Remus's official job for the Order was to convince the European werewolf community to support Dumbledore, but he found it frankly boring and anyway, werewolves only met once a month. The rest of his time Remus spent in a far more pleasant fashion: He was a portrait painter based in Æturn Alley. The job suited him perfectly for several reasons, the main one being the anti-werewolf legislation passed by Dolorous Umbitch two years ago, which essentially prevented anyone in Britain from employing Remus ever. Æturn Alley also suited Remus's purposes; it was almost as crowded as Diagon Alley but without its strict supervision, and the clientele was much more polite than in Knockturn Alley. So Remus set up his canvas and caused horsehair bristles to sprout from the end of his wand, and by getting to know his customers, he learned scads of interesting things, some of which even turned out to be useful. That was how, on a shining summer day about a week after Sirius's memorial service, Remus came to be sitting before a blank canvas with Clyde Bickford on a stool in front of him.
"And where are you from, Mr. Bickford?" Remus inquired.
"Right here in London. My shop's in the next street. Ever been there?"
"I don't believe so," Remus said, studying the man's face, which appeared to be composed entirely of wrinkles. There was an astonishing amount of hair sprouting from his nostrils. "What do you sell?"
"Axes," Clyde said, shifting slightly on the stool. "Me dad made axes, and his dad before him, 's far back as anyone can remember. Business been falling off lately, though. Can't imagine why. Don't anyone need axes no more?"
"I really couldn't say," Remus murmured, now studying the blank canvas.
"Say –" Clyde smiled, revealing a line of small rotten teeth. "You wouldn't happen to need an axe, would you? Sharp enough to crack a troll's skull."
"Not at the moment," Remus said, "but if I ever do, I'll be sure to come straight to you. What's your shop called again?"
"Bickford's Fine Axes, eighty-seven Knockturn Alley," Clyde said. "If I had my choice I'd be right here in Æturn, but rents being what they are, I can't afford nothing better than that grubby little place in Knockturn, and well, you know what it's like there."
"Yes, I do," Remus said. He had once been forced to spend a week there, during which he had slept a total of eight hours.
"I hate living in this here city," the old man said, scooting the stool up a bit and reflexively tugging at his nose hairs. "Had to move here when me wife died, I couldn't keep up the house and my kids, they're the most ungrateful little brats. One's a Healer up at St. M's, one's a security guard at the Ministry and one's married to a Quidditch player. You'd think one of 'em could take their old dad in, or at least come help me de-gnome the garden every so often, I bought them their wands and robes and three new cauldrons every year, they blew up so many, but they didn't lift a finger, I had to sell the house and all the furniture, every stick, and not one o' them ever sends me so much as an owl on my birthday."
"That's terrible," Remus said. "Where do you live now?"
"I rent the attic just over my shop," Clyde said. "It's the awfulest place you ever saw, just so full of creatures I can't hardly sleep at night. There's a nest o' doxies under my armchair, a boggart under the sink and somethin' that clicks in the bathroom, I don't know what. The only creature 'sides me that's supposed to be there's my pet rat –"
"Pet rat?" Remus said. "How long have you had it?"
"Few weeks, maybe. Picked it up in the shop, it was crawling 'round on the floor looking for food so I brought it upstairs to maybe eat some of those creatures, but so far it don't eat nothing but toast crumbs and tea. Spoiled, if you ask me."
"What kind of shape is it in?"
"Bit beat up, looks kind of scraggly – why d'you ask?" Clyde looked at him suspiciously.
"Well – you see, my son's starting at Hogwarts this fall, and I was thinking about getting him an animal," Remus said. "I can't afford an owl or a cat, but I might be willing to take the rat. You say it's scraggly?"
"I think it had a bit of a hard time 'fore it got to me, but it's a tough one," Clyde said. "I've been trainin' it in my spare time and I've nearly got it so it comes when I call. Would you be interested in seein' it?"
"I sure would," Remus said.
"And bring your boy along too."
"It's meant to be a surprise," Remus said quickly.
The old man grinned, again showing his decayed teeth.
Remus finished the portrait in a state of high excitement. Until he actually saw the rat, there was no way of knowing whether it was Peter or not, which did not prevent Remus from imagining the look on Peter's face when he forced him to show himself, back at number twelve. After much haggling, Remus agreed to bring the portrait to eighty-seven Knockturn at four o'clock, at which time Clyde would pay him and Remus would be able to examine the rat. The thought of bringing Peter home in a cage got Remus through the rest of the day, and at the appointed time Remus arrived at Bickford's Fine Axes with the portrait of Clyde under his arm.
