"It's a slippery one, that pillar," Remus drawled, having turned the corner just in time to see the fumble. He offered her a half-smirk in greeting before leaning against the wall next to the portrait that had been designated as their rendezvous point. He'd been trying to get into the Headmasters' office, to no avail. Seemed like the last one must have died before the password could be removed. He'd have to track Nick down later and see if the old ghost remembered what it had been whenever it was applied.
Remus hadn't been able to settle back into calm the way a lot of others seemed to have returned to a normal 'civilian' life after the war. The life he'd led after had required as much caution and vigilance as the life he'd led during. Moody would have been proud. So, his eyes kept tracking around the corridor on reflex, keeping watch for danger even as he stayed alert for a scent or sound that would herald the same. It was the only way he'd survived the war, Spain, poverty, traveling across country on foot... Honestly, he wasn't even aware he was doing it.
"If everything seems safe enough," he said as his eyes fell on his waiting companion again, "see what we can find, maybe not the Prophet archives, but if those journals had become somewhat ubiquitous, we might find a few of them, get some firsthand accounts of what was happening."