Chapter Text
ITEMS OF NOTE
(Clipping: Betwys Beddau Weekly Crier, August 1, 1993)
Youth Cricket: Scythes beat Stones in improbable Upset.
The Betwys Beddau Scythes and Betwys Beddau Stones met on the field of play Saturday last for a much-anticipated rematch after last year's rout of the Scythes. The South of Riverbend Scythes and North of Riverbend Stones have been playing the annual Youth Cricket tournament these past forty years as this reporter well knows, but rarely has the game been so widely anticipated.
The reason for this year's upset as all agree is a slight, spindly lad new to Betwys Beddau and the noble game of Cricket: thirteen-year-old Daniel Malfoy, nephew of local tour guide Sirius Black. Young Daniel has taken up Cricket with a fierce determination only matched by his companion Harry Potter's well-known passion for football. With little knowledge of the game Daniel has managed to become quite the batsman and while his fielding may still need a bit of work, one might feel that for the game he plays the boy may be forgiven a few trifling inconsistencies.
The Scythes were not favoured to defeat the Stones, captained by the Indomitable Jerry Agnew (whose father Mr. Alex Agnew is well-known to these pages for his yearly Holiday Amusements) but all proved not as it seemed on Saturday's sunny morning....
***
MINISTRY AWARDS ORDER OF MERLIN TO HOGWARTS PROFESSOR
(Photo Clipping: Daily Prophet, July 3, 1993)
MINISTER FUDGE presents the Order of Merlin (2nd class) to Nymphadora Tonks, former Hogwarts Professor, for bravery beyond the call of duty in slaying a Basilisk recently discovered at Hogwarts School. Ms. Tonks has declined to have a Bertie Botts Chocolate Frog Card made in her likeness but agreed to accept the award "under much pressure from the public and the Hogwarts Board of Governors". Left to Right: Minister Cornelius Fudge; Nymphadora Tonks; parents Andromeda and Ted Tonks, owners of Tonks & Tonks in Diagon Alley; Severus Snaqe, fellow professor at Hogwarts School; Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School.
Scrawled at the edge of the clipping: It's Snape, you damn fools.
***
LUCIUS MALFOY STILL AT LARGE
(Clipping: Daily Prophet, August 9, 1993)
The Ministry of Magic reports today that Friday's attempts to secure Lucius Malfoy, the first-ever successful escapee from Azkaban Prison, were unsuccessful. Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke with the press to assure them that every possible method of capturing Malfoy, a known murderer and supporter of You Know Who, was being employed. He went on to state, however, that Malfoy is "a cagey bloke without any conscience, and it's much harder to catch a nutter than your average sane person, you know".
Public opinion regarding Malfoy's daring escape suggests that many people believe him to have drowned in the Black Sea off the coast of Scotland....
***
There were a lot of things that the village of Betwys Beddau, as a collective, knew about the Black-Potter family. Or thought they knew.
They knew that Mr. Black was independently wealthy and probably Old Money, because young Harry went to a prestigious, exclusive school in Scotland during the year while Mr. Black kept a flat in London. Some people, on the other hand, theorised that Mr. Black was some kind of fugitive criminal or member of organized crime, because it was clear that he valued his privacy very highly. At any rate, he had enough money to support Harry without having any real kind of job. Tour guide for the local stone circle, Rhos Y Beddau, didn't count; half the time he'd do it for free.
He had enough money to support his cousin, too, although Mr. Lupin was a proud sort of man who always found some job or other to do while they were there for the summer. Some of the younger and the more astute villagers smiled indulgently on the pair's facade of "cousinly" affection, but Mr. Black was so charming and Mr. Lupin so unfailingly polite and kind that even those who disapproved of that kind of thing simply ignored the signs.
The villagers knew too that Mr. Black loved children, he must love children, because not only had he taken in his poor orphaned godson (and quite right) but also a sickly nephew who was down in the country for his health the summer that young Harry turned thirteen.
In Betwys Beddau, Harry and the other boys made him feel at home by initiating "Daniel" into the complex, Eleusian mystery of childhood cricket. They also played football among the old standing stones in the village parks and went prospecting for interesting rocks in the river at the bottom of the garden. They walked into town with Padfoot nearly every day to fetch Remus from his job and rarely a day went by that some kind person didn't stop to say hello and offer to buy them an ice lolly or a soft drink from the grocer, because you couldn't find a more charming pair of boys than Harry and Daniel. Padfoot magnanimously condescended to help them finish whatever they couldn't eat.
Mr. Lupin, while somewhat less outgoing than Mr. Black, was more sociable in the general sense. He worked in town, after all, and so saw the villagers more regularly. They knew that he too was fond of children and particularly fond of his big black Newf, Padfoot, the most intelligent dog that the villagers had ever encountered. Mr. Lupin was of a weak constitution himself, but when well he was a hard worker.
What the villagers didn't know about the peculiar family, of course, would have filled a book. But they were unaware of their own ignorance, and thus treated them as no more than a curiosity. Mr.Black's marriage prospects, Mr. Lupin's scholarly turn of mind, Harry Potter's frank and friendly outlook, Daniel Malfoy's shyness and surprising skill with a cricket bat -- these were as far as gossip went.
Had the villagers known that their little town harboured and sheltered a werewolf, a shape-shifter, and two adolescent wizards, Merlin knew what they would have thought.
