Professor Lupin's Apprentice

IV: Lunch, Jewellers, and German

When I entered the Boar's Head pub at noon the next day, all heads turned again. This time it was not because Remus was with me, but probably because I'd taken extra care with my appearance since I planned to meet him. As I approached the bar, the barkeep took me in with his searching gaze from under extremely bushy grey eyebrows.

"Meetin' yer young man, Melinda?" he asked, drawing me a pint of bitter.

"What's it to you if I am, Charlie?" I asked with a wide grin.

"I'm likely to git jealous if you keep paradin' him around. I thought you was gonna marry me."

"I never said I would," I said, accepting the glass he slid toward me. "Besides, your wife wouldn't appreciate it too much if I did."

I winked and turned with my mug, walking over to the booth we'd occupied the night before. I sat facing the door, so I wouldn't miss Remus when he came in. As I glanced at my watch, I wondered if the reason he was late arriving at the library the previous afternoon was because of his long walk to wherever he was staying. Perhaps he'd planned on hiring a cab and couldn't find the fare at the last minute. That sounded plausible, I thought, taking a sip.

The door opened, and a flushed Remus J. Lupin entered the bar. Seeing him confirmed two things: first, he had again just made his long walk, and second, he had also apparently taken more care with his appearance, as well. Unless I missed my guess, that was his least threadbare set of clothes. As I waved from the corner, I wondered if that meant we were now a couple. This third thing was confirmed when Remus gently pecked my cheek before sitting. We were definitely a couple.

I beamed at him and said, "Hello."

"Hello," he replied, smiling just as broadly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Wonderfully," I lied. "And you?"

He shook his head. "I didn't either."

"Am I that transparent?" I asked, laughing.

One of his eyebrows rose, but he still grinned. "Let's just say I'd be surprised if a fetch didn't try to hide in you."

I giggled as Charlie approached with another mug of bitter.

"Thank you, Charlie," I said. "Charlie, I'd like you to meet my new friend, Professor Remus J. Lupin."

"No need ta git up, Professor," the barkeep said, sticking out his thick hand.

"Remus, this is the proprietor of this lovely establishment, Charles Tucker."

"Nice to meet you, Mr Tucker," Remus said, shaking Charlie's hand firmly.

The barkeep seemed quite surprised by his grip. His eyes widened ever so slightly. "Aw, Charlie's good enough fer me, Professor." Charlie slung the white towel he carried over his shoulder, whilst reaching for a pad and pencil. "And what will you two be havin' fer lunch?"

"Have any Yorkshire pudding on hand?" I asked.

"I think that's what the wife was puttin' on when I come down. I'll go an' ask 'er."

"I hope you like Yorkshire pudding," I said after Charlie left. "Gladys Tucker can only cook two things passably, and you had the other last night."

"Yes, that's fine," Remus said with a wave, taking my hand. "But—if she's such a bad cook—how do they stay in business?"

"Well, the locals know better than to come here for the food. Their beer, on the other hand, is excellent."

"I'm inclined to agree with that." He held up his mug, and I clinked mine against it. Then he took a deep drink.

"Have you thought about my offer?" I asked.

"What offer was that?" he asked, after licking froth from his upper lip. Something inside me suddenly envied those suds.

"Moving into my boarding house."

He frowned. "Ah, yes ... that ... well ... I think it's a very bad idea."

"Er ... Why?" I asked. I don't consider myself a hopeless optimist as a rule, but I never thought he'd refuse. I was taken aback.

"I'm a bit of a loner," he said. "I think a busy boarding house would make me rather nervous."

"It's only busy at mealtimes and in the evening. The rest of the time, it's quite dead."

"Still..." He paused and studied my face. "You're going to be stubborn about this, aren't you?"

I smiled. "Of course."

He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head.

"I was thinking we could exchange room and board for ... tutoring." I omitted the word "magical" from my statement, as Charlie was returning with two plates of Yorkshire pudding. "Thanks, Charlie," I said as he set them in front of us.

The barkeep took one look at our faces and knew something of import was being discussed, so he returned to wipe down the bar.

Remus looked distressed. "I couldn't ask you to—"

"You aren't asking. I'm offering. There's a difference."

"I can't," he said with a heavy sigh.

"What if I said I wouldn't take no for an answer?" I asked.

"Then I'd say I have to think about it some more."

He looked worried. Terribly worried. That was the last effect I thought offering him a job, room, and board would produce, and I couldn't imagine why.

