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Chapter Three: A New Direction

Remus gave his two weeks' notice at Flourish and Blotts the next day. He started making lists of the things he would bring from home, the things he would need to buy, and what would be left behind. He unearthed a large camping rucksack that had belonged to his Muggle grandfather from the attic. Now that he had made up his mind, he wasn't going to hesitate. When his shocked manager, who was loathe to lose the man who was seemingly his most dedicated employee, asked him why he was quitting all of a sudden, Remus gave him a watered-down version of the truth. He explained that he was going Abroad for a while, somewhere new, where a fresh start could be made free from the haunting memories of happier days. And this was a large part of his eagerness to begin; Remus could not wait to be free of Britain, could not wait to be someplace where he did not see his friends at every turn. Even his house was no longer home, not with a thousand memories in every room, not with the ghosts of the Marauders and Lily in every chair, on every surface. He resolved to be out of the country by the new year.

He was not surprised in the least when a Hogwarts owl soared through his window a few days after Moody's visit. It took off as soon as he relieved it of its burden, apparently not expecting a reply. Remus opened the heavy envelope to find two sheets of parchment and another, sealed envelope marked To Whom It May Concern. He scanned the first sheet.

Dear Remus,

Alastor Moody has informed me of your decision to assist Harry Potter by intensively studying Defense Against the Dark Arts. I cannot express how pleased and proud I am that you have made this choice. I have enclosed a list of places that would be excellent for your research. Also enclosed is an open letter of recommendation on your behalf to the government of whichever country you travel to. Unfortunately, I know of the prejudices our world holds against werewolves, but this should assure that your condition does not prevent your settling in the place of your desire. The letter is enchanted to be used multiple times; whenever the seal is broken, a duplicate will appear in your pocket. I wish you both the best of luck in your studies and the healing that only time can bring. If you would do me the favour of dropping in before you leave, it would be most appreciated.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Remus glanced at the second sheet, which contained the promised list, and then picked up the sealed envelope with a sort of reverence. Very few wizards could promise a werewolf unconditional government acceptance, but Albus Dumbledore was one of them. Remus was very touched that the headmaster would put his reputation on the line like that for someone as unimportant as himself. Then he thought that if James heard him calling himself "unimportant", he would threaten to hex him. Then he cried.

On his last day of employment at Flourish and Blotts, Remus took advantage of the 25% employee discount to buy several large packages of parchment, a number of bottles of ink, and three new quills. His manager raised an eyebrow, but Remus simply settled his face into a no-questions expression. It was one he had gotten quite good at over the years. He would use the supplies for taking notes on the Dark and Defensive Magic he studied. After perusing the list Dumbledore had given him, he had settled on beginning at the National Library of Defensive Magic in Ireland. This would take him far enough away that nothing was familiar, but prevent him from worrying about any language barriers. It was also located conveniently just outside Wicklow, one of the four all-magical villages in the country. He had already been in contact with the Ministry of Magic in Dublin. They were dubious about allowing a werewolf to move to Ireland for an undefined amount of time, but the head of the Magical Creatures department agreed to meet with him.

In the meantime, he visited Gringotts and emptied his vault of the carefully hoarded savings, all but an emergency reserve fund of three Galleons. For the first and last time in his life, he exited the bank with a full money bag. Trusting in Dumbledore's word that the Irish government would not refuse him a visa, he visited the village of Wicklow several times searching for a flat at a decent price. Just before Christmas, he found one that, while on the poor side of town and shabby, was not so filthy or derelict that it was in danger of being shut down by health officials. His apartment was only three small rooms (kitchen, bedroom, bathroom), but it came with a basement that, though only slightly larger than a shoebox, would serve for his transformations (not that the proprietor knew that). At only a Galleon a week, it was a steal. He signed a contract beginning 1 January 1982, and put down a month's rent in advance.

