Author's note: With gratitude for J.K. Rowling, who created the wonderful world of Harry Potter and so many intriguing characters for us to play with - strictly for amusement and not for profit. The original characters and the rest are my own, and not to be redistributed.
The PG rating was selected for a few fairly oblique references to adult matters later in the story. While this does contain an eventual romance for Remus, it is very slow to develop, and any readers hoping for something either speedy or explicit should search elsewhere.
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Remus unconsciously straightened his shoulders as he dismounted his broom and faced his home. In some ways, the outside didn't look terribly different from the way it did when his parents had lived here, but his keen eyes immediately picked up on all the flaws – the dining room window frame was loose, the Preservative Charm he'd placed on the paint was overdue for renewal, the garden was nearly wild and undoubtedly overrun with gnomes – and he suppressed a sigh.
He walked up the steps, adding to his mental list as he went – crack in the front walkway, loose board on the third step, his mother's venomous tentacula had crept over the porch railing and wrapped itself around a post – and stopped to pull out his key. A chilly breeze reminded him that fall was coming quickly. At least he didn't need to bring the porch furniture in for storage, he told himself philosophically. He'd never brought it out at all this year.
He stepped into the front hall and forced himself to look around without flinching. The dust covers gave everything a gray, formless appearance in the dim light. He pushed the door shut behind him, and the light grew even dimmer. He pulled out his wand, and said "Lumos" softly, but clearly.
"Huh?" came a murmured grunt from behind a dust cloth in the front hall. "Who's there?" a voice barked, more loudly this time. Remus smiled slightly and strode forward to pull the cloth away from the portrait, revealing an elderly wizard with tousled white hair in olive green dress robes of an earlier time.
"Remus, boy, where have you been?" he demanded gruffly, not quite hiding his pleasure in seeing his only living relation as he pulled himself up from his dozing position within the frame and regarded Remus sternly from under lowered brows.
"Hello, Uncle Bertie," Remus greeted him fondly. "How have you been?"
"How do you think I've been?" Bertie grumped at him. "Alone in this place for months at a time, not a living soul for company – " he broke off to glare at Remus " – and you only stopping by long enough to see if the house is still standing and then taking off again, and that so long ago I was half convinced you'd forgotten the address!"
"I'll be coming back here for a while again," Remus told his uncle quietly.
"Really?" Bertie demanded, sitting up and tugging excitedly at his robes. "You mean it?"
"Yeah, I do." Remus looked away for a moment, not sure if he could say it even now. "Sirius is dead." Bertie didn't speak, and after a moment Remus managed to look back at the portrait and meet the quick sympathy in the painted eyes. "It happened a while ago, but, well, there were things to take care of, and I wanted to spend some time with Harry later in the summer, so – " he shrugged and thrust his non-wand hand into the pocket of his robes. "But Harry and the others are safely back at Hogwarts now, so I guess it's time for me to come back."
"Oh, Remus," the sympathy came through in the rough, grumbly voice. "I'm sorry, lad."
"It was – quick." He felt a sudden welling of too-familiar pain, and changed the subject abruptly. "So, any trouble here I should know about?" he queried lightly.
Bertie obligingly allowed Remus to redirect the conversation and replied in the same spirit, "I'll give you the list when you've a quill and enough parchment to take it down with. You're lucky the roof is still intact – " he grimaced expressively " – well, mostly."
"Well, it sounds like I won't be bored," Remus parried with a smile.
Looking back on this remark later, Remus wished it had a bit more prescient. Oh, he was busy enough in many ways. He couldn't spare the funds to have work done for him, or to purchase the pre-made charms, potions, or enchanted objects that would have eased it considerably. That meant he had to do most of it himself.
He set about the task of making the house more livable methodically. The first night, he had started removing the dust covers from the main rooms and his own bedroom. It wasn't as though he would need any guest rooms in the near future. He cleaned the dust covers and stored them with a simple Preservative Charm before getting to work on his old bedroom. There wasn't much he could do about the worn mattress, but basic Scouring Charms cleared up the worst of the dust. He was dismayed by how little improvement the lack of dust made in the color of the curtains, coverlet, and bed hangings, all of which were badly faded. Unwilling to tackle the kitchen the first night, he went to bed without dinner.
