Work Text:
Thanks, Babe! I owe you one xoxo Gil
“Siri,” Remus said, swiping the text away. “How much can you make from unemployment?”
After a moment, Siri came back with: “You may receive up to 50% of income based on—” Remus winced and shut off the phone. He was barely making ends meet with 100% of his income. Besides, the Gryffindor City Unemployment Department was most likely shredding applications by that point, anyway.
He’d started working at Ollivander’s Books straight out of college, assuming it’d be a temporary gig to keep him afloat through internships until he found something steady. He hadn’t foreseen the city falling into the worst economic recession since 2008, leaving approximately zero jobs for twenty-two-year-old nobodies with BAs in Journalism. Remus was grateful for the work, truly, and he respected Ollivander himself like a grandfather, but Gilderoy Lockhart was a splinter he couldn’t quite pluck.
It had stung when Ollivander promoted Gilderoy, an aspiring actor, to Manager after the previous manager retired, but that Remus could understand. Gilderoy was the son of Ollivander’s only niece and nepotism made the world go round, after all. What truly made the situation so offensive was Gilderoy’s almost comical ineptitude. The blundering mistakes and terrible customer service were costing the shop money they didn’t have. And Remus would know: he was the one crunching the numbers every night.
At the rate business was going, Remus figured they had about a year left before total ruin. They certainly couldn’t afford any extra employees, which left Remus to pick up the slack when Gilderoy conveniently forgot to show up to work. Take tonight, for example: Remus’s shift ended at five but it wasn’t until six that Gilderoy answered his calls, explaining that he’d had the audition of a lifetime and was out celebrating his inevitable success.
The irritation festered even until closing. It hadn’t helped that the store had seen only one patron who browsed for ten minutes before leaving empty-handed. Or that his thrift store coat didn’t keep the deep winter chill away. Or that he had missed the last bus home, forcing him to walk through one of the worst neighborhoods in the city to his own slightly less terrible neighborhood.
Ten years ago, Diagon Alley bustled with thriving restaurants, trendy shops, and the iconic Hogsmeade Museum. When Hogsmeade shut down due to poor revenue and donor pull-outs, the rest of the street steadily declined, giving rise to an increase in crime and gang activity. Like much of Gryffindor City, Diagon Alley was no longer safe to walk past dark.
Remus gritted his teeth and uselessly tightened his coat against the cold. Another two miles and he would be tucked into his lumpy bed, ready to start all over tomorrow. The thought didn’t bring him much comfort but was preferable to not making it home.
“Hey!”
A terrified shout ripped Remus out of his thoughts. It echoed from the darkness of one of the sidestreets and vibrated through Remus’ bones. He was about to give in to his base instinct, which was to run in the opposite direction, when a second scream tore through the air. Against his better judgment, Remus peered down the alley to the source of the sound.
A figure stood trapped against the wall by a group of men. Remus couldn’t make out much but he didn’t miss the Slytherin green scarves tucked proudly into their back pockets, deliberately warning who these men were and what they were capable of.
Before Remus knew it, his legs were making heavy steps towards the scene. They only stopped when he was close enough to count the Slytherins (five) and confirm his suspicion that the figure in duress was indeed a boy no older than fifteen.
“Do we have a problem?” He asked mildly, making eye contact only with the group’s clear leader.
The man’s returning glare was arctic. “Keep it moving buddy.”
Remus ignored him and instead looked straight at the boy. “You okay?”
The boy, who desperately clutched his backpack to his chest like it contained the Queen’s jewels, met Remus’ gaze with panicked eyes but said nothing. That was probably smart. Remus didn’t have a plan so much as a prayer.
One of the men shoved Remus hard enough that he crashed into the opposite wall. “He said to keep it moving.”
“Sure thing,” Remus righted himself, voice still calm despite his pounding heart. “Let me just grab the kid and I’ll be on my way.” It was a ridiculous thing to say but Remus thought the boy might at least have a head start if the men were busy kicking his own head in.
