The Dragon Valley Pub was an old stone tavern with a few rooms for rent on the upstairs and a quiet, cozy bar on the ground floor. In theory it served magical and muggle folk both, but the local muggles had long since been unnerved by the way the rolling green hills of the Welsh countryside- including one cluster of ridges that resembled the form of a curled-up, sleeping dragon- seemed much closer when viewed through the pub's windows from the inside than when standing just outside them. The more paranoid of the local muggles theorized about laced drinks and mind-altering substances (what else would all those strange codewords like "firewhisky" and "gillywater" and "butterbeer" refer to?) while the more disinterested folks just called it "funny." Despite its infamy among the Welsh muggles, the Dragon Valley Pub seemed to host a steady stream of regulars who weren't known to live anywhere nearby, including several who certain old and/or alcoholic locals would swear tended to appear out of thin air.
On one sweltering mid-august mid-morning in 1992, one such peculiar, and peculiarly scarred, patron of the Dragon Valley could be found nursing a strong, cold ale to celebrate the completion of his latest odd job. It had been a particularly grueling but therefore particularly profitable task involving the cohabitation of two boggarts in a family estate who had developed the terrifying habit of impersonating both fears and insecurities. Remus Lupin had finally been called in after the matriarch of the family had walked in on her husband attempting to rid himself of one boggart in the shape of a lethifold while the other boggart had taken on her own form and was providing a steady stream of unhelpful criticism, violent threats, scathing comparisons to younger and handsomer men in their social circle, and other generally dramatic theatrics that made it impossible for the patriarch to dispose of either boggart.
Long story short, both boggarts had finally been banished and Remus had been paid generously for his assistance, which meant he now found himself in possession of an entire month's rent a whole two weeks before it was due. He was therefore treating himself to a cold drink, early hour be damned, in his favorite pub, where his da had taken him the night after he'd graduated from Hogwarts.
Perhaps it was due to the sentimentality of the location that Remus reacted how he did when the fireplace to his right suddenly bloomed green and a small but intensely familiar form shot forth from its maw. The child seemed skinnier and less confident than Remus remembered, but he would know that messy black hair (even when covered in soot) and that stubborn jaw (even when still rounded with youth) anywhere. So Remus, heart in his throat, blurted out, "James?" and for one glorious moment allowed himself to believe it was really him.
But even as the boy turned towards him, Remus processed the impossibility of James' twelve-year-old (eleven? ten? He looked smaller than Remus had ever seen James) appearance in the Dragon Valley Pub eleven years after his death. If it wasn't James, then, it could only be… Lily's green eyes met Remus' own in confusion just as the logic clicked into place in Remus' mind.
"Harry!" he confirmed, possibly even more bewildered than before. What the hell was Harry Potter doing here? And where were his guardians? Wasn't he meant to be living with Petunia? Since when had she learned how to use the Floo?
"Er," Harry said, looking around at the rest of the pub's occupants timidly. "Sorry, have you seen Mr. Weasley?"
Well, that answered one question and opened up about a dozen more.
Harry brushed his sweater self-consciously, the movement sending even more ash cascading down from his hair. Remus stood up and shot a soft tergeo at Harry, smiling at his soft gasp of admiration.
"Mr. Weasley, you said?"
Harry nodded.
"I haven't seen him, no, but I do know… Arthur, isn't it?" Harry nodded again. "And his wife Molly, yes. I knew her brothers, many years ago."
Harry continued to nod politely but Remus could see he was a bit more preoccupied with the aforementioned Weasley's absence from the vicinity than some stranger's reminiscences about dead Order members.
"Was this your first time using the Floo?" Remus asked kindly.
Harry nodded.
"Let me guess, you were trying to go to Diagon Alley? I imagine it's about time to buy school supplies."
Harry nodded again.
"Well, you're not in Diagon Alley, but don't panic. I can take you there."
"Er, where am I then?" Harry asked, looking around again.
"The Dragon Valley Pub, in Wales."
Harry gulped.
"Don't worry, I won't send you through the Floo again," said Remus, letting a hint of humor into his voice. "I can side-along you, that way you can't get lost."