It was early August, only a few days after Harry's birthday party, and the sun was out in full force in the little Welsh town. In a grassy lot near the main road, most of the Betwys Beddau under-sixteen set were rehearsing a pageant of the town's history, with Harry and Daniel (who would be gone by the time it was performed) as spectators, assistant directors, and general errand-boys. Padfoot lounged under a nearby tree, sleepily watching the proceedings and waiting patiently for Master to emerge from Meredith's Cafe nearby. Very few people were out on the road, except for one elderly man with a prodigious beard, carrying a walking stick in one hand and wearing an enormous, broad-brimmed straw hat.
Inside Meredith's Cafe it was bustling, as was usual at that time of day. The town was not so big nor so busy that a late-afternoon break couldn't be observed, and everyone left their offices and shops at two o'clock to go to one of the three cafes in town. Remus had once called this the "Tea-esta" after which Padfoot had soundly bitten his ankle.
The bookstore hadn't needed Remus this year, they regretted to tell him in June, so he'd found employment at Meredith's instead. He was good at waiting tables, because he was polite, and he excelled at making drinks -- hot drinks, cold drinks, blended drinks, and the occasional alcoholic drink if he were slipped a few extra coins and nobody was paying very close attention. After all, he said to Sirius, he'd had seven years of Potions classes.
So while Lynn was on table duty and Marcus worked the cash register, Remus handled drinks. An order would be placed, Marcus would put their name and drink preference on the cup, and Remus would prepare the drink and sing out the name after the patron had paid.
"Abby, your tea's ready," he called, passing the cup across to a young woman who grinned flirtatiously at him and took a seat nearby. "Nicholas? Where's Nicholas?"
"Over here!" said a man about his own age, gratefully accepting an iced coffee. Remus checked the next cup, scooped some vanilla ice cream into the blender, added a cup of lemonade from the refrigerator, tossed in a dash of sugar syrup, and whizzed the whole thing up, pouring the results into the cup and capping it before bothering to look at the patron's name. He opened his mouth to call it, but the name came out remarkably quietly.
"Albus?" he asked, startled. He lifted his eyes over the edge of the counter and blinked a few times.
"Hello, Remus," Albus Dumbledore said with a smile. "Is that my lemonade cream?"
Remus passed it across with a shaking hand.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. Dumbledore sipped and smiled appreciatively.
"There is nothing to concern yourself over; this is a social call to ask a favour, nothing more."
Remus wiped his hands on the towel hanging from his belt and licked his lips nervously.
"I believe I shall take my lemonade cream and go watch the play rehearsal that appears to be occurring across the street," Dumbledore continued serenely. "When you are at liberty, please feel free to join me."
Remus passed the next twenty minutes in a state of vaguely fretful confusion, until at last the tea-rush died down and he could take his break. He found Dumbledore sitting placidly on a low tree branch that he was certain had never been there before, under the same tree that Padfoot had been using for shade. Padfoot, muzzle buried in the paper cup, lifted his head and panted at him.
"It is so soothing to see children at play," Dumbledore observed, indicating the pageant rehearsal with a nod of his head. Onstage, someone was being stabbed to death. "So long as one does not harbour any illusions about the content of a child's mind."
"They're good boys and girls," Remus said uncertainly.
"No doubt. Won't you sit down?"
Remus sat next to Dumbledore, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
"Something must have happened for you to come here," he said. "Is it Lucius?"
"Mr. Malfoy has not yet been found. I suspect, as I am sure you do, that he is being concealed and protected by Peter Pettigrew."
Remus nodded. "What about the Tonkses? They're all right?"
"Indeed. Nymphadora thrives, and they send their love. Severus expressed no desire at all to be remembered to you, but he has asked me to ensure that Harry and -- "
" -- Daniel."
" -- Daniel are well looked-after. Which reminds me, I have their Hogwarts letters," Dumbledore said, passing two thick envelopes to Remus, who tucked them absently in his back pocket. "So you see I am not here as the bearer of bad news. It was you in particular I came to see."
"Me?" Remus asked. "Why on Earth?"
"I come with the full weight of the Hogwarts Board of Governors and School Trustees to offer you the position of Professor of Dark Arts at Hogwarts for the coming year," Dumbledore said.
Remus fell backwards off the tree branch.
Padfoot leapt up at once and ran to him, but Remus was already struggling up onto his elbows.
"You're mad!" he said to Dumbledore, forgetting for a moment that he was speaking to his former Headmaster. "You can't give me a job!"
"That remains to be seen. I am empowered to offer it," Dumbledore replied calmly. Remus stood up and rubbed the back of his head. Dumbledore looked up at him mildly.
"We both know it's cursed, Headmaster," he said. Padfoot stepped across his feet and glared menacingly at Dumbledore.
"Be that as it may, you will do well to remember that you are immune to many common curses and hexes," Dumbledore replied. "The pay is excellent, of course, and -- "
"Two of our Dark Arts professors were eaten by things when we were at school!"
"Remus," Dumbledore said warningly, glancing at Harry and Draco. Remus followed his gaze, sighed, and settled down on the low tree branch once more. Padfoot placed himself ostentatiously between them.
"You can't honestly think I'd be any good at the job even if I were mad enough to take it," he said in a softer voice, one hand placed warningly on Padfoot's neck.
"I know you have spent many years studying ways of combating the Dark Arts while you were searching for Peter," Dumbledore said. "You seem to have an uncanny talent for discerning when trouble is looming on the horizon, and moreover, you are a figure of authority in young...Daniel's eyes."
"What has he to -- oh. Oh, I see," Remus said grimly. "Lucius."
"We have no reason to believe he has forgotten his only son and heir. You have the ability to protect him, Remus."
"You're playing dirty, Headmaster," Remus said. "Does the school board know what I am?"
