolt fly towards him carrying a Firebolt and heard the proud voice. “I caught the broom at least. Did you not catch anything?”
It was already getting dark and Remus thought he was probably late for dinner. He quickly put on his better robes.
After sleeping relatively well he could venture to apparate, as Grimmauld Place was not too far. In a moment he was in the same dark corner of the square where the Thestrals had landed in the morning. There were local muggles walking through the square and hanging around, so he had to wait for a while before approaching the hidden number twelve.
The members of the Order and the children gathered for dinner in Harry’s kitchen had already finished the main course. Remus descended the stairs, excusing himself and checking that Dumbledore had not arrived yet. He decided to walk around the table and greet everybody to show that he had just come to meet them and not mainly because of the food. Hermione was there, and Harry was sitting between her and Ron Weasley at the head of the table.
Remus considered it appropriate to greet the host first. “Hello, Harry. I hope you are feeling at home.”
Harry had changed to more simple black robes, but they were clearly tailored and of expensive fabric, too.
“Yes, thank you, Professor Lupin. Thank you.”
As he repeated it Remus wondered if it was just his own wishes that made him hear more than a polite phrase in it. Why had he not asked Harry to call him by his first name and why did he have to feel shy to say it to him now? Harry’s eyes looked brighter than ever, maybe because somebody had fixed the scratches on his glasses.
Remus turned to Hermione, who surprised him with eager thanks, too.
“Thank you, Professor Lupin, I’m so glad I met you in Diagon Alley and you advised me to go back to the inn. Ron had written to me about Harry’s arrival and Hedwig had found the place where I stay these days. These owls are just incredible.”
“Did you use Harry’s owl, Ron? That was a good thing to do. Hedwig needed some flying around after such a hard time of imprisonment. She is incredible even among magical owls, while they all render us irreplaceable services.”
“Did you go down to Diagon Alley today, Remus? Why didn’t you come to see the latest jokes in our shop?”
Remus had to smile to Fred and George Weasley, who were jinxing plates to pirouette above the table before turning them into butterflies, which fluttered to the dishwashing basin.
“I’m sorry, I was occupied the whole day, but I will certainly come some day to see if you can make me laugh.”
“That’s better,”George said. “When you came in I thought for a moment it was good old Snape. You looked so gloomy.”
“Did I really? I apologize. But now you are already cheering me up. I’m glad to see you all here.”
Remus continued towards the other end of the table to clap Arthur’s and Moody’s shoulders and to stretch out his hand to Nymphadora. “It’s nice to see none of you is so busy tonight as you have been the whole summer and up till this morning.”
Before any of them had time to reply Molly and Ginny Weasley came from the pantry carrying the puddings.
“Remus, where have you been? Take a seat. And Ginny dear, go and bring the starters and the main course for Remus.”
“Oh, please don’t bother because of me.”
Remus walked around and sat down next to Nymphadora. He looked at each of his three closest Order fellows in turn while continuing, “You didn’t have too much correspondence with Harry while I was on my tour, did you? No use mentioning any visits at all. Did even one of you send a letter to him during his second week at the Dursleys’?”
They did not seem to be sure if he really wanted an answer, but as he kept waiting, Nymphadora started, “Well, no, I’m afraid…”
She dropped a spoonful of pudding onto Remus’s steak, which Ginny had just placed in front of him, but Remus did not regard that as a sign of guilt or embarrassment, because that was Nymphadora’s usual manner of acting at the table.
“I remember Harry made it clear during the first week that the muggle dared do nothing to him anymore, after he had got it into his thick skull that we had been threatening him,” Moody said with a grim laugh.
“Yes, Ron had correspondence with Harry all summer, didn’t you?”Arthur said, turning to his youngest son.
Catching Harry’s eyes Remus exchanged a look with him. When he had a chance he should remember to ask Harry to check if Ron remembered sending him a message on the second week and not getting a reply. Remus doubted it. It was unlikely Ron would have used an owl unknown to Harry.
