Diagon Alley
John Lupin sat in the living room of his son’s house, reading a copy of the Evening Prophet and absentmindedly scratching Dommie behind the ear. He glanced up occasionally, wondering where his grandson had gotten too, and then returned back to his reading. The house was quiet. His son and daughter-in-law had gone out for the evening and they had asked him to keep an eye on Remus. John couldn’t refuse; Harry and Anna had not been out alone for quite some time since Remus returned from school. He had to say, his grandson was in an exceptionally bad mood. He had expected this, naturally, but not to the extent he had seen it. Remus hadn’t said as much as a “hullo” since John entered the house. Remus always made it a point to greet him. He simply hobbled away into the next room and had yet to come out. John folded up the paper and decided to look for his grandson.
When he arrived Harry and Anna had told him that it was best if Remus was left alone, as he was in no mood to talk. John honestly couldn’t blame him; he had seen Remus while he was at St. Mungo’s and he hadn’t looked well at all and he did not say a word the entire time. John hadn’t expected his grandson’s temper to change in only a few days. He poked his head into the kitchen and saw that Remus was not in there. The only sign that he had been in there at all was the half eaten plate of dinner his mother had left for him. Assuming that the rest was not going to be eaten, John took the plate, dumped the remainders out, and placed it in the sink to clean up later.
Walking across the kitchen, he peered down the hallway and saw that the door to Harry’s study was ajar. His grandson must have been hiding out in there. Harry spent a lot of his time writing his articles for the paper, and working on his novel that was likely to never be published, or finished, in his study. It was filled with old, slightly battered books that had been read uncountable times. There was a long, comfortable couch that Harry used whenever he had to think about what he wanted to write. A desk sat in the back and was often full with crumpled pieces of parchment and spare or broken quills. It was a peaceful, yet messy, room and John could understand why someone in a bad mood would seek a haven in there.
Sure enough, when he entered the darkened room he found his grandson sprawled out on the couch, gazing out the skylight at the star strewn sky. John cleared his throat, catching Remus’s attention.
“Thought I’d find you in here,” John said, crossing the room and sitting down at the desk. Remus said nothing; he simply looked back out the skylight. “Hungry? Your grandmother baked some biscuits and gave me some to bring here.” It was a stupid question really, as he had seen that Remus was not hungry. Remus shook his head. John lit the lamp on the desk and the room was illuminated in warm light. In the light he could see the fading scars on his grandson’s face. He frowned; he couldn’t understand why it had to be Remus, of all people, who had to suffer such a fate.
“Why don’t you come and sit inside?” John offered. Remus shrugged and muttered some nonsense. “Come on, Remus. You can’t just sit in here by yourself.”
“I was until you came in,” he mumbled.
John grinned slightly, but quickly hid it and cleared his throat once more. “Aren’t you bored in here?” Remus shook his head. “Well it doesn’t look like much fun sitting in here alone.”
“It beats having to walk anywhere.”
“You had to walk to get here.”
Remus looked at his grandfather, but said nothing. He shifted in his seat, wincing as his leg throbbed painfully.
“Do you want something for that, Remus?”
“No.”
“It must hurt a lot.”
“It does.”
“What’s the matter, Remus?”
“Nothing! I’m just… sick of everything.” John leaned back in his chair, now they were getting somewhere. “I just hate this. These people keep making up cure after cure and they all say that it’s going to work and that I won’t have to be a werewolf anymore and they never work. I don’t understand why they even give them out to the public before testing them on a willing werewolf, just so they don’t have to get our hopes up that we can be normal.”
“You are normal, Remus.”
Remus laughed harshly. “Normal, right, because normal people turn into big hairy monsters once a month.”
“Don’t call yourself a monster,” John said firmly. “You’re letting what other people think of werewolves get the better of you.”
“What if they’re right, though?” Remus questioned fiercely. “Look what I did to myself! If I could do this to myself, can you imagine what I could do to someone else?”
“You’re not going to hurt anyone else; your parents have taken all the necessary precautions and Dumbledore’s done the same at school.”
“But what if I get out? What if I get out of that stupid building or I don’t make it on time and get out through the tunnel?”
“They’ve made sure that won’t happen.”
“They can’t guarantee that.”