"Do they need to?"
That elicited a small smile from Remus. "No, I suppose not. It'll be hard to avoid telling the staff..."
"No; they would have to be informed. Poppy knows already, of course."
"And Snape."
"He has kept your secret this long. Besides, I have presented you to him as a challenge."
Padfoot whined. Remus looked perplexed.
"A challenge?"
"Indeed." Dumbledore offered him a newspaper clipping from yet another pocket. Remus stared down at it for so long that Padfoot began to gnaw on his shirtsleeve.
"It was perfected in July," Dumbledore offered. "I know you'd been following the journal articles for years, but they've kept it all very secret. Fortunately, Severus was one of the members of the extended research team."
"He can brew this?"
"He believes so. He's been allowed to brew a test batch for the experimental subjects. They are still alive. He would be capable of providing you with the potion each month, in return for research assistance. There is still some pain, I understand, but the human mind is retained much more fully -- "
"Human," Remus whispered, not looking at anyone now. "I could remember the moon. I'd be safe to be around."
"Alas, the potion does not travel well. Your presence at Hogwarts is required," Dumbledore said. Remus was silent. "I have faith in your abilities, Remus; you might try it yourself some time. Come to Hogwarts. Try the potion, try teaching, and protect your son's best friend."
Remus looked at him sharply. Dumbledore smiled winningly. Padfoot, finally driven to it, ran behind the tree and emerged as Sirius, shaking his shaggy hair out of his eyes.
"You're not bribing him with some potion," he said, pointing a finger at Dumbledore accusingly. "If Snivellus can make it, I can make it, and you know I'm well-connected enough to get a copy of the recipe."
Dumbledore gazed mildly at Sirius' finger.
"Do you wish Draco dead?" he asked quietly.
"Since when was it Moony's job to protect him? Get Snivellus to do it, he was Lucius Malfoy's bumboy at schoo -- "
Sirius found himself suddenly unable to speak. He clutched his throat, swallowed, and glared at Dumbledore.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued, "The responsibility for the protection of our children does not fall only on the shoulders of those intimately connected with them. As Mr. Black may be intrigued to know, I myself educated him over the strong objections I held to his family's beliefs."
Remus hid a smile.
"The decision is ultimately yours to make," Dumbledore said to Remus, emphasizing yours slightly. "But there is also the fact to be considered that Lucius Malfoy may not only be after his own son. He may be after Harry as well."
Sirius paled, glancing at Harry, who had yet to notice the antics of his elders.
"Revenge," Remus murmured. "Yes. And if Peter had a hand in it..."
Dumbledore was very eloquently silent.
"May I have a day or two?" he asked. Sirius was still rubbing his throat, trying to throw off the hex, but without his wand he wasn't getting very far.
"Of course. I'll send someone for your answer in three days. Give my regards to the boys; tell them I could not stay to say hello."
He rose and smiled at Sirius, who coughed and growled. Remus put out a hand to stop him, however, as Dumbledore made his way back to the road and continued walking towards the path to Rhos-y-Beddau, the ancient stone circle (now submerged in peat) at the edge of town.
"Bastard," Sirius said feelingly.
"He has the best interests of the children at heart," Remus replied.
"He wants us to think that," Sirius retorted. "Moony, you know that job is cursed."
Remus sighed. "Yes, and he rightly pointed out that some curses, many in fact, don't work on me."
"But this one might! I don't want you eaten!" Sirius dropped onto the branch next to Remus. "Besides, that would mean we wouldn't be able to stay in London this year, and you know you'd miss Diagon."
"There'd be Hogsmeade. You could take a cottage there. I'd have floo access, there's no reason I couldn't come home every night. And at lunches," Remus suggested with a grin. Having two thirteen-year-olds living in the River House, which was small and not terribly thick-walled, made for a rather stifled sex life. Sirius' frustration with it was beginning to show.
"You're managing me."
"Am not!" Remus answered, looking hurt. "I'm rationally -- oh bugger, my break's up," he said suddenly. "Listen, I'll see you at the River House, I'm off at four. Don't tell the boys anything and don't try to argue this out with me in front of them."
"It's going to affect them, you know! It's not exactly easy when your..." Sirius fumbled for the word to express what Remus was to Harry. "Well, it's not easy knowing the person who's grading your papers, is all!"
"Severus does it. I've got to go, we'll ask Harry about it after you and I are sorted," Remus said, running back across the grass.
"WHAT ABOUT THE MOONS?" Sirius yelled after him, and several people coming out of the cafe stopped to stare.
"Argument about astrology," Remus said to them as he brushed past. Sirius, sulking by the tree, ignored the funny looks they gave him.
***
Harry had once told Draco that Remus didn't need any money, since he and Sirius had loads in Gringott's, but that Remus liked to work because he felt useful and anyway it was good to keep his hand in. Draco had replied that he thought he understood that, and it was likely he understood it even better than Harry or Sirius. Remus felt an instinctive affinity for the shy child as well -- he remembered what it was like to be the quiet one.
Remus liked to work. He'd been raised to it and the few years spent trying to hold a steady job before Sirius took him on at Sandust Books was the most depressing time in his life. Even now, with the Black wealth and his own savings supporting them comfortably, he liked to keep busy. Sirius did too, even though he didn't admit it; he'd spent half the summer bent over a drawing board, designing new toys for Madame Schaeffer's Scholars' Emporium. Harry, who was a rather better artist than Sirius, occasionally assisted.