Remus spoke no more but started to eat. It was clear nobody had been told about the conditions at the Dursleys’ except Molly, who had evidently got a word about Harry’s arrival beforehand and who was now fussing over Harry’s plate in a worse manner than she sometimes did over Remus.
Suddenly Hermione raised her voice and Remus realised that the company was talking about Diagon Alley again. “Don’t you, Professor Lupin? Would you like to tell the others what you found out about number thirteen, Diagon Alley?”
Having just put a big piece of steak into his mouth, Remus had to continue chewing, while everybody turned to stare at him. He lifted the napkin on his mouth, swallowed and said, “Well, I actually know little more than what is just too clear for anybody to see, when such a grand building has risen so suddenly on the spot where the explosion took place a week ago. The new pet shop will be ready, even painted tomorrow or the day after. And while in the painting they only accept quality work by hand, there must have been some use of magic and also violation of construction safety rules in order to finalise such a building so quickly. And probably some laws of criminal investigation procedure have been violated as well.”
“But what more would they have needed to investigate?” Moody asked. “It was a goblin’s bomb, and no evidence of connections to You Know Who could have been found on the spot, anyway, though it is obvious that this is just the first blow of his launching into total destruction of our civilization…”
Remus sighed and put his fork and knife down again. “Moody, I appreciate your ability to sense the signs of the worst, and in addition to that I trust you have a keen sense of the more treacherous plots of the evil. In order to do justice to every creature, the ministry should act on only the facts that have already been proved. It is always possible that the case is even more complicated. Or it may be simpler, and as far as I know there has been no proof of the whole goblin community being guilty of anything. I understood I was not the only one in the Order to disagree with Fudge’s actions.”
“But aren’t goblins always ready to join other goblins in any mischief? asked Fred.
“Well, negotiating with them has proved at least that they are not that ready to join us in a war against You Know Who,” Nymphadora replied.
“I suppose you could really get to know the goblins only if you lived with them,” said Hermione.
Remus wondered if she had already started reading the field study report on elves.
“So, Remus, you can tell us something about that. Your landlady is a goblin, isn’t she?” said Kingsley, who had just arrived and sat down opposite to Remus without bothering to greet anybody.
“Well, I do not actually live with her, whereas she certainly doesn’t avoid conversation with me.”
“So how is her behaviour with you? Would you conclude the goblins have any moral code or not?” asked Arthur.
“I have mainly formal interaction with Mrs. Porchead. If there is anything to doubt about her moral or manners… well, she has spent a long time among the worst of wizards in my neighbourhood. She is probably not the best example of genuine goblin culture. And
I would not conclude anything on the basis of her conversation with me. You may know I’m not the best of tenants. For my absence this summer I arranged some veela to stay in my flat and… No, just for my absence, George! I may not have so much experience on dating young ladies as you have, but I have learnt to avoid the dangerous ones.”
The company was clearly not satisfied with his cautious words, but he had spoken long enough to make them lose interest in the topic and change to another one. He could concentrate on eating again, while Ron questioned Fred about George’s affairs with the seductive nature spirits.
Remus half wished he could at least make jokes about his landlady’s behaviour if not look for sympathy. But he felt it was out of question to reveal any negative information on her exactly because she was a goblin. His complaints would have just strengthened the prejudices evidently shared by some of the members of the Order, too.
Remus was left alone to wait for Dumbledore.
Molly had asked her children to help her clear the table and then go upstairs with Harry and Hermione. Fred and George had protested, saying that they had finished school and therefore should be allowed to finally join the Order as members. But Arthur had reminded them of the fact that they had left school without finishing it and the matter was still to be discussed with Dumbledore. That seemed to have made Harry suddenly remember having heard from Molly in the morning that Dumbledore had promised to come. But he had not asked for a permission to stay and meet his headmaster. He had agreed to go to bed early, and Hermione was to stay overnight, too.
