Paddy worked the docks in Bristol, and lived in a rather rough neighborhood, so it was with some surprise that he opened the door and found a lovely young woman answering his notice.
“Er...I’m afraid it doesn’t run,” he said, as she lifted the bonnet of the car in question and leaned into the engine, sweeping her long, golden-blonde braid over her shoulder.
“Is it terribly rusty underneath?” she asked, closing the bonnet. She dropped to one knee and looked under the car.
“Well, not a lot. Kept it pretty clean, we did.”
The woman straightened and looked under the bonnet again.
“It doesn't run, you know,” Paddy said.
“What about the seats?” The woman closed the bonnet and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Have they been reupholstered?”
“No,” Paddy said, “I guess they could be. Just a lot of electrical tape holding them together now.”
“Mm.” She looked around at the interior of the car. “And the tires?”
“Pretty new, actually. Almost worth the price of the car.” He frowned at her. “Since it doesn’t run, and all.”
The woman sat in the seat and twisted to lean way under the dashboard. “What about the wipers? Still in working order?”
“I suppose. Haven’t used them lately.” The woman sat up again. “As the car doesn’t run.”
He’d given her the key at the start. She turned it now, and, with a groan, the engine turned over and started to purr gently. “Doesn’t it?” the woman asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
Paddy blinked several times.
“Is cash all right?” the woman asked, suppressing a smile.
*•••••*•••••*
Two days later, the same woman stood in the doorway of a large Gringotts vault with a baffled look on her face. “Are you sure this is the right vault?” she asked the goblin standing next to her.
“This is your key, isn’t it?” he asked dangerously.
“Yes.”
“Then this is the right vault.”
“Oh.” She looked around her. Since the last time she had been here, the vault had been crammed with so much gold that the goblins had been forced to physically enlarge it. She walked a few steps down the narrow path through the stacks of golden Galleons. Way in the back stood a wobbly pile of cardboard boxes, which had been what primarily had filled the vault when she had left. They were what she had actually come for, so she prodded a couple of them with her wand, and they took to the air, following behind her obediently as she turned around.
She lifted a couple of coins from the nearest stack and waited nervously, afraid she’d set off some kind of alarm. When nothing happened, she dropped them into her pocket, opened her money bag and shoved a double fistful of Galleons into it. Then she turned back to the goblin and said, “Can I get a, er, list of deposits?”
The goblin nodded and stood aside as she and her cardboard boxes climbed back into the mining cart.
*•••••*•••••*
The next day, she stood looking up apprehensively at a gate surmounted by two ornately-carved winged boars. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped inside.
The school grounds hadn’t changed much, in all the years since she’d last been here. Every part of it seemed to remind her of her fond years here, sadly the best of her life. The walk from front gate to castle door wasn’t really that long, but between her twitching stomach and her brain jumping from one memory to another, it seemed to take forever. When she finally reached the foot of the stairs, she hesitated. “Too late to turn back now,” she muttered to herself, and put her foot on the first step.
Suddenly, something very large came around the side of the castle, completely distracting her. It appeared to be a haystack the size of her Muggle car, walking unsteadily on legs as big around as tree trunks. There was something familiar about its gait, though. “Hagrid?” she called out tentatively.
The haystack swung sideways, allowing a large, bearded face to look at her over his own shoulder. “Whozzat? Can I help yeh?”
“It’s me “ I’m “ Theresa McGonagall.” It wasn’t surprising, really, that he’d forgotten her, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed. “I used to be a student here.”
“Theresa -- ! Blimey!” The haystack crashed to the ground, and Hagrid came out from behind it with a dinnerplate-sized hand extended. “Didn’t even recognize yeh! How long’s it been? Your sister’s been trying to have you declared dead!”
Theresa didn’t take his hand. “She “ what?”
The corners of his beard sank as his grin faded. “Er”I mean, well “ she’s about given up hope “ you know. It’s been years and years.”
Theresa shook her head. “Yes, yes, it has been. I suppose I can’t blame her. Twelve years is a long time.”
“Where’ve yeh been, anyway?”
“Where haven’t I been is a better question.” She spread her arms expansively. “Twenty-two countries and four continents.”
“That’s quite a journey!” He looked genuinely impressed. “Bet yeh saw some interestin’ things!”
She vividly remembered how the big gamekeeper defined “interesting.” “Yes, even by your standards.”
“So what brings yeh back here?”
