Remus had left the wizarding world a long time ago. It didn’t stop Dumbledore from finding him.
Knuckles white on the frame of his open front door, Remus stared down at Dumbledore standing in the hallway. The old man hadn’t even bothered to change out of his purple robes in the decrepit Muggle building. Against Remus’ cold, hard glare, he only gazed stoically back, making Remus feel ridiculous and childish.
“I’m sure you know why I’m here.” Dumbledore said lightly.
Remus let out a long sigh. “Come in, Albus.” He looked away, seeing out of the corner of his eye Dumbledore brushing past him to enter the room. Reaching to lock the door, he took a moment to steel himself, then turned to face Dumbledore— who already made himself comfortable on the only chair at Remus’ kitchen table.
“Tea?”
“Yes please, one sugar.” and he went on without preamble, “Remus, I’m sure you’ve heard—”
“Yes.”
“Then I suppose you know what I’m trying to ask.”
“Albus, I know what you want, but you can’t convince me that I’ll be able to help—”
“—My reasons are many, Remus, much of which to do with your expertise is unrelated to the present situation—”
“—I haven’t wielded a wand in years.”
“It appears you don’t need to.” Dumbledore looked pointedly at Remus’ hand, poised mid-air in summoning the kettle.
Remus cursed internally. He was too used to the motion. He roughly set the mug on the table, dumping in teabag and hot water as aggressively as he dared. “I’ve hardly been keeping up with academia or scholarly habits.”
“So you’ve told me in the past two years, I am not worried about your qualification. There is a lot Hogwarts can offer you—” Remus snorted, “— a stable income, comfortable living conditions, worthwhile companionship—”
If Remus wanted to feel more resentful, he’d have sworn Dumbledore almost took pleasure in listing off all the things he didn’t have, the things he’d been offered but pushed away out of pure stubbornness. Though this year was different, he felt too distracted long as neither of them addressed the elephant in the room. “Albus, I’m sure you have more competent candidates on the table.”
“You’ll be surprised to find how underdeveloped is the wizarding world’s instinct for education”
“And this isn’t what you’re here for.”
“No,” Dumbledore admitted, voice even as ever. “I’m asking you to protect Hogwarts.”
“Again, Albus, there are many who are more competent—”
“I’m asking you to protect Harry.”
They stared silently at each other. Remus’ heart was pounding resentfully, as it did whenever reminded of the sheer hypocrisy of this man, who so roughly pushed Remus away twelve years ago, from where he could have been at Harry side. Dumbledore lifted his mug to sip at the tea. Remus’ own mug was untouched and going cold.
“What do you think Sirius is after.” Remus asked, the name scorching on his lips. Dumbledore looked at him sharply.
“We believe it’s Harry.”
Remus tried to speak but found he couldn’t draw a breath.
“My reasons are truly various, Remus.” Dumbledore continued, as Remus remained silent, “I know you will not hurt Lily Evans’ son.”
Then he was looking at Remus with just the slightest purse of lips, crease of brows, that it let Remus know exactly why Dumbledore wanted to keep Remus under close watch. And he had to give it to Dumbledore, because he’d be lying if he said he didn’t know how Sirius might have escaped, if he said he hasn’t been watching the streets for a shaggy black dog.
It wasn’t that he loved a murderer. Neither was it that he “never stopped loving” the seventeen year-old boy. Either would be grotesque in his mouth now. But there was a string, tethered to Sirius, buried deep, deep in his chest that had never snapped.
“I know you are one I could be frank with, Remus,” Dumbledore said then, “you have never truly blamed it all on Sirius, have you?”
Remus’ jaws tightened. He made no reply.
“I know, Remus, you’ve always blamed me for the making of your generation. And I do admit. If not for trying to make soldiers out of children, we wouldn’t have seen the cowards and murderers they’d become.”
And Remus dared not look at Dumbledore, fearing he’d lose his control and do something he’ll regret to this venerated wizard.
“But Sirius is a real threat now. To us, to Harry. What you believe matters, and I implore you to think, carefully, Remus.”
Remus walked to the window.
“I think Harry is going to need you.”
With his back to Dumbledore and trying to reign in his heavy breathing, he found himself nodding jerkily. Shortly, he heard the chair scraping and Dumbledore’s steps towards the door.
“Again, think carefully, Remus. I will see you in September.”
As the front door clicked soft close, Remus sunk to the floor, face in his hands. He tried to gauge the image of Sirius’ manic face from rising to his mind, the one that has populated news channels and papers as much as his nightmares. Most terrifyingly, the madness, those eyes, were hardly something beyond recognition. No, beneath it all, this was yet the Sirius he knew. Remus had been running, running away from it all for all of a decade. But now the string in his chest tugged and stretched painfully, pulling him to a stop. He was just on the verge, of catapulting back into the abyss.
Snippet from the book version of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban:
“Who d'you reckon he is?” Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window. “Professor R. J. Lupin,” whispered Hermione at once. “How’d you know that?” “It’s on his case,” she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man’s head.
The same snippet from the movie version:
Ron: Who do you think that is? Hermione: Professor R. J. Lupin. Ron: Do you know everything? [to Harry] How is it she knows everything? Hermione:[annoyed] It’s on his suitcase, Ronald. Ron:Oh.
The difference here is small but telling.
Oh god yes THIS has always annoyed me and people never talk about it
Once again, Steve Kloves makes Ron seem like a idiot so that Hermione looks better.
