Lupin.
Remus Lupin sat alone in the dimly lit room, a half-drunk mug of tea forgotten on the table beside him. The fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth doing little to chase away the cool thoughts swirling in his mind. His fingers absently toyed with a stray piece of parchment as his eyes wandered to the window, where snow fell silently, coating the world in a quiet veil.
It had been a while since he'd been alone like this—since he'd had time to think without distraction. So much had changed over the years. So many faces lost to time and circumstance. The world moved forward, as it always did, but sometimes, he found himself stuck, tethered to the past by unspoken memories.
He'd heard rumors, bits of information here and there. Some names still carried weight, even after all these years. He wondered, in fleeting moments, what became of the ones he'd known so well. The ones he'd trusted and fought alongside. And then there was her—a name that lingered, though he had never met her. He knew the stories. Knew what she was becoming, who she was becoming, but it still felt strange. He wondered if she ever thought of him. If she even remembered him at all.
It wasn't fair, the way time worked. The way the past crept up on you when you least expected it, reminding you of things you thought you'd left behind.
He shook his head, trying to focus on the present. He had a job to do. A new life to step into. But sometimes, it was hard not to look back—at what had been lost, at what still lingered in the dark corners of his mind.
The world outside grew darker as night fell, and Lupin sighed. He would face the new day soon enough. But for now, there was only the quiet hum of a life waiting to begin again.