"You'd have to think about it indefinitely, wouldn't you?"

"Quite possibly."

I leant closer, lowering my voice. "Look, I'm not asking you to move in with me, only into the same building. If you think I'm moving too fast, I wish you'd say so."

He shook his head again. "No, it's not that."

"I hate to think of your walking all that way every day to teach me, especially when I have rooms available."

"I don't mind the walk."

"Maybe not, but you don't have much fat to spare at present."

He smiled. "Why don't we eat then, and we can talk about this later?"

"All right," I said, lifting my fork. "How far out of town do you live, anyhow?"

"About five miles." Remus took a bite, and the food seemed to agree with him. "I've had better, but I've also had much worse."

"This isn't so bad—one of her better attempts. But nothing is worse than the rest of the Gladys' cooking."

"Eating nothing is far worse," he said, staring at his plate intently.

"I know."

It took a moment for what I said to register. When it did, he looked up suddenly. "What do you mean?"

I sighed softly. "I mean I didn't know about those cramps from volunteering at a mission. I knew about them from eating my first meal for a week at a mission."

He looked away then, frowning, and I wondered if it was only the charity aspect of my offer that bothered him. I understood his not wanting me to feel sorry for him. Did I ever understand that! When I showed up on my aunt's doorstep almost twenty years earlier—cold, wet, and hungry, and begging her not to tell my parents where I was, or I'd run away again—she took me in, gave me food and a bed. But she never acted as though she felt sorry for me. She let me work in the boarding house, washing linens for the guests and cleaning rooms after school in exchange for my room and board. I never dreamt, as I took care of her when she fell ill, that it would earn me her home and business when she died. Being able to earn my keep gave me a sense of pride, however, and I thought that was what I was trying to offer Remus. Perhaps he didn't see it that way.

"I'm doing all right now," I continued, "but I wasn't always so comfortable. I ran away from home at thirteen."

"Why?" he asked, brows knitted into his adorably confused expression again.

I swallowed a lump in my throat before answering. "Let's just say ... I was afraid of poltergeists."

Remus looked puzzled for a few seconds, then nodded solemnly.

We ate the rest of the meal in silence. Once we finished our second pint each, I left some money on the table for Charlie, and we walked out toward the car park. Remus eyed my car dubiously as I unlocked the passenger door. I wondered if he was as unfamiliar with cars as he was with ink pens. I walked around to the right side, got in and started the engine, when I noticed he looked uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "You don't like my car?"

"No, I'm sure it's fine," he said quickly. Too quickly.

"You look awfully nervous for someone who thinks my car is fine."

"Couldn't we walk to the jeweller's?" he asked calmly, although his voice had a slight edge. "It's lovely weather, even for May."

"It's five miles to the nearest shop," I protested. "You may not mind a brisk, five-mile walk, but I'm not too keen on one if I can avoid it." I had been proven wrong once again. He'd never intended to hire a cab the night he was late getting to the library. If fact, he'd probably never ridden in one at all.

"Do you get car sickness?"

"Yes, that's it." He said this too quickly as well.

"You're lying, Remus." He looked at me quickly, just a hint of panic showing in his eyes, and I rolled my eyes. "Would you prefer we fly?"

"Actually, I would," he muttered.

"That was meant to be sarcastic."

"I caught the sarcasm, I assure you."

He was acting too much like a caged animal, and my patience quickly wore thin. "Oh, don't be a baby," I said, throwing the car into reverse. "And put on your belt."

First he looked to see how I put on mine. He then reached over his shoulder and snapped his seatbelt into place. I backed out of the space, and we were shortly on our way to the jeweller's. Remus' knuckles were white for the first two hundred metres or so, but he relaxed when he realised I was a good enough driver not to get us both killed on a deserted street. When we pulled up at Huggles' Jewellery, he started into a fit of laughter I didn't quite comprehend. At first I thought it might have just been a catharsis that the "dangerous" car ride was over, but he continued to laugh for a full minute.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, covering his mouth. "Nothing at all."

I turned in my seat to face him. "You aren't going to embarrass me in there, are you?"

He looked seriously suddenly. "I'll try not to," he said quietly.

I nodded. "Right. Now hand over those Galleons, and let me do the talking."

Remus nodded as well, whilst digging in his pocket. Soon he placed the coins in my outstretched palm. He hesitated whilst I got out, and I wondered if that was so he could see how to open the car door. He followed me shortly, however, and we entered the shop, accompanied by the ringing of the bell attached to the door. The jeweller then appeared.

