Remus sighed as he watched people walk past his window. This Pack wasn't exactly sociable to outsiders, of which he was definitely one. They weren't sociable full stop. Even with each other. Though they did help, sorted out what jobs needed doing and did them. It was mainly the few children that were here he saw running about in groups and chattering loudly. Ah, the innocence of youth. Something even a curse couldn't strip from them.
"I got you! I got you!"
"You didn't!"
"I did!"
"Nuh uh!"
A chuckle escaped him as he shook his head. Yep, children were children. Especially when it came to who won or lost a game. They were getting quite loud and combative about it. Maybe he should step in...
Remus stood up and made for the door. Then he stopped, someone was approaching them. It was one of the older adults, Andrew Remus thought his name was. He grabbed the arguing girl and boy, separating them and giving them a good shake and a cuff around the head for good measure. Once released, the children pulled faces at each other and ran in opposite directions. Andrew rolled his eyes and gave Remus a look. He froze, he hadn't realised that the man had seen him. Andrew held his gaze for a few moments, trying to size him up. Remus, after a moment's hesitation, nodded at him. Another pause then, slowly, Andrew nodded back and shuffled away.
Remus released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Phew. Good thing he didn't interfere with the children. Andrew was the type to take action and ask questions later. If he had thought Remus was harming the children, the cubs, well - he shuddered. No. That wouldn't have ended well.
Remus watched the man head to his own dilapidated shack, limping. He had scratched his own leg raw during the last full moon. The injury wasn't healing right. They never did. Remus sighed and walked back inside, closing the door firmly. No point in over-thinking anything. He really didn't think that he'd be here for long, he doubted that any of this Pack could be persuaded to any side. They liked being on the fringes of society. Well, liked was probably too strong a word. Comfortable. They were comfortable being on the fringes of society. They made it work, they were very independent. They didn't need anything else, except maybe better access to jobs. But didn't they all. That wasn't something he had any control over so he had nothing to offer them. Not that he thought they'd trust anything he'd offer; they were an extremely suspicious lot. Almost to the point of debilitating themselves.
Remus couldn't bring himself to blame them. What good had the world done for them? Nothing. Anything that had helped had been directly related to the hard work they'd done themselves. They knew what side their bread was buttered on and it wasn't theirs.
Envy wasn't an attractive trait but he couldn't help it. Although they weren't happy with their lot at least they had found something in themselves that he'd always wanted. Acceptance. They accepted what they were and got on with it. Something he still hadn't managed to do.
He shook his head, trying to free himself of those thoughts. They were never any good. Self-destructive and he didn't need that right now. Albus was depending on him to get a job done and he would not fail at that.
Right. He sat himself back in his wobbly chair, he had a report to sort out and a few newspapers to read. Most were out of date and he'd read them, bar the most recent, but there was a serious lack of reading material around here and they were better than nothing. They were also good for starting fires when it came down to it. Which to do first? Procrastination wasn't usually his thing but there was so little, at present, to put into the report that maybe bed be better waiting a few more days for it. That newspaper on too was actually on from a few days ago too...
Newspaper it was. Remus grabbed it from his neat stack, which was getting tall again - he tried to get the Muggle papers as well, and unfolded it. It was the wrong way around. Flipping it up, he almost dropped it to the floor when he caught the headline.
'Student Cursed at Hogsmeade Weekend - Innocence Thrown Away"
What in earth?
"Please let it be the Daily Prophet being dramatic and not sticking to the facts. Please," he prayed to himself, quickly scanning the headlining article. His blood ran colder with every word, his stomach churning as he took in the details. Yes, he was taking each word with a grain of salt but even at that it painted a grim picture. A girl in her last year of school had been cursed. In the Three Broomsticks no less. Apparently, it had caused awful screeching and pain. Thankfully, there was no picture to prove it. Remus didn't think he'd be able to cope with seeing one of his ex-students basically being tortured. He didn't know how Minerva managed it, especially since - he reread the sentence - the girl was apparently a Gryffindor student. A bright girl, meant to get top grades in her NEWTs. 'What was going to happen to her now?' the article demanded of the reader.
A sinking feeling hit his stomach. A very familiar feeling. It was starting again. The 'accidents', the threats, the assassinations, the mistrust in the streets. In a full circle. Remus should know. He'd lived through it. Seen the black envelopes be delivered to students at breakfasts and students not coming back after holidays - whole families being wiped out in a single night.
How long until it reached that point again? It will happen, the wheels were already in motion. Emmeline Vance, dead. Amelia Bones, dead. Murdered fighting for what they believed in. For being on the wrong side. For being a threat. Dementors and Merlin knows how many other dark creatures being recruited, a feeling of hopelessness in the air.
He ran a hand over his face. They didn't even have a competent Minister backing them this time, far too obsessed with making themselves look good from what he gathered from the scraps of information Albus gave him.
Why hadn't they learned from past mistakes? Why were the same thing being repeated again? The last War hadn't left the public's conscious already, had it? It hadn't even been twenty years yet. Everyone knew the cost of doing nothing.
Remus sighed heavily and let the offending newspaper drop to the floor. He couldn't really blame them, the whole of Wizarding Britain had made a collective, monumental effort to push the War behind them. It's how idiots like Fudge had gotten into power; promising good times. Safer times. People still wanted to cling to that, as deluded as that may be. They didn't want to live through all those horrors again.
Resolutely, Remus reached for his quill. He'd get that report done after all. It may not stop this War in its tracks but maybe it would slow some of the horror down. He was going to do his bit.
