A/N: Thanks bunches to patient readers, including Alias, almae, auroraziazan, DcSolstice, elmtree, Little Dragon, madkornfan, Saerelle, Toby, wolverines_girl, and Zetta.
I'm incredibly sorry that this took so long; I got stuck in a block, plain and simple, about halfway through. Then OotP came out, and, frankly, I was distracted. Speaking of which, OotP smashed a few ideas for this, but, charmingly enough, this was an AU to begin with, so just a quick Reparo, dusting off, and they've survived good as new.
Holes in reasoning can be pointed out via review, but I actually have plans for them.
It moves slowly still, but as it shouldn't have more than ten chapters, I assure you that the pace shall pick up. Thanks again.
Chapter Two:
Peter's prediction the night before had been true to form; even James couldn't deny it, much less Sirius. He could, however, ignore Peter's gloating, and concentrate sleepily on James, who had bounded onto the bed. Or, rather, on Sirius, who had still been in the bed; not quite asleep but not yet awake.
'Oh, Sirry, they have the best food…' James actually groaned as he rubbed his stomach in memory, an action usually taken over by Peter. 'And, Sirry, listen, you won't believe who owled in a reservation, you won't believe it…'
'Lemme guessss…' Sirius drew out the last syllable, slurring as badly as if he had been drunk. Suffice to say, everyone had experience on Sirius being in that state. 'Ple', dun tell me… um, um… it's someone good, right? Not, you know, Snape, or one of the teachers…'
'Don't,' said Peter solemnly. In spite of how he stumbled over his words, he had a strong sense of humour. It was just a pity his listeners usually lost interest by the time he forced whatever he was trying to say from his mouth. 'You're insulting the teachers, saying them in the same breath as Snape…'
James was heartily enthusiastic. 'It's someone good, old boy. Really good.'
'For more than the obvious reasons, too,' Peter agreed.
'Dai Llewellyn!' Sirius shouted, voice still thick with sleep.
'Wake up, Black,' said James, much more fondly than Peter would have said. 'Dai's dead. Remember?'
(A/N: 'But it's an AU! Anything's possible!' Sirius protested.)
'But we're wizards. Anything's possible!' Sirius protested. Dangerous Dai Llewellyn was his great hero.
James sighed a shade too patiently. 'I refuse to even dignify that with a response. Try for real.'
'Well, while we're on dead fellows, why not Godric's ghost? That's what I heard was here.'
'He's alive, Black - even if not for long,' was Peter's sunny contribution.
'Sirius or - you-know-who?' James asked.
Peter barely stopped to think. 'Both would be good.' He had sat gingerly on the edge of his cousin's bed, and flinched when Sirius's yawning and stretching threatened contact.
'Not the You-Know-Who, our you-know-who.'
'You two are giving me a headache. Is it Robyn Walkchester?'
'Oh, you'd like that, Quidditch and thinly-clad girls!' Peter muttered, but James overrode him:
'Oh, c'mon, no! Not Quidditchy at all!' James Potter, the Quidditch-possessed, had never sounded so happy at the adjective 'not Quidditchy' before.
'Not even female?' Sirius said in a whimper.
'No!'
'Den whassa point? Lemme sleep some more.'
'Black, you've slept about forty out of forty-eight hours. Take a break!'
At Peter's stern order, for once with no hint of a stutter, Sirius burst into sleepy but hysterical laughter. Even James couldn't fight a tiny smile.
Eager to rid everyone's memory from his inapt statement, Peter barged on ahead. 'It-It's Alastor Moody!'
Both of Sirius's eyes popped open. 'Who?'
'Alastor Moody, my dear hearing-impaired lass.'
James's mortal insult had no effect. Sirius did go from lying with limbs askew to sitting bolt upright in the blink of an eye, but not to start a mock tussle with his friend. His eyes were round.
'I'll lass you,' he threatened in most unthreatening of tones. 'Moody? No kidding. Moo-dy?' Sirius was not a very close follower of the war and kept it at arm's distance, but Alastor Moody was a name to inspire awe and respect and even hero-worship all the same.
'We don't kid with you when you're too tired to fight back,' James said.
Sirius was whispering. '… must be kidding… Moody…' He found his usual volume again. 'What in Godric's name is he doing getting a room in an out-of-the-way place like this?'
'Let's think,' Peter muttered, but only to himself, because Sirius and James were deep in engaged conversation before these two words were out of his mouth. 'Well, unless he's taking a holiday' - and Peter laughed shortly; no Auror did nowadays, as he knew well from his uncles: 'An Auror's time off comes soon enough, when he's dead'. Moody was one of the ones who had been an exception since the beginning of the war. Maybe the only one. '… then you would suppose he's looking for a Death Eater. But just a guess.'
Meanwhile, James had his own conclusions mapped out, and Sirius was polishing them. 'Well, obviously something's happening here in Roasedaly…'
'But why this inn?'
'Well, that Green Dragon is pretty openly magical, but maybe that's just it, it's too full of witches and wizards, and I think the rest of the inns are pretty much all Muggle. Wizards don't even go there. They might not go here, either, 'cept the Lupins are an old family and most know them.'
'I've never heard of them,' Sirius said sceptically.
'I said they're an old family, not necessary a well-known one. They've never been very rich or powerful or anything, but they go back for centuries.' Sirius and Peter came from the lower wizarding aristocracy, but James, as a Potter, knew the ins and outs of every wizarding family there was. 'Hunh, here's an interesting one for our dear Lestranges - the Lupins go back farther than they do. And the Flints.'
'It'd be nice to get his head down some,' growled Sirius. 'You don't think there might be a Death Eater or something in here?'
'Obviously he's somewhere in Roasedaly or close to it. But I don't think it's necessarily here. I still think he's coming here only because Tailfeathers is rather secluded and quiet, but the owners aren't going to raise eyebrows if he brings in some of his Auror-toys. They'd co-operate with a squad if needed.'
'Well, there's'm funny things at Tailfeathers, ini't there?' asked Sirius. 'That's what those blokes at Green Dragon were saying.'
'Of course they were,' said a dismissive Peter, who had rejoined the conversation. 'They don't want them to get their business.'
'It was too full of stuffy grownups and overcrowded. Not nice like this.' Sirius was equally dismissive, although for once his contempt wasn't with Peter.