Remus pushed open the door with his free hand and entered; a rusty bell rang somewhere and Clyde appeared in the gloom to direct him up a set of warped stairs to the attic.
It was quite as bad as Remus had imagined. The main features of the single room were a ratty green chair with stuffing coming out all over, a lumpy mattress in one corner, and a wobbly table with matching chairs. On top of the table was the rat, which even from a distance was unmistakably not Peter. Remus feigned interest in it anyway, inspecting it while Clyde counted out the cash, and he almost bought it just because he felt sorry for the old man. Instead he offered to banish the boggart, and Clyde accepted the offer with embarrassing haste. Remus wished, as he left, that he had bought the rat, if only because the denizens of Knockturn Alley were less likely to steal it than a sackful of coins.
That was Remus's first rat, but not his last. He set up live traps all over London and checked them daily; he routinely visited all seven magical creature shops; he stared obsessively into gutters and shadowy corners. He even placed an ad in the Prophet asking for the return of his rat Binky, who was missing a toe, until he remembered that Wormtail was no longer missing a toe. But his surveillance was in vain until Hagrid's massive head appeared in the fireplace at number twelve. Less than two weeks previously, in a rare confidential mood induced by firewhisky, Remus had revealed his design for Peter's capture to Hagrid, which he had severely regretted doing until Hagrid informed him that he had caught a rat skulking around the Whomping Willow the day before. Remus made immediate arrangements to meet Hagrid for tea at his cabin, rationalizing that the chance to snare Peter was worth whatever might result from an encounter with Hagrid's cooking.
Remus Apparated into Hogsmeade on yet another glorious day and walked up to Hagrid's. The man himself was sitting outside his hut, knitting an immense hairy sock; he leaped to his feet as Remus approached.
"C'mon in, Remus, good t' see yeh," he said, flinging open the door. "Sit down, tea's nearly ready."
Remus took the smaller of the two chairs, trying to dodge Fang's slavering greeting as Hagrid hunched over the stove making clattering noises.
"How're things here, Hagrid?" called Remus over the noise, absently scratching Fang in a way that made the hound whimper with delight.
"Pretty quiet," Hagrid yelled back. "What with the students gone an' all."
Before Remus could think of a suitably snappy reply, the noise ceased and Hagrid came over to the table with a vat of tea and a roasting pan full of unidentifiable lumps.
"You're keeping busy, then?" Remus said, staring at the lumps as Hagrid poured tea.
"O' course, there's always somethin' needs done around here," Hagrid said. "Gotta weed the garden, keep the grounds trimmed, patch up the school brooms, knit Olympe a pair o' socks – ar…" Hagrid went furiously red. "Went down to the forest t' other day," he said abruptly.
Remus made a polite, inquiring noise, idly picturing Olympe Maxime wearing brown hairy socks under her sleek robes.
"There's werewolves in there, y'know."
Remus scowled at Hagrid, wondering if the man expected him to get excited over the mention of his species.
"I met one, in fact," Hagrid pursued. "Bout your age. Nice brown hair. I mentioned you to her and she was real excited. She said you were famous." Hagrid looked at Remus for confirmation.
"I am something of a celebrity in the werewolf world, it's true," Remus said shortly.
"Tha's wonderful," said Hagrid, beaming. "Why – er, I mean what –"
"Oh, nothing splashy like Harry," said Remus. "It's just that I was the first werewolf ever to be both student and professor at Hogwarts."
"Tha's wonderful. Yeh know, this lady, Alice her name was, she seemed quite keen t' meet yeh –"
Remus groaned. "Why does everyone insist on trying to set me up against my will?"
"But – but everyone needs a woman," Hagrid said uncertainly.
"In my case, a werewolf," Remus said. "Right?"
"Well, o' course, yeh'd be happier that way," Hagrid said. "It's nothin' t' be ashamed of."
"That's funny," Remus said. "Because the world's been telling me the exact opposite all my life."
"Ar, you're a good man, Remus," said Hagrid. "Don't ever let nobody tell you different." Remus was about to prove Hagrid wrong when he continued, "Say, who's been settin' yeh up anyway?"
"Minerva," said Remus. "She met one at the Hog's Head a week ago and told her I'd like to meet her, not that she bothered to ask me."
"What was she doin' there?" Hagrid said. "Minerva, I mean. Not on business, was she?"
"How should I know?" Remus said moodily. "I haven't the slightest idea what she does for the Order, other than step in front of Stunning Spells."