The leader slithered up to Remus until they stood a foot apart. “Do you know who I am?”
Remus squared his shoulders and raised his chin. “No, tell me. A shark or a jet?”
And then the man punched Remus with a heavy hand. He collapsed on the floor and quickly realized it wasn’t a punch but actually a hit with the man’s Glock. And it hurt. Just as Remus’ head began to clear itself of the fuzziness, the man delivered a kick to his stomach. Remus thought he would probably die out here, but Hope and Lyall Lupin had not raised a wimp, so with the next kick, he wrapped himself around the man’s leg and used all his weight to pull him to the ground.
Then all bets were off.
The man was much bigger than Remus and delivered much harder hits, but Remus ignored the pain and focused on getting in as many hits of his own. He clawed. He ripped at the man’s hair. He tried to stick his thumbs into the man's eyes. It was then that the rest of the Slytherins finally jumped in.
As Remus curled into a ball to protect himself from the blows, he noticed the boy attempt to pull one of the men off him. “No!” Remus shouted. “Get out of here!”
“ARGHHH!!!” A painful scream echoed through the air. It took Remus a few seconds to be sure the sound had not come from his own mouth, then another few seconds to realize the hits had stopped. Remus uncovered his face long enough to see the Slytherin leader lying motionless on the ground with a tall, black-shrouded figure looming ominously above him.
The Grim.
“Thank God,” Remus muttered, pushing himself to the wall and beckoning the kid to kneel behind him.
Like a folk legend, the Grim had appeared out of thin air six months previously. With his impossible gadgets and impressive physicality, he cleaned up the streets better than the Gryffindor PD ever had. No one knew his real name or where he came from but understood that he meant business. He was a vigilante or a madman—depending on who you asked. And Remus hadn’t quite made up his own mind but was now certainly grateful for the backup.
Watching the Grim pummel the bad guys on the news was nothing like seeing him in person. One of the Slytherins pulled out a gun, and the Grim knocked it out of his hand like it was a toy, then one-handedly grabbed the Slytherin by the collar and tossed him like a bean bag down the street. Two more Slytherins came forward, attempting to throw a couple of pathetic punches that the Grim easily dodged before knocking their heads together like they were characters in a cartoon. They fell to the ground and desperately crawled away, leaving one last Slytherin standing frozen in fear.
In a low growl, the Grim said, “This is the part where you run and warn all your friends to never come back here.”
Not needing to be told twice, the Slytherin took off into the night.
Wincing, Remus used the wall as support to stand up. “Are you okay?” the boy asked him in a quivering voice.
With three long strides, the Grim appeared at Remus’ side and moved an arm around his waist as if to guide him along. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”
Remus batted him away. He couldn’t afford a visit to the E.R. “Thank you but I’ll be fine. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
The Grim snorted.
Remus’ jaw dropped. The fuck? “I got a few hits in too.”
“Sure you did, Angel Face.”
Madman. He was a madman.
“Now, You,” the Grim turned to the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Davey.”
“What’s in the bag, Davey?” The Grim demanded, indicating to the backpack the boy still clutched to his chest.
“I…”
“You won’t be in trouble if you tell me the truth,” the Grim said quietly, and Remus hoped he meant it.
“I stole it from the Slytherins,” Davey blurted. “But I swear I didn’t want to! Someone...someone made me.”
“I’m listening,” the Grim prompted.
Sighing, Davey began his tale: “I used to run with the Slytherins. A few months ago someone else contacted me...someone who said that he could give me more opportunity than the Malfoys ever would. And I believed him at first. Because he bought me things...clothes, shoes, food… But he wanted me to stay with the Slytherins and report back everything I could. Well, I told him about a shipment of Felix Felicis they had coming in today and he told me to steal it.”
Remus grimaced. Felix Felicis was nasty stuff, much worse than anything he had ever seen on the streets.
“I told him it would be impossible, that Slytherin’s operation was too tight not to catch me. He threatened me. Told me that what the Slytherins would do to me would feel like Heaven compared to what he was capable of.”
