Was he now the age Alastor had been when he had asked Lupin to look at his hands? Was this what happened when all of your age and experience caught up with you? It crossed his mind very briefly that he and Alastor could be related but he knew he wasn't. Lupin picked up the map again and stared. His eyes caught the edge of Harry's last name. But it couldn't be. H. Potter. James name didn't start with the letter H and if it had been them, then R. Lupin would have been on the map next to it and S. Black. But the names on the map weren't there. Not all of them at least. R. Weasley. Good, he nodded. H. Granger. His eyes darted between the names. He had to be hallucinating.
"Mr. Hartley! Pleasure to meet you!"
Lupin nodded and when he got close enough, shook hands with the agent.
"Please, call me David." They walked to the front together as the agent retrieved a set of keys. Lupin had almost diverted to take the path to go to the gate of the backyard as he had always done and realized now that he had never used the front door of the house.
"You're rather young. What did you say you did again?" The agent hesitated with the door.
"Banking." Lupin replied. The agent looked askance, skeptical.
"My family works in coal mining, I handle their accounts."
The agent's eyebrows went up in surprise.
"Well, I didn't mean to sound rude, Mr. Hartley. It's just that sometimes-"
"No need to explain." Lupin chuckled casually.
Apparently Lupin had said the right combination of words. He had only heard a bit of conversation between Dorcas and Philippa mentioning how Lydia had worked with someone who had died in a mine. They were in tears laughing at this story and Lupin had said the first thing that came to mind but it had satisfied the agent, even impressed him. He gestured towards the now open door.
"May we?"
"Absolutely!"
Lupin stepped over the threshold and felt, more than he ever had, that he was trespassing. Everything was the same. The placement of the piano on his right, the same cushions, some of the same artwork. Throughout the short hall, he could make out a corner of the table and the chairs around it. The side table where the fusfium once sat was now topped with a few books and a vase filled with a spray of branches speckled with flowers. Really, the only difference was the fresh flowers but he hadn't expected the same ones to have been there. He could hear the agent rattling off details of the house as he nodded. He breathed in the faint smell of the people who had lived here or imagined that he could, and that, even with all of their things still there, they were not. The house would only hold the memory of them for so long.
"How long has the house…", he didn't know what to ask or how or why he was asking it.
"Well, the previous tenants stopped paying rent here and the house was abandoned. They left it in a miserable state. Our group saw the opportunity in this area and region, which is changing…" He said, dropping his voice slightly. "And, well, we couldn't pass it up!"
Lupin looked at the man who was smiling warmly and sincerely, maybe he had misunderstood something.
"This house was abandoned?"
"Yes, if you can believe it." The agent said looking around. Alright, Lupin thought. He hadn't misunderstood that part.
"And the house was in what state?"
"Oh no, Mr. Hartley, please don't misunderstand me. We had some of the best in town and the business ensure that the bones of the house are solid. Really, the biggest issue were merely cosmetic."
"Hmm," Lupin said aloud, more to himself. The agent started to fidget, was about to reassure him.
"And you saw the house then?"
"Of course, but maybe it wasn't so bad as I'm making it seem…" The agent's voice wavered.
"No, I prefer to know. Please, don't be shy." He said staring at the agent. "Mining, remember." Lupin pointed to himself.
"Well," the agent deflated slightly. "This neighborhood, you understand…" Lupin didn't understand. "It's changing," The agent conceded making a gesture out with his hands and eyes as if the block of houses had been a troublesome student, "but when we came in, there was trash everywhere and the furniture was in disarray, broken and filthy. Pillows and throws, here and there." The agent went on. Maybe, this wasn't the right house. He inhaled to ground himself and caught the smell of the cleaning wax used for the piano and tables. He smelled the roses that a guest had brought for the birthday party that sat on the coffee table in that very room, he smelled tea and coffee and hot chocolate wafting from the kitchen and Philippa's bath soap floated through the air. The same soap or lotion he used to smell when she stood at the door, the one at the back of the house through the kitchen telling him, he could stay inside if he needed to. The same fragrance he turned his back on her after thanking her for the offer. This was the right house.
-
Lupin picked the map up and was nearly nose to nose with it now. He couldn't remove his eyes from the name. The last name should not have been there. The map had never lead them wrong. It was as flawless a bit of magic now as it was then. 'Was he a ghost?' Lupin thought. Could there be some memory of all of them, some mistake they hadn't considered in the spellwork? All of their names would be on the map then, though. Right? He found his own name, seated in the classroom.