'Actually,' said James thoughtfully, 'there are odd rumours about this place.' There was little doubt this had been one of the attractions that brought him to Crossed Tailfeathers to begin with. 'For centuries there's been that old problem with Lady Slytherin's haunt…' He trailed off and grinned sheepishly as he saw Sirius and Peter staring at him with identically incredulous expressions. Sometimes his knowledge of every nook and cranny in the wizarding world unnerved them. 'Sorry. Sirius ought to get dressed. Day's almost over, and I didn't come here to do homework and twiddle my thumbs.'
'No, no, that's okay,' said Sirius eagerly. 'This is interesting. Go on.'
'You should get up.'
'I can get dressed the same time you talk!'
'It's like talking and thinking at the same time,' James and Peter chorused, and grinned at each other.
Sirius rolled his eyes. 'Old, mates, old.' He rolled over onto the floor. 'I'm up. Keep going. I want to know what'll try to eat me while I'm here, and meant to ask you anyway. Isn't there a werewolf around here, or - '
'Yes, that's another one.' James didn't sound credulous. 'I think it just started by a few odd coincidences around a full moon and their name.'
'What about their name?' asked Peter.
'Lupin. Lupus. Wolf. Unfortunate coincidence, really, and maybe there was something odd around here once, but I think Mr and Mrs Lupin are just the victims of old ladies gossiping over tea. There's been nothing concrete to prove things for years.'
'They do have that weird brother,' Peter said. He and James had met Cauley Lupin at the breakfast Sirius had missed.
James laughed. 'Oh, Sirry, you're going to like Cauley! But, honestly, he's no more a werewolf than I am.'
'That leaves us in some doubt, then,' spoke up Sirius, hopping about on one foot as he fumbled with a sock. It was difficult to tell if it was a sock being put on or one taken off: Sirius's all looked the same. 'Besides, how can you tell?'
'Well, you know,' James shrugged. 'You saw him. A bit excitable - I don't think he quite ever grew up - but perfectly normal.'
'What's your standard of perfectly normal?' asked Peter, mock-derisive.
Sirius hid his face. No use in letting Peter think he was funny or anything.
James, oblivious to Sirius's thought, leaned back on Sirius bed happily. Perhaps it was just the novelty of an unusual holiday and an unusual inn, but they were all getting along very well. He hoped it lasted for a little while.
*
'Cauley - you cannot - cannot - go cracking those Ministry jokes,' Catty was saying imploringly. 'And not that little act where you pretend you're a Death Eater. I mean, most of our regulars know you, but not - not - around Moody.'
'You sound like my dear brother,' said Cauley, dryly. 'Shall I say a hundred times "I will be a good boy"?'
'Probably wouldn't hurt,' muttered Catty distractedly. Calder had insisted that great chunks of the inn were due for a thorough cleaning.
'Listen, I don't want to wait in Azkaban for six months for a trial at the mercy of Barty Crouch. I'm not going to act like an idiot. I will be a good boy; I will be a good boy; I will be a good boy - '
'All right, all right!'
Cauley stared. Catty never raised her voice.
'I don't see what the fuss is about, anyhow,' he muttered, a bit sullenly. 'Just because the whole wizarding world knows someone's name doesn't mean we should spruce up extra for him. What's good for our regular customers should be - '
'Oh, come on, Cauley! You and Calder go over this argument every time we get a well-known customer, and I get dragged in the middle every time, and then Remus gets disgusted and upset and doesn't talk for three weeks after the guest leaves, and there's great rows and we need so many Silencing Charms, oh, please, Cauley, not this time.' Catty's voice was choked with tears, even if her eyes were dry. 'Calder thinks it's for the best, and it certainly can't hurt - '
'Shhh!' said Cauley, much taken aback. He adopted the soothing tone used by a majority of men in tense times, not knowing that its effect is usually to make the damsel in distress more on edge. 'Calm down there, Catty-girl, shh, calm. Listen, I didn't know it upset y', y'see? But that's right now. There'll be no big rows; neither we both of us're going to bother y', all right? If Cal' and I need to exchange words, we'll do it alone, all right?'
Catty gave him a strained little smile that made Cauley feel guilty as sin.
'That's fine, Cauley, really, I was up too late last night, and with all the excitement I wouldn't know which end of a broomstick to use. Here, if you'll grab the breakfast mess quick I'll do these rooms, and with Remus on the guest rooms we'll be done soon enough. Maybe a little something special for lunch.'
'A - all right,' said Cauley hesitantly, patting her with extreme awkwardness on the shoulder and making a hasty retreat. 'Whew!' he said to himself. 'Catty-girl's got 'irself ina almighty tizz now. I'll be a good boy, 'member, I will be a good boy, I will be a good boy… An' Cal' wi' his thinkin'…'
*
The Crossed Tailfeathers dining room was a large, old-fashioned, high-ceilinged, dim affaire. The walls were dominated by one large fireplace that provided all the room's light, and beta'd by a few portraits on the wall of dark ominous people whom only the Lupins could place, and even they weren't certain of them all.
The table was long and dark and wood and sturdy, and the chairs were like it.
It was rather full that night. Cauley was on his best behaviour, on a probation of sorts. Calder was considering taking his place waiting the table for Moody's visit and everyone knew it. Cauley simply did not know the definition of politically correct.
So the room wasn't quite as noisy as the norm, which made Remus's position more difficult. Cauley had always been a distraction for the guests. Now he had only the room's darkness and his own experimentive (and illegal) chameleon charms to aid him.
But he had to go. James Potter was a sitting duck, and any potential pickpockets could see that he was entirely too wrapped up in his friends - Sirius Black especially, and Peter Pettigrew was brooding and not hindering them at all. He was in another world. Remus knew how to think like a thief. Potter was a gold mine without booby traps.
Well, Remus could be a trap, a sight better one than any inanimate object.
He was under the table, which could be an interesting place some nights. There was no tablecloth, but between his charms and everyone else's preoccupation no one ever noticed him. Only Cauley knew about this, and it had taken him almost four years to catch on, so when he tried to scold Remus (and Cauley couldn't scold to begin with) Remus simply pointed out that he had been there a thousand meals before Cauley had noticed, and Cauley's job was to notice something like that, so his chances of being caught were nil, or at least slim.
Remus also knew how to keep his mouth shut about some of the things he witnessed there. He had long since trained himself out of the natural need to talk things over. In fact, he ignored them. Since Cauley had caught him Remus had only done this when he had a specific target, and he had one tonight.