“I came to see Minerva. Thought I’d let her know I’m back. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
“Oh.” Hagrid’s face fell. “Well, er”sorry ter be the one ter tell yeh, but she’s not here.”
“She’s not? She wasn’t at home, so I assumed--.”
“She’s on holiday in Greenland. Won’t be back until the start of term.”
“Oh.” Theresa felt deflated. She’d spent so much time working herself up to this, and now… “Three weeks?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
She sighed. “Guess I should have come during the school year. Well, it was good to see you, Hagrid.” She turned back toward the castle gates.
“Hang on. Why don’ yeh come in for a cuppa? Yeh can tell me abou’ yer trip.”
She hesitated. She wasn’t really in the mood to be around people at the moment. But on the other hand, she couldn’t be sure anyone else in Britain would be this friendly to her. She turned back to him. “Thank you, I think I will.”
Hagrid grinned and hoisted his haystack back into the air. “Great, I’ll jus’ deliver this firs’, if yeh don’ mind. Yeh can come along, if yeh like.”
“It must have quite an appetite, whatever you’re feeding,” she commented, trotting alongside him.
“S’not food,” he grunted. “It’s bedding. Wait’ll I show yeh. I’ve got a great surprise fer th’ kids this year.”
Theresa actually smiled as she followed him into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest.
*•••••*•••••*
That evening, Reverend Walter Edgepole stepped out of his church to find a woman he had never seen before standing at one of the graves in the yard with her head bowed. It was unusual for strangers to turn up in his sleepy little village to mourn people who’d been dead for years, so Reverend Edgepole gave in to curiosity and waited for her to look up.
“Oh, hello,” she said when she saw him. “I hope I’m not disturbing anything.”
“No, of course not. Did you know Eglantine Prince?”
“Yes. A little. Just in passing, really. Sorry to know she’s gone, though. She was always good to me.”
“It’s been a few years. I’m sorry if you just found out.”
“I’ve been out of touch.” She bit her lip, then plunged on. “Her nephew and I were very good friends. Does he still live around here?”
“Her nephew? I’m sorry, I never knew the family. She was one of my first funerals after I came here.”
“Oh. Well, thanks anyway.” She turned back to the gravestone sadly.
Something occurred to the reverend. “Unless you mean that “ erm “ unusual fellow who comes around and visits her?”
She looked up at him hopefully. “Dark hair, dresses in black? Bit lacking in social graces?”
“Yes, yes, that’s him.” What a wonderfully polite way of putting it, he thought. “He comes around every six months or so.”
“Oh. So he doesn’t live here, then?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t see him around.”
She heaved a sigh. “When was he here last?”
“About a month ago.”
She laughed ruefully. “Of course. Well, it’s nice to know he’s still alive.” She turned away from the grave and offered something to the reverend. “Thanks for the information. Drop this in the collection box for me, will you?”
She turned and walked down the path toward the churchyard gate. Reverend Edgepole looked at the bill she’d pressed into his hand. It was a 100-pound note.
*•••••*•••••*
Remus Lupin stretched stiffly, yawning, though it was nearly lunchtime. He’d awakened later than he would have liked, but it was the morning after a full moon and that was to be expected. He picked up a cardboard box and flicked on the Wizarding Wireless. Smiling to himself as one of his favorite tracks came on, he carried the box across the room, tapping his fingers in time with the music. His shabby bookcase leaned dangerously to the left, held up by magic as much as nails anymore. But it was his and so were the books which he started to load into the box, wincing as he bent over a little too far.
Remus was used to moving; on average, he changed addresses every two years or so. But this time was different. For once, he was going somewhere bigger and better. For once, he had enough notice to pack properly. For once, his landlady seemed sorry to see him go. He almost hadn’t known how to tell her; it was the first time he’d ever been the one to break the lease.
A knock at the door interrupted his musings. Ignoring his complaining joints, he jigged over to the door and opened it.
And froze in place.
The woman at the door was tall and very pretty, though there was a hardness about her eyes and body that was more than muscle. Her golden-blonde hair was pulled back in a braid that dangled past her waist. She was dressed like a Muggle, but Remus knew she was not.
“Theresa,” he said, stupidly.
“Remus.” A nervous smile, and she dropped her arms from where she’d been hugging herself. “I came to tell you I’m back.”
“Evidently.”
She hesitated, trying, perhaps, to read something in his eyes that wasn’t there, then plunged on. “I want to apologize ” I know we didn’t part on very good terms. I’ve always regretted losing my temper with you.”