Harry looked at him with a face that spoke of trying his best to hide confusion. It was a purely Harry expression, too shy and too polite to have ever graced the face of James Potter. Remus grabbed onto that thought and let it ground him.
"Have you ever done side-along apparition before?"
Harry shook his head, eyes wide.
"Do you know what apparition is?"
Harry shook his head again.
"Well, I can't say it's much more comfortable than the Floo, but I can pull you along with me through space to Diagon Alley."
"What?" Harry said, shocked.
"You live with your muggle aunt, don't you?" Remus verified.
Harry nodded, though a shadow flickered across his face that Remus promised himself to follow up on later.
"You know how muggles have their science fiction stories about teleportation?"
Harry nodded again, though hesitantly.
"Well, it's a bit like that, although it involves a bit of a twisting, squeezing sensation."
Harry gulped.
"It can be a bit unpleasant, I must warn you; so if you'd rather give the Floo a go again-"
"No, that's okay," Harry interjected. "I'll try the…"
"Side-along apparition," Remus supplied.
"Side-along apparition."
"Okay then, Harry. Come with me."
Remus led Harry out of the pub and towards the back courtyard, where a set of protruding walls would provide enough of a shield from muggle eyes for one skinny wizard and one skinny boy wizard to apparate away, unseen.
As they rounded the corner, Harry piped up, "You knew my parents?" It had the cadence of a question but also the feeling of a prompt, as if that wasn't really the question Harry was asking.
Remus sighed heavily.
"You called me James," Harry reminded him, undeterred. "You know my Aunt Petunia's a muggle."
"Yes, I knew your mum and dad, Harry," Remus said wearily. "But for now, I imagine Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are going frantic trying to find you, so first things first let's get to Diagon Alley, yeah?"
Harry's face fell but he nodded.
Remus grabbed Harry's arm firmly. "Take a deep breath."
Harry obliged; Remus twisted them away.
They arrived in the small alley behind the Leaky Cauldron and Harry immediately stumbled, bent over, and panted with his palms on his knees.
Remus wrapped an arm around his shoulders and rubbed his back as they waited for the nausea to subside.
"Sorry about that," Remus murmured once he seemed to recover, tapping his wand on the bricks above the trash can.
"Still better than the Floo," Harry remarked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
The archway into Diagon Alley proper had barely finished forming before two freckly, redheaded teenagers flung themselves through, hollering excitedly and eerily in sync.
"Harry!" one of them yelled, throwing his arm around Harry's shoulder on the other side of Remus.
"You made it!" said the other one.
"Ginny was certain you'd died,"
"Or landed up in Knockturn and got eaten by a hag,"
"But we know you're made of stronger stuff than that!"
"Good luck convincing mum though."
"She's in a right state!"
"C'mon, let's go head her off,"
"Before she calls the Aurors!"
The twins (they had to be) pulled Harry along through the archway and Remus stood there, watching him walk away with a pang in his chest.
Before he could move, though, one of the redheads turned back and grabbed Remus by the arm.
"C'mon, mister," he grinned. "Mum'll want to cry over you, too, for a bit."
The other boy, leading Harry down the street, turned to Remus and flashed an identical grin. "Bet you a galleon she invites you to dinner."
"More like insists you come to dinner," his brother added.
"I don't have a galleon to spare," Remus said truthfully.
"Pity," one of the gingers said, though he didn't look as if he actually felt any.
"Neither do we," the other confessed.
Remus had no idea how to respond to that, flustered as he was by the constant back-and-forth between these kids. Luckily, a moment later, they were all distracted by a plump woman with flaming red hair, pushing her way towards them through the bustling Diagon crowds with a wild fervor.
"HARRY!" she cried.
Harry visibly gulped.
"Look who we found!" The twins chorused together.
"Oh, Harry!" The woman who could only be Molly Weasley wailed again, finally reaching him and enveloping him in a massive hug. "We were so worried about you! What happened?"
"I, er," Harry wriggled a bit in her arms. "I can't breathe," he gasped, and Molly reluctantly pulled away to grasp his shoulders and give him a concerned once-over. "He found me," Harry explained, gesturing wearily at Remus.
For the first time, Molly realized Remus' presence and looked at him pensively.
"Remus Lupin," he said, extending a hand.