Knowing the kitchen would be an all-day project, despite being only a fraction of the size of the one at Grimmauld Place, he moved Uncle Bertie's portrait in there first thing the following morning to provide a distraction. Bertie was actually one of his great-uncles – or possibly a great-great-uncle – but Remus had been especially fond of him since his early childhood, when Uncle Bertie had advised him on how to snag chocolate biscuits from the protected pantry.
Bertie was just as helpful in the kitchen now that Remus was older. His uncle really did give him a list of things that needed to be attended to in the house, which saved Remus from having to spend time making a preliminary inspection. Uncle Bertie was also willing to offer advice, some of which was very helpful – "No point in trying to sort through those, boy, Preservative Spell failed a long time ago, just chuck 'em out and move on," – although some of it was less so.
Even the advice that he really didn't need – Remus had already planned to take care of the stove first so he could fix himself a hot lunch – was still obscurely comforting, and midway through that first long afternoon he felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude that he had been born a wizard. He didn't know how Muggles got through times like this without even a portrait to speak to them.
Once he got the kitchen mostly in order, he tackled his bathroom, discovering to his dismay that Uncle Bertie had not overestimated the deterioration in the pipes. After patching together what he could, he started on the rest of the house, deciding to begin in the drawing room and work his way around the ground floor clockwise.
When he tired of working indoors, he went to work outside instead, weather permitting, starting at the front stoop. He proceeded clockwise outside as well, a decision which allowed him to postpone tackling the venomous tentacula.
The approach of the first full moon since his return required him to stop work on his father's study, of which he was rather fond, to attend to cleaning out the room in the cellar he had used for his transformations when he lived here as a child. He was not at all fond of that room, but he managed to get through the necessary cleaning, and the subsequent full moon, with whatever grace he was able to muster. As soon as it was over, he resolutely dismissed it from his mind and returned to working on his father's study as though the unpleasant interlude had never happened.
As the weeks passed and he continued to work steadily through his initial list, he found that, much to his dismay, he seemed to be adding items to it almost as quickly as he crossed them off, even though he deliberately did not include some items on the parchment scrolls he used to keep track of what needed to be done. There didn't seem to be any point in writing it down if he couldn't think of any way to fix the problem, at least not without large outlays of gold Galleons and silver Sickles he simply didn't have. He just kept working through the items he could address, telling himself that at least he was making progress.
Although that was probably true, it did nothing to relieve the boredom of his days. Most of the chores that needed to be done were mind-numbing – sheer, repetitive mental labor. For an active, inquisitive intellect, it was a somewhat banal torture, but Remus bore it as best he could, knowing he needed to become accustomed to this existence that was less than a full life.
He was embarrassingly pleased when he received a letter from Dumbledore as fall deepened. It was only a short note – Dumbledore didn't say much in the letter for security reasons – with a quick summary of the Ministry's relevant activities since Remus had returned home, which rather made him wonder if Dumbledore knew that the impoverished former professor had refrained from incurring the expense of a subscription to The Daily Prophet.
Remus had maintained his contacts with the Order of the Phoenix and continued to attend meetings, but he had not taken an active role in the missions since Sirius' death. He hadn't needed to feel guilty about this over the summer, as it was clear that Dumbledore wanted him to regard Harry as his first priority, but with Harry back in school, he should probably start looking for an opportunity to be of more service to the Order.
From what he heard during the meetings the rest of the team could use the assistance. They seemed to have had an extraordinary string of missteps in recent missions. Sentries suffered from bizarre mishaps while on duty. Sturgis Podmore, who was still only slowly recovering from his time in Azkaban, was stung by a Billiwig, a magical creature none of them had seen outside of Australia. Hestia Jones had to withdraw from the duty roster for a week after being bitten by a Malaclaw, and Arthur Weasley had a difficult time of it one night coping with a Chizpurfle infestation which had gotten out of control remarkably quickly.
A number of the members of the Order found themselves being tailed by Pogrebins, to the point where Dumbledore reminded them all during a meeting what precautions to take against the diminutive Russian demons. Remus reproached himself for finding this all somewhat depressing rather than viewing it as a sign that he himself needed to do more to support the rest of the team.
