Remus carries salt in his pocket wherever he goes. Just in case. His chemistry textbooks say sodium chloride is an effective tool against gastropods, so he keeps a stoppered vial of it in his breast pocket, from when he wakes to when he sleeps.
I didn't think you had such violent tendencies, his brother says. He's not one to talk about being overly protective; the two of them have been practically glued to the hip since they came home, father in hysterics over their absence. They had felt like laughing, watching him pace the floor and shout at them. Same old dad, they thought, even as the smallest seed of guilt dropped into their stomachs --- not for being taken away, for things beyond their control, but for how they had been acting beforehand.
Not as if they really learned anything from it. Their trip had been far from a learning experience. They still act and talk the same; reflecting upon their future, they are pretty sure they will grow up to be stuck-up arrogant know-it-alls. (Just like him, one says and they both share a laugh which vexes their new tutor, who will never be as interesting as Edgeworth, no, Azmael, even if he ended up kidnapping them.) They want to be famous scientists and invent things and never let anybody tell them what to do.
So Remus carries this vial of salt, sitting snug in his front pocket like a good luck charm. After all, he has to remember the past even as he looks towards the future.