It didn't take long for Remus to see, through blockades of limbs and chair legs, that one of the drifters had gone by and taken Potter's watch. And the drifter would be back; Remus had just seen his skill in action, and the watch was too easy.
Tuning out the conversations, especially the one between Potter and Black (which he'd become too interested in), Remus crept along, keeping the drifter in sight. The man sat down close to the boys.
Remus waited until he knew the thief was preoccupied watching Potter and Black, and trying to make it look as though he weren't, and possibly even the dinner itself before he struck, nipping the watch neatly back from the drifter's pocket. But he didn't bother slipping it back to Potter's wrist, not just yet; he was still watching the pickpocket.
Black seemed to be making some elaborate movement with his hands, probably imitating a Quidditch play. Potter would be watching. The thief and Remus both knew this was the moment. The thief pulled off a common little maneuver, leaning back in his seat as a cover for inching a little over to his victim.
On the opposite side, Remus pushed the chair (already tilting back thanks to the thief himself) and the chair and the man fell backwards.
Not in our inn, thank you, he reflected satisfiedly.
There was a great clamour; Remus hastily retreated to the middle, where no legs might bump him, but out of sight from the gaping hole that the missing chair now made. Some folks were crowding around the pickpocketer, checking if he were all right, etc.
He could hear Potter and Black laughing.
Pathetic.
But Remus was smiling too, albeit grimly. The drifter, Muggle or wizard - for both believed in every old wives' tale and gossip item there was - would soon learn not to attempt thievery in the haunted Crossed Tailfeathers Inn.
Even better, the thief had decided to excuse himself, which meant that within a little while the incident was forgotten, conversations were going full steam again, and Remus was ready to return the watch. If the common pickpocket could do it, Remus was certain that he could as well.
Now even Pettigrew was involved with the conversation, which seemed to revolve around peeves, pranks, and slapstick humour.
With a fine and delicate hand, Remus slipped the watch on and then leaned back, completely under the cover of the table again.
But Potter had subconsciously sensed something wrong - damn him - and as he shifted in his seat, his boot hit Remus, who instantly sat still and held his breath.
If the dining hall at large ever caught him, there would be a mess, and Potter was now poking experimentally with the toe of his shoe. The number one rule in such a situation was one Remus already knew: don't panic.
I am a table leg, I am a table leg, I am a table leg, I am a table leg, I am a table leg… The longer Potter's shoe was still in connection to him, the louder his heart seemed to pound. But Remus's rational side held firm: no one could hear that but himself. Table leg.
Potter retreated, shifting his chair.
'What's up with you, Jamie?'
Jamie?
Please.
'Nothing,' although he sounded impatient, 'it's just I got the chair by the table leg, can't find a comfortable spot…'
*
The drifter was gone the next morning, having asked Catty Lupin for a takealong breakfast.
*
Dear Lily,
Asking if you miss me sounds really pathetic. So I'll just say I miss you. I still can't tell you just where I am. Or even who I'm with. But it's a nice place and I'll be telling you all about it when term starts.
So you have to write back to me and tell me about yourself. Everything. Is your sister driving you up the wall yet? And are you still procrastinating on your summer homework? That essay McGonagall gave us is rotten.
Write my parents, tell them I'm okay.
I don't know what to say. I keep remembering all the plans we made for this summer and how ('their' is crossed out) they're not going to happen now. Stop driving me to insanity. It's not very nice of you, you know.
I miss you. And I'm wishing I could write letters like you do.
James
*
At first Remus had been horrified to discover that Potter and his cronies were using the forest as an obstacle course to race. Sure, if they were simply running that was fine, even though Remus would still have thought them both frivolous and ridiculous, but with brooms? In Roasedaly?
His mother had told him not to worry about it; she'd said they could and there were all sorts of protective charms around the forest.
'What sort of protective charms?' Apparently nothing that had helped him ten years ago in that same forest.
'Shielding ones,' she said, looking pained. She was either thinking of the same thing or the stress of preparing the place for Alastor Moody's arrival was wearing on her. Or both. 'Anything magical in there, Muggles can't see. If we were in there Muggles couldn't see us.'
'Convenient.'
And in that case, it was certainly a pity that the three of them were wizarding; it would have made hiding from them easier. Because Remus had thrown away his inner voice of reason, and caution was flying along with the wind.
He had gone into the forest too. And was watching them.
Every few minutes he took care to remind himself what an idiotic moron he was.
The same way that Black kept assuring Pettigrew every few minutes that he was an idiotic pansy.
Pettigrew had opted to keep his feet firmly on the ground and was doing some summer homework, a concept Remus found rather cruel. That he worked on scholarship year round didn't matter. Schools were strange, or perhaps of course he just thought that because he'd never been to one. Potter and Black were on their broomsticks, horsing around to a great degree and exchanging banter that wasn't half so witty as they both found it.
Remus was sitting in a tree, something he loathed but did anyway because he refused to tolerate his own weaknesses. All the same, he had expended enough energy to make a Net Charm to surround the tree in case he fell. Without a wand it had been difficult, but falling from the tree he'd scampered up, smacking against the ground at the feet of a werewolf, promptly being attacked, and having his world explode in pain and fear was still a sequence that visited him in his dreams. He was then distracting himself from both the boys and the tree's height by reading.
It distracted him from the latter, but not the former - Potter and Black especially were not people easily ignored. Which hopefully explained why he was doing something quite so stupid as being out here, listening to them.
'Yes, well, your Quidditch skills didn't help you win over Evans, that's for sure!' Black was yelling.
'Shut up, Sirius, I got the girl now,' retorted Potter with extreme good nature, obviously benevolent in his dual victory.
If Remus congratulated himself on doing one thing that wasn't quite as thick as he seemed to be acting that day, it was on not reading anything wizarding. It was an inconspicuous Muggle fiction book. An extremely boring one, at that, but it made explanations easier when -
'Hey!'
Remus nearly toppled out of the very precarious seat of branches. When he regained his balance enough to see straight, he was looking into a dark, handsome face familiar from the pictures he had flipped through in Potter's room.
'Hey,' Black said again, not shouting this time, looking a bit bemused but with a friendly sort of grin.
As Remus had no idea of what to respond with, he opted for his usual choice, the safest one - complete silence.
