Growing Up

Part 63.

Harry sat for what seemed like hours, scanning each corner and wrinkle on the old and faded parchment. The map was stained a coffee-brown from the weight of time, and felt vintage in his hands as he memorized every inch of the newspaper sized sheet. He sat at a lunch table with a few of his classmates, distant enough that they wouldn't pay attention to him. Harry wasn't talkative and didn't have much in common with the other boys. One girl asked where his scar came from, and Harry had to instinctually come up with an answer that wouldn't baffle the redheaded girl. Since then he began to tell his hair to the side to cover it. He opened up the map only halfway to stare at it again, mesmerized by the jittery footsteps that drifted at different speeds across the page. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes, perhaps the dust was getting to him.

A boxy area hidden up in the left corner caught his attention as emboldened footsteps wafted into it. He leaned forward and squinted, reading the letters.

M.M
Head of Gryffindor

"Ms McGonagall!"

***
Sirius' mood had decayed greatly since Bella had visited. Something was so off about her, strangely more than her typical rabid behavior. The way she held herself so calmly was odd, almost as if she had been trained. He knew his family always had connections to Death Eaters and such, but was it closer than he thought? These thoughts swarmed his mind, and the questions buzzed like wasps, drowning out every other priority when he tried to keep them bound. Teaching about his worst fear was not a considerablejoy.

Remus' anxiety tended to lean towards the new professor. Horace Slughorn had only quit a few years back, and since the interim professor was leaving, Albus was to hire anew. They had grown to like the substitute, and enjoyed his brief company. She was an older woman, kind, and had been a quiet additive to the hall. He wished they would keep her, he was well adjusted enough that he didn't care to get to know someone else.

Harry had begged to take the Friday off and go to work with them, promising to get his chores and minor tasks done as a sort of bribe. With the extra promise of an hour of french practice with Sirius, they had agreed. His planned was perfectly mapped: ask to see Professor McGonagall and follow where the map takes him. The only hurdle was returning back to the classroom during their planning, Remus grew nervous at the thought of him gone too long. He would think of a separate excuse later.

He did just that. Harry would've been a bother when they met the new teacher anyway, so it would be more convenient for them to let him off. They did so, to his impetuous surprise; and he was on his way. As he opened the tall and leaden doors to leave the room, he could almost hear the plot in his back pocket calling his name.

***
"When do you think he'll get here?" Sirius asked, pacing around his desk.

"It'll be fine," Remus waved off his concern. "Late wouldn't be a good first impression."

Remus tried to conceal his unease about the situation to not startle Sirius, who seemed as though he had enough on his mind. Not long after, the door latch clicked open. the voice didn't speak, nor make any noise of welcome. The figure waltzed in, and upon inspection, groaned heavily and let his head loll to the side in defeat.

"Oh, fuck." Sirius whispered under his breath.

Remus stared blankly at the familiar face sneering at him. He tried to speak, opening his mouth to fabricate a response that never came. He looked older, and the tension in his shoulders weighed his posture down. His hair fell to his ears in that same familiar way, and his frown lines had only deepened throughout the years. Seeing him in the break of day made him think painfully of Lily.

Sirius, thinking similarly, wanted to punch him in the gut for James' sake. Instead, he bent over in laughter and clapped, sighing audibly in comical disbelief.