Molly's face brightened. "Remus Lupin, as I live and breathe!" She grasped his hand firmly and then pulled him into a hug as well. "Gid and Fab mentioned you, back in the day. My brothers; I'm Molly."
Remus smiled awkwardly at the mention of her dead brothers, but she waved away his concerns. "I figured," Remus said, pulling away from her hug. "It's nice to meet you."
He noticed, then, that several more redheaded children had gathered around them and were peering curiously at Remus, not to mention causing quite a traffic jam right outside the entrance to Flourish and Blotts.
"I was in the Dragon Valley Pub when Harry came through the Floo," Remus hurried to explain. "Figured it was safer to just apparate him back here."
"Oh thank you, thank you," Molly gushed. "We were so worried!"
"It was no trouble," Remus assured her. "And… well, it was nice to see Harry again."
"Oh, of course, you were friends with James Potter, weren't you? And…" Molly mercifully trailed off before she could mention the rest of Remus' tragic group of friends. "Well I'm so glad Harry ran into someone he knew, poor dear; he would have been so frightened otherwise, lost in a new place with naught but strangers!"
Remus rubbed his neck awkwardly and made equally awkward eye contact with Harry.
"Er," he said.
Molly looked back and forth between them, then her eyes widened. "You haven't stayed in touch?" she concluded, correctly, though she sounded a bit lost.
"Well, no," Remus hedged.
"Well, then, you absolutely must come to dinner," Molly said, strength returning to her voice.
"Oh, that's not necessary-" Remus started.
"I insist!" Molly continued, and her voice brooked no arguments. "It's the least I can do to thank for you bringing Harry back here, and the least you owe him as one of the last living friends of his parents!"
Molly's tone was firm but not judgemental; nevertheless, Remus felt the guilt trip like a punch to the stomach. His eyes strayed to Harry, who was looking up at him with hopeful awe shining out of every inch of his face.
"I sent Hagrid some pictures," Remus protested weakly, but his heart wasn't in it. He shrank further under Molly's concerned gaze, which lingered where his wrist bones and clavicles protruded noticeably under his skin.
"I daresay you could do with a good meal! You're much too skinny!" she pronounced.
"Really, I don't-"
Molly put her hands on her hips and stared him down. "If you don't promise me now that you'll come to dinner, then I have no choice but to drag you along on all our errands today to make sure you don't escape, and I'll have you know I fully intend to wait in line for Gilderoy Lockhart's book signing this afternoon."
Remus barely held back a scoff at the mention of Gilderoy Lockhart; he had to admit, Molly's threat was a good one.
"Alright," he sighed. "I promise."
"Good," Molly said with a decisive nod of her head. "Our Floo Address is The Burrow. I'll expect you no later than seven."
She glared at him until Remus promised, again, to come over for dinner at seven, then finally hugged him again in goodbye. Remus truly couldn't remember the last time he'd been hugged so many times in a single week, let alone day.
Remus looked at Harry, who was still staring at him with something like wonder in the set of his eyebrows, and smiled shyly.
"I'll see you at dinner, then, Harry," Remus said.
Harry smiled shyly back.
That evening, Remus stepped out of The Burrow's fireplace and into a scene of cheerful chaos: a bespectacled redhead of maybe sixteen was scolding the twins for something involving his Prefect badge; a small girl around Harry's age was huddled under a table, holding a disgruntled cat firmly to her chest and staring avidly in the direction of the couch, where another freckly ginger boy appeared to be thoroughly trouncing Harry in Wizard's Chess, if the outraged squeaks of the black pieces were anything to go by; a lanky and slightly balding man who Remus assumed to be Arthur was poking his wand at what must have been the first boy's Prefect badge, which was emitting a constant stream of insults in a quite accurate impression of the boy's pompous voice; through a doorway to the right, Molly was spinning and flicking her wand about in the kitchen, greatly resembling an orchestra conductor, though her orchestra was made up of pots, knives, dishes, spoons, cutting boards, and a large medley of meats, vegetables, and starches; and all of this was accompanied by the background melody of whistles, clicks, taps, and whirrs that permeated the average elf-less magical household.
Harry was the first one to notice Remus' arrival; he looked up from the chessboard, smiled brightly and nervously, and called out, "Mr. Lupin!"