John sighed and looked down at the cluttered desktop. What could he possibly say to Remus to make him believe that he wasn’t a monster? He wasn’t even the best person to be having this conversation with, as he had never, until very recently, treated Remus as a normal person. He had not for one moment believed his grandson to be a monster, but he had still never treated Remus as he should have. And his grandson knew this too. “You would never hurt someone and Dumbledore knows this, that’s why he let you in school.”
“But I’m not myself when I’m a werewolf.”
“I know you’re not, and I can’t say that when you are one you wouldn’t hurt someone, but as yourself, you wouldn’t.” He stood up and picked up Remus’s crutches, which were lying uselessly on the floor. “Now, could you please come into the living room with me? I don’t like sitting by myself.”
Remus eyed the crutches for a moment, deciding if he felt like getting up. He glanced up at his grandfather’s hopeful face and nodded, grasping the crutches and carefully getting to his feet.
Sirius and Peter left the Potters’ on the last Saturday of July, but they both promised that they would send James a letter the moment their booklists arrived so they could arrange a trip to Diagon Alley together. For the time being, James walked restlessly about his home, trying to find something to occupy his time. He had not, until the moment Sirius and Peter left, realised how dull his house could be. His father was almost always at work and his mother was almost always off doing some chore or errand with Willie. He sometimes felt that she spent more time with the house elf than she did with him. He knew that he was being fairly immature, thinking like that, but he sometimes hoped his mother would call upon him to go and help her. But when Sirius and Peter came he had people who were his age around. He could go swimming with them or play Quidditch with them. There were so many things for him to do while they were there. Now he was helplessly bored.
Not that his parents didn’t care at all. His father had taken them to St. Mungo’s so James could see his father at work. The plans didn’t go as well as Mr. Potter would have liked, as the boys were far too distracted by their friend’s illness to care what he did. Though, to the boys’ disappointment, they were not allowed to go and search their friend out, as Mr. Potter had forbidden it. In fact, he had not let them on the entire first floor. They only stayed a few hours and were once again indulged in a few rounds of Quidditch, much to the discouragement of Peter. James wished he had someone to play Quidditch with at that moment. He almost considered asking Willie, but she was dreadfully afraid of heights and, therefore, did not know how to fly. He searched his father out, hoping they could get in a match of chess, but when he found his father he saw that he was busy at work. It came as a relief when the booklists arrived during the first week of August.
He received three owls the day the lists arrived. One was, of course, an owl from Hogwarts, bringing the usual start-of-the-term notice and the booklists. The other two owls both contained letters from Sirius and Peter, demanding that they go to Diagon Alley that Saturday and no later. The following day he was met with a barn owl bearing a letter hastily attached to its leg. He saw it was from Remus who, after an extensive amount of begging on his part, said he could meet them that Saturday. James grinned excitedly; he finally had something to do after a week of painful boredom. So on the first Saturday of August he found himself standing in the grate of the sitting room fireplace, ready to follow his father, who had Flooed ahead. He grabbed a handful of Floo Power and shouted his destination in a clear voice; he didn’t want to end up down Knockturn Alley by mistake.
He stumbled out of the mantle in the Leaky Cauldron and was met with a considerably empty barroom. This struck him as odd. Every time he had been there before, business had been booming, now there were only five or six wizards sitting at a table in the back. Shrugging, he joined his father at the table while they waited for his mother to join them. James had told Sirius, Peter and Remus to meet him in the Leaky Cauldron, so they could set out and do their shopping together. Sirius had to do a little manoeuvering on his part. His brother was starting Hogwarts that year and his parents would more than likely be going to help Regulus find everything he needed. Sirius had to work hard to get out of their sight. He figured he would tell them he’d catch up with them after getting a drink from Tom the innkeeper.
“James!” said a voice from right behind him. He spun around, nearly toppling his seat over, and saw Peter standing behind him, his parents hurrying along in his wake.
“Hey, Pete!” James replied, as Peter’s parents greeted his parents. “Second one here.”
“Weird, Remus is usually annoying early,” Peter said thoughtfully, pulling up a chair and sitting down.
“I am not,” said an affronted voice to the right. Remus had just appeared with his parents, who were currently saying hullo to the Pettigrews and the Potters.
“Hey, Remus,” the boys said, before gaping at the strange apparatus their friend was using to walk.
“What’re those?” James asked.
“They’re these Muggle things to help me walk; they’re called crutches,” he explained, sitting down in the chair beside Peter and grasping his crutches before they fell onto the back of Mr. Potter’s head.
“I thought you were just sick, not that you hurt yourself,” Peter said, utterly bewildered.
