Chapter Text
Remus didn’t know how to feel. Dumbledore had owled him about a teaching position at Hogwarts. The Defence Against the Dark Arts position. It had never been his best subject in school, but he did become proficient in most spells due to the war. He knew the theory well enough, due to himself being a prominent topic in the class. He’d still have to study up though, create a lesson plan, pick his book, and get some creatures. That is, if he decided to accept.
What he didn’t understand was why. Why would Dumbledore choose him? He was a dark creature. A werewolf. A danger to himself and others. And worst of all, he had dated the man who betrayed his entire family. A man who had just escaped from Azkaban this summer. He’d loved, and still loves, the man who destroyed everything he cared about.
Remus tried his hardest to ignore the memories of Sirius, but he just couldn’t. He’d never hurt a fly, let alone wormy and twelve muggles. He was kind, so so very kind. He’d once gotten sick at the idea of having to hurt anyone during the war. They’d been so happy at Hogwarts. Even while fighting, they’d been some semblance of happy. What could possibly have happened to him?
He looked down at his knitted jumper. Brown and striped. Comfortable. The exact same one he used to wear in seventh year. The one that Sirius loved. At least on, or pulled off of, Remus.
Remus shoved the familiar thoughts away. He’d thought that exact thing many times over the past twelve years. The happy memories, ones he could never have again. Not after what happened.
Being a teacher had always been a dream of his. But he knew that it wasn’t likely. It was never likely. Yet here it was, his dream, on a silver platter. Would it burn him, just like real silver, if he took up Dumbledore’s offer?
James and Lily’s kid must be at Hogwarts by now, there’s no avoiding that. Would he even remember Uncle Moons? Probably not, one-year-olds hardly remember anything. He couldn’t decide if Harry remembering him would be better than him not. At least if he didn’t remember, he wouldn’t ask Remus why he’d been absent the last twelve years. Remus wouldn’t have to explain.
Remus knew what he had to do. He approached where Tiffin, James’ owl, perched on the windowsill. He sent Tiffin with a response letter to the headmaster, accepting the position.
Now he had stuff to do. Lesson plans and all of those sort of things. His summer would be much busier this year.
Remus couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.
—
The small patch of forest near Privet Drive smelled only like decay. Dead leaves, dead animals, probably a forgotten corpse or two judging by how intense the smell was in such a small amount of wild. At least it smelled better than Azkaban had. Padfoot couldn’t see anything moving or alive. Most things smart enough had probably left before he’d gotten here. Long before he’d gotten here. The rest we’re probably the source of the smell.
It was almost dark now, the sun setting on the horizon. It was probably very pretty, although it was hard to tell with dog vision.
Pads was running out of time before the school term starts. September 1st was only a few weeks away. Harry would be much harder to reach due to the wards at Hogwarts. He’d have to wait for a Hogsmeade weekend, if his guardians had even signed the permission slip.
He needed to find that treacherous rat, he needed to find his godson, he needed to find his Moony. To explain. He couldn’t rest until he was sure he was in the clear. Until he could be freed, cleared of all charges with the proof.
An alive Peter Pettigrew.
So he lay in wait, a scraggy black dog was hard to spot in the underbrush of a dark, unmaintained patch of forest. So he’d wait. For a familiar passing rat, or maybe even a young prongslet.