The note from Dumbledore also reminded him that he had not heard from Harry in a while, and so, mentally castigating himself for not owling Harry sooner, he dispatched a carefully composed letter. What should have been a simple query about how Harry was doing felt rather indecent; the loss of Sirius was still too raw. Remus tried to word it so that Harry could interpret it as an inquiry about how things were going at school without foreclosing a response about Sirius if Harry chose to write about him.
Harry's answer came fairly quickly, on a day when Remus was de-gnoming the garden. He had just retrieved another squirming gray gnome from its burrow and looked up to decide where to aim this one when he caught sight of a snowy white owl. He froze in place, staring fixedly at the approaching owl to see if it really was Hedwig, while the gnome he was holding aimed a vicious kick at his elbow. Fortunately he didn't drop the indignantly squirming creature, and, having been recalled to the present, he whipped it around swiftly a few times and sent it soaring through the air just before the owl reached him.
"Hedwig!" he exclaimed in happy recognition, accepting his letter and tearing it open. The snowy owl settled on his shoulder and he paused politely. "Can I get you something first?" Remus asked, and Hedwig butted him gently in response, which he interpreted to mean that she could wait while he read Harry's letter.
Remus scanned it all the way through very quickly looking for anything that would be a cause for alarm. It was rather ridiculous – Harry couldn't say anything very significant anyway in case the letter was intercepted, and Dumbledore would certainly have informed him, albeit not by owl post, if anything had happened to Harry – but he couldn't help worrying just the same. It was a nice long letter, reassuringly normal at first glance – classes, Ron and Hermione, Quidditch – with just a short reference to Sirius at the end. Relieved, Remus started back to the house, Hedwig fluttering happily along side.
In the kitchen, he quickly set out a bowl of water and a small plate of food for Hedwig, who hooted her thanks as she settled down on the kitchen table, and then sat down to read Harry's letter through again properly. Harry was still having problems in Potions – Remus frowned, knowing what it had cost Minerva to get Severus to admit Harry to Advanced Potions without a high enough O.W.L. – which, reading between the lines, seemed to have more to do with the tension between Harry and the Potions Master than with the work itself. Harry was perfectly capable of doing well in Potions if he would concentrate his mind on it and stop letting Severus get to him. Remus read on.
Ron and Hermione were about the same, if Harry's comment on their continued bickering meant what he thought it did. Harry was back on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as their Seeker, with Ginny Weasley, who was now also a prefect, moving to one of the Chaser positions. Harry was pleased to be back on the team ("I really missed it, and I sleep better after a good hard practice") Dumbledore having lifted Harry's lifelong ban. The Weasley twins, although no longer at Hogwarts, seemed to regard their own permanent Quidditch bans as badges of honor and, upon hearing of the restoration of Harry's eligibility, had sent him their congratulations and an earnest plea that he make sure Dumbledore did not modify their own status in any way.
Fred and George sent this request in their own newly-invented – and still unnamed – variation on a Howler. This missive, which was bubble-gum pink in color, had delivered their amplified message accompanied by a background swelling of magical laughter increasing in volume until the end, when the whole thing exploded in a sudden shower of tiny, pastel bubbles which filled the Great Hall before suddenly vanishing.
Without warning, everyone who was there at the time was overcome with giggles, from little Dennis Creevey who roared away happily further down the Gryffindor table to the normally sullen Professor Snape ("He was tittering furiously, I've never seen anything like it," Harry wrote). The charm apparently lasted only a short time, the effect vanishing as suddenly as the bubbles had before any of the teachers could rectify the problem.
The Gryffindors' first Quidditch match of the season would be coming up in a matter of weeks – Harry noted the date in his letter – and led into the only reference to Sirius ("I hope I'll be back in good form by then. Sirius said once that I flew as well as my father did, but he never got to see me play last year. I don't want to let Gryffindor down.").
Finishing the letter, Remus leaned back in his chair, his eyes resting absently on Hedwig, who had finished eating and was now grooming herself busily. Frowning, he quickly calculated the moon cycle and decided it would be safe enough, even it was still not normally done. And yet, if perhaps –
"Hedwig, would you mind taking a letter to the Headmaster for me?" he asked.