Initially, when he had retrieved the map and opened the map and said his own oath: I swear on the moon that I mean no harm he half expected nothing to happen. But then like a drop of ink spreading it revealed that this was the very same map. He had watched Dumbledore pace in his office, like he had paced in several times before but what felt like eons ago. Lupin had found it comforting and reassuring. Some things remained the same. Professor Binns he had found even funnier. He had found himself and that's when he felt it. A small wave of sadness. The last time he had held this map, he had been surrounded by three other people, their names in a jumble of ink on the map. Not meditating on Dumbledore's pacing what to check if they could make a quick day trip to Hogsmeade. Now it was his name alone. R. Lupin. He sighed. He decided the last place, he would look was the Gryffindor common room for old time's sake. He would say goodbye and then destroy the map. There was no more need for it. And then his eyes had lighted on Harry's name and he smiled besides himself. He smiled despite the deepening sadness. A little set of footsteps rushed into the room with another. He could only barely make out Hermione's name and he knew this configuration. The names stilled, momentarily and then the confusion of letters, two nearly overlapped names separated themselves. He could very clearly make out the names and he couldn't believe it.
-
"So, Mr. Hartl-" the agent said beaming, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet in anticipation.
"David." He said more curtly as he walked down the stairs. He had asked to wander the house alone. Lupin had no intention of buying the house with imaginary muggle money but now, he really didn't intend to. The house was the right house. The furniture mostly the same. He was not going mad. He was not hallucinating. The agent was only lying. He considered asking the agent where and who had furnished this supposed rescued rubbish heap of a house. He hadn't the heart to hear anymore of what he had to say.
"How much did you say the house is?"
The agent replied. Lupin nodded.
"You don't think the price is a little low?" The agent could barely contain his glee.
"Well, David, if I may…" Lupin said nothing. Did nothing, just looked plainly at the greedy, lying man's ever reddening face.
"Usually people don't suggest to an agent to pay more but given your line of work, I suppose you would know better."
"I do. This is my home." Lupin said.
"Well, I can draw up some paperwork and get started on eve-"
"I said, this is my home."
"I understand, David, but we have a few more papers to fill out bef-"
"No, I don't believe you do understand."
The agent cocked his head to the side, his smile faltered in confusion.
Lupin looked around the kitchen. He passed the side table with the books and the new fresh flowers in the old vase and went into the living room. He breathed in deeply. This is why he was here, he thought. He was saying goodbye. He looked around that room also. Before he opened the front door, which he had never been through before that day, he thought better of it. He went back through the little hallway through the kitchen, past the agent, now very confused and stunned to stillness, past the table where the books had lay strewn open with parchment covered in Philippa's handwriting, where she had disappeared from after he had finally found mango, past the oven where he had stood with a plate of food at the party where Sirius told him to 'be careful not to wolf that food down.' and Lupin had told him 'don't worry about me, old dog.' and had continued eating smiling at each other over his plate, past the discussions and trials in spellwork and theory, past where the fire gate had been set. He closed the door. He turned to face the house and wrapped at the door with his knuckles a little knock. Lupin continued past the space he would sleep where he could hear Philippa playing the piano and looked up at the outside of the house, the windows on the lower half where a smell of good stew and rice would be cooking or a plate of eggs, toast and grilled tomato and onion, maybe a slice of cheese for breakfast. Philippa opening the back door to let the smell of good food out and calling to him that his plate of food wouldn't eat itself. The upper floor windows where a billow of clean soapy steam might float down to him in the dark and soon to be stillness of the evening. Past the gate, he walked a little up the street and thought about what might have been the mark floated over the house and decided against turning toward it, past where she started her clinical work as a healer, a nurse, she had called it. She had explained her future job to him. Same thing he had said.
The agent had heard the knock on the door and wondered if he should open the door but heard David Hartley leave. He pulled up a chair and sat. He could go after him, maybe it was a rich people test, some way to keep the agent on his toes but the agent figured if it really was, he would have liked to believe if he didn't chase after him, it might make a better impression and when he got up to leave, his watch told him he had been there longer than he had expected or noticed. He wondered how or why and decided that David of the hoity-toity RUDE Hartley's was missing out on a house he hadn't paid for. Even the agent felt something there; he felt at home. The house regarded the agent, knowing as all houses and buildings do, who lived there and how, with indifference. It understood what Lupin was doing there and why before he did. What a gesture of respect and kindness for Lupin to come back and say goodbye, the house thought. A luxury that some good homes didn't get though it understood too why it mostly couldn't or didn't happen sometimes. It called after lupin and he turned. The house told him to tell Philippa to be safe and happy and that it knew why she couldn't stay and why she had to leave as she did and she would find another home because she was her own home and the house was just a building that couldn't feel or think or understand, hear, see, speak or reason. Lupin closed the gate and continued on. And thank you! The house called after him and he stopped turned his head slightly but didn't face the house again. The house waited for the agent to leave and when he did, it had a few words for him too but the agent didn't understand it because it wasn't his house, it had never been his home.
"Liar", the house muttered under its breath. Knowing too and that unfortunately the agent would be the reason it became a home again.