And, a long time ago, Remus had liked the idea of teaching at Hogwarts. It was a long time ago, when he was fourteen or fifteen and thought Minerva McGonagall was the most wonderful teacher in the world (well, he still thought that) and before he'd fully realised just how limiting his lycanthropy would be as an adult. At fifteen he could almost bounce back in a day. Now -- well, now he was in his thirties, and the Change slowed him down a bit more.
But still. Teaching, and teaching something he was good at...
Well, Sirius might be louder and less tactful and a good deal more obstinate about small things, but for sheer bullheaded stubbornness where it really mattered, you couldn't beat Remus Lupin.
Two days after Dumbledore made his offer, while Harry and Draco were puttering around making themselves breakfast in the kitchen, Remus rolled over onto his back and stretched his arms behind his head, shoulder-joints cracking in a satisfying way. Sirius grunted and turned on his side, stealing the blankets.
"Sirius, I'm going to take the Hogwarts job," Remus said. "We're not going to argue about it any more. As long as Harry is all right with having me as a teacher, I can't miss this opportunity."
Sirius opened his eyes wide enough to see the set of Remus' jaw.
"Well, if you'd sounded that decisive when Dumbledore was here," he yawned, "I wouldn't have bothered fighting with you."
Remus began to laugh. "What?"
"Moony, if you had any sense at all, you'd know by now that as long as you tell me something instead of ask it, I'm going to cave every time."
"Really," Remus said, turning his head. "That could make life interesting."
"Life isn't interesting now?"
Remus grinned. Sirius knew that particular grin, and would have taken full advantage of the impending excitement it had to offer, but there was a pounding on the door.
"EGGS AND BACON IN FIVE MINUTES!" Harry called through the door.
"When did we tell him he could start frying bacon on his own?" Remus asked, sighing.
"I think it was part of our plan to give him more responsibility," Sirius said. "Which was your idea, by the way."
"Bugger. Well, there'll be bacon, anyway," he said, rolling over to straddle Sirius' hips and kissing him on the forehead. "Thank you, Sirius. This means something to me."
"Yes, well, you're in charge of finding me someplace to stay in Hogsmeade," Sirius grumbled. "And nothing stone or drafty, either, it's cold as blue fuck in Scotland."
"Duly noted." Remus slid easily off the bed and reached for his housecoat. "Come on, Harry'll sulk if the bacon's cold by the time we get out there."
Draco was devouring an enormous egg and bacon sandwich when Remus appeared in the kitchen, blinking at the bright sunlight streaming through the windows.
"Morning," Remus said. Harry passed him a warm plate of eggs, bacon, and several slices of fried bread. He reflected that early mornings weren't quite so bad when the reward was fried things.
"Sirius coming?" Draco asked.
"Mmhm. Listen, I need to have a word with you two," Remus said, sitting down and cutting his bread into soldiers.
"If it's about the river, we didn't do it," Harry said promptly.
"And if we did you couldn't prove it," Draco added. Remus rubbed his eyes.
"We'll come back to that, because I know you're not really stupid enough to disclaim knowledge of something ahead of time, but for now, no. It's about Hogwarts."
Harry tilted his head as he slid the rest of the bacon, along with quite a bit of grease, onto Sirius' plate.
"The Headmaster has offered me a job at the school," Remus continued. "Teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"Wicked!" Draco said. "Does that mean we'd have to call you Professor Lupin?"
"Yes, and that's what we need to talk about," Remus said, as Sirius walked in and took the plate Harry offered him. "I've decided to take the job, but I want to make sure it's all right with you two. It's not easy having a parent at school -- "
"Yeah, Dora graded Neville really hard, 'cause he's her brother," Harry said.
"Well, yes. And other students might think badly of you. And, if I had to give you a detention, I would," Remus continued.
"Moony, I have a thought," Sirius said suddenly, as he entered the kitchen. "Do you suppose you could talk Filch into letting you into his files and steal back some of the stuff he took off us -- "
" -- twenty years ago? No," Remus said firmly. "Besides, he's probably thrown it all out, and stop distracting me."
"Yes, Professor," Sirius muttered.
"So I want your thoughts and your approval before I tell him yes," Remus finished, looking from Harry to Draco and back. "It'll affect you as much as it does me. I'll be living at school with you, and Sirius will be nearby as well."
Harry glanced at Draco. "I think it's brilliant," he said with a shrug.
"I'm with Harry," Draco agreed.
Remus hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. "Settled, then," he said.
"Is Sirius coming up to live at Hogwarts too?" Harry asked. Sirius glanced at Remus.
"Er...probably not at Hogwarts," Remus said.
"Well..." Sirius pursed his lips. Remus gave him a questioning look. "Padfoot could. Professors are allowed a Familiar, aren't they?"
Remus burst out laughing. "You're proposing to spend an entire year as a dog?"
"Not the whole year. Just the bits of it where I follow you to class, bite anyone who's misbehaving, and snag sweets from all the students."
"You'd do that anyway."
"My point exactly."
Remus rolled his eyes. "We've nearly a month to decide all that. I think it's far more sensible of you to take a cottage in town and we'll have it hooked up to the floo in whatever rooms they give me. And you two had better keep quiet about it," he said, pointing with his fork at the boys.
"We're thirteen, Remus," Harry said scornfully. "We're almost grown!"
Sirius tried not to laugh under his breath.
"Good, then I will trust you," Remus said agreeably. "And for the next month you may refer to me as Professor."
Sirius snorted into his fried eggs, but when he looked up, Remus was regarding him with quite an interesting look on his face.
"You too, Sirius Black," he said with a grin.
Sirius decided this Hogwarts business might be entertaining after all.
