Remus held his breath as someone rushed past him. That was never a good sign. People didn't rush in Knockturn Alley. They strode, they snuck, they even slithered sometimes but they never ever rushed. Rushing meant you were afraid which meant you were weak and weaknesses were wholeheartedly exploited in this street. And never for anything good.
There was a shout ahead and the sound of breaking class. Remus decided to take a quick detour to avoid whatever mess was inevitably up ahead. He pushed the hood of his cloak back a little, just enough to expose the scars. Scars spoke a lot more than words or actions in Knockturn Alley. It meant you'd got into trouble and won. Or, at the very least, survived which was the same thing as winning sometimes. Scars got you begrudging respect. Most of the time. Some people took them as a challenge but as long as you knew how to read the people who frequented here you were mostly okay.
And yes, Remus was very much aware that he used an awful lot of uncertain language there but that was Knockturn Alley for you. Nothing was guaranteed.
A suspicious group of badly scarred people (and who wasn't suspicious looking down here?) eyed him curiously. Not bothering to look at them, Remus strode past- trying not to show that he was holding his breath.
He had to loosen up some, make sure that he looked like he belonged. Because if you didn't belong in here you were in trouble. And trouble normally meant an injury of some sort. Or even a cursing if you were particularly unlucky. Remus didn't want either - he'd had quite enough of both, thank you very much.
Remus growled as someone got too close for comfort. They scuttled away with a satisfying squeak. Sometimes it being close to the full moon was good. He felt braver. Bolder. More confident. The people in here (and that was a term he used loosely) could definitely sense that there wasn't something quite human about him. And, like most witches and wizards, they didn't like it. Also, unlike most witches and wizards, they acted on their instinct when it came to creatures lurking beneath the surface of someone's face. Which meant they stayed away. Which was fine by him. The less people interacted with him, the better. He just wanted to get in, do his task and get out. Nothing more, nothing less.
Of course, his task meant that he had to go even further down the Alley. Nothing of note happened near the entrance except those shady deals that Mundungus liked to do. That was tame stuff compared to what he was looking for.
Careful to not step in an odd coloured puddle (that thankfully didn't smell like blood), Remus wound his way past makeshift stalls and boarded up buildings. Anywhere else, boarded up building would mean they were abandoned but there was plenty of noise coming from these ones. Just nothing pleasant sounding. So definitely not abandoned.
"Arghhhh!"
That was a cry of pain. Something that didn't garner much, if any, attention. It was normal. Nothing you wanted to be involved in unless you also wanted to be crying out in pain.
Resisting the urge to go help as another cry came from the building, Remus moved swiftly on. He was running out of time and he needed to get into position.
Thankfully, the place where he needed to be wasn't far from here, if Mundungus' and Hagrid's maps were correct. It was just buried deep in some twisting alleyways and he had to make sure he went down the right one. There were plenty of people and things in here that he'd rather not meet in a dead-end alley. And there it was!
He took in the front of the "pub", taking note of the peeling paint and the general grime that coated it. Remus couldn't even tell what colours the walls were meant to be through it. Grey, maybe? The windows were crooked, like someone hadn't been focusing properly on the repair spell and there was a nasty smell that was hanging about it. Nastier than the general smell of decomposing rubbish and bodily fluids (that didn't bear much thinking about).
Really wishing he had some Vicks or something to smear under his nose, Remus took a deep breath and reached for the door handle.
Almost immediately he jumped back as something burst out of it with an almighty 'CRASH'. A writhing mixture of limbs and snapping teeth was rolling about on the ground just in front of him.
Great. Just great.
Did he get involved? Show off some power and impress them? Or just skulk away like he didn't care?
Two more men with more scars than clear skin suddenly jumped on top of the rolling mess of limbs and dust. Screams and shouts tore through the air as it looked like they were all trying to rip lips off each other.
Deciding that he really wasn't needed, Remus edged around them and went into the pub.
Despite the natural gloom of Knockturn Alley, his eyes still had to adjust to the darkness in here. Between the boarded-up windows and absolutely no lights except from whatever was behind the bar, it was extremely dark in here.
"What will you have?" the man behind the counter croaked.
"Firewhiskey."
Probably the only safe thing to drink in this place. Not that he was going to be drinking it but he couldn't sit here with nothing in front of him. Another way to draw attention to himself that was easily avoided. Technically, he could ask for water but it was a suspect colour from what he saw come out of the taps.
The man grunted in acknowledgement and pulled out a dusty bottle and an unusually sparkling glass. Huh. Interesting.
He knew better than to even discreetly check his watch but Remus knew he was early. That was the point, so he could settle himself and, again, not draw attention to himself. Blend into the background. That was something he was good at.
He fished out the flask he had in his pocket and set it on the table. Not an unusual thing in here, people liked to add their own - often illegal or bordering that - ingredients to their drinks. He wasn't adding it to his drink, however. Nope. A muttered switching spell, he never got the hang of silent transfiguration, and his drink was now water. Now he could drink and keep his wits about him but not look odd.
His lips burned as they took a sip. The switch spell must have only worked for the main body of liquid, not any that was splashed on the rim. Well, he'd never claimed to be perfect at Transfiguration. That was James and Siri-
Nope. Not going there. Definitely not going there. Never. He needed his wits about him and going there was not going to keep his wits about him. That would distract him and make him want to drink the firewhiskey that was now buried in his pocket. Just like if he thought of her- No!
Serio- honestly, what was with him today? He had a job to do and here he was a complete mess.
The door creaked open, breaking him out of his thoughts. He recognised the face. Resisting the urge to automatically straighten up, Remus distracted himself by taking another sip and keeping his eyes trained to the table.
He could just about make out the figure walk across to the bar. Perfect.
