3 January 1982

Remus looked out through the tiny window of his tiny apartment's tiny kitchen. The clouds were grey and thick drops of water were falling heavily from them, leaving dotted trails down the glass. A white mug filled with cold coffee sat on the small, metal table he sat at, alone. He could feel himself struggling to focus on the job's section of The Daily Prophet as he scoured, block after block, of possible work opportunities; but to no avail as his mind kept wandering back to pressing thoughts that made him question what he was doing with himself. The fact that a small, whitewashed room with rain-streaked windows and dull, metallic furniture could so accurately match his inner feelings worried him to a great extent.

The truth was; he now felt and had nothing. His friends were all either dead or locked up in Azkaban. Sirius could have been telling the truth though- a tiny ever-present thought spoke in the back of his mind. It had been three days since he had visited Sirius, told him he would never be seeing him again and then listened to his ex-best-friend's deranged ravings that, as much as Remus didn't believe, a small part of him was interested in. But it all seemed too complicated, because if Peter had been the one to betray James and Lily and what Sirius had said was true, there was no evidence or proof to give of this and Sirius would still be stuck in Azkaban and Remus would still be alone.

His sigh filled the room and he folded up the newspaper and drank the last of his coffee, pulling a face as the cold dregs flowed down his throat. He didn't have a job, he didn't have a plan to get a job and the more he thought about it the more depressed he felt. He had achieved top marks in everything and for a normal wizard this would mean opportunity after opportunity piling up, but Remus wasn't a normal wizard and as a Werewolf he was obligated to let potential employers of his "condition" when applying. This generally resulted in an apology and a dismissal and Remus would leave; feelings of anxiety refreshed.

At least when the Order had still been going he would have something to do; people to spend time with, but when Lord Voldemort had been defeated, the true effects of the War could be seen clearly. James, Lily, Peter, Gideon and Fabian Prewett dead; Frank and Alice Longbottom tortured to insanity and stuck in St. Mungo's. It seemed that the only survivors had been Dumbledore, Mad-Eye and Remus himself. And Sirius. Although Remus wasn't sure he could count him as a part of the Order any more. Or a survivor in this case.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Remus looked up with a start. A large, grey owl was standing on the perch outside his window with an envelope tied to its foot, the paper spotted with water marks as the rain still fell. Remus opened the window and untied the letter, dropping 3 Knuts into the pouch tied around its other foot. It gave him a reproachful look, clearly displeased with the payment, or the fact that it was daytime and owls were nocturnal, Remus wasn't entirely sure, but it waited, obviously expecting a reply.

The envelope was grey and carried only his name and address as well as a large, black 'A' printed at the top next to a vaguely familiar symbol: a double-lined triangle with intersecting edges. He turned it in his hands and spotted a black, wax-seal stamped with the same triangular symbol. He broke the seal and took out the letter, realising immediately what it was. The paper, also grey, was the official stationary of Azkaban; the symbol had been the shape of the prison from above. At the top right hand corner of the paper was the symbol yet again with "Azkaban Prison" boldly written beside it. Written upon the letter, in Sirius's scraggly, cramped writing were the words "Happy New Year. Sorry you still don't believe me. -Padfoot" Remus stared at it, his face hardening.

"Never gives up, does he?" he muttered aloud and the owl gave a hoot.

"You think I should reply?" Remus asked the owl, sighing, to which it narrowed its eyes and huddled itself as far into the kitchen window frame as it could without actually coming in. "By all means, make yourself at home," Remus told the owl as he folded up the letter, "No one else will be visiting for a while." The owl took two tentative steps then hopped down onto the counter and looked up at him curiously.

Remus stuffed the letter back into the envelope and set it aside, then he pushed his plate of uneaten bacon towards the owl and reopened The Daily Prophet.

5 January 1982

"And how much experience do you have in the jewellery making field?" the bright-eyed witch asked Remus.

"I-well I just thought I could work behind the counter or arrange receipts or...something." he replied. A job opportunity had finally caught his eye after searching for another hour. It was a small, home-made jewellery shop run by a witch and her sister, both of whom wore large shawls with paisley patterns and appeared to be trying to give the impression that they were walking advertisements of their own jewellery as their arms were covered in beaded bracelets and numerous necklaces hung around their necks.

"Ah, but here at Jubilante Jewellery Emporium, we believe anyone interested in working here should have an extensive knowledge of jewels and their properties, you know, so that the appropriate worth can be easily calculated." the witch replied, her jewelled necklace glittering as she moved, obviously enthusiastic about her work.

"Look, Ms Jubilante-"

"Please called me Pandora, and actually" - the witch flashed her left hand so that Remus got a clear view of a far more elegant ring, inlaid with a white gem that seemed to shimmer and sparkle in the light, on her finger - "It's going to be Mrs Lovegood soon, but yes Pandora."

"Right, then, er, Pandora, I could really just use a simple job, anything really." Remus could feel his voice growing desperate.

Pandora sighed and shuffled his papers, "Mr Lupin, Remus, may I call you Remus?" he nodded, "You have some very good marks here, a place like Jubilante's just doesn't suit you." Remus's false look of eagerness and enthusiasm slowly drifted to one of disappointment. "I say this by no means on account of you being a werewolf," Pandora said baldly, garnering a slight start from Remus, he wasn't used to people so out-rightly discussing it, but Pandora seemed somewhat oblivious to the affect her words had just had on him, "You have unbelievable potential, have you considered being a teacher, or a writer? I'm sure my fiancé, Xenophilius Lovegood, editor of The Quibbler would be happy to publish anything from someone as intelligent as yourself."

Remus struggled very hard not to suppress a quiet snicker, The Quibbler was hardly something he would have aimed for had he been a writer. Although the idea of writing had struck a vein and he was starting to consider it; he could give advice, help people dealing with werewolf issues or even other things. He had never considered it but it seemed a good idea, no one would even have to know it was him, or that he was a werewolf, he could create an entirely different person and help people as much as he could. Remus was so consumed in his thoughts of being a writer that he hadn't noticed Pandora was still rambling on about him and his potential.

"...a Ravenclaw, am I correct?" she asked as she started braiding her white-blonde hair with flicking movements from her wand.

"Gryffindor actually." Remus replied, packing up his papers.

"Oh," Pandora said sounding vaguely disappointed, "I suppose that's good too."

"Pandora! Luna got into your bloody Diligent Plums again!" came a yell from the next room followed by Pandora's sister walking in, an infant with a wondrous look of oblivion etched on her face to match her mother's.

"Dirigible, darling," Pandora told her sister, taking her daughter in her arms, "And let her play, the early introduction will do her good. Xenophilius and I are working on introducing her to the Crumple-Horned Snorkack next week." she continued dreamily.

"Fantastic," her sister muttered.

"So, I'll go then," Remus said standing up, holding his briefcase at his side.

"Oh, thank you for dropping in, please, take a bottle of complimentary Gurdyroot Infusion, we make it ourselves." Pandora told him.

"We don't, you do." Pandora's sister said irritably.

"Oh, Clementine, do stop fussing," Pandora said dreamily patting her sister on the head.

Remus sidled out of the shop after suspiciously eyeing the bottles of murky, brown liquid and made his way into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. Passing a stand laden with Daily Prophets, he smiled to himself and carried on thinking up ways to introduce himself into the writing world and get his articles published.