"An' she did that for me," Hagrid said. "Great woman, Minerva."
Remus made an indistinct noise into his mug.
"An' I kissed her once," Hagrid added, grinning.
"Hagrid!" Remus almost dropped his mug. "You do know she's married?"
"Jus' on the cheek," Hagrid said. "I was drunk."
"I'll bet you were," Remus muttered, wondering how much Minerva had had to drink. The corner of his mind that still thought of her as his Transfiguration teacher was thoroughly revolted.
"So who else's been settin' yeh up?" said Hagrid.
"Bill Weasley," said Remus. "He met one God knows where and gave her my address, so she sent me a letter, it must have been two or three feet of parchment. She'd had a crush on me for years, so naturally I couldn't go out with her."
"Why not?" Hagrid said.
"She thought I'd found out how to fly without a broom," Remus said. "It was a bit much to live up to."
"Oh," Hagrid said. "Now Bill Weasley, I've heard –"
"Yes, he's with Fleur Delacour," said Remus. "I don't think his mother quite approves."
"You mean tha' pretty little girl who was Beauxbatons champion?" Hagrid said. "What don't Molly like about 'er?"
"Well, I suppose it's because she's part veela," Remus said. "I hear she had most of the male population of Hogwarts following her around."
"Harry told you that, did 'e?"
"Albus, actually," Remus said. "He seemed to think it was funny."
"Course, he's too old to be affected," Hagrid said. "Now, when he was teachin' Transfiguration –"
"Please, Hagrid," said Remus. "I don't want to choke on my tea."
"Say, why haven' yeh had a scone?" Hagrid said.
Remus attempted to take one, but it was stuck to the side of the pan.
"No matter, jes' break it off," Hagrid said heartily. "More tea?"
"No thanks. Hagrid, if you don't mind, I'd like to see the rat now, please," Remus said.
"O' course," Hagrid said, bumbling to his feet. "Now where'd I – arright, here we go."
Hagrid banged a cage onto the table, which contained a rat with one light-colored paw, and Remus's heart made a horrible leap.
"I'll have to have him out of the cage," Remus said, "so I can perform the spell on him."
Hagrid unlocked the door of the cage and as soon as the rat
was loose, Remus shot the spell at it.
Nothing happened.
"Try again," Remus said to himself, pulling the rat back by its scabby tail. He performed the spell two more times, the only result being that the rat's fur began to smolder.
"Guess it's not Peter," said Hagrid sadly, picking up the rat and carrying it over to the sink.
"But it looked so much like him," Remus said over the running water and the squealing rat.
"There y'are, little feller," Hagrid said to the dripping rat, returning it to its cage.
Remus inspected the rat more closely. "I guess it can't be Peter," he said. "His right hand is the silver one and this rat's left paw is the lighter one."
"Sorry 'bout that, Remus," said Hagrid as they shook hands.
"No, it's not your fault, and I appreciate your help."
"Well, least this way I've got somethin' to feed the hippogriffs," Hagrid said, brightening.
Altogether it had been a disappointing afternoon for Remus. Still, he continued his search unabated, and his optimism was rewarded when Molly Weasley dropped by number twelve, less than a week later.
"Hello, Molly," he said, raising his glass to her as she stepped out of the fireplace, shaking ash from herself. "I haven't seen you in so long, I'd almost forgotten how gorgeous you are."
"Remus, are you drinking?" Molly demanded, advancing on him.
"No," he said, "I'm not. I just poured the last of the firewhisky in this glass to admire its jewel-like color."
"I only bought that bottle of firewhisky three days ago," Molly said. "Do you mean to tell me that's all there is left?"
"I'm not the only one that stays in this confounded place," Remus said.
"No, but you're the only one that never leaves," Molly snapped.
"Now that is absolutely not true," Remus said in injured tones. "Normally by now I would be out painting portraits, but as you are no doubt aware, it's raining today."
"And that gives you license to stay in this disgusting place and drink yourself cross-eyed at ten in the morning, does it?"
Too late Remus realized that Molly was working herself into a dangerous temper. "Now, Molly –"
"Get up," she snapped.
"What?"
"Get up. We're going to the Burrow, and you're going to have something decent to eat and tell me why you haven't got anything better to do than drink up that expensive firewhisky."
"But Molly, I haven't even got my robes on."
"At ten in the morning? Remus Lupin, you are a lazy bum."
"It's burning up in here," Remus muttered, but he went and got his robes on anyway.
"Now get in the fire," Molly said when he returned.
