Chapter Text
Part Six - 1
Lie Low at Lupin's - 1: Box
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The teapot screeched, or perhaps it was Kreacher, or maybe even Mrs. Black's portrait upstairs. Remus paid no mind that the awful howling didn't stop once he had taken the kettle off the burner. Quite properly he had organized a tea-tray, and now retired to the dining room. It felt strange to be out of Sirius' room, and Remus realized he hadn't any idea how long he'd been up there. Time seemed endless in this place, and that was all right with him. He had a lot of memories to sort though.
The only reason he'd been pulled from his sad reverie upstairs was that he had received a letter; an owl bashed into the window several times before Remus thought to even let it in. The note had been from Dumbledore, probably offering condolences or words of wisdom, but Remus didn't have it in him to open it yet. He wasn't ready for that finalization.
Throughout the years Albus Dumbledore had, for whatever reason, taken much of an interest in the life of Remus J. Lupin. Ever since he had left Hogwarts as a student, Dumbledore had kept in contact on a personal level. Sometimes it was with good news, or to comment on weather, or chat about quidditch teams. At times Remus had lived for these letters, as he had suffered a very lonely life after Sirius was taken to Azkaban. In fact, Dumbledore had broken that news to him as well, but Remus didn't want to relive that yet either.
No, he wanted to relive the good letter.
He had received an owl from Dumbledore a few days after leaving Hogwarts as a teacher, and hadn't any idea of what to do with it as surely he couldn't throw it out after reading. It meant something. He'd put the note in his bedside table. And then he'd put it on top of the fridge. And then finally he'd tucked it away in a very small box of things he cherished, no bigger than his palm and no thicker than a deck of cards, where it would go unseen for years until he had occasion to pull it out and look over his life again.
He had that occasion now, only a very few years later, so Remus Lupin took that small box from his coat as he sat at the dining table in 12 Grimmauld Place. He untied the worn string about it, slid open the lid, and one by one pulled out its precious contents. There was much more in the little box than could be first assumed; it had been a present from Sirius many, many years ago.
“Now you can get rid of that ridiculous shoebox.”
Some items had been taken out over time, some never added to begin with, but these things, these mementos, were what meant most to Remus in his life. He could remember other things on his own, but these... these he needed to touch and see to experience their joys, or aches, again. Remus was sentimental; there was no other way about it.
Like a checklist he went over the items in his head once they were all laid out in front of him.
It contained, from oldest to newest:
— Hogwarts Acceptance Letter
(complete with eleven-year-old, smudged, chocolate fingerprints)
— Gold Oval Locket
(His grandmother’s, which Remus had always intended to put pictures in, but never had)
— Letter from His Mother and Father, Received After His First Full Moon at Hogwarts
(We miss you, we love you, you can come home at any time, etc. etc.)
— A Very Worn Braided Leather Bracelet Which He Never Wore
(Given to him by Hufflepuff Tammy Baker during second year, in passing and with no conversation or eye-contact. They had been neighbors as children, before Remus was inflicted with lycanthropy and his family moved to the country without warning. He and Tammy never spoke, nor did he run into her again, but he assumed the bracelet had been meant for his five-year-old self as it was rather small)
— Chocolate Frog Card
(Newt Scamander, given as a joke from James, with “Friend of yours?” written on the back very untidily)
— Picture of The Marauders During a 6th Year Party
(Halloween. Rather Drunk Sirius dressed as a knight, sloppily kissing Tipsy Remus on the side of his face, whom was forced to dress as a princess while Very Drunk Peter and Incredibly Drunk James -- also forced into princess costumes when the lot of them doubted Sirius’ ability to get a kiss from McGonagall [On the cheek counts, lads! Oh what merry maidens you shall make!] -- pulled faces for the camera)
— Ticket Stub
(A muggle punk band that Sirius enjoyed purely for the mosh-pits, though Remus recalled Sirius singing a lovely [really very lovely indeed] rendition of Should I Stay Or Should I Go while ragingly drunk and bleeding from the mouth after picking a fight with a very large man and not having the sense to use his wand. Remus had to apparate the both of them home from the safety of a darkened alley and spent the rest of the night listening to Sirius sing/cry at the top of his lungs and make an ass of himself in the living room without any encouragement at all. It was a fond memory)
— Picture of James, Lily, and baby Harry
(Written on the back, in Lily’s neat cursive, “You and Sirius ought to visit soon. Harry’s getting bigger every hour. All my love, Lily xoxo )
— Letter from Peter Pettigrew Two Weeks Before Halloween 1981
("Where are you? Let’s get drinks soon?" Remus had never sent a response)
— Letter from Dumbledore
(Complete with tea-stains and set aside)
— A Novelty Switch-Blade Comb that Sirius Nicked from a Muggle Teenager
(The final item in the box, and perhaps most treasured)
Remus flicked the comb open, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in what could be a smirk or could be pain. For a moment he just held the comb, noting the few strands of dark hair tangled in the teeth, before closing it gingerly and setting it next to Dumbledore's letter. Another moment passed as Remus just laid his hand upon the folded parchment of the letter, staring at it wearily as if he were resting his hand upon a beast.
