Settling In
The next morning Remus awoke with a start. He'd been dreaming: four boys running across a lawn towards a huge lake, four boys that were suddenly not boys, but animals: a stag, a dog, a wolf and a rat. As he opened his eyes, the image broke down, tendrils disappearing to the corners of his mind. For a moment he didn't know where he was, the bed was soft and warm and there was a cold light filtering through the window, highlighting rich tapestries and stone walls. Hogwarts, of course. He was feeling a little better this morning, the hearty meal he'd had last night had given him some strength, and he looked about the room more carefully than he had the previous evening. His travelling cloak was flung over a wooden chair that sat by a writing desk, his trunk lay open at the foot of his bed, clothes tossed carelessly where he had left them whilst searching for pyjamas. At the opposite end of the room was a small kitchenette, a stove and kettle, a sink and a cold box. Across from his bed a settee and an armchair, on a red Persian rug with a coffee table between them. It was lovely really. Warm and clean and private. Space to work, space to read. What more could he want? Suddenly there was a tapping sound on the window. He looked up and saw a handsome grey owl. He unhooked the catch and it perched smartly on the sill, extending its leg for him to remove the parchment attached to it.
Remus, so sorry not to have caught you last night. Pop up this morning and see me before breakfast if you can. Poppy
He stared at it for a moment, suppressing the urge to incendio it immediately and leave on the next train. 'No', he thought. 'You're here, this is a good option, you need the help and you need the money. Get a grip.'
*
Twenty-five minutes later, Remus was showered and dressed and standing at the door to the hospital wing, somewhere he hadn't stood for sixteen years. He steeled himself and knocked lightly on the door. Almost immediately it was flung open, and there in front of him stood Poppy Pomfrey, in her matron uniform, looking not a day older than the last time he had seen her. He tried not to think about the last time he'd seen her, bent over a stretcher, hands over a body, blood. As he pushed the memory away she moved towards him and he found himself enveloped in her arms.
'Oh my boy,' she said, holding him at arm's length and looking him up and down. 'Come on now, sit down over here, we'll get you sorted out.'
Remus coughed slightly, embarrassed. 'I really am OK, Poppy,' he said. 'I can look after myself. I have been...'
'Nonsense,' she said, 'under this roof, your wellbeing is my responsibility. We need you well so you can do your job. Now take a seat and let me have a look at you. Don't be silly. Put your arms down. It's nothing I haven't seen before.'
Tutting and fussing, she pushed him down into a chair and waved her wand over him, muttering.
'Drink this,' she instructed, as a beaker floated over to them, 'what have you been doing to your face? And what is hurting so much it's making you walk like that?'
Taken aback, he'd forgotten how perceptive she could be, Remus lifted his shirt and turned so she could see both wounds.
'Oh dear,' Poppy sighed, 'I'm sorry sweetheart. It's ok, we'll get you patched up. Take it easy for the next couple of days, and you'll be good as new by the time lessons start on Monday. And next month Severus will have the potion ready for you.'
She continued to cast healing charms over him, the gentle touches of magic were so familiar and so soothing that he felt himself relax in his chair, sipping the potion he had been given. He had a lot to do to get ready for classes, and the idea of Severus brewing the wolfsbane did not fill him with confidence. But for the next 10 minutes maybe he could just enjoy being looked after a little. It had been so long.
Half an hour later, after several doses of medicine and a hefty healing spell across his back that had actually stung quite a lot, Remus found himself feeling dramatically better. Poppy had patted his arm and sent him down to breakfast with a warm smile and strict instructions not to suffer like that again, or she'd 'really show him what suffering felt like'. The heavy fog he had been under the previous evening had lifted a little and he looked around himself with interest at the familiar paintings and tapestries as he made his way down the staircases.
It was a strange feeling, walking past the long tables, passing the bench they'd claimed in first year and sat at for every meal from then on. 'I'm not making him do anything, I'm just telling him these are our seats, and letting him decide what to do for himself.'
A memory of a boy with glasses, smiling a little dangerously at a second year, gesturing with a piece of toast. Remus kept walking.
The teachers table was only about half full, so he sat down next to Professor Flitwick, a safe option he thought, and was happy to listen to him chatter away about the new Ravenclaw first years, who had somehow lost the prefect escorting them to their tower last night and ended up locked in a classroom on the third floor at the mercy of Peeves.
'A bit of a shock for them for their first night I suppose!' Flitwick was saying, 'But actually some clever magic from some of them. Whether it was completely intentional or not I'm not sure but potential certainly!'
Remus smiled and nodded, but across the hall spotted Harry and his friends sitting down at the Gryffindor table. Minerva was moving between them, handing out pieces of parchment. Timetables he presumed. His had been sent ahead - he didn't see the Gryffindor third years until next Thursday. A week to prepare, he thought, the lesson and himself.
He left the Great Hall a few minutes later, a bowl of porridge helping to settle the earlier potions and returned to his rooms. There was much to prepare for the teaching week ahead, if he was honest he didn't really feel at all like he knew what he was doing. Really he should sit down and try and get through the pile of parchment that had been left behind by the previous professor, but his head still felt foggy: the after effects of the moon or the current effects of trying not to think any of the thoughts the castle was generating, he wasn't sure. He picked up his jacket and headed down to the entrance hall, maybe some fresh air would clear his head and inspire some lesson ideas.
It was a chilly morning but the sun was shining brightly through breaks in the clouds, the rays bouncing off the lake and making it shimmer between the mountains that rose up around the castle. Remus, who was no stranger to the spectacular views of the British countryside, had always found it arrestingly beautiful. He wandered gradually down to the lake, looking across the grounds to Hagrid's hut he could see some particularly impressive pumpkins sprawling from his vegetable patch, behind it the edge of the forest. The forest: it was designed to be so frightening, but he had spent some of the best nights of his life in there, running around with his friends, for those few precious moons... He pushed the memories away again and continued down to the edge of the water which was lapping gently against the shore. Looking out to the middle of the lake he caught sight of a tentacle, breaking the surface and waving lazily, before retreating back out of sight, and it struck him: he could start with dark creatures - he certainly knew the material and Hogwarts had no shortage of specimens, he laughed softly to himself at just how true that was - and while he was doing that he could brush up on the curses and defensive spells that he hadn't had much need for over the last 12 years.
Remus took himself slowly back up to the castle, steeled slightly by his plan and headed for the library. It was quiet - most students using their free day to unpack and catch up with their friends - and he was able to wander the shelves, taking in the old familiar smell of hundreds of years worth of books. He picked out a few useful volumes, and just as he was pursuing a crumbling bestiary with some particularly graphic illustrations, heard whispered voices coming from the otherside of the stack. He leant round a little, curious as to which conscientious students were in the library already and for just a fraction of a second his heart stopped. James was standing there, in his quidditch jersey, leaning on his broomstick. He was gesturing to something on the table, the way he always did when he was bored and wanted to move on from whatever homework Remus was trying to get done..
'Harry, if you two want to go and practise then go. You don't need me to come and ignore you from the stands, I'm fine here.'
It was the girl from the train - he took in the rest of the scene - and the Weasley boy. Ronald, he thought. He was the one who'd been born that year.
'Ok fine, if you're really ok, we'll see you later', Harry, not James, whispered back.
Their voices weren't at all alike actually. He said it much more earnestly than James would have. Remus wondered if he had actually been worried she was working already, and not annoyed at all. He ducked back into the stacks as the two boys left the library. Resting his hands a moment on the tomes that lined the shelves, before gathering the books he had selected and beginning the journey back up to his rooms.