'Hey,' Black said for the third time, seemingly struck by something. 'Do I know you?'
Oh, right. The night where he and Pettigrew had asked for directions around midnight.
'No,' responded Remus truthfully. He didn't. They had met, but Black didn't know him.
'Jamie!' Black called, 'c'mere!' He turned back to Remus. 'So why're you in a tree?'
''Cause I'm reading,' Remus replied testily, holding up his book.
'Reading? Over summer hols?' Black stared at him. 'Mental.'
James Potter made a beautiful sharp U-turn and darted over on an angle that nearly defied gravity. 'It's you!'
He actually sounded glad to see Remus.
'So you know him too?' asked Black. And then, before Potter answered, hollered: 'Pettigrew! Come over here!'
Remus was beginning to feel like some novel attraction at a circus.
'Sure I know him!' Potter was beaming at him good-naturedly. 'He brinks up trunks and keeps our room semi-tidy, a thankless task I'm ever so grateful for.'
Although Remus had been waiting for a chance to scowl at them, and this was a convenient opening, he decided against it at just this juncture. For one, he didn't want to give Potter any more of an impression that he disliked his 'job' at the inn. Remus's fierce pride in the inn couldn't allow that.
For two, Black was talking before Remus quite had the chance. Their conversations were all much more loud and fast (not to mention inane) than Remus was used to. Of course, for two years, ever since the villagers of Roasedaly had cemented his lycanthropy in their knowledge, he had only ever spoken with his own family, three significantly older adults.
Black was the loudest and fastest and most inane talker of them all. 'Well, that explains it. Pettigrew' - he yelled to the boy below - 'it's the vampire that gave us directions to the inn last night.'
Potter was wide-eyed and Remus was uncomfortable.
'Just kidding.' Black nudged Remus with the end of his broomstick. 'You gave us just a smidgen of a fright there and Pettigrew said you were a vampire.'
'N-No I didn't!' protested Pettigrew, from his tree. 'You said that!'
'Listen to how that wind yowls!' Black exclaimed, irritating Pettigrew to no end. 'So what're you doing up here?'
'I believe we had this conversation just a moment before,' Remus said, finally seeing a chance to employ a scowl. 'I. Am. Reading.'
Black snarled at him first, and Potter's frown wasn't far behind. 'We leave behind a Snape and lookie what we get!'
'Sorry to interrupt you,' Potter said, not sounding incredibly apologetic.
Their anger stung Remus. Can't have it, he thought, bad for the inn. 'Sorry,' he mumbled. 'Listen - I'm sorry. I'll go now.'
'Your family's tree,' Black shrugged, face still twisted darkly.
'The Lupins aren't my family,' said Remus, 'and - well, anyway, I have some chores to do.'
Black considered him long and hard, and his blue eyes seemed to pin Remus into place. 'Want a ride down?' he offered grudgingly at long last.
'No, thank you,' Remus said reflexively, but then swiftly thought things over. He hated climbing down the tree in the best of cases - and here these boys would witness his hesitant, clumsy attempts, watch him sweat as memory battled with the present and the night of his attack played in his head. Come to think of it, he still had that Net Charm on. The caster of the spell couldn't go through it, and with them watching he had no chance of taking it off. 'Erm… well, yes. Please.' Remus swallowed, unaccountably nervous at Black's hard stare. 'If you don't mind,' he finished faintly.
'Hop aboard,' said Black, not entirely invitingly.
Remus did so, so keyed up that he forgot that he was in his dreaded tree and his catlike grace came easily to him. This was stupid. Very stupid. And what if Black had done this for less than altruistic reasons? Remus braced himself to be bucked off as they descended at the very least. Or perhaps they had heard the rumours and decided he was a werewolf, and Black was trying to take him to the Department. Try! he snarled mentally. They've nothing on me!
Not strictly true, as the good upstanding human citizens of Roasedaly had complained about him before and would do it formally if urged to do so.
In any case, Black didn't do anything except give him a very cold nod at the bottom. 'Thank you, sir,' Remus replied, not meeting those hard eyes.
'Sir?' Black repeated incredulously.
Remus brought himself to look at Black again - in the most deferential of manners. 'Of course,' he said evenly. 'You are the paying guests of my employers, right?'
'Right,' replied Black, still nonplussed. 'See you.'
Not if Remus had anything to say about it, not see you. 'G'aft'rnoon,' he returned, and hurried off, cursing himself for a fool and feeling more painfully lonely than before.
*
He didn't know that he was the subject of a sizeable portion of conversation once he left.
'How d'you know him?' Sirius demanded of James, coming up to tread in the air, flying escapes (very) temporarily forgotten.
'First night here, right before you came,' replied James, promptly and matter-of-factly. 'And from the sounds of it he gave you directions here? What, were you lost?'
'No, of course not. He asked where we were going and volunteered them.' Sirius quickly changed the subject, trying to override Peter's snort. 'He's Snapeish, isn't he?'
Snapeish was their adjective for 'unpleasant' and a pretty severe slur amongst the four.
James hesitated, but since Remus had acted nearly as cool and stiff and somewhat condescending even while calling him 'Master Potter' the day before, he was stuck with one truthful answer. 'A bit.'
'He was just ticked because you interrupted him while he was reading,' Peter spoke up from the tree below them. 'You know how the Ravenclaws get nasty when you do that.'
'And you,' Sirius shot back.
'And me,' Peter said agreeably, unashamed of his bookworm status. And rather proud to be classified with the Ravenclaws.
'So who is he?' demanded Sirius, not able to push him from his mind.
James's mouth opened to answer, and then he shut it. When he opened it again, he said in a wondering tone, 'D'you know, I don't know his name. All I know is that he says he's a Squib and he works for the Lupins - he's not, y'know, the long-lost werewolf son.' James frowned.
'He does an awfully good Net Charm for a Squib,' Peter spoke up.
Sirius rounded on him in all his frustrated glory. 'What?'
'I said he - '
'I know,' Sirius snapped.
'I tried to climb up that tree and couldn't, and I can see some enchantments, you know that. From here it's pretty obvious that's what it is. You two can't feel it, you're on brooms.'
James and Sirius exchanged glances.
'Some Squib,' Sirius said, not so much agreeing with Peter as mock-insulting James.
'Maybe what he meant was that he wasn't trained as a wizard, not properly,' James shrugged. 'Listen, are we practising our Double Trouble attack or not?'