Remus didn't know what else he was expecting Harry to call him, honestly, but the natural formality of Mr. Lupin very nearly made him wince. Luckily, he was pulled out of a sudden bout of self-doubt and regret by the rest of the Weasleys pausing their various pursuits to greet him. Remus received a very firm and friendly handshake from Arthur and polite but uninterested salutations from the children, as well as a very warm greeting from Molly, who was fortunately too busy in the kitchen to come over and subject Remus to another hug. Remus did his best to remember the names of each of the kids, taking extra care to note that the boy who seemed to be closest to Harry was named Ron, and accepting the names of Fred and George with a grain of salt, given that the twins introduced themselves with poorly concealed mischief in their smiles and that the girl- Ginny, Remus learned- rolled her eyes at them when they said it.
Before Remus could attempt to figure out whatever that was, Harry was pulling politely on Remus' sleeve and leading him over to the couch.
"You knew my parents," Harry said again.
"I did," Remus confirmed.
"And you said you sent Hagrid photos for my album," Harry continued.
"I did," Remus repeated.
Harry turned to a battered side-table and lifted a large photo album onto his lap. There was a grayscale photo of Lily and James on the cover and Remus' heart leapt into his throat. It was stupid; he knew this was coming, knew Harry would want to hear about his parents, knew from the look on his face in front of Flourish and Blotts that he would want to ask Remus a million questions; but still, he found himself unprepared.
He swallowed down the pathetic urge to cry as Harry flicked the album open. Of course, the very first photo was like a slap to the face: Remus, James, Peter, and… Sirius, standing in front of the Hogwarts express the morning of their second year at Hogwarts, smiling with varying levels of ease at Mrs. Potter behind the camera. They were so young it threatened to take Remus' breath away: just twelve years old, rekindling a friendship that had tentatively formed over the course of ten months and deflated slightly throughout the slow 70's summer. They hadn't even dubbed themselves the Marauders yet; the other three hadn't realized Remus was a werewolf yet; Regulus hadn't been sorted into Slytherin yet, beginning the end of his loving brotherhood with Sirius.
"Mr. Lupin?" Harry's tentative voice broke Remus out of his reverie.
Remus jerked his head up, startled to recall there were other people around him. How strange, not to be alone this time as he mourned all of his friends who were gone.
"I'm sorry," Remus said to Harry. "I got a bit caught up in the past."
Harry, undeterred, pointed at the young Remus in the photo, face still blessedly unscarred. "That's you, isn't it?"
Remus nodded.
"Who's that?" Harry asked, pointing at the boy next to him, painfully straight black hair and painfully high cheekbones outshone by a brilliant smile full of painfully white and straight teeth. Sirius, too, looked so young and innocent that Remus longed to jump into the photo and shake him, demand to know where and when it all went wrong.
Remus tried, but he couldn't bring himself to say Sirius' name, especially not to Harry. "One of our dorm-mates," he managed to say. "The four of us were in the same year in Gryffindor."
"And him?" Harry moved his finger to point at Peter.
"Him too," Remus confirmed.
Harry opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Remus couldn't bear them.
"Harry, I'm sorry," he said before the boy could continue. "So many of my old friends died in the war; it's hard to talk about."
Harry looked at him curiously, and it took everything in Remus to meet his eyes steadily. He could see the thousand queries burning on Harry's tongue and silently begged him not to let them out.
Thankfully, Harry let the matter of that particular photo drop for the moment. Instead, he flipped a few more pages and stopped at a photo of James and Lily at their wedding. This one hurt to look at, too, but Remus rather assumed they all would.
"Were you at their wedding?" Harry asked.
"I was," Remus replied.
"When was it?"
Remus opened his mouth to answer, then stopped and shot a confused glance at the boy.
"Didn't your Aunt Petunia tell you?"
Harry's eyes widened in shock. "Was she at their wedding?" he asked, voice full of astonishment.
"Well, yes," Remus answered, carefully deciding not to mention her clear reluctance to be there and obvious disgust at basically all of the attendees, the cake, the drinks, the band, and, well everything. "She hasn't told you about their wedding?" he asked instead.