When passing Remus Harry had hurried to mention, “Ron told me he had been glad to always receive a quick reply from me to all his owls. And Hermione said the same.”
Remus had nodded as thanks for the information and said, “I hope you don’t mind if I talk about you to Dumbledore. I suppose he still has his reasons not to meet you personally.”
Arthur, Moody, Nymphadora and Kingsley were obviously not eager to continue conversation with Remus. They all soon said goodnight, and so did Molly after bringing some fruits and coffee to the table.
But Remus did not have to wait for more than a moment before the serene figure of the respected wizard suddenly materialized in front of him. The long hair and beard seemed to radiate silvery light. Remus turned his eyes on the ceiling from Dumbledore’s smile, which he could not help interpreting as an irritating expression of self-satisfaction.
He exaggerated his astonishment, so as to use it as an excuse for failing to greet Dumbledore warmly and politely. “I’ve thought it’s not possible to apparate into this building. Have you changed the secrecy protection?”
“No, definitely not. I simply could not resist coming downstairs with style.”
Remus caught himself disapproving of Dumbledore’s endless concern about style or rather his easily achieved performances thereof. At the moment he despised all lightheartedness while at the same time he detested himself for acting and feeling gloomy like Snape. A longing to be one of the reckless Marauders surged to his mind, and he pushed it away as painful. He had to just struggle to keep his current style of dry witty jokes at least, though the source of even those seemed to have run too dry.
As if completely aware of Remus’s mood Dumbledore sat down next to him and sighed to express sorrow himself. He lifted his hand to take some grapes from a bowl but stopped himself, and Remus knew it was all a trick and felt he was being made fun of. He wanted to start whatever negotiation was needed, to get to the point and to finish it quickly, so he talked without introduction.
“Voldemort read Harry’s mind at the moment we had arrived. Harry felt such pain on his scar that he almost collapsed and then he said: ‘He is just in fury. He knows that I am safe and… that his plan has failed.’”
To his irritation, another reconciled smile lingered on Dumbledore’s face to accompany the soft voice. “Very well. Harry did very well. I could not be quite sure, even if you told me in your latter message that he had claimed to have practiced. When Voldemort got through, it was too late.”
“I suppose the location of the headquarters cannot be revealed to Voldemort even through Harry’s mind.”
“No, that secret is hidden only in my mind. Do you have a theory concerning that owl of the second week?”
Dumbledore’s voice was so peaceful that it was closing to indifference, and he could not resist the grapes any longer. Remus was wondering why Dumbledore bothered to come and waste their time, if there was nothing urgent to discuss.
“I checked it had not been sent by any of Harry’s young or older friends,” Remus said.
“No, I would say it had not been sent even to him.”
“To Petunia,” Remus said, refusing to make it a question.
“Most probably. We don’t have to bother about the details of Voldemort’s failed plan. But I would guess he told Petunia to mistreat Harry in order to make him run away and lose the protection of blood, which Lily had given him and which I had tied to that home of his. And Harry did very well. Voldemort did not take into consideration the possibility that Harry would not wish to risk anybody getting in danger trying to save him. And the pain he has suffered all his life has given him such patience and endurance…”
Remus now found it more difficult than ever to control his fury. Hearing Mrs. Dursley’s malicious words was nothing compared to witnessing this benevolent voice justifying Harry’s suffering. But Dumbledore was looking at Remus intently over his half-moon-shaped glasses, and to his further infuriation Remus realised that his slightest expression was being interpreted correctly and Dumbledore was just curious to compare his explicit reaction with the deeper emotion behind it. He decided to word only his final conclusion.
“What’s the use telling you how serious a crime I know of experience it has been. You let them deprive Harry of what every creature has the right for. But you regard only yourself as wise enough to know when it’s necessary to subject him to more pain to train him in endurance!
Dumbledore faced Remus’s accusation with tears in his eyes, and Remus now at least slightly doubted the tears were totally fake.