TBC (hopefully quicker than the last time)
I'm incredibly sorry that this took so long; I got stuck in a block, plain and simple, about halfway through. Then OotP came out, and, frankly, I was distracted. Speaking of which, OotP smashed a few ideas for this, but, charmingly enough, this was an AU to begin with, so just a quick Reparo, dusting off, and they've survived good as new.
Holes in reasoning can be pointed out via review, but I actually have plans for them.
It moves slowly still, but as it shouldn't have more than ten chapters, I assure you that the pace shall pick up. Thanks again.
Chapter Two:
Peter's prediction the night before had been true to form; even James couldn't deny it, much less Sirius. He could, however, ignore Peter's gloating, and concentrate sleepily on James, who had bounded onto the bed. Or, rather, on Sirius, who had still been in the bed; not quite asleep but not yet awake.
'Oh, Sirry, they have the best food…' James actually groaned as he rubbed his stomach in memory, an action usually taken over by Peter. 'And, Sirry, listen, you won't believe who owled in a reservation, you won't believe it…'
'Lemme guessss…' Sirius drew out the last syllable, slurring as badly as if he had been drunk. Suffice to say, everyone had experience on Sirius being in that state. 'Ple', dun tell me… um, um… it's someone good, right? Not, you know, Snape, or one of the teachers…'
'Don't,' said Peter solemnly. In spite of how he stumbled over his words, he had a strong sense of humour. It was just a pity his listeners usually lost interest by the time he forced whatever he was trying to say from his mouth. 'You're insulting the teachers, saying them in the same breath as Snape…'
James was heartily enthusiastic. 'It's someone good, old boy. Really good.'
'For more than the obvious reasons, too,' Peter agreed.
'Dai Llewellyn!' Sirius shouted, voice still thick with sleep.
'Wake up, Black,' said James, much more fondly than Peter would have said. 'Dai's dead. Remember?'
(A/N: 'But it's an AU! Anything's possible!' Sirius protested.)
'But we're wizards. Anything's possible!' Sirius protested. Dangerous Dai Llewellyn was his great hero.
James sighed a shade too patiently. 'I refuse to even dignify that with a response. Try for real.'
'Well, while we're on dead fellows, why not Godric's ghost? That's what I heard was here.'
'He's alive, Black - even if not for long,' was Peter's sunny contribution.
'Sirius or - you-know-who?' James asked.
Peter barely stopped to think. 'Both would be good.' He had sat gingerly on the edge of his cousin's bed, and flinched when Sirius's yawning and stretching threatened contact.
'Not the You-Know-Who, our you-know-who.'
'You two are giving me a headache. Is it Robyn Walkchester?'
'Oh, you'd like that, Quidditch and thinly-clad girls!' Peter muttered, but James overrode him:
'Oh, c'mon, no! Not Quidditchy at all!' James Potter, the Quidditch-possessed, had never sounded so happy at the adjective 'not Quidditchy' before.
'Not even female?' Sirius said in a whimper.
'No!'
'Den whassa point? Lemme sleep some more.'
'Black, you've slept about forty out of forty-eight hours. Take a break!'
At Peter's stern order, for once with no hint of a stutter, Sirius burst into sleepy but hysterical laughter. Even James couldn't fight a tiny smile.
Eager to rid everyone's memory from his inapt statement, Peter barged on ahead. 'It-It's Alastor Moody!'
Both of Sirius's eyes popped open. 'Who?'
'Alastor Moody, my dear hearing-impaired lass.'
James's mortal insult had no effect. Sirius did go from lying with limbs askew to sitting bolt upright in the blink of an eye, but not to start a mock tussle with his friend. His eyes were round.
'I'll lass you,' he threatened in most unthreatening of tones. 'Moody? No kidding. Moo-dy?' Sirius was not a very close follower of the war and kept it at arm's distance, but Alastor Moody was a name to inspire awe and respect and even hero-worship all the same.
'We don't kid with you when you're too tired to fight back,' James said.
Sirius was whispering. '… must be kidding… Moody…' He found his usual volume again. 'What in Godric's name is he doing getting a room in an out-of-the-way place like this?'
'Let's think,' Peter muttered, but only to himself, because Sirius and James were deep in engaged conversation before these two words were out of his mouth. 'Well, unless he's taking a holiday' - and Peter laughed shortly; no Auror did nowadays, as he knew well from his uncles: 'An Auror's time off comes soon enough, when he's dead'. Moody was one of the ones who had been an exception since the beginning of the war. Maybe the only one. '… then you would suppose he's looking for a Death Eater. But just a guess.'
Meanwhile, James had his own conclusions mapped out, and Sirius was polishing them. 'Well, obviously something's happening here in Roasedaly…'
'But why this inn?'
'Well, that Green Dragon is pretty openly magical, but maybe that's just it, it's too full of witches and wizards, and I think the rest of the inns are pretty much all Muggle. Wizards don't even go there. They might not go here, either, 'cept the Lupins are an old family and most know them.'
'I've never heard of them,' Sirius said sceptically.
'I said they're an old family, not necessary a well-known one. They've never been very rich or powerful or anything, but they go back for centuries.' Sirius and Peter came from the lower wizarding aristocracy, but James, as a Potter, knew the ins and outs of every wizarding family there was. 'Hunh, here's an interesting one for our dear Lestranges - the Lupins go back farther than they do. And the Flints.'
'It'd be nice to get his head down some,' growled Sirius. 'You don't think there might be a Death Eater or something in here?'
'Obviously he's somewhere in Roasedaly or close to it. But I don't think it's necessarily here. I still think he's coming here only because Tailfeathers is rather secluded and quiet, but the owners aren't going to raise eyebrows if he brings in some of his Auror-toys. They'd co-operate with a squad if needed.'
'Well, there's'm funny things at Tailfeathers, ini't there?' asked Sirius. 'That's what those blokes at Green Dragon were saying.'
'Of course they were,' said a dismissive Peter, who had rejoined the conversation. 'They don't want them to get their business.'
'It was too full of stuffy grownups and overcrowded. Not nice like this.' Sirius was equally dismissive, although for once his contempt wasn't with Peter.