The date for his meeting with Irish Head of Magical Creatures department arrived more quickly than Remus would have guessed, consumed as he was taking care of moving details. The wizard, a Mr. O'Doherty, had set the meeting for two days before the full moon. Remus strongly suspected this had been on purpose, so the other man could catch Remus feeling his worst and have an excuse not to grant him a visa. He was clearly not sympathetic toward the effort it would take Remus to Apparate so far at that time of the month. However, on the appointed day Remus dressed in his best robe and appeared at the Apparition point inside the Irish Ministry lobby 15 minutes prior to his scheduled meeting time. He leaned briefly on the wall, gathering his strength after the exertion, before walking toward visitor check-in without an indication that he was anything other than completely healthy. The witch at the desk informed him that the office he sought was on the fifth floor and pointed him toward the shiny steel lifts.

"Hello," he politely greeted the secretary upon finding the correct office, "My name is Remus Lupin and I believe I have a meeting with Mr. O'Doherty."

The witch scanned a piece of parchment in front of her. Her eyes widened, and she glanced quickly back up at Remus, looking frightened. Practically jumping backward, she said, "I'll inform him right away." She disappeared through the door behind her.

Remus suddenly found the floor very interesting. Of all the things people felt against werewolves- distrust, hatred, repulsion- he thought fear was the worst. As if he was going to spring forward and bite someone at any given moment. As if he were nothing but a vicious and bloodthirsty animal rather than a human being whose most violent action to date had been hexing Death Eaters just badly enough to render them unable to evade capture by Aurors.

"You can go in now," the secretary said as she returned, looking extremely relieved that she was not about to be left alone in the room with him. Still examining the floor, Remus thanked her softly and entered the office.

"Mr. Lupin," Mr. O'Doherty greeted curtly, "Sit." He nodded to a wooden chair before his desk. Remus obeyed. Mr. O'Doherty did not offer his hand. He got straight to the point. "Tell me, what interest would one of your kind have in settling in the Emerald Isle? Not enough victims in Britain?"

Calmly, Remus answered the question at face-value. "I wish to study extensively at your National Library of Defense. I would like to peruse it top-to-bottom, which, as I understand, is an endeavor of several years."

"And why would a half-breed like yourself do want to know so much about Defensive Magic? Going to wage a war against wizards?" Mr. O'Doherty sneered, "Ireland has enough citizen-born werewolves without inviting more in to defile our country. Study elsewhere."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts has always been a keen interest of mine, and I have read that your library is one of the best sources on it," Remus replied calmly once more, still outwardly ignoring the insults. He reached into his pocket. "I have a letter of recommendation here." He held it out, and when Mr. O'Doherty would not take it from his hand, placed it on the desk. The other wizard picked it up. As he read, shock and then something close to fear passed over his face before it settled on an expression of resigned displeasure.

"You have friends in high places, Mr. Lupin," he said coldly, "Albus Dumbledore writes that you are working on an undisclosed project for him and that should our government hinder you, they might find themselves without his support in the future. Which, I hardly need say, would not gain me any favors with the Minister." He pulled a parchment and quill toward him. "I shall give you an open-length visa. But if one complaint, one report, about a werewolf reaches me from Wicklow, I shall deport you back to England immediately. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Remus said, relieved that Dumbledore had come through for him, "I assure you, there shall be no problems." No one will know about a werewolf living in Wicklow. He took the visa as Mr. O'Doherty shoved it across the desk, and stood. "Good day." The only response was a rude wave of dismissal.