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
Harry, carrying his broom and flanked by Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, headed down the steps outside the main entrance and toward the Quidditch pitch. He felt the familiar knot of excitement in the pit of his stomach. It had been a long time since he'd been able to play in a real match. Getting back into practices had been good, although the feeling wasn't quite the same. The heavy weight he was carrying – his godfather's death, the prophecy – seemed to affect everything he did no matter how much he tried not to let it. Nevertheless, flying was still one of the most enjoyable things in his life, and he was grateful to have it back. If only he hadn't lost almost a whole year because of that woman!
Brushing the thought away angrily, he shifted his attention to the argument behind him.
"Honestly, Ron, I don't know how you expect to get through Advanced Astronomy if you're still having trouble finishing a simple star chart," Hermione was saying with an edge of irritation in her voice. "I am not going to stay up to help you tonight, I have other plans."
"What other plans?" Ron demanded. "How – "
"Is that Professor Lupin?" Ginny interrupted. All four of them stopped immediately, and Ginny held her hand over her eyes so she wouldn't have to squint into the sun. Harry stared hard into the distance.
"I think it is," Harry exclaimed, excited. "I want to go say 'Hi' to him."
Ron blinked, but obligingly turned back toward the lawn. Hermione caught his sleeve, looking significantly at Ginny.
"Really, Ron, you know it takes you forever to get into your Quidditch robes and we've only got a few minutes," Ginny interjected. "We'd better get going, but tell him we said 'Hi' too."
Hermione nodded approvingly as Ginny took hold of Ron's arm very firmly and steered her brother toward the changing rooms. "Tell him I'll be sitting with the Gryffindors, and we hope he can join us and watch the match," she told Harry, before slipping away into the large crowd headed for the viewing stands.
Harry heard her gratefully as he started eagerly toward his former professor. When he thought he would be in hearing range, he called, "Professor? Professor Lupin?"
The too-thin figure stopped abruptly, as Professor Lupin caught sight of him, and smiled. Harry grinned in relief and hurried over to meet him.
"I thought it was you," Harry exclaimed, switching the Firebolt he was carrying to his other hand so he could offer his right one to the professor, who clasped it warmly in both of his. "I'm awfully glad to see you," he blurted out before he realized what he was saying.
Fortunately, Remus didn't seem to mind, but only smiled back at Harry kindly. "I'm very glad to see you too, Harry," he replied. "I wasn't sure I'd make it in time before the match."
"Are you coming to watch?" Harry asked eagerly. "Hermione said she'll be with the Gryffindors if you want to come by."
"I'll do that," he promised. "But we'd better start walking over," he added, emphasizing the words with the deed. "You don't want to be late for the first match of the year."
"I'll make it," Harry assured him. "I change pretty quickly." By now, the stands were well on their way to filling up. Although some latecomers were still filing in, most of the spectators were settling into their seats, chatting excitedly.
Then, with a sudden pang, it hit him again as it sometimes did at the most unexpected times. Sirius was never going to see him play again, was never going to greet him with his bark-like laugh, was never going to –
Professor Lupin caught hold of Harry's shoulder very firmly, forcing Harry to stop suddenly and meet his eyes. In that brief, unguarded moment, Harry caught a glimpse of a wordless anguish that caught at his breath. "I miss him too, Harry," Remus said softly.
Harry felt tears welling in his eyes. "I – " he broke off.
"It's all right," the older man told him gently. Harry nodded, and blinked hard to clear his eyes, as his former professor released him and gave him some time to collect himself.
When Harry finally looked up, Professor Lupin appeared to be frowning at the main entrance to the school. "Do you know who that is?" he asked Harry, in a very different tone.
Harry looked back at the castle. There was a woman approaching the front steps, but she was covered in a long, dark blue hooded cloak which rendered her basically unidentifiable. "No, I don't," he admitted. Remus turned back to him.
"Are you going to be all right?" he asked, looking at Harry very directly.
"Yeah, but I'd better get going. I'm almost late now," Harry admitted, heading for the changing rooms without another word. He paused at the door, looking back to see that Professor Lupin was moving swiftly to the castle entrance rather than the viewing stands, but he forgot this as Ron pulled him inside.
"It's almost time, Harry, hurry up!" Ron demanded irritably, pulling Harry's school robe off rather roughly. The rest of the team was glaring at their tardy Seeker, with the exception of Ginny, who was busy stuffing Harry into his red and gold Quidditch robes.