'Actually,' said James thoughtfully, 'there are odd rumours about this place.' There was little doubt this had been one of the attractions that brought him to Crossed Tailfeathers to begin with. 'For centuries there's been that old problem with Lady Slytherin's haunt…' He trailed off and grinned sheepishly as he saw Sirius and Peter staring at him with identically incredulous expressions. Sometimes his knowledge of every nook and cranny in the wizarding world unnerved them. 'Sorry. Sirius ought to get dressed. Day's almost over, and I didn't come here to do homework and twiddle my thumbs.'
'No, no, that's okay,' said Sirius eagerly. 'This is interesting. Go on.'
'You should get up.'
'I can get dressed the same time you talk!'
'It's like talking and thinking at the same time,' James and Peter chorused, and grinned at each other.
Sirius rolled his eyes. 'Old, mates, old.' He rolled over onto the floor. 'I'm up. Keep going. I want to know what'll try to eat me while I'm here, and meant to ask you anyway. Isn't there a werewolf around here, or - '
'Yes, that's another one.' James didn't sound credulous. 'I think it just started by a few odd coincidences around a full moon and their name.'
'What about their name?' asked Peter.
'Lupin. Lupus. Wolf. Unfortunate coincidence, really, and maybe there was something odd around here once, but I think Mr and Mrs Lupin are just the victims of old ladies gossiping over tea. There's been nothing concrete to prove things for years.'
'They do have that weird brother,' Peter said. He and James had met Cauley Lupin at the breakfast Sirius had missed.
James laughed. 'Oh, Sirry, you're going to like Cauley! But, honestly, he's no more a werewolf than I am.'
'That leaves us in some doubt, then,' spoke up Sirius, hopping about on one foot as he fumbled with a sock. It was difficult to tell if it was a sock being put on or one taken off: Sirius's all looked the same. 'Besides, how can you tell?'
'Well, you know,' James shrugged. 'You saw him. A bit excitable - I don't think he quite ever grew up - but perfectly normal.'
'What's your standard of perfectly normal?' asked Peter, mock-derisive.
Sirius hid his face. No use in letting Peter think he was funny or anything.
James, oblivious to Sirius's thought, leaned back on Sirius bed happily. Perhaps it was just the novelty of an unusual holiday and an unusual inn, but they were all getting along very well. He hoped it lasted for a little while.
*
'Cauley - you cannot - cannot - go cracking those Ministry jokes,' Catty was saying imploringly. 'And not that little act where you pretend you're a Death Eater. I mean, most of our regulars know you, but not - not - around Moody.'
'You sound like my dear brother,' said Cauley, dryly. 'Shall I say a hundred times "I will be a good boy"?'
'Probably wouldn't hurt,' muttered Catty distractedly. Calder had insisted that great chunks of the inn were due for a thorough cleaning.
'Listen, I don't want to wait in Azkaban for six months for a trial at the mercy of Barty Crouch. I'm not going to act like an idiot. I will be a good boy; I will be a good boy; I will be a good boy - '
'All right, all right!'
Cauley stared. Catty never raised her voice.
'I don't see what the fuss is about, anyhow,' he muttered, a bit sullenly. 'Just because the whole wizarding world knows someone's name doesn't mean we should spruce up extra for him. What's good for our regular customers should be - '
'Oh, come on, Cauley! You and Calder go over this argument every time we get a well-known customer, and I get dragged in the middle every time, and then Remus gets disgusted and upset and doesn't talk for three weeks after the guest leaves, and there's great rows and we need so many Silencing Charms, oh, please, Cauley, not this time.' Catty's voice was choked with tears, even if her eyes were dry. 'Calder thinks it's for the best, and it certainly can't hurt - '
'Shhh!' said Cauley, much taken aback. He adopted the soothing tone used by a majority of men in tense times, not knowing that its effect is usually to make the damsel in distress more on edge. 'Calm down there, Catty-girl, shh, calm. Listen, I didn't know it upset y', y'see? But that's right now. There'll be no big rows; neither we both of us're going to bother y', all right? If Cal' and I need to exchange words, we'll do it alone, all right?'
Catty gave him a strained little smile that made Cauley feel guilty as sin.
'That's fine, Cauley, really, I was up too late last night, and with all the excitement I wouldn't know which end of a broomstick to use. Here, if you'll grab the breakfast mess quick I'll do these rooms, and with Remus on the guest rooms we'll be done soon enough. Maybe a little something special for lunch.'
'A - all right,' said Cauley hesitantly, patting her with extreme awkwardness on the shoulder and making a hasty retreat. 'Whew!' he said to himself. 'Catty-girl's got 'irself ina almighty tizz now. I'll be a good boy, 'member, I will be a good boy, I will be a good boy… An' Cal' wi' his thinkin'…'
*
The Crossed Tailfeathers dining room was a large, old-fashioned, high-ceilinged, dim affaire. The walls were dominated by one large fireplace that provided all the room's light, and beta'd by a few portraits on the wall of dark ominous people whom only the Lupins could place, and even they weren't certain of them all.
The table was long and dark and wood and sturdy, and the chairs were like it.
It was rather full that night. Cauley was on his best behaviour, on a probation of sorts. Calder was considering taking his place waiting the table for Moody's visit and everyone knew it. Cauley simply did not know the definition of politically correct.
So the room wasn't quite as noisy as the norm, which made Remus's position more difficult. Cauley had always been a distraction for the guests. Now he had only the room's darkness and his own experimentive (and illegal) chameleon charms to aid him.
But he had to go. James Potter was a sitting duck, and any potential pickpockets could see that he was entirely too wrapped up in his friends - Sirius Black especially, and Peter Pettigrew was brooding and not hindering them at all. He was in another world. Remus knew how to think like a thief. Potter was a gold mine without booby traps.
Well, Remus could be a trap, a sight better one than any inanimate object.
He was under the table, which could be an interesting place some nights. There was no tablecloth, but between his charms and everyone else's preoccupation no one ever noticed him. Only Cauley knew about this, and it had taken him almost four years to catch on, so when he tried to scold Remus (and Cauley couldn't scold to begin with) Remus simply pointed out that he had been there a thousand meals before Cauley had noticed, and Cauley's job was to notice something like that, so his chances of being caught were nil, or at least slim.
Remus also knew how to keep his mouth shut about some of the things he witnessed there. He had long since trained himself out of the natural need to talk things over. In fact, he ignored them. Since Cauley had caught him Remus had only done this when he had a specific target, and he had one tonight.
