At first, he'd dragged Lupin along, risking his own life to beg that goblin for help—all because he ached to find someone he could truly lean on when the hard days came.
After all—wizarding world or Muggle alike—life at ten, all on your own, was impossibly hard.
Yet he stared, stunned, at the ragtag group huddled there:
A tsundere pure-blood heiress, a werewolf broken by the Cruciatus; a centuries old goblin, a headless ghost counting on him to give him back his body.
And yes—somehow—he'd ended up with Nagini too.
Fuck my life!
All he'd wanted was simple: one person he could trust. Someone to lean on.
Instead, fate played its cruelest trick.
He never found anyone to rely on—now five people were relying entirely on him.
A crushing weight, pressing down on the narrow shoulders of a ten‑year‑old.
It was unfair…
Cruelly, unimaginably unfair!!!
Was this his fate, at such a tender age? To shoulder the lot of this ragtag crew—acting as guardian to a makeshift family he never chose?
"Fate really has a funny way of working out, doesn't it?" he proclaimed, face lighting up with wild, bright joy. One flick of his wand conjured a glowing arrow that hung in the air, drifting until it settled pointing southeast.
"To France we go!"
A sturdy rope stretched from his broom, firmly mooring it to the wooden plank carrying the others. They skimmed low, sweeping just above the swelling, dark waves.
Fiennes lay sprawled at ease upon the plank, face lifted to the soft glow where sky melted into sea, singing in a deep, rough timbre—ancient verses, old rugged ballads:
"A bold wanderer steps from the mist,
Morning dew clings to his cloak's hem.
Birds take flight to sing him welcome,
Wildflowers bow and dance along the road.
He walks unbowed, his smile bright and true,
A steady light shines behind him…"
Pedro and Lupin rested shoulder to shoulder. Nagini coiled quiet in her cage. Anna curled up, chin resting on her knees, watching Anton with a soft, gentle smile.
...
...
...
Time slips by.
Soft snow drifts over London, wrapping rooftops and streets in a quiet white blanket. Grimmauld Place, tucked away in North West London, lies a short twenty-minute walk from King's Cross Station.
At Number 11, the doors of Langdon Information Services swing open to greet another busy day — sunlight spilling bright and golden over the thawing snow.
"Bloody hell… when's the US office finally going to give us a proper manager? This place is falling apart," muttered the young blonde, adjusting her gold-rimmed glasses. She wrapped her cream-blue wool coat tighter and frowned at the dangerously tilting stack of papers on her desk.
Lovely as she is, and never lacked for eager attention. A young man with a receding hairline and soft paunch stepped forward, smiling broadly.
"Linnet," he said, his voice carrying across the room. All eyes turned—and he glowed with self-importance. "You may not be aware… but our new manager is already here."
That got every eye in the room, and the young man puffed up with pride. "He's coming from France, they say,"
"Unbloodybelievable!" Linnet scowled. "France? Why ship someone in from France? If America couldn't find anyone, couldn't they look closer to home?"
He shrugged. "Everyone knows in two years these companies will be everywhere. But right now? Barring civil engineering firms, we're the only consultancy in London." He sounded equal parts eager and unsure.
"No wonder they're stuck," Linnet said, curious despite herself. "Are we seriously making our manager some Frenchman? I hope he's as good at spreadsheets as he is at kissing both cheeks!"
The question landed — and then everyone laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls, easy and familiar.
"I wouldn't complain if Holmes turned up as our boss," Linnet said, shrugging with a mischievous smile.
A man in his thirties opposite her set his paper down. Dark green eyes met hers — and she definitely noticed how good-looking he was. With his sleeves rolled up, his fit, strong arms were hard to miss.
"I asked my colleagues in France," he cut in. "Our new boss is English."
That got everyone's attention — and more than a few raised eyebrows.
"Really?" Linnet stared, stunned. "Gerber… how can that be?" Her eyes never left him.
Everyone shifted their focus to Gerber, the room buzzing with quiet expectation.
Gerber lifted his cup, drank, and smiled enigmatically. "It's said," he murmured, "this Englishman made his name in France. His work caught HQ's eye — and they've specially assigned him to lead the UK branch."
"Correct," agreed a gentleman of sharp, refined bearing, his voice commanding respect.
He took off his hat, and neat light brown hair shone softly under the lamplight — there was something so gentle and distinguished about him.
His face bore the lines of long experience, but his smile was bright and kind, making him seem younger than his years.
"Remus John Lupin," he introduced himself warmly. "Delighted to be joining you all."