***
The messenger that Dumbledore sent to speak to Remus wasn't Snape, as he and Sirius had assumed it would be; it was a tabby cat with squarish marks around her eyes. She was waiting for them when they returned from a lunchtime outing, calmly washing one paw and sitting on their welcome mat.
"Deputy Headmistress, this is a pleasure," Remus said, opening the door and allowing her to lead the way inside. "I assume the Headmaster has sent you?"
Sirius shut the door after the boys and the cat stretched and transformed, ending up as a tidy-looking witch with square spectacles on.
"He has," she said with a small smile. "Hello Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black. Harry, Draco."
"Professor," Harry and Draco mumbled by way of greeting.
"Won't you have some tea?" Remus said.
"I'm afraid I can't linger; I'm needed at Hogwarts again by two," she said.
"Of course. Please tell the Headmaster that I've decided to accept his offer," Remus replied. "Contingent on one or two points, but I'm sure those will be no bother."
McGonagall smiled more broadly than Harry and Draco thought possible. "Wonderful, Remus. I'm certain you'll be an excellent professor."
She reached into her sleeve and took out a wooden scroll-case, sealed at both ends with wax bearing the Hogwarts imprint. "This should contain all the necessary information. Albus would prefer you sent him your lesson plans via Muggle post -- there's an address in with your papers -- and ride up to Hogwarts with the children on September First."
"That's easily enough done, but..." Remus glanced at Sirius. McGongall waited. "Well, Sirius had thought about moving up to Hogsmeade. It'll make it a bit rough on him if he can't get there until the term starts."
"Your duties will, of course, require you to room at the castle," McGonagall said significantly.
"Yes, I know, but Sirius would like to be near his godson and his cousin's son, considering everything," Remus answered easily.
"Mr. Black may take a room at the Three Broomsticks until he finds suitable lodging; surely that will be acceptable," she said. Remus sighed.
"I suppose it will have to be. Are we permitted to come to London a few days early, to see Andromeda and buy the boys their school things?"
"I don't believe the Headmaster will object."
"That's fine. Tell the Headmaster I'll take the Knight Bus to London with Harry and Draco, and we'll catch the Hogwarts Express as usual," he said.
"Of course. Good afternoon, Professor Lupin, Mr. Black. Boys," she added. Harry and Draco grinned impudently at her as she passed.
"She doesn't like me," Sirius said, watching the tabby cat wander up the lane to Cwndu Road.
"I think she doesn't like us," Remus answered.
"She loved you at -- "
"That's not what I meant."
"Oh. Oh, do you really think?" Sirius said, turning to look at Remus, who shrugged.
"It may be she simply disapproves of Professors bringing along an entourage," he answered. He looked at Harry and Draco, who were sharing some kind of private joke. "Well, lads, that's done then. Which reminds me, we'll need to speak with Narcissa, or at least have Andromeda speak with her, when we get back; Draco's got to get his Hogsmeade permit slip signed."
"I'll talk to Andromeda about it. I think she likes needling Narcissa once in a while," Sirius said, ruffling Draco's hair. Draco beamed up at him and Remus smiled; he'd suspected years ago that Draco hero-worshipped Sirius, and the summer had only confirmed it. Early on, when he'd just arrived, Draco had clung to Padfoot constantly and followed Sirius around like a pale shadow.
"And I had better start working on a lesson plan," he announced. "I wonder if I still have my old Dark Arts notes..."
"You don't need notes, Moony! You're a walking encyclopaedia!" Sirius grinned.
"Yes, but it'd be nice to remember what was taught at which level," Remus said. "Though it was patchy at best, wasn't it?"
Sirius frowned. "Yeah. The curse."
"Is it real, then? The curse?" Draco asked. Sirius gave him and Harry a gentle shove into the kitchen and followed then in. He sat at the kitchen counter while Remus went to the icebox for some milk.
"Nobody knows if the curse is real or if it's just a self-fulfilling prophecy," he said. "Some teachers while we were there just flat out ran away after a year, as far as we could tell. And you know, Dark Arts is nothing to muck about with."
"Oh god," Harry said. "It's the Talk."
"Talk to your kids about the Dark Arts!" Draco mimicked a popular wizarding wireless advert. "They'll listen!"
"Quiet, you two," Remus warned.
"As I was saying," Sirius continued, "We had -- was it eight or nine, Moony?"
"Eight and a substitute," Remus replied. "Dumbledore certainly treats it as if it were real, you know."
"Dumbledore treats Father Christmas as if he were real. We had a couple of professors with nervous breakdowns; one of them was eaten by a rogue hippogryff and another by a dragon. One or two were yearly substitutes who weren't planning on staying any longer, like Dora."
"You will be careful, won't you Remus?" Harry asked.
"Wouldn't want you getting eaten," Sirius added. Remus smiled.
"I survived seven years there as a boy," he said. "I know Hogwarts better than anyone, except maybe Sirius and the Headmaster. I'm not worried."
"You don't know this," Sirius said to Draco, "But before Harry came to live with us, Remus traveled the world in search of adventure. He's been all over. He'll be fine."
Remus smiled tolerantly.
"Were you really an adventurer?" Draco asked.
"I wouldn't call it that. I did a lot of research, and I did travel, but I never went looking for adventure. It'll be interesting to try teaching what I've picked up to others," he mused. "I wonder...I think my notes are out in those cartons in the garden shed, the ones that we never unpacked. You boys want to go exploring?"
"Yeah!" Harry said.
