Chapter Six: Owl Post and Bad Luck

Remus woke with a start, sensing the sunlight sliding across his body. He opened his eyes and quickly closed them again, groaning at the sudden brightness and turning over. It felt as though he had a slight hangover, though he had not drunk any alcohol for months. He remembered yesterday's events in a rush as he stood and shook himself like a dog would, trying to clear his head.

I need an owl, he realized. It had always been a problem for him—he never seemed to be able to come up with enough money to afford one.

As though someone had been listening to his thoughts, there was a sudden fluttering of wings at his window. He spun and stared at the owl disbelievingly. Coming to his senses as the owl glared at him and continued to batter the glass, he strode to the window and yanked it open. With a loud hoot of annoyance, the bird glided in, knocking Remus' tea from the previous night off of the windowsill. The cup shattered on the floor; tea splattered everywhere.

Remus scowled at the bird, took out his wand, and muttered, "Reparo." The teacup repaired itself neatly, but the tea remained pooled on the floor. Deciding to clean it manually—he tried to keep spell casting to a minimum when living in such close proximity to Muggles—he went to his kitchen, grabbed a dishtowel, and mopped up the liquid. The owl, perched on the radio that sat on the table by his couch, watched the process disdainfully.

Once the towel had been put in the sink and the teacup on the kitchen counter, Remus faced the bird. It ruffled its feathers importantly and stuck its leg out. Remus untied the note.

Remus:
This owl's name is Chester. He will stay with you. Use him to keep in contact. Remember to let him out during full moons.

The note was unsigned, but Remus recognized Dumbledore's neat handwriting regardless. Chester hooted loudly. Remus looked up at him and realized that he had a small package lashed to his other leg. He murmured an apology and unwrapped it hastily.

It was a small blood-red feather, tipped with gold. A phoenix feather. A note in the package read:

Just in case.

Remus frowned. He knew a great deal about phoenixes, having read several books on them, but he did not know anything about their feathers other than that they were used in wands and that any arrow with phoenix feather fletching would fly absolutely straight. He ran his fingers over it. It felt like rigid silk. He shrugged, wrapped it in a tissue to prevent it from being damaged, and tucked it carefully into the inside pocket of his robe.

"So," he said, regarding Chester, "you're to be my owl." Chester hooted balefully. "Well, I suppose you'll need a cage." He flicked his wand and a cage appeared. "There. You'll have to hunt for your food, mind. I don't have enough money to buy treats for you." The bird did not seem perturbed by this news. "I know you've just made a long trip, but I've got to ask you to carry a letter for me."

He uprooted some spare parchment from his closet and sat down on his couch, leaning on the table where Chester was perched on the radio. Dipping his quill into his ink, he thought a moment, then scrawled:

Many thanks for the use of Chester. I've been in need of an owl for quite some time. I've also been thinking—perhaps I will take that job after all. I'll come to see you about it soon. In other news, I recently saw a play about a man searching for a phoenix feather. It was very good, but I'm afraid that I didn't quite understand the plot. I believe you have seen the play also, and maybe you could share your interpretation? Thanks again.
Remus

Remus capped his bottle of ink, allowed the letter to dry, and then tied it to Chester's leg. "Take this to Albus Dumbledore," he told the owl, who hooted in comprehension. For a moment, he stayed on the couch, stroking Chester's silky feathers. He was about to haul the window open again to allow Chester to fly out, when there was a commanding knock on the door. Unthinking, he crossed the room and unlocked it.

Mrs. Browning stood outside, smiling regretfully. "Remus, there you are. I'm so sorry, but I was counting the money you gave me and realized that you're about twenty pounds short—is that an owl?"

Remus froze, horrified by his mistake, as he felt Chester land on his shoulder. Oh, no, he thought. Mrs. Browning's eyebrows came together with an almost audible snap. Her usual slightly cabbage-y scent was full of a bittersweet aroma that reminded Remus of a certain kind of wine: disapproval.

"That is an owl," she said rigidly, answering her own question. "You know the rule about animals in this apartment, Remus!" Her voice was rising. Remus heard several of his neighbors stirring, walking toward their doors to figure out what the commotion was.

Remus tried to look comforting. "I know, Mrs. Browning, I'm sorry. I just—I mean, well, he…" He struggled to find the correct words. What could he tell her? My apologies, Mrs. Browning, but I have to have this owl. You see, I'm spying on the most dangerous wizard the world has ever seen, and so I have to remain in contact with my friends, who also oppose this wizard? It was ridiculous.

She pushed her way past him into his room. "A pet, is he?" she demanded, eyes lighting upon the cage. Remus remained in the doorway, emotionlessly returning the stares of his neighbors, who were peering curiously at him from the safety of their own rooms. Slowly, each of them withdrew, but he could hear them lingering at their doors, listening intently. The floor was filled with the sickly smell of apprehension, a combination of sugar and somewhat rotten apples.

Inside his room, Mrs. Browning was on the prowl. She spotted the droppings that Chester had just made and whirled, her anger assaulting Remus' nose harshly. "Of all the boarders in this miserable place, Remus," she shrieked, "I thought you were the best. No screaming children running around and smashing things or getting underfoot, you speak fluent English, you manage to pay your rent almost on time…But now I find out you're keeping a dratted animal in here, when the rules explicitly ban them from the premises!"

"Mrs. Browning, please," he pleaded weakly, realizing that it was useless. He knew the rules. Chester was flapping around the ceiling, hooting in agitation, making matters worse. The landlady's eyes followed his flight with disgust.

"No, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to leave," she snapped. "I refuse to tolerate beasts of any sort in my apartment."

Then you never should have allowed me to stay here in the first place, he wanted to snarl at her. His own anger was rising quickly, the wolf within baying wildly, wanting to growl, to tear her throat, taste her blood and smell her fear as she struggled, her life fleeing…

No! he cried, the reasonable part of him howling in protest. She has every right to kick me out! She doesn't realize what she just said!

Mrs. Browning was watching him carefully, waiting for a response, perhaps wondering if he would attempt to fight her decision.

"I understand," Remus said quietly. "I'll leave within the hour."

The woman nodded and made for the door. Wordlessly, he stopped her, went to the kitchen, and took out what remained of his money. It was not much. He counted out twenty pounds and handed them to her. Her scent was of sorrow now, but also of determination: the former was sharp and sour, like vinegar, the latter spicy, like ginger. Combined, they made his head ache fiercely.

"Thank you," the apartment's owner said, pocketing the money and leaving. Remus waited for the door to shut behind her before sinking onto the couch. Chester settled next to him, hooting softly into his ear. He waved the bird away, went to the window, and yanked it open. The owl circled Remus once and then flew out.

Sighing heavily, Remus took out his wand and to his—no, not his anymore—the closet. He dragged his trunk and two suitcases from it. The trunk was practically a bookcase, with his Comet Two-Sixty broomstick and collapsible cauldron the only two items in it that were not books. He used the Reductor spell on his couch, kitchen table and chairs, dishes, radio, living room table, and Chester's cage before jamming them into the trunk and closing it firmly. Then he used the same spell on the trunk and shoved it, now only slightly larger than a tin of Altoids, into his pocket. He packed his two suitcases with his Muggle clothing and his wizard's robes, and then put all of the non-perishable food he had bought the other day in as well. Remus set the luggage by the door, turned, and walked to the center of the now-barren room. He sat down where he stood and rested his head on his hands, wondering what else could possibly happen to him.