"Just Lupin will do," he added with an easy smile. "I love the feel of this place — so relaxed and welcoming."
He glanced toward the empty desk. "I see the reception position is open again," he observed. "Well… plenty to get sorted, then."
Between his bright energy, kind nature, and sharp eye for detail, he quickly earned everyone's admiration in this budding industry. He got along with people so easily, and his intelligence shone through — it was clear he'd be a tremendous asset.
The whole room stood up and clapped, filling the space with excitement and warmth.
Lupin smiled, living up to every good impression. He flicked a quick look at his watch. "I'm new to this role," he said, eager but calm, "and I hope to speak with each of you individually in my office — help us get properly acquainted."
"Twenty team members," he noted. "If we're organised… do you think we could fit everyone in before closing time?"
It came as a question, but his steady resolve was enough to steady everyone else. Hesitation vanished — they knew they were in good hands.
"Mr. Gerber," Lupin shifted his gaze to the accountant, courteous but clear, "would you be so kind as to go first?"
"Certainly," Gerber replied, ready to help in any way.
All the while, he remained quite unaware of Linnet's frown, her unspoken disapproval passing unnoticed.
And as the hours passed, Lupin revealed himself as kind, quick-witted, and distinctly sharp. Each exchange reinforced what people were already thinking: he was an exceptional choice.
"Thank goodness!" The young man's eyes shone as he spoke to her. "I've been so worried they'd close the branch. Our results were terrible with the previous manager."
Linnet gave a strained smile. "Yes… absolutely fantastic."
By the end of the day, only she was left.
Her hands clenched so tight her knuckles turned white — and she stood up abruptly.
Gerber offered a gentle smile, trying to steady her. "Linnet, relax — he's fair and forgiving. Won't take things the wrong way."
He added with a playful glint: "Still… we ought to be careful, right? Better safe than sorry."
But Lisa was already gone inside her own thoughts, walking through the doorway in a daze, hardly seeing where she was going.
Whoosh!
The heavy wooden door clicked shut — a sound that seemed to carry weight, travelling softly through the corridor.
Lupin stood by the window, coffee in hand, one hand resting easy in his pocket. He was looking out at the ruins, his gaze steady and faraway — as though something in those broken walls spoke directly to him.
"Lupin!" Linnet's voice cut through the air, her tone icy and filled with anger, her teeth grinding together.
She firmly grasped his collar and declared, "Listen here, we do not welcome your presence here. I want you to leave immediately."
Lupin's surprise and fear were evident as he looked at her, his eyes wide. "Miss Linnet, what is the meaning of this?"
Linnet sneered, her face inches away from his. "Remus John Lupin, I know exactly who you are!"
"If you don't want to make matters worse, I suggest you leave this company right now!"
Lupin's expression turned cold, a slight furrow forming on his brow. He gently pushed her away, adjusting his tie with precision. "I am well aware that I have never met you before. Are you mistaking me for someone else?"
Linnet's fury burned in her eyes as she glanced out the window, her chest heaving with anger. "Today is a full moon night! Listen carefully, either you leave in a dignified manner, or I will not hesitate to call someone from the Ministry of Magic!"
"Magic... Ministry of Magic?" Lupin's amusement was evident as he chuckled. "Miss Ilsa, today is not April Fool's Day. Are you feeling lazy or sleepy?" He quipped.
His expression turned cold as he asserted, "I don't want to hear any more childish and absurd talk about magic. This is an information consulting company, not a children's playground," He declared.
Linnet looked down at him condescendingly, her voice dripping with disdain. "How ridiculous," She scoffed.
With that, she swung open the office door, casting a glance at her colleagues, and proclaimed loudly, "Perhaps we should have a welcome party tonight. Just a dinner gathering. What do you all think?" She inquired.
Many of the men in the office were captivated by her presence, their cheers filling the air, while a few joined in with boos.
Lisa turned her head to look at Lupin, a sneer playing on her lips. "So, manager, do you dare to join us? Tonight is a full moon night!" She taunted.
Lupin smiled indifferently, his eyes glinting with a hint of mystery. "I don't know what the hell you're up to, but I hope that after this dinner, you can sincerely apologize to me. After all, you are an excellent information processor. I will give you that opportunity," He proposed.
Lisa didn't appreciate his comment. She turned around abruptly and walked out of the office, her footsteps echoing in the hallway.
Behind her, Lupin remained by the window, a light smile playing on his lips as he took another sip of his coffee. His brow furrowed slightly, lost in his own thoughts.
"The taste of The Polyjuice Potion is disgusting!" He muttered under his breath, his distaste evident.