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r. lupin (tufty) wrote in silverage, @ 2011-08-10 09:09:00

somewhere to begin
Who: Remus Lupin
When: Backdated to early Saturday morning
Where: Around the city
What: Lots of thinking, lots of walking, lots of asking, lots of guessing.
Rating/status: G/finished.

Time was moving. And normally, he could tell which direction it was headed to as it only headed to one way: forward, of course. But for a month already, he hadn't been sure. It went backwards then forward -- and as he was heading forwards, he caught a time trap and if he could illustrate it, he would be standing in the middle of four arrows, surrounded by darkness and a single beam of light. He couldn't go back and if he went forward, he would somehow still be stuck with the past. It was like walking northwards in a path that went south, or maybe like climbing a stairwell that was continuously moving down, regardless of his efforts. It was a senseless pantomime -- of fighting to move forward while staying still, just the same.

What if time stayed still, all along? What if all he had to do to move forward, was to stay put?

Grand Central Station
There was nothing he could do but start.

At the third time he opened his eyes and found that he had woken again, Remus tossed his cover off his form, put on his slippers and marched to the bathroom to prepare for the day. There was much to do in New York that day, and sleep was just a formality to get it started. After washing up and fixing his hair, he donned on a plain white buttoned tee and a pair of faded jeans with pockets charmed to contain more than they can appear to hold. It was in his right one that he slid his wand in, making sure the decorated, harmless end of it jutted out some and after a quick spray of scent, he was out the door faster than breakfast could be served.

He had no plan but he knew of places he had to go. First stop was the Grand Central Station and a sight Remus hadn't quite expected to witness. It was teeming with people -- early risers and commuters hurrying to their places in New York and the wizard was lost in the midst of them, a comfortable right thumb inside his pocket while his hand covered the rest of his wand. The spotlights were still alive, as were the rest of their brothers and if it hadn't been for them, Remus might have thought that he had finally found the American Ministry of Magic -- except everyone was a Muggle.

For a moment there, he stood lost in the middle of the crowd, uncertain which direction to take until he finally followed the steps of a man with a pair of luggage making for the ticketing station. It was obvious, for him to continue his journey, he needed his own ticket -- and this man was going to give it to him.

He stayed stuck to his back, then drawing his wand carefully and keeping it hidden behind his bigger luggage, he said in his mind: Confundo! and the man stood witless. Leaning to his ear, he whispered, “You should probably visit the loo before you travel.”

His deed done, Remus broke away from the crowd, waited for the man inside the men’s washroom and seized his ticket at the first chance for a quick duplicating charm, then hurried out.

He used his fake ticket to gain him entrance beyond the barrier and mostly stayed close to the walls or to people and conversations to learn about Muggle New York’s train system. When he caught the attention of an officer, he confessed that he was lost and needed help.

“So this ticket will get me as far as New Haven?”

“That’s right, son.”

It was similar to the train system he was used to, if more primitive and confusing. None of them led to Hogwarts, of course, but he wondered if he could find one that did?

Lurking behind the ignorant crowd, Remus placed himself closely to a choice pillar and held his breath. Keeping his right hand tucked in his pocket with his wand, he lifted his left hand and aimed it straight for the bricks.

And when fingers met concrete with a dry thump, he spun and marched straight out of the station.

Corner Pet Shop
The little rabbit was sniffling at him from behind its cage and Remus found himself staring fixated at its pink nose. It was so tiny and so...nimble! If that was even a word he can use on a nose.

He didn’t realize how close he was to rubbing nuzzles with the furry thing until it turned and hopped away, tiny tail and all, and he straightened up in time to meet the stout, balding owner of the pet shop walking down the stairs.

“Can I help you? I’m Tom Murray.”

“How do yo do, Tom,” Remus said with a nod, his hands still in his pockets. “You are the owner of this pet shop?”

“That’s right,” he said with a nod, gesturing to the rabbit which was now entertaining itself in its tiny house. “I own this place. You needed something from me.”

“Not necessarily,” Remus cleared his throat, “But I was asking your assistant about...owning owls and she said I’d be better off chatting with you.”

“Owning owls?” Tom laughed. “Ahh, you kids these days, always thinking about keeping these animals. Well, for your information, you can’t.”

Remus felt his heart sink to his stomach. “Can’t?” Why not?