“I was sick,” Remus said quickly. He had his story all planned out. “But I tripped over my dog, who was standing by the stairs, and so I tripped down the stairs too.”
“Your dog always gets you into accidents, does he?” James asked suspiciously, recalling that many of Remus’s reasons for being hurt involved his dog. He was beginning to get the feeling that this wasn’t completely true.
Before Remus could answer, he caught sight of a familiar head of long, black hair. Sirius was sitting at the bar, clutching a butterbeer in his hand and looking covertly around, trying to find the opportune moment to meet up with them. Mrs. Black appeared at his side, with his brother standing beside her, and muttered something to him. Sirius nodded and she left him alone. He watched her disappear into the back alley and leapt off his stool.
“Thank Merlin, I thought she’d never leave!” he said, relieved. He took the chair on the left of James. “So, have you missed me, Jamesey?” he asked in a baby-like voice.
“I don’t miss seeing your ugly face every morning,” James shot back, grinning.
“Oh, you know you loved it.”
“Are you boys going to go do your shopping?” Hannah Potter asked.
The boys nodded and got ready to leave. Sirius wanted to hang back for a few more minutes, giving his family a decent head start, but James and Peter pushed him towards the entrance to the alley. It wasn’t until the solid brick wall had successfully parted that Sirius turned to greet Remus, whom he hadn’t seen in weeks.
“Remus, how’ve “ what the bloody hell are those things?”
“Oh, these?” Remus said, as though he had just noticed his crutches were there. “They’re these useful sticks for whacking stupid boys named Sirius over the head with.”
James and Peter sniggered as Sirius continued to look bemused. “Seriously, Remus?”
“I hurt my leg, and the Healers fixed it, but it was really bad so I can’t walk too well. They help me get around.”
“They look annoying.”
“They are.”
They walked up the fairly empty cobblestone streets, consulting their lists every so often, trying to decide where they would go first. They had all been given their money beforehand, making a trip to Gringotts unneeded. As they made their way to Flourish and Blotts to get their new course books, they spotted their fellow Gryffindor, Frank Longbottom walking in the opposite direction, chatting animatedly with another Gryffindor, Alice Gordon. He was far too immersed in conversation to notice the elaborate waves issued by his four roommates. The boys smirked at each other and continued on their way.
They entered the nearly vacant bookstore and made their way to the table containing copies of The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2. There were hardly any left. They must have been the last students to get their books. Shrugging the thought off, they snatched up their books and went to find their other belongings. They discovered their new Defence Against the Dark Arts books near the middle of the shop, and collected those as well.
“Need help with those?” James asked upon seeing Remus struggling with his textbooks. Remus nodded gratefully and handed them over.
“Aww, Potter’s carrying Lupin’s books,” said a voice feigning sentimentality from behind one of the shelves. Through the spaces between the books, they could see a pale face lined with greasy, black hair “ Severus Snape, a second year Slytherin. He was wearing a dangerously wide smirk as he came onto their side of the shelves and the boys knew immediately that this meeting would not be pleasant. “How sweet,” he said when he reached them.
“You know, I think I was just reminded why I hate Snape so much,” James said to Sirius, pretending that he didn’t see the Slytherin.
“Is it because he’s dense?”
“That’s one of the reasons, especially since he says such stupid things.”
Snape glared at the two, waiting for them to acknowledge him.
“Like making a dumb remark about you carrying Remus’s stuff because he obviously can’t.” Sirius finally rounded on Snape, who did not falter in his position. “What’s your problem, Snape?”
“I don’t have a problem,” Snape said defensively, raising his eyes. “I was just saying how sweet it is that-”
“Don’t act so bloody innocent,” Sirius snarled. He had his wand out and was pointing it between Snape’s eyes. “Were we bothering you?”
“No,” Snape replied, completely unfazed by Sirius’s wand. “But that never stopped you from attacking me, so I thought I’d-”
“Just get out of here!”
“I’m allowed to go wherever I want, you can’t tell me.”
Something seemed to have snapped within Sirius and he threw his wand arm back, ready to send a hex flying at his adversary. Peter, however, sensed this and gripped Sirius’s wand arm.
“You’re not allowed to use magic out of school,” he hissed in his friend’s ear.
Snape laughed harshly. “Afraid of breaking the rules, are you, Pettigrew?”