"Good day, Miss Rhoades," Mr Huggle said, moving his magnifying glass back from his eye. "Here to buy an engagement set?"

My eyes went wide. I had thought Remus might embarrass me in front of the jeweller, but apparently I had it backward.

"Er—no, Mr Huggle," I said, approaching the counter.

After making a sound like repressed laughter, Remus immediately coughed and covered his mouth. I shot him a disapproving look, and he turned to admire some pictures on the wall.

"Actually," I continued, "I was wondering if you'd be interested in these coins."

"Don't deal in coins, Miss Rhoades," he said with an impatient sniff.

"Yes, I know that, Mr Huggle, but to my untrained eye, they seem to be almost pure gold."

I laid the Galleons on the counter for his inspection. Each time I said the jeweller's name, Remus' shoulders shook, and Mr Huggle was beginning to notice.

"Is there something wrong with your friend?" he whispered.

"Not exactly," I said, shooting Remus a sidelong glance. "He's German. Doesn't speak a word of English, I'm afraid. I suppose Huggle means something strange in German, although I don't know what that could be." Remus sniggered again, and I snapped, "Sei bitte still!" asking him to be quiet.

Without missing a beat, he turned toward me and said, "Entschuldigen Sie bitte, daß ich Sie in Verlegenheit gebracht habe." My jaw dropped at his flawless German for "Please forgive me if I caused you any embarrassment." I turned back to Mr Huggle, flustered.

"What does it mean?" the jeweller asked.

"S-sorry?" I asked, still quite shaken.

"My name. What does it mean in German?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'll ask him. Remus, was bedeutet Huggle auf Deutsch?"

He smiled broadly. "Es ist bayerischer Dialekt für Känguruh."

His translation was so silly, I couldn't help laughing myself. "Sorry, Mr Huggle. He says it's Bavarian dialect for kangaroo."

"Oh, then I see why he's laughing," he said, moving his magnifying glass back in front of his eye to examine the Galleons. "I'd probably laugh too, if I were a German ... Well, you were right, Miss Rhoades. I'd say these coins are twenty-two karat. That's the highest gold content they use in jewellery, but you can't get that kind of jewellery here. Eighteen is the norm in most western countries. Although I never thought I'd see twenty-two karat in a coin. I thought that'd make them too soft for coinage. Are these German?"

I turned back to Remus. "Sind das deutsche Münzen?"

"Ja. Es ist bayerisches Geld," he said, nodding, "aber es ist sehr alt."

"He says it is Bavarian money, but it's very old."

"Ah," Mr Huggle said. "That's why I've never seen anything like them."

"Sag ihm: Sie gehörten dem Urgroßvater meines Urgroßvaters. Es sind alte Familienerbstücke."

"What was that?" Mr Huggle asked.

"He said to tell you they belonged to his great-grandfather's great-grandfather. Old family heirlooms."

"Then why does he want to part with them?"

I leant closer to the jeweller and whispered, "Well, he needs the money, doesn't he?"

Remus broke in with, "Ich mag meine Familie nicht besonders."

"He said he doesn't like his family very much."

Mr Huggle looked suspicious when Remus answered a question I hadn't translated, but I covered quickly. "He understands a little English, but he can't speak it."

"Was haben Sie gesagt?" Remus asked, when he realised he'd erred.

"Ich sagte, daß du ein bisschen Englisch verstehst, aber du könntest es nicht sprechen."

"Ach ... Das ist so zutreffend."

"What was that?" Mr Huggle asked.

"He said, 'That is so true'. Well, actually, 'That is so applicable,' but in this context I'd say 'true' is more ... applicable."

"Meine Zunge verläßt mich," Remus added with a mischievous grin.

I started to translate this in my head as, "My tongue leaves me." Then I realised that smile meant he knew the verb would give me trouble. "He said, 'My tongue fails me'."

Remus' face became deadly serious. "Die Münzen müssen eingeschmolzen werden—sofort."

I was confused. I understood what he said, but not why he said it, so I asked. "Warum?"

"Sie müssen geheim bleiben, wie die Bücher."

I pondered this: They must remain secret, like the books.

"Sag es ihm!" Remus snapped. "Das ist lebenswichtig!"

"Beruhig dich," I said, telling Remus to calm down. I turned back to the jeweller. "He wants you to give your word that you will melt them—immediately."

"He must really hate his family."

"There is no love lost there, I'll admit," I said, nodding sadly and hoping my tone reiterated that emotion.