It didn't take long for Remus to see, through blockades of limbs and chair legs, that one of the drifters had gone by and taken Potter's watch. And the drifter would be back; Remus had just seen his skill in action, and the watch was too easy.
Tuning out the conversations, especially the one between Potter and Black (which he'd become too interested in), Remus crept along, keeping the drifter in sight. The man sat down close to the boys.
Remus waited until he knew the thief was preoccupied watching Potter and Black, and trying to make it look as though he weren't, and possibly even the dinner itself before he struck, nipping the watch neatly back from the drifter's pocket. But he didn't bother slipping it back to Potter's wrist, not just yet; he was still watching the pickpocket.
Black seemed to be making some elaborate movement with his hands, probably imitating a Quidditch play. Potter would be watching. The thief and Remus both knew this was the moment. The thief pulled off a common little maneuver, leaning back in his seat as a cover for inching a little over to his victim.
On the opposite side, Remus pushed the chair (already tilting back thanks to the thief himself) and the chair and the man fell backwards.
Not in our inn, thank you, he reflected satisfiedly.
There was a great clamour; Remus hastily retreated to the middle, where no legs might bump him, but out of sight from the gaping hole that the missing chair now made. Some folks were crowding around the pickpocketer, checking if he were all right, etc.
He could hear Potter and Black laughing.
Pathetic.
But Remus was smiling too, albeit grimly. The drifter, Muggle or wizard - for both believed in every old wives' tale and gossip item there was - would soon learn not to attempt thievery in the haunted Crossed Tailfeathers Inn.
Even better, the thief had decided to excuse himself, which meant that within a little while the incident was forgotten, conversations were going full steam again, and Remus was ready to return the watch. If the common pickpocket could do it, Remus was certain that he could as well.
Now even Pettigrew was involved with the conversation, which seemed to revolve around peeves, pranks, and slapstick humour.
With a fine and delicate hand, Remus slipped the watch on and then leaned back, completely under the cover of the table again.
But Potter had subconsciously sensed something wrong - damn him - and as he shifted in his seat, his boot hit Remus, who instantly sat still and held his breath.
If the dining hall at large ever caught him, there would be a mess, and Potter was now poking experimentally with the toe of his shoe. The number one rule in such a situation was one Remus already knew: don't panic.
I am a table leg, I am a table leg, I am a table leg, I am a table leg, I am a table leg… The longer Potter's shoe was still in connection to him, the louder his heart seemed to pound. But Remus's rational side held firm: no one could hear that but himself. Table leg.
Potter retreated, shifting his chair.
'What's up with you, Jamie?'
Jamie?
Please.
'Nothing,' although he sounded impatient, 'it's just I got the chair by the table leg, can't find a comfortable spot…'
*
The drifter was gone the next morning, having asked Catty Lupin for a takealong breakfast.
*
Dear Lily,
Asking if you miss me sounds really pathetic. So I'll just say I miss you. I still can't tell you just where I am. Or even who I'm with. But it's a nice place and I'll be telling you all about it when term starts.
So you have to write back to me and tell me about yourself. Everything. Is your sister driving you up the wall yet? And are you still procrastinating on your summer homework? That essay McGonagall gave us is rotten.
Write my parents, tell them I'm okay.
I don't know what to say. I keep remembering all the plans we made for this summer and how ('their' is crossed out) they're not going to happen now. Stop driving me to insanity. It's not very nice of you, you know.
I miss you. And I'm wishing I could write letters like you do.
James
*
At first Remus had been horrified to discover that Potter and his cronies were using the forest as an obstacle course to race. Sure, if they were simply running that was fine, even though Remus would still have thought them both frivolous and ridiculous, but with brooms? In Roasedaly?
His mother had told him not to worry about it; she'd said they could and there were all sorts of protective charms around the forest.
'What sort of protective charms?' Apparently nothing that had helped him ten years ago in that same forest.
'Shielding ones,' she said, looking pained. She was either thinking of the same thing or the stress of preparing the place for Alastor Moody's arrival was wearing on her. Or both. 'Anything magical in there, Muggles can't see. If we were in there Muggles couldn't see us.'
'Convenient.'
And in that case, it was certainly a pity that the three of them were wizarding; it would have made hiding from them easier. Because Remus had thrown away his inner voice of reason, and caution was flying along with the wind.
He had gone into the forest too. And was watching them.
Every few minutes he took care to remind himself what an idiotic moron he was.
The same way that Black kept assuring Pettigrew every few minutes that he was an idiotic pansy.
Pettigrew had opted to keep his feet firmly on the ground and was doing some summer homework, a concept Remus found rather cruel. That he worked on scholarship year round didn't matter. Schools were strange, or perhaps of course he just thought that because he'd never been to one. Potter and Black were on their broomsticks, horsing around to a great degree and exchanging banter that wasn't half so witty as they both found it.
Remus was sitting in a tree, something he loathed but did anyway because he refused to tolerate his own weaknesses. All the same, he had expended enough energy to make a Net Charm to surround the tree in case he fell. Without a wand it had been difficult, but falling from the tree he'd scampered up, smacking against the ground at the feet of a werewolf, promptly being attacked, and having his world explode in pain and fear was still a sequence that visited him in his dreams. He was then distracting himself from both the boys and the tree's height by reading.
It distracted him from the latter, but not the former - Potter and Black especially were not people easily ignored. Which hopefully explained why he was doing something quite so stupid as being out here, listening to them.
'Yes, well, your Quidditch skills didn't help you win over Evans, that's for sure!' Black was yelling.
'Shut up, Sirius, I got the girl now,' retorted Potter with extreme good nature, obviously benevolent in his dual victory.
If Remus congratulated himself on doing one thing that wasn't quite as thick as he seemed to be acting that day, it was on not reading anything wizarding. It was an inconspicuous Muggle fiction book. An extremely boring one, at that, but it made explanations easier when -
'Hey!'
Remus nearly toppled out of the very precarious seat of branches. When he regained his balance enough to see straight, he was looking into a dark, handsome face familiar from the pictures he had flipped through in Potter's room.
'Hey,' Black said again, not shouting this time, looking a bit bemused but with a friendly sort of grin.
As Remus had no idea of what to respond with, he opted for his usual choice, the safest one - complete silence.
'Hey,' Black said for the third time, seemingly struck by something. 'Do I know you?'