The colour rose in Peter’s cheeks as he loosened his grip on Sirius’s wand arm. “I don’t see you throwing any hexes, Snape.”
Before Snape could say anything, a woman with the same pallid face called him over to the counter. Snape glared once more at the boys and reluctantly went to his mother. Once they were sure the pair had left the shop, the boys went to pay for their books. Back out on the cobblestone street, James and Sirius spoke viciously about how they would make Snape’s life hell at school the coming year. Sirius suggested Dungbombs in Snape’s morning pumpkin juice, as he had missed the opportunity to do so with Professor Crane.
“I still think that’s disgusting,” Remus said, stopping to adjust his crutches under his arms.
“So is Snape,” Sirius said.
They continued on to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, as Peter’s robes were getting a bit too short on the arms. They emerged ten minutes later, Peter clutching the parcel with his new robes, and headed to the Apothecary to stock up on potion supplies. Once out of the Apothecary, James insisted that they visit Quality Quidditch Supplies, as he intended to get a new broom. He would be trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which had two Chaser vacancies. He needed a decent broom. After what seemed like three hours, but was really only a half hour, James finally settled on a Silver Arrow and they were free to leave.
They reentered the Leaky Cauldron at four in the afternoon and found that the Potters, Lupins, and Pettigrews were sitting where they had been, talking merrily, chewing on biscuits and sipping their drinks. Sirius was pleased to see that his parents had not returned yet. He would be spared any awkward questions about why he had entered the pub with those wretched boys. They resumed their seats and waited for their parents to notice them.
“So, then my editor tells me that the article “ oh, you’re back.” Harry Lupin had been entertaining the group with some story about a problem down at the Daily Prophet when he noticed the boys sitting at the table. “Got everything you needed?” The boys nodded, gesturing to the various parcels they had piled up on the tabletop. Harry and Anna stood up.
“How’s your leg, Remus?” Anna asked concernedly.
“Hurts a bit,” Remus replied honestly. He hadn’t said anything while he and his friends were shopping, but it was acting up and he felt like going home to rest it up.
“We’ll go, then. It was good to see you all again,” he added to the adults. Anna and Remus waved and said their goodbyes before exiting the pub and entering the Muggle street.
When he was sure the Lupins had really gone, James turned to Sirius and Peter. “He’s lying.”
“Who is?” Sirius asked blankly, picking up a biscuit from the plate left on the table.
“Remus.”
“Lying about what?” Peter asked, also taking a biscuit and breaking off a piece.
“He didn’t trip over his dog.”
“How do you know he didn’t?”
“Because that’s just so unlikely. He’s had his dog for ages, he would know not to trip over it by now.”
“What do you think is wrong with him, then?” Sirius asked through a mouthful of biscuit pieces.
James shrugged. “I don’t know, but I think there’s more to his monthly disappearances than he’s letting on. His mother can’t be sick all the time. You saw her just now, she doesn’t look sick.”
“Maybe it comes and goes,” Peter suggested.
“No, there’s nothing wrong with her. There’s something wrong with Remus. Something happens to him and he won’t tell us what it is.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
James thought for a moment. It was clear that Remus did not want them to know what happened to him. If he did he would have told him about it the first time he ever left school. He couldn’t think of what it might be, but he knew one thing. Whatever it was, it hurt him badly and he didn’t like seeing his friends hurt. They would have to watch him closely when he got ready to leave to visit his allegedly sick mother. They would have to track his symptoms, make any connections they could that would help them discover the true reason to Remus’s disappearances. Most importantly, they would have to do it secretly; he knew that Remus would not want them researching him.
“We’re going to keep tabs on him,” James said resolutely. “We’re going to mark down every day he leaves and his behaviour on that day and the day he gets back because he always looks beat up. It is not his dog that’s hurting him like that. It has to be something bigger, something more dangerous.”
“He can’t know about it,” Sirius pointed out unnecessarily. “He’d go mental, probably.”
“We won’t let him find out. We’ll do it secretly.”
“Just like he does,” Peter said. “He’s keeping a secret from us, so we’ll keep one from him. Maybe when we figure this out, we won’t have to keep anything from each other anymore.”
James hoped Peter was right. He hoped that whatever they found out was not as bad as he was imagining. More than anything, he hoped that they could help their friend, possibly make whatever his secret was bearable. He hoped they could change it so it wouldn’t hurt him anymore. They were friends; they had to look out for each other. If they didn’t, could they really call themselves friends?