"Of course I'll melt them," Mr Huggle replied with a shrug. "They wouldn't be much use to me if I didn't. I don't know if I'll get to it today, though."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Remus bristle.

"No, he is most insistent," I said. "He claims it is vital."

"Very well," Mr Huggle said, shrugging again. "I'll melt them immediately." Remus' shoulders relaxed before I could translate. Mr Huggle didn't notice because he threw the coins on a scale and started some calculations, but I nodded for appearances' sake. The jeweller looked up and scratched his bald head. "That's a little over 22 grams of gold there, trading at nine and a quarter pounds per gram today. And, since I don't like to deal with decimals or count change, let's call it £200."

I turned back to Remus. "Zweihundert englische Pfund?"

"Ist das viel?"

I smiled at his expression. He looked as if he really didn't know the answer when he asked if that was much. "Ja, das ist viel," I answered.

He nodded his assent to the price, finally approaching the counter. Mr Huggle opened the till and counted out some bills. Remus smiled, placing his hand on my back again, and I smiled as well, since his caress had the same effect on me that it had the previous night. When the jeweller handed Remus the bills, he pocketed them.

"Dankeschön," he said, nodding.

Mr Huggle looked to me.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "I thought you'd know that one. It means, 'Thank you beautifully'."

"I did know it," Mr Huggle replied, his eyebrows rising. "I always suspected it didn't mean just 'thank you' like everyone says."

"Quite right. Well, auf Wiedersehen."

"Auf Wiedersehen," Remus repeated.

"I know that one also," Mr Huggle said. "Good-bye."

When we were safely back in my car, I said, "You realise you're going to have to speak German every time you see him from now on."

"Oh no," Remus said, waving that off. "I'll speak broken English the next time I see him. In fact, I think he'll be impressed at how rapidly my English improves, although I shall have to remember to affect an accent."

"You are incorrigible," I said, backing out of the car park.

Remus smiled wryly. "I told you I've always been a trouble maker."

"I was trying very hard not to believe you ... I was impressed in there, by the way."

"I could say the same." He leant over and kissed my cheek as I shifted into first gear. "I'm only glad you picked a language I know. How did you come to be so fluent?"

"My aunt was German. You?"

"I lived in Germany for a number of years."

"Bavaria?"

"Here and there."

"Well, I'm only glad we both know a language Mr Huggle doesn't."

He sniggered again at the mention of the jeweller's name.

"Just what is so funny about 'Huggle'?"

"It's ... It's an in-joke for people who teach magic."

"Meaning you aren't going to tell me?"

"Not yet. Maybe after I've told you where I went to school."

I drove back into town and then through it. Remus was much calmer on the return journey, gazing out the window and taking in the scenery. He asked if he could lower the window. When I asked why, he replied he liked the feel of the wind on his face. I suddenly had the strangest mental image of his hanging his head out the window like a dog—mouth open and tongue lolling. I don't know where this thought came from, but it seemed so undignified, so unlike him, that I pushed the notion out of my mind.

Remus glanced at me curiously when I passed the Boar's Head. He opened his mouth to say something when I drove past the boarding house, seemingly nervous, but he closed his mouth again. After I'd left the library behind as well, he looked alarmed, sitting stiffly and gripping the edge of the seat with white knuckles again.

"Where are we going?" he asked, in a voice of forced calm, although he was a touch pale.

"I was hoping you'd tell me," I said casually.

"Er ... You're the one operating this piece of machinery."

"Yes, but I don't know where you live to pick up your things."

He hung his head. "I said moving into your boarding house was a bad idea."

"And I said I wasn't going to take no for an answer."

"Please stop the car."

"What's the matter? Car sick?"

"No, but I want out all the same."

"Sorry, Remus. I'm going to keep driving until one of three things happens. One—we arrive at your current abode; two—we run out of petrol; or three—you give me a good reason why you cannot move into my boarding house."

"I don't want charity," he whispered.

"Not good enough," I said. "I'm offering you a job, not charity. Try again."

"I'm no good around strangers."

"You were too at ease with Mr Huggle for me to believe that."

For the first time, he didn't snigger at the name. "Well, I doubt I could tell you anything you'd understand or believe. So I'll have to take option four."

"What's option four?"

As I said this, I realised too late that he hadn't put on his seatbelt. He opened the car door and jumped out, hitting the pavement with a thud and rolling down the incline at the side of the road.

"REMUS!!!" I screamed, slamming on the break pedal so hard that my head knocked the windshield.