Meeting Mister Lupin

The noontime sun tickled the back of Sage's neck as she began her walk down the hill. Behind her, the Knight Bus sped off with a Bang. Sage put a finger to her left temple, next time she'd just Apparate. She would have done so this time, had she known where she would end up. The gravel crunched beneath her heavy, black boots, sending dust around the hem of her green, plaid cloak that matched her trousers. The strap of Sage pack was digging into her shoulder and she corrected it, remembering the letter she'd received that morning.

Dear Ms. Quinlan,

I have a story proposition for you. It would be a great service to me if you lend your talent for a few days. Your assistance will be well paid…

The rest of the letter contained directions to the client's house and instruction to bring writing equipment and an open mind. Sage snickered. It was impossible for one of her kind not to have an open mind. Flicking a stray sapphire curl out of her eyes, she saw a small, shabby house just ahead of her. A clap of thunder sounded as the sun retreated behind another cloud. Sage quickened her pace, not wanting to be caught in the rain.

The cracked, oak door of the house opened before Sage could knock. A man stood in the doorway, flecks of gray highlighting his light brown hair. Sage had the feeling the man was much younger than he looked; that the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth were from grief rather than years. He smiled at Sage --a sad, welcoming smile.

"Mister Lupin," Sage tugged at her robe absent-mindedly, "I'm Sage, Sage Quinlan, the writer you sent for."

Mr. Lupin stepped back allowing room for her. "Come in," he said with a worn voice. "I just started a kettle of tea."

Sage set down her chipped teacup on the coffee table, taking in her surroundings. Mr. Lupin's house, though small, was very well organized. Sure, there were papers and opened books all over the floor and table (Mr. Lupin had pushed aside a few stray pages to make room for their tea) but there was established order to the chaos. And Mr. Lupin himself --Sage noticed as he sat across from her in a creaking armchair-- had very well polished shoes under his tattered and patched robes.

"Miss Quinlan," Mr. Lupin glanced at Sage over the rim of his cup, "you may be the most patient person I've ever met."

"Pardon?" Sage cocked her head to one side.

"We've sat here for almost an hour, without saying anything to one another, and you haven't even begun fidgeting."

"Oh." Sage picked at her fishnet arm stockings. "Well, journalism requires patience, especially the people I interview."

"Ah, yes." Mr. Lupin set his cup on its saucer. "The unconventional journalist, you must get many interesting subjects." He put the cup and saucer on the table and stood.

"Mister Lupin, I didn't mean to offend-"

"No," Mr. Lupin held up a hand, "no, you didn't offend me."

Sage was puzzled, but knew Mr. Lupin would begin his story soon. She picked up her stained leather knapsack, fishing out an inkwell, a dusty quill, and her leather-bound notebook.

"Miss Quinlan, I assume you know what I am." Mr. Lupin folded his hands into his pockets.

Sage nodded, she did indeed. "I research all my subjects."

"I do not wish to be your subject."

"Mister Lupin," Sage put on her small, round spectacles, "if you do not wish to be a subject then-"

"Miss Quinlan," Mr. Lupin whispered, staring out his window. Outside, the rain had just begun to fall; it was going to be a typical English afternoon. "Miss Quinlan, what do you know about Sirius Black?"

Sage looked up sharply. Sirius Black, once the most wanted man in all of Britain, had been acquitted four months earlier. Of course, the acquittal had come after his own murder. Sage had written a controversial article on the negligence of the Ministry's law enforcement system after learning about the man's innocence. She'd earned a visit from the Minister of Magic himself for it. Along with, she now suspected, a letter from one R. J. Lupin.

"You read my article," Sage said quietly, watching Mr. Lupin. There had been a distinct crack in his voice at Sirius Black's name.

"I did." Mr. Lupin lowered his head. "And I wish to tell who Sirius was before Azkaban."