Oh, right. The night where he and Pettigrew had asked for directions around midnight.
'No,' responded Remus truthfully. He didn't. They had met, but Black didn't know him.
'Jamie!' Black called, 'c'mere!' He turned back to Remus. 'So why're you in a tree?'
''Cause I'm reading,' Remus replied testily, holding up his book.
'Reading? Over summer hols?' Black stared at him. 'Mental.'
James Potter made a beautiful sharp U-turn and darted over on an angle that nearly defied gravity. 'It's you!'
He actually sounded glad to see Remus.
'So you know him too?' asked Black. And then, before Potter answered, hollered: 'Pettigrew! Come over here!'
Remus was beginning to feel like some novel attraction at a circus.
'Sure I know him!' Potter was beaming at him good-naturedly. 'He brinks up trunks and keeps our room semi-tidy, a thankless task I'm ever so grateful for.'
Although Remus had been waiting for a chance to scowl at them, and this was a convenient opening, he decided against it at just this juncture. For one, he didn't want to give Potter any more of an impression that he disliked his 'job' at the inn. Remus's fierce pride in the inn couldn't allow that.
For two, Black was talking before Remus quite had the chance. Their conversations were all much more loud and fast (not to mention inane) than Remus was used to. Of course, for two years, ever since the villagers of Roasedaly had cemented his lycanthropy in their knowledge, he had only ever spoken with his own family, three significantly older adults.
Black was the loudest and fastest and most inane talker of them all. 'Well, that explains it. Pettigrew' - he yelled to the boy below - 'it's the vampire that gave us directions to the inn last night.'
Potter was wide-eyed and Remus was uncomfortable.
'Just kidding.' Black nudged Remus with the end of his broomstick. 'You gave us just a smidgen of a fright there and Pettigrew said you were a vampire.'
'N-No I didn't!' protested Pettigrew, from his tree. 'You said that!'
'Listen to how that wind yowls!' Black exclaimed, irritating Pettigrew to no end. 'So what're you doing up here?'
'I believe we had this conversation just a moment before,' Remus said, finally seeing a chance to employ a scowl. 'I. Am. Reading.'
Black snarled at him first, and Potter's frown wasn't far behind. 'We leave behind a Snape and lookie what we get!'
'Sorry to interrupt you,' Potter said, not sounding incredibly apologetic.
Their anger stung Remus. Can't have it, he thought, bad for the inn. 'Sorry,' he mumbled. 'Listen - I'm sorry. I'll go now.'
'Your family's tree,' Black shrugged, face still twisted darkly.
'The Lupins aren't my family,' said Remus, 'and - well, anyway, I have some chores to do.'
Black considered him long and hard, and his blue eyes seemed to pin Remus into place. 'Want a ride down?' he offered grudgingly at long last.
'No, thank you,' Remus said reflexively, but then swiftly thought things over. He hated climbing down the tree in the best of cases - and here these boys would witness his hesitant, clumsy attempts, watch him sweat as memory battled with the present and the night of his attack played in his head. Come to think of it, he still had that Net Charm on. The caster of the spell couldn't go through it, and with them watching he had no chance of taking it off. 'Erm… well, yes. Please.' Remus swallowed, unaccountably nervous at Black's hard stare. 'If you don't mind,' he finished faintly.
'Hop aboard,' said Black, not entirely invitingly.
Remus did so, so keyed up that he forgot that he was in his dreaded tree and his catlike grace came easily to him. This was stupid. Very stupid. And what if Black had done this for less than altruistic reasons? Remus braced himself to be bucked off as they descended at the very least. Or perhaps they had heard the rumours and decided he was a werewolf, and Black was trying to take him to the Department. Try! he snarled mentally. They've nothing on me!
Not strictly true, as the good upstanding human citizens of Roasedaly had complained about him before and would do it formally if urged to do so.
In any case, Black didn't do anything except give him a very cold nod at the bottom. 'Thank you, sir,' Remus replied, not meeting those hard eyes.
'Sir?' Black repeated incredulously.
Remus brought himself to look at Black again - in the most deferential of manners. 'Of course,' he said evenly. 'You are the paying guests of my employers, right?'
'Right,' replied Black, still nonplussed. 'See you.'
Not if Remus had anything to say about it, not see you. 'G'aft'rnoon,' he returned, and hurried off, cursing himself for a fool and feeling more painfully lonely than before.
*
He didn't know that he was the subject of a sizeable portion of conversation once he left.
'How d'you know him?' Sirius demanded of James, coming up to tread in the air, flying escapes (very) temporarily forgotten.
'First night here, right before you came,' replied James, promptly and matter-of-factly. 'And from the sounds of it he gave you directions here? What, were you lost?'
'No, of course not. He asked where we were going and volunteered them.' Sirius quickly changed the subject, trying to override Peter's snort. 'He's Snapeish, isn't he?'
Snapeish was their adjective for 'unpleasant' and a pretty severe slur amongst the four.
James hesitated, but since Remus had acted nearly as cool and stiff and somewhat condescending even while calling him 'Master Potter' the day before, he was stuck with one truthful answer. 'A bit.'
'He was just ticked because you interrupted him while he was reading,' Peter spoke up from the tree below them. 'You know how the Ravenclaws get nasty when you do that.'
'And you,' Sirius shot back.
'And me,' Peter said agreeably, unashamed of his bookworm status. And rather proud to be classified with the Ravenclaws.
'So who is he?' demanded Sirius, not able to push him from his mind.
James's mouth opened to answer, and then he shut it. When he opened it again, he said in a wondering tone, 'D'you know, I don't know his name. All I know is that he says he's a Squib and he works for the Lupins - he's not, y'know, the long-lost werewolf son.' James frowned.
'He does an awfully good Net Charm for a Squib,' Peter spoke up.
Sirius rounded on him in all his frustrated glory. 'What?'
'I said he - '
'I know,' Sirius snapped.
'I tried to climb up that tree and couldn't, and I can see some enchantments, you know that. From here it's pretty obvious that's what it is. You two can't feel it, you're on brooms.'
James and Sirius exchanged glances.
'Some Squib,' Sirius said, not so much agreeing with Peter as mock-insulting James.
'Maybe what he meant was that he wasn't trained as a wizard, not properly,' James shrugged. 'Listen, are we practising our Double Trouble attack or not?'
TBC (hopefully quicker than the last time)