"Did you really keep all your old school notes?" Sirius asked curiously, as Remus led the boys down the hall to the back door of the River House. There was a little shed to the left of the path that led down to the river, tightly sealed and dusty-windowed.
"Of course. Didn't you?" Remus asked.
"Never took notes, did I? Besides, anything I had left over from Hogwarts was in a box in Sandust," Sirius said glumly. Remus gave him a sympathetic look. Five years later, the burning of the bookshop was still a painful topic.
He unlocked the door and threw it wide, revealing a messy interior with a few cardboard cartons, one or two empty crates, and a very dusty potting table on one side with fungus growing out of it. Draco and Harry stayed on the threshold, peering around the doorway and inside. Remus lifted one of the boxes onto the table, avoiding the mushrooms, and opened it.
"Moody put some never-damp charms on everything, but they might be wearing off..." Remus peered into the box, wrinkling his nose. "Sirius..."
"Mmh?" Sirius asked, spit-shining one of the windows so that more light could come through.
"Is this yours?" Remus inquired, lifting a pair of boxer shorts from the carton. Harry and Draco began to laugh.
"I've been looking for those for years!" Sirius crowed.
"This is all clothing...Sirius, Merlin, no wonder you had to buy all those shirts when we moved here. Half your clothes are in this box," Remus said, shoving it over to him. Sirius took out a couple of t-shirts emblazoned with band names from times long past. He threw them at Harry and Draco, who struggled into them, still laughing.
"Split Enz," Draco said, looking down. "Is that a place?"
"It's a band. Old girlfriend gave me that," Sirius said. "Never listened to them myself."
"Look, I got Pan Demonium!" Harry held out his shirt for Draco to admire. "Remus has a phonograph of them somewhere."
"The sins of my youth revisited," Remus murmured. "I fancied the lead singer."
"What, the one that transfigured horns for himself whenever he performed?" Sirius asked, helping Remus shift another, heavier carton.
"Listen, I didn't say it was a tasteful decision. Phew, this is it!" Remus exclaimed, as a cloud of dust rose up from the inside of the carton. Thick, tightly bound rolls of parchment were stacked on top of a pile of black fabric that itself lay atop a dozen old schoolbooks. Each scroll was bound with twine and labeled -- First Year Potions. Sixth Year Arithmancy. Third Year Defence.
Remus sifted through the scrolls, taking out nine all told, and then lifted the fabric out from under the rest. He shook it, then held it up in front of himself. "Well?"
"Is that your Hogwarts robe?" Harry asked.
"Sixth and Seventh year. It's the one I wore when I passed out of school," Remus said proudly. There was the Gryffindor insignia on the chest; a Prefect's badge was still pinned to the collar, and one of the sleeves was wrapped in gold braid.
"Prefect and high academic honours," Remus said. "Not bad for a scholarship boy, eh? Sirius had high honours too, but James -- "
He hesitated suddenly, glancing at Harry.
"James had high honours and his Head Boy braid, and it snagged on a banister and Lily had to fix it with a transfigured hairpin..." Sirius said nostalgically. "And at the party after, he took all his braid off and tied it up in her hair."
Draco looked sidelong at Harry, who was listening hungrily.
"Well. That's the notes I need, at any rate. You, troublemaker, take this back up to the house and figure out if you still want any of it," Remus said, putting the carton of clothes in Sirius' hands. He gathered the scrolls up in his own long, capable fingers and gestured them all out.
"Sirius, can I have this one?" Harry asked, pointing to his shirt as they made their way back to the house. Remus paused to lock the door, listening to them talk.
"I don't need it. Draco, do you want Split Enz?"
"Nah. Have you got any Deaf Wizard?"
"I think so -- how do you know about them? They're not for your tender ears, that's for sure."
"Neville nicked some from Dora ages ago. Them and The Merlingerers."
Remus smiled. Harry and Draco were flapping around in shirts a few too sizes too big -- well, Sirius was a broad-chested man -- and Sirius was trying to sort out when kids who used to listen to Faerie Tails discovered hard wizarding rock. And there he stood with a handful of memories from school, the first step in returning to Hogwarts, which he loved. Oh, he had loved Hogwarts.
Even with Lucius Malfoy on the loose, this was going to be a good year. He could feel it.
***
Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, and the Headmaster were terrifying enough when seated together, although a little bit of Padma's mind was giggling uncontrollably at the tableau they made, like a rising bar-graph. A larger part of her mind was, however, consumed with curiosity about the tall, dark-skinned man sitting next to the Headmaster.
The rest of her was nothing more than a bundle of anxious nerves. They were all sitting on the other side of the desk from her.
"Mrs. Patil, Miss Patil," the dark-skinned man said, standing as she and her mother entered. "Please, sit down. My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt; I'll be conducting your interview today."
"Thank you," Padma said politely, sitting on the edge of her chair. She glanced at Flitwick, her Head of House, who gave her a cheerful wink.
"We're very grateful for this opportunity," her mother added, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Padma's well aware of what a privilege this is."
"A privilege and a large responsibility," McGonagall said severely.
"She has read the official caveats, Minerva," Dumbledore said, "and no doubt understands them much better than I do."
"Mrs. Patil," Auror Shacklebolt said, "I've received your letter of petition, as well as letters of recommendation from the Deputy Headmistress, Headmaster, and Miss Patil's Head of House. I was a Ravenclaw myself, you know," he said to Padma, who smiled at him. "I'm inclined to approve your petition, but we're all aware of what happened last May. I'm concerned about Padma's ability to handle the stress of an increased workload and, of course, we're always required to ensure that this isn't because of...parental pressure," he said delicately. "I'd just like to ask you a few questions, Padma. There are no right or wrong answers -- you'll just have to trust that I will make the right decision. Do you understand?"