Alone in the lift, Remus allowed himself a deep sigh. He sagged against the wall, fighting dizziness. The tense meeting had been very draining. It had been quite some time since he'd had to deal with the prejudices against werewolves that directly. There had been stories in the Daily Prophet of anti-werewolf protests or laws, and there had been times where he'd either overheard or been part of a group in which there was talk of anti-werewolf sentiments. But it had not been directed at him. Not since that day when the Minister of Magic had gotten word of what he was and kicked him out of Auror training. And after that, there had been the other Marauders rallying around him, roundly abusing the Ministry and trying to cheer him up. With that thought, in an instant that sucked the breath out of him, he realized he had subconsciously expected that this time. He had expected to go home to have James, Sirius, Peter, and Lily remind him that he was worth a million of people like O'Doherty. Until now, the fact that their absence was what was causing this string of events had not registered as their not being there to beat down his resurfaced insecurities. Suddenly not feeling strong enough to Apparate, Remus changed course halfway across the lobby and headed for the fireplaces.

Everything was ready. His rucksack was packed with all he would need living in Ireland, his clothes and important books and necessities squeezed into it with the help of an Enlargement Charm that expanded the insides without changing the outer dimensions. Another charm made it feather-light, and a final one shrunk it to fit comfortably in his pocket. The rooms of his house had been sealed against dust and theft. He'd been through them at least five times, making sure he was leaving nothing behind. With all this done, it could not be avoided any longer, as much as he wanted to. That was why 31 December 1981 found Remus standing outside what was left of the Potters' cottage in Godric's Hollow.

He pushed at the gate, but an invisible force repelled him. Remembering Dumbledore's instructions, Remus glanced up and down the deserted street, then murmured softly, "I am Remus Lupin, fellow Marauder and friend to James and Lily." There was a pause, then the gate yielded, the magical barrier opening to let him through. He made his way slowly up the sidewalk, recalling each of the other times he had done so, half-expecting at any moment for James to bound out crying, "Moony!" or for Lily to open the door and smile, Harry on one hip. Of course, neither of these things happened, and the doorknob yielded to Remus' turn. He stepped inside and sneezed; no dust-prevention spell had been performed. He wondered why as he siphoned the dust away with his wand, until he realized there was really no reason. He took a shuddery breath. He would not cry. Not again.

For several moments, he merely stood in the hallway. Directly in front of him a staircase began to lead to the upstairs, but the top was blocked by rubble. To the left was the kitchen and pantry, to the right the living room and James' study. Taking a deep breath, he started with the easier side and turned left. The kitchen, which had been right underneath the nursery, was exposed to the open air. Half-standing walls surrounded a room covered in debris, the contents of the cupboards spread among plaster and brick on the ground. What captured Remus' attention, though, was the table. A chunk of ceiling had fallen on it, smashing it to the ground and snapping the legs off. Pain so intense it was physical swept over Remus. He could not count the number of times he had sat at that table. It was there they'd gotten drunk the night James learned he was to be a father. There Lily had fussed over him in the days following full moons, putting portion after portion of his favorite dishes in front of him. There the four Marauders had last sat smiling and laughing, forgetting the war that raged outside their walls. The fact that it was gone brought home to Remus the finality of James' and Lily's deaths in a way nothing else had quite been able to. The three of them would never linger there over cups of tea again.

After what felt like his entire adult life had flashed before him, Remus tore his eyes away from the table. He began to search for anything salvageable; there was not much. Strewn across the ground, fallen out of their box, were Lily's recipe cards, but most were damaged beyond repair. Gingerly, for he was still a bit stiff from the full moon three days previously, he knelt and began to sift through them, pushing bits of roof aside. After a meticulous process, he was rewarded with two complete, still-legible recipes: double-chocolate cake (his favorite) and cinnamon sticky buns (James' favorite). He placed them gently into the box he'd brought, considering the treasures of Lily's slender handwriting well worth his sore muscles. One day he'd tell Harry all about the story behind James' love of the sticky buns.