“Why?” Slowly regaining his composure, Remus leaned on the doorknob, deliberately suggesting he might slam the door at any moment. “Why are you back? What do you want?”
She lowered her eyes and said softly, “Forgiveness.”
Remus hadn’t expected that. Shaking his head slowly, he said, “Some things are unforgivable.”
“I know. But I haven’t done any of those things.”
“Tell that to James and Lily.” He made to shut the door.
“Wait ” Remus!”
He paused.
“Tell me what to do. I came back here to make things right.”
“You can’t bring James and Lily back.”
“But that wasn’t my fault!” She stamped her foot, then stopped, took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, she’d eliminated the bitter edge to her voice. “I’m ready to denounce him. Will that make you reconsider?”
Remus was already reconsidering. The woman he’d known twelve years ago could not have suppressed her anger so easily. “You’ve changed.”
She seemed surprised. “Haven’t you? It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, that’s true.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Theresa. I’ve long since put all that behind me.”
“That’s all I’m trying to do.”
Remus looked away uncomfortably. A tense silence spread between them. Then he asked the question he’d been wanting to ask her for twelve years. “How could you not have known he’d gone over? There had to be signs.”
Her lips pressed together into a straight line, reminding him vividly of her sister. In spite of himself, his heart fell.
“You still think he’s innocent.”
A violent struggle played across her face. Finally, she said through clenched teeth, “He loved them.”
Remus’ eyes narrowed. “So tell me then ” after all these years, what’s really changed?”
She glared at him mutinously, and did not answer.
Remus shut the door.
Feeling like he’d just run a mile, he turned to his kitchenette ” a hotplate and a tiny sink ” and began to make some tea. On the table lay a copy of the Daily Prophet, which he’d received from the delivery owl that morning without really waking up. Now he flipped it open and glanced over the headline. He gasped, his eyes widening. Hurriedly, he summoned his wand from the bedstand and sealed the front door with the strongest charm he knew. Only then did he risk a glance through the peephole.
Theresa was gone. Remus breathed a sigh of relief.
*•••••*•••••*
Theresa drove to Scotland the next day with the idea of visiting her parents’ graves, but the closer she drew to the family graveyard outside of Aberdeen, the more she came to realize that she couldn’t face them without making some kind of peace with Minerva. So she turned back and took a room in a fancy hotel in Edinburgh. Since the unexpected contents of her Gringotts’ vault seemed to be the only good thing that had happened to her since her return to Britain, she figured she might as well make the most of it. She spent several days shopping and visiting museums. It was a fitting metaphor for her life, she thought. A tourist in her own country.
But then, what had she been hoping for? To come back after twelve years and find everyone right where she’d left them, only more sympathetic to her? They’d have moved on with their lives, everyone would have, except her.
And one other.
She sat on the roof of her car on the top of a hill overlooking the sea at dusk. There was an island out there, in the far distance, its impenetrable towers barely visible in the lowering light. She should do it. She should go to him and tell him she was going to divorce him. Served him right, for putting her in this position. For causing her to be associated with James and Lily in the first place. For her parents’ deaths … but he’d had nothing to do with that … nevertheless, she shivered, thinking of that awful day. She’d been in the back garden with her dad, and they’d heard Mum answer the door. She only had time to scream out before they killed her. Instantly, Theresa’s father had turned his wand on Theresa and transfigured her into a tree. He’d saved her life, but she had been forced to stand there, helpless, while they murdered him. She had listened to his cries over and over again in her head for hours, until the Ministry had contacted Minerva and she found Theresa and changed her back.
Theresa sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes. She thought she had done crying over that years ago. She shivered again, though the night had been warm only moments before. Suddenly she looked around. A dark, cloaked figure lingered in the shadows of the trees a few yards away from her. In the still night, she could hear its faint death rattle. Clutching her wand, she scrambled down from her perch and climbed into the driver’s seat of the car. If twelve years of adventuring for a living had taught her one thing, it was that there was a time to fight and a time to make a hasty retreat. Her tires crunched on the gravel road as she sped away into the night.
There was one other person, she remembered that night as she slept fitfully in her hotel room, who might not have moved on with his life. The next morning, she checked out of the hotel, tapped her car’s steering wheel with her wand and said, “Little Whinging, Surrey.”
Prisoner of the Past by ThessalyRose
Chapter Notes: Many thanks to JK Rowling for letting us play in her fictional back yard!