“Who’s ‘he’?” the Grim asked.
Davey’s eyes darted wildly.
“It’s not going to get back to this person,” the Grim promised. Remus bobbed his head in agreement.
“Riddle. But I’ve never met him! We’ve only talked through his people...they call themselves the Death Eaters.”
The Grim nodded like he had already known the answer, then handed Davey a black business card. “Go to this address. They can help you.”
Davey studied the card with a frown. “Hogwarts? The orphanage? I’m not an orphan. They won’t take me in.”
“Do you want a different life?”
Davey looked down at his feet before returning to meet the Grim’s gaze. “Yes.”
“Then Dumbledore will protect you. Ask for Minerva and tell her I sent you.”
“I...I have a little brother. Will they—”
“Yes. Him too,” the Grim promised, then added, “Hogwarts is the safest place in Gryffindor for you two.”
Davey nodded determinedly. “Thank you.” He turned to Remus. “And you too, Sir.”
“Will you make it home okay?” Remus asked.
“Yeah,” Davey replied. “I’m only a couple blocks away. Besides, no one goes out when they see signs of the Grim. Not even the Death Eaters.” Squaring his thin shoulders, Davey handed the Grim the bag, fixed his hood over his head, and jogged away, keeping to the shadows like they themselves were a guiding light.
The Grim stalked over to the Slytherin leader, who was still knocked out cold on the pavement.
“What are you going to do with him?” Remus wondered.
As if the Slytherin wasn’t heavier than a doll, the Grim lifted him and set him in a sitting position against the wall before placing the backpack neatly in his lap.
“What if someone steals it?”
The Grim took out a flashlight and something else. He fiddled with it for only a second before the shadow of a large dog appeared in the sky. The Grim Signal, the news had coined it. “No one’s going to touch him,” the Grim murmured.
Still stunned from the events of the past twenty minutes, Remus nodded, waved lamely goodbye, and set off towards home.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Remus froze in place. Was the Grim laughing? He slowly turned back around. “Home?”
“I’ll give you a lift.”
Suddenly, the black “Grimmobile” that had been blasted across every local news station on repeat for the past six months was slowly rolling to a stop before Remus’ own eyes. It looked more like a spaceship than any car he had ever seen, but to be fair, he sometimes caught himself envying his roommate Peter’s 2007 Honda Civic, and therefore was not the most discerning eye.
“That’s okay,” Remus replied. “I can walk.”
“The last time you walked home you tried to single-handedly fight off a gang of Slytherins.” The Grim strode forward and popped the passenger door open. “Get in the car.”
It went without saying that Remus would be put in the car one way or another, so he scowled and tenderly folded himself into the black leather seat. It looked even more like a spaceship on the inside so Remus was careful to not touch anything. When the Grim circled the car and settled into the driver’s seat, Remus eyed him carefully. “I could reach over and grab that mask if I wanted to.”
Something like a smile spread across the Grim’s face. “Give it a try, Angel Face.”
Remus scowled. “I said if I wanted to.”
The Grim hummed, pressed a few buttons, then gently steered the car back onto the main street.
“And don’t call me Angel Face,” Remus huffed.
“If you say so, Mr. Lupin.”
“I do say so—hold on. How do you know my name?”
For a beat, the Grim seemed unwilling to answer, but just as Remus was about to press further, he replied: “In your junior year at GU, you wrote an expose about the sexual harassment the Dance Team was facing by certain wealthy alumni donors. The school almost kicked you out, but your piece kickstarted the legal battle that sent Richard Lestrange to jail. In your senior year, you won a national award in collegiate journalism. Now you run a weekly blog where you report what’s really happening on the streets of Gryffindor. Not the bullshit the Malfoys pay the Prophet to publish.”
Remus felt uncomfortable warmth spread through his body. It occurred to him that he had no exit strategy. “You’ve been watching me?”
“You’re a good journalist. There’s a group of us that would like to see the voices of good journalists amplified in Gryffindor.”