“It’s illegal!” Tom concluded with a toss of his hands. “If you want one, you gotta be a falconer. Get a license from the state, make sure you’re good, then join a falconry.”

“It’s that complicated?” Remus found himself asking, eyes betraying a little of his shock. Bloody hell, and he thought people just walked in and bought them right off the rack. Why did Muggles like making their lives difficult?

“Owls are complicated,” Tom said with a shrug. “If you want to take care of one, you have to be sure you’ll be devoted to the art. You need time, money, diligence, patience and love. They’re not like any birds we sell here. They’re pretty high maintenance.”

Well, of course he knew that. Every wizard ought to know it.

“Well, my brother works in a falconry. If you’re interested, I can get you a card.”

“Please, if it isn’t any trouble.”

He watched him disappear, then sighed, dipping his head. So there went the idea of getting an owl they can use to send a letter to Hogwarts. Anyhow, the idea wasn’t completely shut down. There was this falconry he could still try, or he could still look for an American Diagon Alley although how he would do it, he didn’t know, and that was why he didn’t act on it. Yet.

It looks like he was fast running out of options, though.

He turned to the rabbit when it returned in Tom’s disappearance. “What do you think?” he asked, as he tapped at the nose with his left trigger finger. Once upon a time, when James declared that he had a furry little problem, he really thought about trying to own a pet rabbit for both his disguise and amusement but the thought of it turning into his dinner during his full moon nights was beyond unappealing.

But maybe he should look at getting a cat instead. For Lily. A cat fitting of a witch of her caliber and a woman of her passion. That might even help her brighten up a little, if only for a while.

But then cats couldn’t swim to Hogwarts. And it could turn to dinner. So it probably was just going to be a waste of space...

“Here you go,” Tom said upon his return as he handed a card to Remus. “Timothy’s my brother.”

“Thank you for your help.”

“You sure I can’t interest you on some other bird instead?” Tom tried as he placed his hands on his sides. “I’ve got some beautiful doves coming in this afternoon. Less work than owls if you ask me.”

“I will think about it,” Remus said with a small smile. “...but, you don’t happen to be looking for an extra hand for the shop, are you--”

“No, I’m sorry,” Tom said, shaking his head. “We’re all right here.”

“Right, then.” Remus nodded. Bidding goodbye, he turned and left the shop with a little less of the hope he began the day with.

The Alley Over There
In hindsight, Remus realized that he probably should have done this leg of his walkabout before the entire New York City had woken up. But it wasn’t like he could do anything about it anymore.

“Three up, two across...fancy bleeders, won’t they even leave a trash can by the corner?” he even looked for it by his feet.

There were no trash cans, though, just bulky dumpsters, and a huge pile of trash that was not in their dumpsters. And a lot of reek.

Something had crashed onto a pile of metal and he spun in time to see a large cat scrambling to its feet on the ground then scampering off, leaving a lot of waste in its wake. His wand was out, pointed to the bright outdoor, he couldn’t help but tense his muscles, too. At the sound of clicking heels, though, he turned again and faced the wall.

He breathed through his nose. Again.

Wand tip tapped on bricks. He must have been doing this for nearly an hour already and his deadline was coming fast in fifteen minutes. After the pet shop, he went straight to doing what he told Lily he’d be doing and began looking for houses that they could start on -- that way, they didn’t have to waste so much time after lunch and Sirius wouldn’t have to get tap dance with impatience if it got to a point akin to routine.

He walked for the entirety of the way and remained patient in his inquiries, vigilant on opportunities (he still asked around for work when he thought he could) and diligent on taking notes. For the first time since he got here, he used his real name in public, too (although there was still that nagging inclination to go with “Severus Snape”). As he went along, his notes and cards became thicker in collection and the dead-ended alleys became more popular as well -- and that was how he began searching for the American Diagon Alley.

He didn’t know how many walls he had tapped, but he still had seven minutes before he would call it a day for Diagon Alley, and as he tapped a yellowing brick somewhere higher than his eye, he thought his luck might finally be looking up. The stone had come loose, and he shoved his wand into his extended pocket as his hands clawed at the single brick and lifted it out.

And inside, was a letter.

Remus’ brows furrowed and his lips parted. That was no gateway to Diagon Alley. He sighed. Still, he set the brick aside as he took the letter and removed it from its plastic bag, then its stained envelope. Nothing was written on it and the paper was sticking to each other. He held onto his loot as he began to read the curious thing.