In some sense it was a beast. It rumbled low and full, and if he wasn't careful Remus could get bitten and develop new wounds to add to the old ones that still hadn't healed after all this time and quite possibly also make the newer ones rip open and bleed anew.
It was that kind of letter.
The stained parchment had rung in a new life for Remus, one where he wasn't sequestered in solitude, one where he was useful and necessary, one where he wasn't allowed to spend quiet nights alone, feeling sorry for himself and not having the good sense to start drinking to dull the pain.
That new life had been... difficult, for a little while, but ultimately more rewarding than Remus could ever have imagined it would be. Living with Sirius Black had always had its drawbacks and its perks, but for some reason that time, that summer alone together with nothing to concern themselves with but each other (mostly, at least), had been the breath of air that Remus needed. Otherwise, probably, he would have wasted the rest of his life away in that shitty little cottage, and worked that shitty muggle job, and never have remembered what it was like to be...
Remus didn't know. He simply didn't have the words.
Just, what it was like to be.
And he wanted to feel that again.
He needed to feel that again.
So with a quick breath as to get up his nerve, Remus hurriedly unfolded the letter and as he read he was no longer present at 12 Grimmauld Place. No, he was transported back to his dingy little cottage home, where the rough wooden table was slightly off kilter and the china was all chipped, and the tea wasn't very good at all.
Remus,
As you are aware, Sirius has been freed, by thanks of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. You might send to them a fruit basket. What you are unaware of is that he will arrive to you in three days, and whether or not he will be accompanied by a hippogriff is up to Sirius himself. If you must care for it, I am assured that Buckbeak favors live ferrets, and that Sirius will eat any dead mammal you provide him with. Not fond of fried tomatoes, if I do recall correctly the time he threw them across the tables and incited the largest food fight I had ever seen. Impressive for a thirteen-year-old, but I still refuse to wear pure white ever again.
On to business.
I must warn you that it is not by luck that Sirius has been returned to us, but rather by a composition of Black's own will and some form of fate. We have all wronged him, and this must be kept in mind. Betrayal, as you know, is not something easily forgiven, and while I do not presume to know the thoughts that lurk in Sirius' mind, I know that we have all, in our own way, betrayed him.
I admit that I personally did not do all I could have to prevent Sirius from going to Azkaban, or press for a more thorough investigation. At the time, I do not believe anyone in The Order had true doubts as to Sirius' guilt, and for that we have all wronged him. Do tell him that I am deeply apologetic.
I do not know if you recall the conversation we had that morning or not. It still stands to reason that despite whatever actions Sirius takes, it is for your own good to not let the past tarnish what can be whole once more. You didn't say in so many words then what Sirius meant to you, but trust when I say that I know he was the light of your dark life. I have a feeling you were rather that to him, as well.
It is a shame, I must say, when two fine young gentlemen are thrown into such turmoil. But you have done good in your life, Remus, and you have never disappointed me. Though during your time as a Prefect I had wished you would have exercised a little more control over your friends. Admittedly, it was amusing when all of the sixth floor portraits had large mustaches drawn on them --though I do not think the portrait of Artemisia Lupkin was very pleased.
Take care of him, Remus.
Fondly,
Albus
PS: I have enclosed your severance pay of 198 galleons, 10 sickles, and 10 knuts.