Padma nodded and took a deep breath. Her mother squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.
"All right then. Let's begin..."
***
"Harry -- Draco -- it's nearly time."
Harry rolled over and glanced at the yellow-lit doorway where Sirius was standing. "Muh?"
"Come on lads, up and awake."
Draco had spent his summer sleeping in a bed crammed against the wall of Harry's room opposite Harry's bed. Now he rolled over and sat up, automatically avoiding banging his elbow on the wall or his hand on the bedside table the boys shared. Sirius flicked the lights on and both boys winced.
"Sorry," Sirius said, as Harry sat up and reached for his shirt, shedding his pyjama shirt and tossing it into the open trunk at the foot of his bed. "Get dressed -- Remus has gone to fetch the cab."
Betwys Beddau only had one cab, and its driver was a retired military man named Carl. He had agreed to drive them to the outskirts of Llangynog, the closest large city, where they would catch the Knight Bus to London and stay with Andi and Ted for a few days. Hedwig had arrived in mid-August with a letter from Andromeda, saying she was expecting them, and took one back from Sirius thanking her and giving her the day they'd be there.
Harry and Draco stumbled out into the chilly air, lugging their trunks, and reached the main road just as the cab arrived. Sirius stood and talked to Carl amiably, blocking his view of the fact that there was no house anywhere nearby, while Remus helped the boys put their trunks into the boot. His and Sirius' belongings, as much as they would need for the year, had been shrunk into a third trunk which was settled between the boys and Sirius in the back seat.
"Back to school, eh?" Carl asked them, as Remus climbed into the front.
"Yes, sir," Draco replied.
"Best years of your life. Whereabouts is it again?" Carl asked Remus.
"Up Edinburgh way," Remus said.
"Not some poxy place like Eton eh?"
"Not exactly," Remus said with a grin.
"Sounds a nice outdoorsy place."
"It is. Harry does sport, don't you Harry?"
Harry snickered.
"Reckon young Daniel will too, won't you, after this summer?" Carl inquired. "Never seen a better natural batsman in m'life."
"I...I might," Draco stammered.
"Sure, you should try for the house team," Sirius said. "Harry'll have a word with your Captain, won't he?"
Harry shrugged and grinned. "I don't mind trouncing Daniel."
They talked of schools, mainly of Carl's memories of his own youth, until they reached a hotel just outside Llangynog.
"Bus for us from here -- ta, Carl," Remus said as he paid him. They waited until he had disappeared, then looked carefully up and down the street.
"What is the Knight Bus, anyway?" Harry asked, as Sirius took his wand out of his pocket and casually pointed it outwards at the road.
"Wizarding transport -- I prefer trains, but this is a less noticeable way to get to London," Remus answered. Just then there was a loud bang and a screech of brakes. Draco stumbled backwards from the kerb.
Before them stood a violently purple triple-decker bus carrying the legend "THE KNIGHT BUS" in gold lettering on the front and the side. A conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began speaking loudly, reading from a little card held none too subtly in his palm.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, auxiliary transport for witches and wizards. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I am your conductor this morning -- "
"Right, right," Sirius said impatiently. "Fares gone up this year?"
The rather spotty young man turned the card over. "Eleven sickles for a single fare, orange juice and croissant for fifteen, newspaper eight knuts extra."
"Four breakfast fares and a newspaper, please."
The conductor rang up four tickets. "Three galleons, nine sickles, sixteen knuts."
Sirius paid and Remus shepherded the boys aboard, then reached around for the trunks.
"I'll do that, sir!" Stan-the-conductor said, hurrying forward. Remus watched in amusement as the young man struggled to get all three trunks aboard. He tipped Stan a galleon while Sirius wasn't looking.
"What's the ride like to London this time of day?" Sirius asked the driver.
"Oh," the man said in a scratchy voice, "Got a couple'a pickups to do first. Ever'on's goin'ta Lonnon this time'a year, aren' they?"
"Might as well settle in," Remus said, leading them to one of the many small round tables lining each side of the bus. Sirius sat down with a pleased sigh and picked up the croissant that appeared at his place. Harry and Draco eagerly sat nearby and tore into the chocolate croissants at theirs.
"Sports page?" Sirius asked, offering it to Remus.
"Good god, the Cannons won? Is the world ending?" Remus said, studying the headlines.
"Nice to have Magical news again," Sirius said. He glanced down at the front page, then quickly folded it over and smoothed down the crease.
"My dad's on the front page, huh," Draco asked. Sirius looked at him, then pleadingly at Remus. Remus chewed on his lower lip.
"Draco," he said slowly, "You're probably going to have to get used to a certain amount of family business being aired publicly, until all this is over."
"I'd like to see it," Draco said, in a remarkably authoritative voice. Sirius shrugged and passed him the folded front page. Draco unfolded it and smoothed it out on the table. Harry leaned over his shoulder.
MALFOY STILL AT LARGE, the headline read.
"The Ministry of Magic confirmed today that Lucius Malfoy, one of the most infamous inmates of Azkaban prison, is still eluding capture," Draco read aloud. "We are doing all we can to recapture Malfoy, said the Minister for Magic this morning, and we beg the magical community to remain calm. Meanwhile, witches and wizards live in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago -- "
"Surely they're aware that wasn't Malfoy alone," Remus said, brows knitting.
"Peter's old news," Sirius grunted. "Enough. You'll hear about Lucius Malfoy at school, I'm sure, some children being the pissant little scrubs they are."