“1962,” he muttered to himself, “Dear stranger, fate has brought you here...” then looked over his shoulders before he resumed reading it. It was a short letter, not longer than two paragraphs coming from another stranger who was 18-years old at the time of its writing. They were leaving America for good, heading to Hawaii to be with their aunt but wished that there should be one last hope of mercy from cruel America in the form of a new acquaintance. “Won’t you write back and be my friend?” he read and found the address of the residence in Hawaii.

“P.S.,” Remus went on, “enclosed in this envelope is some money you can use to fly to Hawaii. I hope to hear from you soon...” True enough, the envelope felt thick, and when he looked inside, he found a couple of Muggle notes punished by the years but not at all unusable still. Well, the world can be kind to strangers...

Transfiguring an inked quill, he wrote a response to the back of the letter and slipped it back into its envelope and plastic bag and back into its brick. Then stuffing the flattened notes in his pocket, he left the alley for one last try with the flats.

Hullo stranger,

By the time you get this, I hope America has become less cruel to you. I cannot say the same for me, and it is because of that that I thank you for your generosity, having taken liberty to take the money for myself. America is cruel to me and my friends, too, so far. Everyday is a battle to survive -- but that’s what we do best.

Good luck, stranger, and thank you, again.

r.j.l.
Sev
ss
Mr. New York

Central Park
The last thing Remus needed was a place to sit and he found one free in Central Park.

The sun was burning harder as noontime neared and Remus felt hot and sticky. He hissed as he sat himself down under a tree, squinted up to the leaves, then down to the cards and scraps of paper he’d collected along the way. A light breeze blew past as he dried his face from the sweat and when he had rested, he began sifting through the stuff he had collected.

The first one was too expensive even with Sirius along so he crumpled this one and tossed it to the air where it faded away from existence. The next one proved to be a little more useful in terms of hope, so he placed this beside him.

This was how it went for him for the next few minutes and at the end of his collection, he ended up holding onto three out of all the sheets he had transfigured away, along with his hope. He sighed a little as he looked at the cards. Three cards, three chances...he hoped one of them would be a good deal, he had to find a house soon. In three days, he would be evicted from the Center and unless Millie showed mercy, he would have nowhere to go but an old hermit’s house.

Three days...had a month really gone by? And it seemed only yesterday that he Apparated into New York and the old witch died protecting him. He wondered what the city did to their bodies?

He sighed as he closed his eyes and rested his head on the trunk. How time flies, indeed. It was natural, but it was a scary thought. If time flew, how fast did it fly? Fast enough to get him out of his predicament before he knew it? Or fast enough for him to lose his chance to save Lily and James and change the future? He couldn’t believe it. Just days ago, he was determined to deny their friendship if that was going to protect them from the Death Eaters and now, he was aching to go back to them.

Remus was aching for many things: his friends, his house, Harry, wizard treats, the good life...he ached so much that it seemed like a big relief that he should be sitting under a wide tree, relishing its shade. He missed doing it. Now all he needed was a book in hand -- Astronomy, Charms, Potions -- to complete the illusion and some good company. James and Sirius for sure, in a contest of wit and volume -- and Lily! If she wasn’t with her girlfriends or if James had finally grown up, she would sit beside him under the tree, and James would be content to let Sirius do all the goofing off. And Peter would be there, too, surrounded by unfinished schoolwork James and Sirius...and really he and Lily -- when she has to -- promised to help him finish or if not, just sitting quietly, attentive to every syllable that left James and Sirius’ mouth. He could still see it in his memories -- sweat patching up his clothes, hands gripping his knees, books and parchments forgotten as he leaned towards James and Lily, a laugh ready at every Slytherin joke said...

If Remus knew better, he would think that Peter’s ultimate dream was to be like either of them.

So why would he do it? Why did he do what he did?

“Augh, Remus,” he groaned as he pulled himself towards his folded knees, closed his eyes, then hid his nose and lips behind two hands, a tear threatening to spill through his eyelids. “Get a grip, there is no sense to this.”

There really was no sense to what he was doing.

He sniffled as he rubbed his dry nose with the back of his finger before he picked up his cards and stood up. In an hour, he ought to be meeting Lily and Sirius for lunch but before then, he had to get fresh and changed.

And time was running out.

With this in mind, Remus collected all his possessions and walked behind the tree...

Crack!