Remus remained silent for a long moment. “Is one of these people Albus Dumbledore?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
“I’m sure you can understand that anonymity is crucial to our operation. But for your own welfare, Detectives Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt are just about the only trustworthy cops on the force.”
“Are there more of you? Vigilantes, I mean?”
“There’s only one of me,” the Grim replied, and Remus swore he sounded smug.
“Well, what do you want from me?”
“Nothing you aren’t willing to give.”
“Can we try something less vague?”
“You’ll be called on when the time comes,” the Grim countered ominously as he pulled directly in front of Remus’ rundown apartment building. “In the meantime, stop walking down dark alleys. Don’t pick fights with people that are bigger than you. Maybe start carrying some pepper spray.”
“Why should I if I’m apparently being followed?”
“As entertaining as it sounds, watching you full-time is probably too much for even me.”
Remus scoffed as he climbed out of the car but suddenly felt awkward. How did one say goodbye to the vigilante who had apparently been stalking them?
But the Grim didn’t waste any time. “See you around, Angel Face.” He waited only for the door to close before sliding back into the street, engine quieter than seemed possible. Remus watched him until he disappeared around the corner, internally debating whether his jitters were caused by fear or something else.
Remus might have thought he’d dreamt the whole thing up if he hadn’t woken to the story of a major Slytherin drug bust plastered across the news. After finding a certain Slytherin, apparently named Antonin Dolohov, passed out with an obscene amount of Felix Felicis, Detective Alastor Moody traced the shipment back to the Crabbe family’s yacht.
Remus listened to Rita Skeeter’s irritating play-by-play as he tended to his sensitive wounds, wincing especially hard as he studied the swelling on his face. He wasn’t a vain man but sometimes felt his looks were the only leg up he had in this godforsaken world.
If the injuries weren’t bad enough, Remus' wallet was missing and he didn’t even know where to check. Could it be on the ground where’d he’d almost been pummeled to death? Could it be lodged underneath the passenger seat of the Grimmobile? He didn’t want to put thought into either scenario so instead settled on checking the shop first. It was his day off but it was always best to check in on Gilderoy in case he decided to rearrange the books by color or get into another fistfight with a teenager.
“Remus!” Ollivander cried in surprise as soon as Remus entered the shop. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“...Morning, Sir.” Remus narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I forgot my wallet last—”
“And that’s why,” Gilderoy’s voice boomed from wall to wall, “we’re the most successful shop on the block.”
Remus snorted at the outright lie and whipped around to see which poor sorority girl Gilderoy had lured over today, only to be surprised by the familiar grey eyes of Sirius Black.
Sirius Black was Gryffindor royalty. The Blacks had come over on the Mayflower and built half the city, most recently to include a high-speed transport system that would supposedly create tens of thousands of jobs and supply the working class with reliable transportation. (Remus would believe it when he saw it.) But Sirius was known more for his family’s tragedies than their successes. When he was ten years old, he, his younger brother, Regulus, and their parents, Orion and Walburga, were ambushed on the way home from the theater. It was known to most that the Malfoy family and their Slytherins were behind the hit, but dirty police pinned it on a low-level enforcer.
Sirius was the sole survivor of the attack and it was because of this that the people of Gryffindor adored him, despite his reputation as a hard-partying playboy or the fact that he made more money in an hour than the average Gryffindorian made in a year. Though Remus felt compassion for Sirius’ loss, and personally understood what it meant to be without family, he didn’t share the warmth.
See, they had already met. During Remus’ investigation into the alumni scandal, he’d hit a dead end and desperately followed a tip he’d previously discounted that suggested Black might be more useful than he looked. Remus trekked to Black Manor on the outskirts of the city only to be met with a man-child who was too high off whatever to offer anything but a sleazy come-on.
He shook the thought from his head. “Sir?” he said to Ollivander. “What’s going on?”
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Gilderoy blurted.
Remus held back a cutting remark but Black stepped forward with an extended hand. “Remus Lupin. I was hoping to see you. I’m told that you’re an integral part of this operation.”
