Inside the little room.
Lupin hurried to open the door.
At the threshold, the blond boy was carrying several gift boxes of all sizes, while the dark-haired boy calmly directed the rest of the packages as they floated in midair.
"Good morning, Mr. Lupin."
Sean glanced around the room. Lupin didn't own much—his belongings didn't even fill one wardrobe compartment.
So Sean guided the gifts over to help fill it up; his and Justin's presents together made it about half full.
"Welcome home, Mr. Lupin."
Justin was as warm as ever. He placed a set of magical cookware—a spoon that stirred itself and a cauldron with perfect heat control—on the little stove, filling the bare spot on the hob.
"Good morning, gentlemen."
The two unexpected visitors shattered the quiet in the room.
Suddenly, the place felt lived-in.
"But—what are you two…?"
Lupin asked as he opened a dusty tin.
"I'm afraid all I've got is teabags…"
He dropped the tea into a kettle that hadn't even been put on the fire yet and was already puffing steam. Sean noticed his face looked much better than it had in Diagon Alley.
"You didn't know?"
Justin's enthusiasm paused for a heartbeat. He took a long, careful look at the worn-out man.
"A housewarming, sir."
"Ah."
It sounded like a word from a very distant life. Lupin's usually composed expression froze for a moment, as if he were fishing through his memories for what exactly that word was supposed to mean.
After a few seconds of silence, he finally spoke, quietly:
"Thank you… gentlemen."
Maybe he'd been wandering too long; maybe it had just been far too long since he'd sat and talked with anyone.
Lupin didn't say much more than that.
The silence didn't break until the kettle boiled.
"So… what does one do at a 'housewarming'?"
Lupin asked mildly, handing cups of tea to Sean and Justin. The mugs had chips along the rims.
"Not much, sir. A good dinner, perhaps?
…You're reading this one? It's been so long since I compiled it I can barely remember what I wrote…"
Justin laughed, and the conversation naturally settled around Green's Notes.
The three of them sat by the blazing hearth, slowly opening the neatly wrapped notebooks, occasionally debating a passage of magical history and jotting notes in the margins when an interesting figure came up.
In the process, Lupin's deep store of knowledge revealed itself—next to him, Justin felt like a student all over again.
And he was the one who had edited and arranged the entire Green's Notes series.
Only Sean could keep pace with Lupin, sometimes even offering a different angle on certain events.
From the moment they'd walked in—Sean's silent Levitation Charm, the casual precision of his wandwork—to now, with his insight into magical history and his broad reading—
Lupin found himself genuinely surprised.
Sean even knew about the chicken-bodied, serpent-tailed Cockatrice that had rampaged during the Triwizard Tournament in 1792, injuring three headmasters, including Hogwarts' own.
"Gentlemen," Lupin said with a wry smile, "when I was your age, I was nowhere near as impressive as you two…"
These were exactly the sort of students any teacher would love: widely read, hungry for knowledge, and, most precious of all, still full of reverence and curiosity for the things they didn't know.
No matter what, it reminded him of his own time at Hogwarts.
…Of how his days in hiding had ended when Dumbledore took him in.
How three friends had noticed his monthly disappearances. Even though he'd made every excuse—sick relatives, urgent family business—
he'd lived in constant fear that, once they realized he was a werewolf, they'd leave him.
But instead, after many sleepless nights, they'd found a way that made his transformations not only bearable, but some of the best nights of his life.
They became Animagi.
The three of them had once been everything to him. Even feeling guilty toward Dumbledore, he'd only ever tried to restrain their worst escapades, turning a blind eye more often than not.
In the end, he'd learned that sticking to your principles with your friends could be much harder than doing it with your enemies.
Then Voldemort had risen…
…and everything fell apart. Of his three friends, two died and one went to prison.
Lupin thought of those nights, of Dumbledore knocking at his door, and of the friends who didn't care that he was a werewolf.
And he suddenly realized just how similar this day felt.
"Mr. Lupin, you're a werewolf, aren't you?"
Justin's voice snapped the quiet apart again.
Faced with the question a second time—something he should have long since grown numb to—Lupin actually blanked for a moment.
"Yes, Mr. Finch-Fletchley. You're one of the sharpest young wizards I've met."
He closed his eyes.
He didn't know when, exactly, he'd been exposed this time. Or maybe, in Hogsmeade, there was never really any way to stay hidden—he'd tried to find work here more than once, and the locals had been suspicious for a long time.
He also understood how rare it was to meet young wizards who would accept a werewolf at all.
Sean's head poked out from behind a book about Ilvermorny; he watched as Justin took a small case of potions from his expanded bag.
Sean suddenly understood why Justin had been sprinting all over Diagon Alley on their last supply run.
It was Wolfsbane Potion.
A special brew that had to be taken in the week before the full moon, allowing a werewolf to retain their human mind while transformed.
But the brewing process was fiendishly difficult, requiring an expert potioneer's skill—and its price was terrifyingly high.
Many who needed it could do nothing but dream. Without Wolfsbane, they were almost sure to be discovered—and once discovered, good luck finding work. Without work, they couldn't afford Wolfsbane… a complete deadlock.
Since running into Lupin, Sean had been studying the potion's recipe.
But its complexity was extreme; even with Sean's talent for Potions, he knew it would be a long road.
"Welcome to Green Bookshop. Happy housewarming, Mr. Lupin."
Justin pushed the little potion case toward him.
"Of course, we'll just deduct it from your wages."
Lupin froze.
In Hogsmeade, the snow was as relentless as ever. The light outside was fading; flakes slapped against the big shopfront windows. Through the glass, a scattering of lanterns glowed.
Green Bookshop's own lights were among them.
"Goodbye for now."
Sean was the first to step out of the shop.
"How did you two get to Hogsmeade? I might know a few… side routes."
Lupin called after them from the snow, his voice gentle.
Sean understood he was worried about the boys' safety.
"No need, sir. We know a lot of ways."
Sean's answer clearly didn't convince him. Lupin thought for a moment, then Sean pulled something from his bag.
The Marauder's Map.
The moment it appeared, it hooked Lupin's attention.
He watched as Sean drew his wand and tapped the parchment lightly, saying:
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
At once, thin lines of ink began to spread from the point Sean's wand had touched, like a spiderweb unfolding. The lines looped and crossed, racing into every corner of the parchment.
Then, at the top, words appeared in ornate green script:
[Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
are proud to present
THE MARAUDER'S MAP]
~~~
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