A strange flush crept over Harry's face. "She doesn't like it when I ask questions," he whispered.
Remus stared at Harry, trying to make sense of what he'd said, especially in the context of the strange way Harry's face had darkened earlier when Remus had mentioned Petunia. Before he could figure it out, though, Molly hollered at the general occupants of the Burrow to come to the table. Saved by the dinner bell, indeed.
Alas, Harry plopped himself down right next to Remus and resumed his questioning as soon as Molly had served them both enormous heaps of food.
"What were my parents like?" Harry asked, casually as you please, and the entire table went silent. Harry stared willfully at Remus, who looked around to see all of the Weasley children staring as well. After a beat, Molly cleared her throat and struck up a conversation with Percy about the courses he wanted to take for his NEWTs; Arthur followed her lead a moment later to ask the twins about someone named Oliver's plans for the quidditch captaincy, leaving just Harry and the two youngest Weasleys waiting patiently, if raptly, for Remus' response.
"They were wonderful," Remus finally responded. "I was friends with your dad first, of course, seeing as we shared a dorm. I was painfully shy but he wasn't deterred at all; he was friendly to everyone- well, everyone in our dorm, at least; he had quite a feud with several of the Slytherins-"
"Wicked," Ron commented, and Harry grinned.
"Well, now, I wouldn't condone house rivalries like that anymore," Remus hedged, wondering which of the new generation of Slytherins Harry apparently had a feud of his own with. "But as we got older and the war heated up, it really felt like we all had to take sides, you see, and some of those rivalries turned quite serious." Remus stopped and forced himself to change tack before he himself steered them into war stories of his own volition. "Anyway, your mother was best friends with a Slytherin for several years, so that just goes to show-"
"She was?" Harry interjected, seemingly more shocked by this than possibly anything else Remus had said to him so far.
"She was," he confirmed. "They grew up together, I think, so they were already friends before Hogwarts."
"What was she like?" Harry plowed on.
Remus let a fond smile stretch his cheeks. "Oh, Lily was brilliant. She was smart, and kind- to her friends, at least; but she could sling insults and hexes with the best of them if you pissed her off."
A chiding "tsk" from Molly's end of the table reminded Remus that he was regaling a bunch of eleven- and twelve- year-olds with these stories, and of Harry's parents no less; he nodded regretfully her way and internally vowed to keep the vulgarity to a minimum.
"She was a bit of a know-it-all at first, when she was young," Remus said. "It was particularly difficult to be a muggleborn in those days, and she took it upon herself to best all the purebloods at everything, just to prove them wrong."
"Wonder who that sounds like," Ron grumbled, earning a snicker from Harry. It occurred to Remus that Harry may have found a friend just like his mum, and he blinked rapidly before continuing.
"She… well, I won't say she mellowed out, exactly, but she was less of a teacher's pet when she got older," Remus mused. "As the war got on, the Wizengamot passed quite a few awful, restrictive laws, and I think that helped Lily see that rules in and of themselves weren't virtue."
Harry and Ron were nudging each other now, and Harry whispered something that sounded a lot like "norbert," but as soon as Remus faltered in his explanation Harry turned back to look at him attentively.
Remus sighed. If Harry was already up to trouble then Lily couldn't be too cross with him for encouraging some well-intentioned mischief, surely? Or at least James' approval would even it out.
"She was a prefect, did you know? Along with me; and then Head Girl along with James in seventh year. But by then she was willing to look past a certain amount of rulebreaking for the right reasons; she focused a lot of her energies on supporting the other muggleborn students and bringing her peers around on, er, other political issues."
"Wow," Harry breathed, eyes wide, food long forgotten on his plate. "And when did mum and dad get together?"
Remus let out a short bark of laughter. "Oh, James was after Lily for years, but she thought he was a bit of an arrogant toerag at first. To be honest, he was."
A delighted giggle escaped from where Ginny had buried her head in her hands.
"The problem was," Remus continued, as Harry's brows furrowed slightly, "it's not like he didn't have reason to be arrogant. Your father was clever and talented without even trying, not to mention quite the quidditch player. He was handsome, charismatic, well-liked by everyone but the Slytherins… I can't say it didn't go to his head. But he managed to deflate his ego a bit by seventh year, got serious about his studies and his career, not to mention his commitment to the war effort. I think that helped a lot, along with all the time James and Lily spent together as Head Girl and Boy. She finally agreed to go out with him at the end of first term our seventh year."