“I did not mean to defend myself. I admit I underestimated the scope of the deprivation Harry would suffer for ten years. Humanly evaluated I made a serious mistake. But whatever we have done, there is a meaning in it. In any case we must look forward. And one fact is that, thanks to my mistake, Harry now possesses some strength which has already proved significant in preparing him to face what he is destined for, or at least in keeping him alive until it is time… I am sorry. Remus, I mean it. I am just trying to speak wise words to cover my bad conscience. I apologized in the letter, and I am willing to do it again and again. Do you think Harry accepts the fact that it is too risky for me to meet him?”
Remus did not feel like showing signs of reconciliation so easily. He thought Dumbledore was quite cunning to pose such a question which he could not resist answering. “Yes, I think so. He didn’t ask to meet you, and he didn’t object when I told him I’d talk to you instead of the two of you getting face to face. Maybe he accepts your reasons. Or maybe he’s so embarrassed that he doesn’t feel like seeing you. He may feel ashamed of eventually begging for your help in that letter. And the deprivation in his life has, while enhancing his endurance, also harmed his self-esteem so much that he may not want to discuss those conditions with anyone but rather tries to forget all about it now that he is rich again.
“You must be right, Remus. I admit I did not think about that. And don’t think I ever even imagine I could understand all the emotions of everyone. If I give such an impression, it is based only on style.”
And Dumbledore winked and smiled so sweetly that Remus did not know what to believe. Was Dumbledore able to interpret less or more than Remus had thought? In any case it was impossible to continue to show explicit anger to him.
“Before leaving Harry talked to his aunt and uncle the way you advised. Did your advice mean you plan to still send him there? If you ever do it, I trust you’ll take care of the threatening yourself and won’t send me on a world tour while Harry is there.”
“That is sensible advice. And before sending him home to the Dursleys’ I suppose I should, instead of considering myself the only wise man, discuss the alternatives with others, including Harry himself.”
“He didn’t even know that all the time he had another home, which is rather well protected, too.”
“You are right again, Remus. We can still protect him here as well as at Hogwarts, until it is time for Voldemort to face his equal.”
“I would like to advise you to consider protecting also those who are closest to Harry. He may now be careful enough not to be fooled to go and save somebody on a basis of a false image in his head only. But what if a friend of his was to really be taken hostage? I don’t think Hermione Granger is safe among muggles, and I hope you let her stay here until it’s time to go to Hogwarts.”
“I agree. She is here tonight, isn’t she? Harry can invite her to stay, and the Order has nothing against it. But there is another friend of Harry’s whom I am afraid I have ignored for too long… Remus, I wish you told me if there is anything you need. It has, after all, been my fault you haven’t had much chance to take care of your personal affairs this summer.”
“Well, I would, in fact, need a rest before another world tour. To be honest, I would not mind being stationed somewhere else than this neighbourhood, at the expenses of the Order if possible. But I’m not actually looking forward to making another tour to the werewolf communities to explain how Fudge’s new degree supports our friendly relations with them. Anyway, aren’t we wasting time on these personal matters, while Fudge has destroyed our strategy and will destroy more than that? I won’t be surprised if his policy leads to a revolt.”
“We need to renew our strategy, not give it up, and for the moment we continue with it the best we can. I promise to discuss that later with you before making decisions, even if I cannot help acting a gentle despot. I am considering if I should strictly order you to live at the headquarters.”
“No, I’m asking you not to do that. I wish I could invite Harry to be my son and come and live with me. But it cannot happen. I must continue my own training, it seems, and I hope to grow in endurance to do my share in what you call the war.”
“Please, Remus. I have always had faith in you.”
Like hell you have, Remus said in his mind, and the spontaneous, crude wording amused him so that he had to smile through all his bitterness - which he had no need to express now. What he needed direly at the moment was simply some money. Dumbledore certainly knew that, and it was out of question for Remus to take it up.