Remus, already feeling snappish, complied. He staggered out of the fireplace in the Burrow, followed shortly by Molly, who began making tea at once.
"Sit," she said to Remus, and he did. She banged a plate of apple fritters onto the table and took the chair across from him.
"What exactly is your problem?" she said.
Wisely, Remus had filled his mouth with apple fritter and was incapable of answering.
"When you were teaching at Hogwarts, I heard nothing but good things about you," she began. "You were the first Defense professor in ten years who could have gotten rid of a dementor. You actually taught those students things they needed to know after the test. You made them enjoy going to class, and I know how often that happens. You taught Harry how to save your best friend's life. What would Harry say if he saw you now? What is wrong with you?"
"Shut up, for the love of Merlin, and I'll tell you," Remus snapped. "Being at Hogwarts meant that I had an actual job and an actual purpose for the first time in my life, and it almost made me forget I wasn't human. Now I'll never be able to do any work that matters, thanks to the Umbitch woman. There's only one thing I care about and that's getting Peter, and God knows, I can't even do that."
"Does that mean you don't care about Harry?"
"Of course I do," Remus said. "But really, what good am I to him? He's already better than I'll ever be."
"That's ridiculous," Molly said. "I know you're a good person."
"That's exactly what Hagrid told me," Remus said. "Can't you people admit what I really am? You just got done telling me I'm a spineless, gutless, lazy coward. How come you can say it and I can't?"
"That's not what I meant," Molly snapped. "At least try to understand. I know you're a good person, and that's why it bothers me so much to see you acting like this."
"Oh, what would you know about it? You don't know what I'm thinking. You never saw me at Hogwarts –"
"People change," Molly said.
"I haven't," Remus said.
"The Hat put you in Gryffindor."
"Yes," Remus said, "and look what a credit I am to my house. Molly, I can't even stand up to my own friends."
"I can't believe you're blaming yourself for that," Molly said. "You couldn't have done anything to keep Sirius from going to the Department of Mysteries –"
"Oh, I don't care about that," Remus said. "The thing is, he wants me to keep Peter alive but I want to kill him, and I don't even have the courage to say so."
"I won't let you," Molly said.
"What?"
"Kill Peter," said Molly. "You might be killed, and I don't – I can't stand any more deaths." Molly began to cry and Remus thought oh God, not again. Reluctantly he got up and rounded the table so Molly could cry on his shoulder more conveniently.
"You don't understand, I have to kill him," Remus said, patting her on the back. "Otherwise I haven't got any reason to live."
"I told you you should have gotten married," Molly wailed.
"I told you, I don't want to get married," Remus snapped. "Just drop the subject, would you?"
"But you need something to make life worthwhile –"
Just then Remus saw something slinking across the floor below the window. It was a rat.
"Peter!" bellowed Remus, letting go of Molly and launching himself after the rat, which had already disappeared.
"You're insane," Molly said. "There was no rat there."
"You weren't looking," Remus said, sitting on the floor and breathing hard. "And I am not insane."
"You think Sirius is telling you things, don't you? He's dead and gone, Remus, you need to accept that."
"But he is telling me things," Remus said. And he explained about the diary.
"I hope you know how dangerous those things can be," Molly said.
"Are they really?" Remus said. "Well, don't tell Sirius that. He'll be over the moon."
"I have half a mind to tell Sirius exactly what I think of him," Molly said. "You don't have the diary here, do you?"
"No," Remus said. "I sleep with it under my pillow."
Molly snorted. "Don't be ridiculous," she said. "Now, I want you to promise me you won't go running after Peter any more."
"Are you hard of hearing, woman? I just got through telling you my life would be pointless if you didn't let me chase Peter."
"Surely there's something else you care about," Molly said. "What about Quidditch?"
"It's fun, but not really worth staying alive for."
"I'm telling you," Molly said, "what you need is to fall in love."
"Please, anything but that," Remus said. "I'll be good, I swear."
"Do we have a deal, then?" Molly said. "You promise not to got looking for Peter,
and I promise not to set you up with any beautiful, witty, charming,
intelligent, rich werewolves?"
Remus hated to give up the chase. But
reviewing his last few attempts to procure a rat, he had to admit that maybe it
wouldn't hurt to relax his vigilance a bit.
And he really wanted Molly to get off his back about falling in love.
"All right," he said. "We're agreed."
They shook hands and had an amicable lunch of apple fritters and pumpkin juice, although Remus was beginning to regret having given up the quest so easily.
As it turned out, it didn't make much of a difference, because Peter was also looking for Remus.
^^^