Remus smiled encouragingly at Harry, who still didn't seem to have recovered from the description of his father as an "arrogant toerag."
"Er, Mr. Lupin?" he finally said.
"Oh please, Harry, call me Remus."
Harry frowned skeptically, as if Remus had just asked to be addressed as "you there."
"Or, you can call me Moony," Remus offered. A clatter of cutlery from down the table had him raising his voice slightly. "That was your dad's nickname for me in school."
Strangely, Harry was no longer looking at Remus at all; he was squinting suspiciously at Fred and George, who were staring wide-eyed at Remus and whispering furiously to each other behind their hands.
Molly seemed to have picked up on their collective strange reactions because she glanced up from her potatoes to shoot a glare at the twins. "Fred, George," she said shortly. "You leave Mr. Lupin alone; he's our guest."
"Of course, mother," one of them vowed with over-exaggerated solemnity.
"Wouldn't dream of doing anything to Mr. Lupin," promised the other.
"In fact, I'd say we have nothing but-"
"-The utmost, deepest respect-"
"-For Mr. Lupin, also known as,"
"Moony," they finished together, their faces equal blends of accusation and triumph.
Trying to ignore the realization slowly, dismally dawning on him, Remus forced his blandest smile at the twins and then turned back to Harry.
"You had a question, Harry?" he asked, pointedly but politely.
"We've got a question!" one of the twins interrupted.
"George!" Arthur warned.
Harry, however, seemed intrigued. "Go on then," he waved at the boy who may or may not have actually been George.
"How many friends did you and James Potter have?"
Remus contemplated his answer for several seconds. "James Potter was very popular. He had many friends. I was close with several of them as well."
"But how many really close friends?" possibly-Fred wheedled.
"There were four of you in the dormitory, right?" Harry asked innocently.
Remus looked away as twin crows of delight issued from the direction of Fred and George. He really, really did not want to talk about the Marauders, because inevitably then Harry would ask about...
"Did you have a nickname for James Potter, too?"
It took a not insignificant effort not to hide his head in his hands. "Prongs," he admitted reluctantly.
"Prongs!" the twins yelled together.
"Fred! George!" Arthur admonished. "That's enough."
Remus shot him a grateful, if watery, smile.
"We weren't doing anything!" One of the twins protested.
"Just asking questions, I swear!" The other added petulantly.
"In fact, I solemnly swear-"
"So, Arthur," Remus said loudly, turning to Mr. Weasley. "Are you still working at the ministry?"
"Oh yes," he nodded, eager to give Remus an out from the twins' teasing, even if he didn't understand what they were teasing him about. "I've been at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office for almost a decade now."
"Really?" said Remus politely. "I think I worked with your office on a project a few years ago. Do you remember a grandfather clock with a boggart in it that had been enchanted to open only to muggles?"
"You know," Arthur said pensively, "I think I do remember that. But I only heard about it secondhand from Perkins, my colleague. Were you involved?"
"I was called in to dispose of the boggart before I realized it was targeted at muggles."
"Were you really?"
Remus nodded. "I'm in the magical pest removal business, you could say. Boggarts, doxies, nifflers, ghouls, that sort of thing. Just last month I was called in on a Blood-Sucking Bugbear."
"Ghouls, really?" Arthur frowned. "We've got a ghoul in the attic but he's mostly harmless; I can't imagine it's worth the effort of extraction."
"Easy for you to say he's harmless," Ron grumbled. "He's not banging on the pipes all night right above your bedroom, is he?"
"What else does he do?" Remus asked curiously.
Both Arthur and Ron looked blankly back at him.
"That's about it, really," Ron shrugged. "I reckon Fred and George have been trying to teach him to talk, though."
"He's never tried to attack anyone?" Remus probed, looking quizzically at each Weasley in turn. All of them shook their heads back at him. "And how long has he been living here?"
Arthur puffed out a breath. "Must be close to twenty years now, wouldn't you say, Molly?"
"He showed up when Bill was still in nappies," Molly confirmed.