“Perhaps I haven’t always been worthy of it. If you haven’t got anything less personal, I would consider this the end of our conversation. Tomorrow’s going to be another working day.”
“Very well. But I order you to visit the headquarters daily if possible. I am not too proud to admit that I need your help.”
Dumbledore stood up and seemed to wait for a moment to see if Remus would agree to add anything. But Remus still had a style to keep up, too. They both apparated into the hall, walked together in silence to the other side of the square and continued apparating to their separate directions.
Back in his room Remus went straight to the pile of magazines and took out the piece of parchment which he had smoothed out in the morning. In his briefcase he looked for his quill and a bottle of ink. The ink was almost finished, so he filled the bottle with a spell. The jinxed ink would not be permanent, but he would make only a draft in any case.
Overwhelmed by a feverish urgency he started sketching and produced quickly the figure of an owl. Reliving those moments of early morning which he had spend holding Hedwig, he felt an almost painful longing to represent the shades of white in her feathers with oil paint and to add to the image the magic of movement.
Remus felt his head spinning when he stared at the white wall, and he had to sit down on the floor of the empty room. He had just finished the labour of painting the doors, the window frames and other details inside the new pet shop. The walls had been painted by somebody else, but he suddenly saw them unfinished.
That morning he had woken up - too early like always - after watching the young man with the face hidden behind black hair plunge down on a broom and leave behind an empty white canvas.
Hearing footsteps approach, he stood up, taking hold of a wall where the paint was no longer fresh. He pressed his palm against the smooth surface. The sturdy wizard entered the room and surveyed it, looking satisfied. Feeling unrestrained, high on the intoxication of the paint, Remus astonished himself by not hesitating to suddenly talk to the manager.
“Would you mind proposing to the owners a further improvement in their shop? The reputation of a pet shop of exceptional quality would benefit from exceptional interior decoration. Instead of the white walls I would seriously recommend a wall painting representing a landscape, and some creature, perhaps, an owl…”
The manager seemed slow to understand what he was talking about. “A picture of an owl?”
“Yes, I would suggest a painting here opposite to those windows, an impressive northern landscape and on the foreground a snowy owl. I suppose that is such an exquisite creature which they are going to have available at least on an order of a client.”
“I don’t know about such paintings…”
“Can you talk to the owners? I believe you would get a share of the commission.”
“Yes, why not? Do you mean you are that kind of a painter yourself? That explains why you have done your work so slowly - and well. Yes, very well… I’ll talk to them and we may get an extra commission. A snowy owl you said… And how much would you ask for it?”
“Anything they’ll be ready to pay when I’ve finished it. But besides a permission to start I would need them to buy the materials for me.”
“I’d better not mention that yet. I’ll just tell them I have an artist here, and you can yourself convince them about the idea. Come back tomorrow morning. They’ll drop by to check the construction.”
And Remus’s hopeful excitement was complemented with relief, when the manager eventually paid him for the labour of two days.
Before returning home Remus transfigured some of the coins to crumbs of bread, which he put carefully at the bottom of another pocket. He wanted to keep something for himself, because in case he got the commission and the materials paid for Hedwig’s portrait, he would devote himself to that and have no time for looking for and doing any labour.
Mrs. Porchead’s behaviour did not surprise Remus, as he knew she was able to sense the presence of precious metals. As soon as he arrived in her fireplace she rushed to the room and made an instinctive craving gesture with her long fingers, before she seemed to become aware of it and changed to verbal language to demand her money, not managing and probably not even trying to be much more polite. Remus rummaged in one of his pockets, gave her some of the money, and after a few swearwords of hers he gave her some more and showed that the pocket was empty. Then he quickly disapparated from the room, worried that she might still sense the metal even in the transfigured coins, though they were only silver. It would have been impossible to hide gold from her.