He moved back across the hall into the living room. While the roof was still intact over this, it too showed signs of abuse. Holes in the wall and broken furniture marked it as the place where James and Voldemort had dueled. Remus stepped on something squishy and looked down; it was Harry's stuffed Snitch, part of the set Sirius had gotten him last Christmas. Staring at the dust-covered toy, Remus nearly choked on the betrayal in the air. He pushed his thoughts onto his task and dusted off the toy, putting in the box. He would simply not tell Harry whose gift it had been. He moved over to the mantel. The glass covering the photos there had been shattered, but the pictures themselves were intact. One showed James and Lily holding newborn Harry, another them opening presents on his first Christmas, and a third Harry getting cake all over himself on his birthday while his parents beamed. Remus put them in the box. The final picture on the mantel showed a proud Sirius holding Harry in a church on his baptism. That one Remus set afire with a jab of his wand.

There was nothing else worth saving in the living room, so Remus moved with trepidation into the study. It was the first room that was mostly the way he had last seen it, although books had fallen off the shelves and papers off the desk, presumably from the force of the spell backfire. All he had to do was close his eyes and he could see James sitting in front of him, either grinning in welcome or oblivious as he scribbled on a piece of parchment. Steeling himself, he moved to the desk. The first thing that caught his eye were the three photos on the desk, still in their frames despite the broken glass. The first two, one of James and Lily on their wedding day and the other of James standing next to Lily's hospital bed in St. Mungo's while she held Harry, he placed in the box. The third photo was of four eighteen-year old boys under a beech tree. It had been taken on their last day at Hogwarts. All four of them had their arms around each other's shoulders. Remus stood between Peter and James; Sirius was on James' other side. He could not bring himself to set this one on fire. He stared into the tiny photographic Sirius' eyes as the figure waved cheerily up at him. He saw joy and excitement and love, but no hint of deception. And then he was sure. Whatever had happened after they left school, on that last day Sirius had still been theirs. Remus slipped the photo into his pocket.

The study proved to hold the most salvageable material for Harry. Remus found letters, both received and unsent by James. Tucked into a copy of Hogwarts, A History was the first love poem he'd ever written for Lily, back in fifth year. It was awful, but it went into the box. Assorted snapshots were gathered into an old tea tin that had fallen to the floor; Remus memorized each one before dropping it into the box. A careful search of the volumes on the bookshelf yielded Lily's diary, which Remus had heard James complain about (he was not allowed to see it). It went into the box unopened. The last things Remus went through were the desk drawers. He found some more old correspondence between Lily and James as well as the bulletin and menu from their wedding, and the Daily Prophet article announcing their marriage. In the bottom drawer was an unopened parcel addressed to James from Gladrag's Wizardwear in Hogsmeade. On the brown paper packaging was scrawled in James' script: For Moony's bday.

Remus' breath caught. James, knowing he was going into hiding, had obviously pre-ordered him a birthday present, meaning to wrap it properly when the actual day got closer (and by this Remus meant five minutes before the party was to begin). With trembling fingers, he undid the paper. It came away to reveal a thick, black cloak edged in red embroidering. The slight shimmer it gave off when moved indicated a powerful Impervius charm (to repel water), and the inside was lined with soft, warm Puffskein fur (the docile animals grew fur at an amazing rate, and enjoyed being sheared). His eyes widened- this cloak was top of the line, and very pricey. Why would James spend so many Galleons on him now? It wasn't like he was coming-of-age or anything. James' words came floating back to him: But Moony, all the more reason to celebrate together- who knows if we'll get to next year? A tear slid down Remus' cheek.

When he left the Potter cottage some time later, his threadbare cloak remained behind, draped over the desk chair.

It didn't occur to Remus that the Headmaster might not be at school on New Year's Eve until he was walking up the front steps. He thought back to the times he'd stayed over the holidays and definitely remembered Dumbledore being there, but was still a bit nervous at he knocked unannounced on the study door. He needn't have been; Dumbledore called out for him to enter almost as soon as he started.

"Remus! What a pleasant surprise," the professor greeted politely, "Please, sit."

"You asked me to come see you before I left, sir," Remus said, obeying, and without further preamble held out his box, "I've done what you requested at the funeral. This is for Harry." He set the box down, glad to be rid of it. He could not bear to see James' and Lily's life together reduced to a shoebox full of odds and ends.