"Wow," Remus said. "A truly domesticated ghoul… they're quite rare, these days."
Arthur's face brightened. ""Would you like to see him?"
"I'd love to," Remus agreed, though more out of the itching anxiety to be out of the presence of the probable new owners of the Marauder's Map than a true interest in the ghoul of the Burrow.
"Come on then," Arthur declared, jumping up from his seat.
"Not now, Arthur," Molly scolded him. "Can't it wait until after dinner? Poor Remus clearly needs to eat more-"
"Oh, the food was excellent, Molly, but I'm stuffed full," Remus said. "I really couldn't eat another bite."
"Well you better find room, young man, because I've got dessert on the way!"
"Maybe the walk upstairs will find him some room, dear," Arthur joked.
Molly scowled but waved her hand at them. "Oh, go on, you," she grumbled.
Arthur eagerly ushered Remus from the dining room and up five uneven, zigzagging flights of stairs. Their trek finally ended on a small landing facing the only door, labelled "Ronald's room" with a small plaque.
"The trapdoor to the attic is through Ron's ceiling," Arthur explained, opening the door.
Remus' senses were assaulted by orange before he even stepped all the way into the room. Bedspread, walls, ceiling; almost every surface of the small bedroom was Chudley Cannons themed. The only patches of non-orange were the faded wood floor, a dark-colored dresser along one side of the wall, and the peeling, off-white paint of the lone windowsill, on which rested a fish tank full of what appeared to be frog spawn next to a fat, dozing rat.
Remus stared at the rat in shock, then held his eyes shut until the spots of inverted-orange-blue faded from his irises, and opened them again. The rat was still there and still remarkably familiar.
Arthur was pulling a ladder down from a trapdoor in the ceiling but Remus paid him no mind. He walked over to the window feeling as if he was in some strange dream and picked up the rat. It opened its eyes at the movement and Remus had one searing moment of certainty, staring into Wormtail's face, before the rat sank his teeth deep into Remus' thumb.
Remus, momentarily stunned, could only stand there and watch as Wormtail dropped from his hands and hit the floor running. Then,
"What the hell!" he yelled, and fled out of the room in hot pursuit.
"Remus?" Arthur's confused voice floated out of Ron's doorway.
"Wormtail!" Remus yelled, pounding down the stairs and fumbling for his wand. "Wormtail, what the hell!"
Two identical faces appeared in the small space between overlapping flights of stairs below him.
"Do mine ears deceive me?" called one of the twins.
"Or did I hear talk of the famed Mr. Wormtail?" finished his brother.
"The rat, catch him!" Remus panted, having almost lost sight of Wormtail down the next flight of stairs.
"Scabbers?" One of the twins said dubiously.
"Catch the rat!" Remus moaned.
"Anything for you, Moony," said the other twin, though with equal dubiousness.
Remus slowed to a halt on the next landing, thighs and lungs burning, overfull stomach churning, and desperately tried to quiet his breathing enough to listen to the sounds of a scuffle below. There was much pounding of feet, several exclamations of "Scabbers?" two heavy thuds, and then, finally, twin shouts of victory. Remus allowed the bubble of hope that had appeared out of nothingness in the hollows of his chest to reinflate and walked down the last two flights of steps to the ground floor as calmly as he could.
Heart pounding from a combination of exertion and elation, Remus made his way past the kitchen to the living room and to the frantically squeaking box in possibly-Fred's arms. He peered inside one more time, just to check that the rat was really Wormtail. None of it made any sense, not the bite and flight, nor his existence at all, nor why he had let everyone believe he was dead all this time, but Remus was willing to forgive a whole lot of stupidity just to have one of his friends back in his life.
Reverently, he lifted the box with one arm and laid it on the floor. The sides of the box were moderately high but the rat was doing his level best to jump out of it anyway. Before he could flee again, Remus cast the spell to turn him back and there, hunched and whimpering slightly, but very much alive, was Peter Pettigrew.
All manner of shouts and gasps rang out from the various Weasleys in the vicinity but Remus paid them no mind. He only had eyes for his old friend. Peter was much older and heavier than Remus had last seen him, and had obviously been a rat for several years; his noise had grown pointier and more rat-like and when he spoke his voice was noticeably squeakier than it used to be.