"Not from Slytherin he won't," Harry said angrily.
"It's all right," Draco said, folding the paper in half. "Besides, I'm only half-Malfoy, right?" he asked, glancing up at Sirius, who grinned.
"So it seems. Hey -- Harry, look at this!"
Harry looked at the paper, which Draco had turned over to the below-the-fold headline. "Ministry of Magic employee scoops grand prize -- that's Mr. and Mrs. Weasley!"
"Arthur Weasley, head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw. Oh, well done Arthur," Remus said, reading with his head tilted to adjust for the awkward angle. "We'll have to try and catch the Weasleys in Diagon and congratulate them."
"Molly can't possibly still be angry about the Anglia," Sirius agreed.
They spent the rest of the ride to Diagon, amidst the bumpings and bangings of the Knight Bus, reading the paper thoroughly and making plans for the rest of the trip: school book shopping, browsing in Mardjinn Alley, dinner out with Neville and the Tonkses. Sirius would miss some of it; he was going up to Hogsmeade ahead of everyone to start looking for a flat.
"Are you and Sirius really going to live in different places all year?" Harry asked Remus, bending his head low over the table and speaking quietly. Remus followed his gaze to where Sirius was standing at the front of the bus with Draco, watching the scenery speed past. "I mean, that can't be much fun for you, can it?"
"It won't be so bad; there'll be a direct floo portal, and professors can come and go into Hogsmeade as they please," Remus answered. "You live away from us during the school year and it doesn't change anything."
"Yeah, but that's -- different."
Remus nodded. "That's true too. On the other hand...Hogwarts is a place with its own laws and its own reasonings. You'd understand this better than anyone. When you become a teacher you make certain commitments, certain sacrifices, because you're invested with an awful lot of power. I...didn't always do as I should have, when I was a Prefect."
"I don't believe that!" Harry laughed.
"We all grew up a lot during the war, Harry. And when we took you from the Dursleys, we had to grow up even more, Sirius and I. At school we were terrors, really."
Remus was staring past Harry now, and Harry had the distinct sensation that where he was looking was not a place but a time.
"I owe Hogwarts," he said quietly. "More than anyone knows, including Sirius."
Harry was about to ask him to expand on this when the Bus made an enormous bang and wheezed to a stop in front of the Leaky Cauldron.
"Here we are," Remus said with a sudden grin. "Come on, we'll leave our stuff at Andi's and go run amok in Diagon, sound all right?"
***
Andromeda was thrilled to see them, and just as thrilled to see them leave again; she was in the middle of fitting first-year robes to half a dozen new Hogwarts students and begged Remus to take a restless, rambunctious Neville away with him.
"We'll buy you dinner tonight," Remus said, kissing her on the cheek and following Harry and the other two boys out the door. Sirius was already outside, romping around the boys as Padfoot and playing Knock-Over, a spirited if simple game in which the object was to push someone into sprawling on their arse. It had gotten a lot harder in the past year, as the boys had shot up in height, but Sirius did love a challenge.
"How've you been, Neville?" Remus asked, as they dawdled their way down Diagon towards Gringott's, where they could change their Muggle cash for Wizarding and make a withdrawal from Draco's trust.
"Brilliant," Neville said. "Harry, I have something to show you. You too, Draco."
He led them down to Quality Quidditch Supplies and elbowed through the crowd with the other two close behind. Padfoot begged for sweets from the children clustered around the display window and Remus leaned forward to try to get a better look.
"It's a new prototype," Neville said. "Professor Snape pointed it out to me."
"When did you see Professor Snape?" Draco asked.
"He's always around, mooning after Dora," Neville said absently. "Look at this."
He gestured at the window. Harry actually gasped.
The broomstick in the window looked almost as if it was moving, though it was resting on a sleek silver stand. It had a wild look about it, predatory in fact. Harry found himself staring at it, nose pressed to the glass despite Remus, in the back, scolding him for it.
"Fastest broom in the world," Draco whispered, awed. Harry studied the little placard below the amazing broom intently.
THE FIREBOLT! FASTEST BROOM IN THE WORLD!
THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND HAND-NUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER. EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE FIREBOLT UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION. THE FIREBOLT HAS AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM.
PRICE ON REQUEST.
"Ash and birch?" Harry asked Neville. "Is that smart, do you think?"
"Blowed if I know, you're the Quidditch man," Neville replied.
"It's definitely new," Draco said.
"Irish International Side's just put in an order for seven of them," said a man from the shop door. "Hullo Nev!"
"Hullo sir!" Neville called. "Look who I brought!"
"Blimey, it's Harry Potter," the man said. "Thinking of buying one, Mr. Potter? I hear you're going to be playing for England in a few years."
Harry grinned at him. "When I'm making pro-Quidditch salary, maybe. Price on request, huh?"
"Ten percent off for the Boy Who Lived," the man said with a wink, and disappeared back inside. Remus finally managed to "excuse-me" his way through and tweaked Harry's ear.
"No noses on glass," he scolded.
"Remus, look at it!" Harry said. Remus gave the broom a professional once-over and nodded.
"It's solid craftsmanship," he said. "Might want to wait and see how they do in play, though. Besides, you have a perfectly good Nimbus, lad."
Harry grinned and scratched Padfoot's head; the dog had his paws up on the ledge and was covering the glass in snouty nosemarks.
"Come on, let's go get your books," Remus continued. Harry saw him exchange a significant look with Padfoot, but assumed it was simply a scold for snouting up the glass.