"Sorry," he offered quickly, thankful that the Gryffindor team was being announced and no one had time to say any more to him.
By the time the match ended with a Gryffindor win, 240-80, the team had forgotten Harry's lateness entirely, much to his relief. He still remembered the time in his first year when no one on the team had been speaking to him, which had been very uncomfortable.
He changed quickly, hoping that Professor Lupin, like Hermione, would be waiting for them outside the changing rooms. He swiftly scanned the throng when he got out, and was pleased to see both of them standing a short distance away. Hermione was beaming at him and trying to keep her bushy brown hair from being blown in front of her face. Professor Lupin was standing smiling next to her. Harry hadn't noticed it in the excitement of seeing him at first, but now he realized that his former teacher was looking more worn than he should, despite the smile on his face. He tried to remember quickly what phase the moon was in just now, but he didn't think it was that close to full at the moment.
"Well done, Harry," Lupin congratulated him, still smiling.
"Yes, Harry, you were brilliant!" Hermione echoed, her eyes shining triumphantly. "Gryffindor's taken the lead for the House Cup now," she added happily.
"There are a few other people on the team, you know," Ron pointed out irritably, as he and Ginny joined them. Ron was still a little disgruntled about allowing so many goals through, although his performance was much better than it had been last year. Ginny's lips twitched slightly as though she were trying not to smile.
Hermione shot him an annoyed look. "I know that, Ron, and I'm very pleased you're finally doing better, but that doesn't mean I can't congratulate Harry!"
"Finally doing better?" Ron repeated, looking outraged.
"I think the important thing is that the Gryffindor team worked together to achieve this victory," Professor Lupin interjected diplomatically. "Each of you must be very pleased at being able to make a contribution toward winning the House Cup this year."
Ron looked slightly mollified at this, which prompted Ginny to press her lips very firmly together, her eyes dancing as they met Harry's. Giving in to the impulse of the moment, Harry winked at her.
"How long are you here for, Professor?" Hermione asked, but Harry, who was suddenly looking out of eyes that were not his own, never heard the answer.
He was in an ancient, flagstoned room deep underground, lit only with torches, seated on an ornate chair that might have been a throne. A woman, concealed in the enveloping robes and mask of a Death Eater, knelt before him, trembling. Cold fury washed through him as he looked at her.
"For-, forgive me, Master," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "With Dumbledore as the Secret-Keeper, however – "
"Silence!" he ordered harshly. "I have no interest in your sniveling excuses for failure. No time to waste listening to you whimper and moan." That fierce, high-pitched voice seared like acid. "While you blunder along, accomplishing nothing, providing nothing but the dubious entertainment of watching you beat your breast and bemoan your own inability to accomplish your task, the Ministry is on the move. My enemies are finally stirring from their sleep," the last line ended on a purr.
The cowering figure on the floor grasped eagerly at the Dark Lord's words.
"Yes, Master – the Ministry – perhaps, I could – " that pitifully broken voice choked on a sob as he silenced her with a glance.
"You're a fool," he informed her contemptuously. "The Ministry is no more than an annoyance. The Order is the real threat, just as it always has been. Which is, I recall, exactly why I gave you this task." He rose and stalked lazily toward her, circling as he spoke. "Perhaps," he suggested idly, "you believe your position is a unique one?"
"No, Master, I – "
"Perhaps," he continued as though he had not heard her desperate protest, "you think that your other – " his eyes swept over the form cringing at his feet in an assessing manner " – attributes? – " he suggested lightly, as she swallowed another sob " – are such that I will countenance your repeated failures?"
"Never!" she protested vehemently. "I would never – "
"You surprise me." That voice had a dangerous edge to it now. Harry could feel the welling of power and knew what was coming. "It seems you need another lesson. Perhaps – "
A resounding smack echoed in the air, and Harry suddenly came back to himself. He was still standing in the yard outside the changing rooms, his head ringing, and Professor Lupin was gripping him hard, almost shaking him.
"Harry? Harry?" Lupin demanded urgently, his face white.
"What?" Harry asked stupidly. One side of his face stung.
"Harry, what happened? Are you all right?"
"I, uh," Harry looked around at the rest of his friends, standing behind Professor Lupin with varying expressions of concern. "I think I'm okay," he said, rather blankly, "but I think I should go see Dumbledore now," he added.