Remus Lupin and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Chapter 6: Beginning Again

The days were getting a crisper edge; still a little warm and soggy, but there was a smell on the edge of night that told of chillier days to come. By that time, it was only a few days left until school started. Remus let himself stop and examine that thought, let the lightness fill him up. It was happening. Months of waiting and now it was happening; he would be a Professor, he would live at Hogwarts again. He looked fondly down at his suitcase, the golden letters now slightly worn away, shine tarnished from the wear of his life and the run of his fingers. It was peeling even more now, but he didn't care, the truth of it still remained.

Lunch had included a self-celebratory side of chips that he munched on while riding the bus to his next destination. He was allowing himself little treats here and there, like the bus and the extra food now that he didn't feel the tension of all that time weighing on the other end of his bank account. Yes, he could have Apparated, but that took energy and he had never been all that polished at it. Riding the bus let him watch the scenery go by, detach from his own muddlings and exist in this transient state where no one looked back at him from the streets.

It was a matter of 3 days, now and his need for personal money could be shelved, at least for the school year. The thought of that warmed him, lifted something from his shoulders until he felt practically buoyant. He let himself make faces at the baby ahead of him on the bus, smile at an older woman entering, strike up a friendly conversation with the young man sitting next to him about, of all things, the weather. It was, unsurprisingly, cloudy but bright, as if the thick insulator of clouds had withered into a lace shawl where bits of blue and--rarely--sun shone through. When it did come out, the trees lit up a verdant green, alive with collected energy, flourishing one last hurrah before the yellows and browns and reds would creep in their edges and veins. Remus had always preferred spring to autumn, preferring the naive narrative of birth rather than death, but this year, it felt more peaceful. Natural. They were merely settling down, just taking a rest. They stood all year against wind and rain and humans; didn't they deserve a rest?

He nibbled down another chip with absent clicks of his teeth, like a child playing. According to Dumbledore, most Professors and staff simply Apparate into Hogsmeade and make their way up to the school or fly up earlier and take a small vacation in the mountains before heading to school. He had considered his method of arrival and decided on the Hogwarts Express. It was not forbidden to teachers and had been used by staff, on occasion, throughout its long history. Remus just couldn't seem to pass up the chance to see it again, as well as the fact that Apparating that far made him feel queasy, this close to the full moon, which would come just a few days after his arrival. It wasn't just that, however. He wanted the children to have a protective presence on the train, an authority figure. He didn't truly believe that Sirius would be insane enough to try to board the train in broad daylight with all of the crowds, but he knew from the news in the Muggle streets as well as the Prophet were going ballistic. Their fear was tangible, like some sort of sick metal tang on the back of his tongue, whenever a broadcast would come on.

Remus didn't feel afraid. Perhaps there was some childish part of him that couldn't reframe the memories he had of the man into this new context. Maybe he was even secretly hoping he would see him, face him. There was no solid thought process in that area, no plan, just a quiet, poisonous rage that felt too much like the wolf for him to look at for long. There was no reason to believe he would fare any better than poor Peter had. School, he reminded himself. Purpose. Home.

It didn't feel right to pack these kids onto a train without their parents and send them across country when there was a fugitive loose. And god forbid anything actually happen.

When he arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, he booked a room for 2 nights and went to meander Diagon Alley. This time, it was flooded with people, last minute school shoppers, Wizarding families from across the country staying closer to Kings Cross creating a clamouring kaleidoscope of sounds and colors and smells. There were spices, whirls of crimson and azure and mint cloth, the screeching of owls and cats and bored children; there were signs and advertisements that shifted and chimed to beckon in buyers, the smell of 3 different bakeries wafted temptingly and the ever-shifting throng shouted. Everywhere there was a sea of humanity and palpable excitement. That little shimmer of magic came again, like a fine dust across his thoughts, fit beside him like an old friend. He smiled.

This trip around the Alley was a rather less...dramatic than he last, so far. No sign of Lucius and while there were wanted posters plastered around haphazardly, he stolidly avoided looking at them and committed himself to a lazy day of wandering. He felt more relaxed than he had in...hm. Best not think about that too long. Inside of Fortescue's, it smelled like cream and cherries and it was thankfully void of anything more stressful than a pair of toddlers shrieking about having to share a sundae. He quirked a little smile and wink at one and she stopped to give him an affronted look, then resumed crying, louder and more pointedly, at him. The mother apologized, looking rather flustered as he hid a snort of laughter and he waved it away, shaking his head. As he scanned the cheery, light-wood interior, decorated with various outrageous sundae cups that dated back hundreds of years, he spied a small wicker basket with neat stacks of Honeyduke's best chocolate. In a sudden fit of inspiration, he spent the last of his pocket money for the summer on the lot--he'd been studying Dementors since Dumbledore's note and thought that this would be an even better option than the Muggle gas station candy from his ex-job he had squirreled away for this purpose. He had been planning on getting a sundae, but this seemed a proper use of his time and money as a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor; Dementors were certainly dark and chocolate was the best defense against their effects, and he intended to have an open door policy in his classroom for any who needed a pick me up. Some people could be very seriously affected by them from trauma or mental illness, and while he was sure that Poppy Pomfrey was stocking up, he saw no harm in having his own private stash for the one who might come to him with troubles. Optimistic, that, but it wouldn't hurt to try.

Leaving Fortescue's, he tucked his chocolate into his robe's pockets along with his hands and set about working himself up into a stroll when he was stopped short at the sight of James Potter sitting at one of the tables.