That evening Remus got to the headquarters earlier and went upstairs to look for Harry before dinner. He knocked on the door of the room which he remembered Harry had shared with Ron before.
The door opened immediately and Ron almost pushed him aside and started striding up the stairs shouting, “Gred! Forge! What have you done to my broomstick! I just hate you, Come and take those ears off… Oh, Professor Lupin, sorry, but I must…”
“Can you tell me where I can find Harry?”
“Just wait in our room. He went to the bathroom.”
Remus walked into the room, leaving the door open. Hedwig’s figure shone white in the dim light. She was sitting in her cage, but its door was not closed, and as he called her by name, she opened her round amber eyes, stared at him for a moment only and flew straight to him to perch on his shoulder. He turned his face against her feathers.
“Professor Lupin, hello, how are you?”
“Fine, thank you. How are you, Harry? Have you not chosen other rooms for yourself now that they are all yours?”
Immediately after coming in Harry started throwing pieces of clothing from the chairs and the bed into his open trunk. “I have enough in this room to keep it tidy. And I like to stay with Ron. But maybe I should give another room to him.”
Harry nodded towards a portrait on the wall opposite to this bed. Inside the frame Phineas Nigellus yawned and opened his eyes and spoke in a lazy drawling manner, “Well, well, Potter here seems to be popular. Another guest, but this one I have met too many times. What a bore it is to have to stay and watch people growing weary and worn and no wiser or wealthier. Too many times I watched you, Lupin, from the wall of the headmaster’s office as you defended the black sheep of the Black family after his mischief with your father, Potter. And again I had to see you, Lupin, trying to be a professor, and what has become of you… I hope nobody will ever make a portrait of you. Your face is not exactly adorable, though somebody might find those lines of fatigue and grief rather touching…”
“I have to admire the artist who made you so realistic,” Remus said so as to silence him, not bothering to defend himself against the insults of a painting.
“Well, it’s no use cleaning, said Harry. “We’d better go somewhere else, if there’s something you want to talk about with me, Professor Lupin.”
“No, no, don’t let me disturb you. I’m going to my portrait at Hogwarts. It’s hard to feel at home here any longer. Have a nice day.”
When Phineas Nigellus had walked towards the frame of the painting and disappeared, Harry showed a now vacant chair to Remus and sat down on the bed himself. “Yes, Professor Lupin, did you have something… I felt you have something against…”
“No, I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to say anything like that. In fact, I came to ask you for a favour. Would you let Hedwig come with me for a few days?”
Hedwig picked Remus’s ear tenderly with her beak.
Harry stared at the two of them, as if he had not seen her on Remus’s shoulder before. “I didn’t notice you had already taken her out of the cage.”
“No, I did not take her out. She came to me. We kind of made friends on the way from the Dursleys’,” Remus explained.
“So, do you need to send letters?”
“No, it’s not that… Tell me, did Hermione not talk to you about what I was doing in Diagon Alley?”
“She told me you seemed to work undercover to find out about the explosion. You are not taking Hedwig to the pet shop, are you?”
“I’m not going to sell her as a pet to anybody. And she will be free to fly back to you, if she doesn’t like it with me. If you want to know more, you could ask what Hermione would guess. But otherwise I’d rather keep it a surprise for you. Please, Harry, will you let her come, if she wants to?”
Harry looked perplexed but nodded.
Remus turned his face towards Hedwig and said gently, “So, please come tonight or early in the morning. You know where I live. It’s not so beautiful there, but if everything goes well, you’ll see something else, too.”
Hedwig spread her wings and returned to the cage. Remus stood up.
“Please stay and have dinner with us, Professor Lupin.”
“Thank you, I will, of course. In fact, Dumbledore ordered me to come here daily, and I think he meant precisely for dinner,” Remus said, smiling. Then he sat down again and continued, “Oh yes, I actually came up to look for you in order to tell you about my discussion with Dumbledore concerning Voldemort, the Dursleys and you…”
Chapter Three, part one, is here