"Thank you. I know it cannot have been easy," Dumbledore said softly, studying the too-slumped shoulders of the man before him, "Are you managing all right?"

Remus started to say "fine" and stopped; there was no lying to Albus Dumbledore. He shrugged. "I wake up every morning and remember they're all gone. But most mornings it takes a little less time than the one before to master the knowledge and go about my day. I guess that's managing."

Remus saw ocean-depth empathy in Dumbledore's eyes as the old man gave a small smile. "Yes, that is managing. I will keep these things safe for Harry, until he is ready. You may know that I have James' invisibility cloak as well, which will also be passed on in due time."

Remus nodded. James had told him about Dumbledore wanting to borrow the Cloak to examine it. A sudden thought struck him. "The Cloak goes to Harry on his first Christmas after coming to Hogwarts. James got it then, and Mr. Potter said all the first sons have gotten it that way for as long as anyone can remember."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "I shall take care of it. Harry will continue the tradition."

Remus took a deep breath. He had to ask now before he lost his nerve. "Give me the Dursleys' address. I have to see him before I go. Harry. I have to see him."

The other man shook his head slowly. "I don't think-"

"Please. I won't approach them, I promise. They'll never know I was there," he begged, "I just have to see him one more time."

Dumbledore gave Remus another of those searching gazes before pulling a piece of parchment toward him and writing down 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. He gave it to Remus. "I wish you luck with your studies. I do not think you will regret taking this assignment on. Important as it is, I would like to remind you that it need not take over you. You are still a young man; you deserve a social life."

"James, Lily and Peter deserved lives," Remus answered quietly. He was tired of Dumbledore telling him that he would heal in time. What did he know about it? He saw again in his head the depth of empathy in the professor's gaze moments ago, and wondered what it was about. What did Dumbledore know of having his entire world torn down around him? What could the most powerful wizard of the century possibly know about losing everything you loved in one fell swoop? He had not been able to save the friends that had done so much for him; he did not deserve to live at all, much less to enjoy it. The best he could hope for was to devote everything in him to repaying his debt by helping James' son. He glanced down at the parchment in his hand, and when he looked up again the empathy was back in the gaze directed at him.

"Yes, they did. But they would not want yours to stop because theirs have." Dumbledore held the grey eyes with his blue ones, reading the irrational anger, the pain, and knowing Remus would not hear this statement yet. He had not either after Ariana's death. But Remus would remember this conversation when he was ready, and that was what was important. "I will write, from time to time, to see how things are going. Until we meet again, Remus." He offered his hand.

"Thank you, Professor." Remus shook it. "Goodbye."

The first cold sunrise of 1982 dawned on a Disillusioned Remus, sitting without moving on a brick wall. Petunia would have to come out of the house with the boys at some point, and he planned to be there when she did. He needed just one glimpse of Harry to keep in mind, one image to draw on when his determination wavered. He sat there, actually quite warm in his new cloak, until mid-afternoon. Then Petunia emerged with one fat baby, to whom she was cooing lovingly, on her hip and another dark-haired one in a carrier on her back. Both were bundled well enough against the cold, but it was obvious that the baby in the carrier was wearing the fat one's hand-me-downs. Petunia walked right by the garden wall on her way to the corner shop. Remus barely breathed as Harry looked straight at him, almost as if he saw him, with those eyes that had come to be the exact shade of Lily's. He memorized the downy jet hair sticking up around the edges of the blue hat, and the innocently curious expression that was vaguely reminiscent of James on the miniature face. He longed to cry out "Hey, little guy!" and hear Harry respond with "Remie", as he had recently begun doing, but restrained himself. Petunia must not know he was there. He watched until long after they had disappeared before standing stiffly and turning on his heel into the suffocating darkness, heading for Ireland.