"Remus!"
"What the hell, Wormtail!"
"I didn't mean to bite you!" Peter rasped, as if he hadn't used his vocal cords in a very long time. "You just surprised me!"
"I don't give a damn about the bite, Peter!" Remus shouted. He hadn't meant to raise his voice, but his blood was still rushing furiously through his veins, saturated with a heady stream of adrenaline, and, now that he thought about it, he was, indeed, quite angry. "I thought you were dead! Your mum thought you were dead! I thought Si- I thought S- thought Padfoot had killed you!"
"He tried to kill me, Remus!" Peter insisted, eyes darting nervously around the room. "I only barely got away- he blew up the whole street-"
"He's been locked up for a decade," Remus moaned, finding that the fight had suddenly left him. "Why didn't you come find me? How could you leave m-" He swallowed thickly and willed his voice not to break again. "How could you let me think you were dead? I was alone all this time, and you've been here-"
"Oh, Moony," Peter whispered, brow furrowed. "I'm sorry." He held open his arms and walked forward slowly. Remus let himself sink, sobbing, into his old friend's embrace, clinging tightly to the worn robes on his back with one hand, the other smushed at his side by Peter's arm.
For a moment, all Remus felt was relief: blessed, blissful relief. None of this made any sense, but there would be time for that later. Peter had never been the bravest of them; Remus could forgive him his horrible nonsensical urge to hide away from everyone in the wake of Sirius' heartrending betrayal.
Then Peter's arm dropped down his side and snatched Remus' wand from his hand.
Peter pulled away but Remus still had a handful of his robes and, even as his brain struggled to catch up, his fingers held on like his life depended on it. Suddenly they were full, not of robes, but of rat scruff, and still Remus held on. Wormtail squirmed and squeaked and bit at Remus' wrist but still Remus held on. He stared at the frantic rat in his hands, at his old friend who had pretended to be dead, had hidden in a wizarding home for eleven years and let his loved ones mourn him, had run away from Remus and then stolen his wand…
By the time Wormtail had tired of biting Remus' wrists and turned back into Peter, Remus was wondering what other false truths Peter had let him believe.
"Peter-" he started, but Peter was already turning on his heel. Remus dug his fingers harder into Peter's robes and braced himself for a very bumpy side-along apparition, but nothing happened. "Peter!" Remus yelled. Peter squeaked and turned again, but all he accomplished was dragging Remus around to face their astonished onlookers.
"You can't disapparate inside the Burrow," Arthur offered, his voice faint and confused. "Dumbledore had us put up wards when we told him Harry was here."
Peter, who had frozen still at the mention of Dumbledore, went ashen at the mention of Harry. Remus watched his eyes find the boy, watched his painful resemblance to James hit Peter like a train just as it had Remus, and then watched… guilt? flash across Peter's face.
But he had more important things to focus on because Peter still had Remus' wand; he lunged for it a split second before Peter realized what he was about to do; Peter raised the wand but Remus snatched it out of his hand before he could complete a spell that sounded a whole lot like stupefy.
Even if his brain didn't want to believe it, Remus' instincts knew he was under attack; he whirled his wand around and stunned Peter nonverbally before he'd even made a conscious decision to do so.
Peter's body seemed to fall for ages before it hit the ground, long enough for Remus to finally process the events of the last- what? Two minutes? Five? It had been remarkably short for what Remus was beginning to suspect was a monumental confrontation.
The unconscious form of Peter finally landed with a loud thud on the Weasleys' living room floor. Remus stood and stared down at him, begging it all to just make sense.
Ron's disgusted voice finally broke the strained silence. "Scabbers was an animagus?!"
"Scabbers was Wormtail?" The twins added.
Remus couldn't bring himself to answer questions when he still had so many of his own. But his stunner wouldn't last forever and he desperately longed for someone else to take charge.
"We should probably call Dumbledore," he choked out.
"Of course," Arthur said, hurrying towards the fireplace.
Remus sank down wearily onto the nearest sofa to keep an eye on Wormtail and wait for the headmaster. He turned his face away from Harry and furiously wiped what had been tears of joy off of his cheeks.