Chapter 321: The Leaky Cauldron
Diagon Alley.
The long, cobbled street was bustling, packed with witches and wizards frequenting the most enticing shops in the world. Even in the grey light of November, the alley remained a vibrant, thriving heart of the magical community.
"To Gringotts," Sean said. His voice was swept up in the howling November wind, drifting back toward his companion.
"Right," Lupin nodded.
He was wearing a wizarding robe that had seen much better decades. It was threadbare and heavily patched in several places. In his hand, he carried a trunk that looked as though it might give up the ghost at any moment; a peeling label on one corner read R.J. Lupin, the ink fading into the scuffed leather. The trunk was lashed together with several lengths of fraying rope just to keep its contents from spilling onto the pavement.
"Mr. Lupin, do you always travel with your trunk, just in case you need to move at a moment's notice?" Sean asked, looking back with an air of mild curiosity as they navigated the crowd.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're far too observant for your age?" Lupin replied with a tired, gentle sigh. He remembered the boy's description of his wand earlier—it had been accurate down to the last quarter-inch.
"Professor Dumbledore and Professor Terra have mentioned it," Sean said simply.
Lupin let out a dry chuckle. The boy's answer wasn't exactly a deflection, but it carried an air of finality that made Lupin feel slightly more at ease. He looked weary, the lines of exhaustion etched deep into his sallow face.
"Yes... for a werewolf, a permanent address is a luxury rarely afforded," Lupin said with a small, strained smile.
The wind whipped through the alley again, and Lupin pulled his thin robes tighter around his frame. His patched clothing and battered trunk were painfully conspicuous in the affluent surroundings of Diagon Alley. Even if he hadn't noticed the sidelong glances from other wizards, the weight of their judgment was palpable.
"I'm going to pay you your first month's salary in advance," Sean said as they passed a boisterous dwarf selling lucky charms. "You should buy yourself some decent robes. And besides, Mr. Lupin, your trunk is an eyesore."
Sean stopped and pointed his wand at the luggage. The ropes began to writhe like snakes, weaving themselves seamlessly into the leather, while the cracks in the wood sealed themselves shut. In seconds, the trunk looked sturdy and well-maintained.
"Remarkable Transfiguration..." Lupin noted, his eyes sharpening as he studied the repair.
He was becoming increasingly intrigued. Where had this boy come from? And an advance on his salary...
"What if I simply take the gold and disappear? It wasn't in the contract," Lupin said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of his old self.
"Mmm... then I suppose I would hope that the next time I saw you, you wouldn't be quite so cold, Mr. Lupin. The Scottish highlands are notoriously damp," Sean replied, turning his gaze toward the grand marble facade of Gringotts. "I need to retrieve a few items. If you aren't planning on running off, you can wait for me here."
Lupin stood frozen for a long moment, staring at the boy's back. He had never met a student quite like this one.
Inside the bank, Sean made a significant withdrawal. He filled the Undetectable Extension Pouch that Dumbledore had gifted him until it was heavy with the weight of thousands of Galleons.
His vault was due for a relocation soon. A goblin named Gorli had suggested moving Sean's assets to the high-security levels guarded by the dragons. Sean hadn't agreed yet; he didn't have the time to oversee a vault transfer, so they had penciled the move in for the Christmas holidays.
"Your advance, Mr. Lupin," Sean said as he emerged from the bank, tossing a heavy leather pouch to the man. The weight of the gold made Lupin feel as though he were somehow swindling a child.
"Sean, I really can't—"
"A manager with a poor image reflects badly on the business," Sean interrupted, fixing his gaze on Lupin's tattered sleeves. "The bookstore will have a living area in the attic cleared soon. You'll be staying there, Mr. Lupin. I expect you to work until dark every day."
Sean felt a brief pang of self-reflection. Blimey, I've become a proper heartless boss.
"I understand," Lupin said softly. He looked away from the bustling street, feeling a sudden, sharp disconnect from the world around him. A complex, indescribable emotion surged in his chest, leaving him lightheaded. For the first time in years, he had a place to belong.
"In the meantime, you can stay at the Leaky Cauldron. Oh, and you'll need an owl so you can stay in contact with me."
With that, Sean led Lupin across the street to the Magical Menagerie. The shop was tiny, every inch of wall space covered in cages. The air was thick with the smell of animals and the cacophony of screeching, croaking, and hissing occupants.
While Lupin picked out a reliable-looking owl and a witch behind the counter explained the dietary needs of a double-tailed newt to another customer, Sean looked down at the phial of Veritaserum in his hand. He had also prepared a Transcription Brooch—an alchemical device designed to record his own voice and thoughts during his planned experiment.
The Leaky Cauldron, Second Floor.
Sean and Lupin followed Tom, the innkeeper, up a flight of handsome wooden stairs to a door labeled with the brass number fourteen.
It was Sean's first time visiting the residential area of the pub. It was quite pleasant: a sturdy, comfortable-looking bed, polished oak furniture, and a cheerful fire crackling in the hearth.
"Drop your things here. We need to head back to Hogsmeade, Mr. Lupin," Sean said.
Lupin set his trunk down by the wardrobe. He noticed that Tom treated Sean with an unusual amount of deference, almost as if he were an honored dignitary. The innkeeper hadn't even asked for a deposit before clearing the room.
Sean's pouch—which looked like a Niffler's dream—unwillingly spat out a few Galleons into Tom's hand. The innkeeper beamed.
"A pleasure to have you, Mr. Green. Come back anytime!"
Lupin felt as though he had been out of the world for too long. This boy seemed to be a celebrity in Diagon Alley.
"I have a few business interests in the alley," Sean explained, noticing Lupin's confusion.
"A young man of many talents, it seems... very well. Take my arm."
Lupin offered his arm, watching as Sean downed a phial of a shimmering potion—an alchemical concoction designed to mitigate the nausea and physical strain of Apparition. It was a sophisticated brew; Lupin had never seen anything like it.
Sean returned to Hogwarts, and Green's Bookstore finally had its manager.
Standing beneath the massive holly tree draped in blue and bronze ribbons, Lupin stood for a long time, watching the direction in which the boy had vanished. The air was filled with swirling snowflakes, and the chimneys of the Three Broomsticks nearby pumped out thick plumes of white smoke.
The boy had left a trail of footprints in the fresh snow. Even walking alone, he carried an aura that commanded attention—perhaps it was the understated elegance of his robes, or the quiet confidence in his gaze.
Regardless, Lupin had to admit: this was a singular wizard.
Lupin settled into his room at the Leaky Cauldron that night, his mind wandering. Outside the window, the sky shifted rapidly from velvet blue to a cold, industrial grey, then into a dawn of pink and gold.
Staring out at the London skyline, he still felt a lingering sense of unreality. He had a high-paying job. He had a roof over his head. A new, unexpected life had manifested before him out of thin air.
"A strange, wonderful day," he whispered to the empty room.
He fell into a deep sleep—the most comfortable he had known in years.
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