Gilderoy scowled and Remus begrudgingly shook the other man’s hand. “Hello.”
“Remus,” Ollivander began warily, “Mr. Black has presented a very generous offer.”
And he didn’t need to explain anymore because Remus understood. The historical building. The proximity to the Ravenclaw River. The location on the most famous street in the heart of Gryffindor. Yes, the crime was a problem but money in the right hands could easily fix that.
“Are you buying Mr. Ollivander’s building?” Remus asked.
“I hope so,” Black said, grinning at Ollivander.
Remus’ mind raced. “Are you by chance buying the other buildings on the street?”
“Wow,” Black whistled, “you’re as sharp as they say!”
“He is,” Ollivander nodded vigorously.
And Remus didn’t need the condescension. It wasn’t his building. Wasn’t his store. Wasn’t his family. So he smiled tightly, said, “Congratulations. Let me leave you to your meeting,” and turned towards the exit.
“Remus…” Ollivander began but Remus was already halfway to the door.
“Oh leave him, Uncle. You know he loves to pout.”
The fresh air felt good on Remus’ warm cheeks but he only had about a block to enjoy it before there were footsteps catching up closely behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and stopped in his tracks. “It’s not every day you see the Prince of Gryffindor scurrying through the streets like a commoner,” Remus huffed with what was definitely not a pout.
“Have I done something to offend you?” Black asked, coming to a stop directly in front of Remus.
“Not at all,” Remus rolled his eyes.
“You don’t seem very happy about our deal,” Black replied, having the nerve to look amused.
Remus shrugged. “Just going to have to look for another job is all.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, when you inevitably demolish the whole street, I assume you’re going to build another hotel? Or a second country club for your friends? In that case, maybe you can hire me on as a busboy.”
Black laughed, ignoring the pure dislike in Remus’ eyes. “I’m renting each building back to the previous owner.”
Impossibly, Remus’ anger flamed. “So you can charge an exorbitant amount of money in rent?”
“I’m actually going to charge the previous tenants considerably less than their original mortgages.”
Remus stood in stunned silence before demanding, “Why would you do a stupid thing like that?”
“I feel that it’s my duty as,” Black cleared his throat, “the Prince of Gryffindor to do what I can to help the economy. I want to see small businesses like Ollivander’s flourish. If that means taking a hit to my own wallet, then so be it.”
Remus studied Black for a few seconds. “If you’re sincere, time will tell.”
“Let me take you to lunch to further discuss my good will.”
Remus snorted, remembering that day four years prior when Sirius had asked if he wanted to sit in his lap. He’d looked different then. Still unfairly handsome of course, with a killer jawline, perfect nose, and striking eyes. But he was lankier, still boyish even though he had been a couple of years postgrad. Now he was all broad shoulders and lean muscles. Remus wouldn’t ever admit it but he’d very much enjoy sitting in that lap. “No, thank you.”
“Maybe next time,” Black sighed with exaggerated sorrow. “But I hope we can move forward on good terms?”
“As long as you are the person you say that you are,” Remus shrugged, “then we won’t have any problems." Black responded with a smile so wide that it was almost disarming. With a weak wave goodbye, Remus stepped back into a walk and considered the idea that Sirius Black may potentially become a recurring character in his otherwise unremarkable life.
“Oh,” Black said a few seconds later when Remus was a good ten feet away. “Before I forget, I think I have something of yours.”
Frowning in confusion, Remus turned back around. With eyes that were startlingly intense, Black tossed something small and dark out to Remus before turning smoothly on his heel and gliding back towards the shop. It took a few seconds after catching the item for Remus to realize it was his own wallet. “How did you…?”
“See you around, Angel Face,” Black called over his shoulder.
Adrenaline rushed through Remus as the events of the last day clicked into place, revealing a bigger picture that was ridiculous and slightly terrifying. But he wasn’t a (wannabe)journalist for nothing. “On second thought,” he yelled, voice shaking only slightly, “I’ll take you up on that lunch offer!”