RELATIONS

Chapter II

'Bloody hell, this place is hot!' Edward H. Potter, now going under the name of Edward Harold, had never felt a combination of heat and humidity like this as he stood out on the grounds of the Magical Institute.

He had flown, on Muggle jets, from London to New Orleans via Detroit. It had been a very strange, disconcerting, experience. Compared to most pure-blooded wizards, Ted had a fair amount of experience in dealing with the Muggle world. He knew how to drive a motorcycle, he could deal with Muggle money, he and James had spent one summer taking Muggle transportation all over Britain (although somehow, they'd often ended up visiting Lily and staying at Sirius' parents every few days).

The major problems with the modern Muggle world, he'd decided, were crowding and speed. There were an amazing 5,500,000,000 or so people on Earth, only 6,000,000 or so of whom were directly connected to the Magical world (and a number of them not very magical). Somehow, the Muggle population had exploded, while the Magical population had risen very very slowly. Most Magical people seemed to live in rather rural areas. The exceptions, like Diagon Alley, were crowded but still worked at a nearly pre-modern pace. A Muggle place like a major airport made little sense to someone like Edward. Being strapped into a small seat, next to an obviously uncomfortable over-weight Muggle, for over six hours for the first flight, would make anyone a little claustrophobic. Most Muggle environments seemed either too sterile or too filthy to Edward, and the flying experience was a bit of both.

He was met at the New Orleans airport by a representative of the Vieux Carre, an old association for Magical Studies. Not quite a University in the Muggle-sense, these associations still offered what higher education there was in the Magical world. Only his 'associate' (the wizard who met him, who was responsible for helping him adjust to the new culture) and the Master of the Vieux Carre knew who he really was. For all other purposes, he was Edward Harold.

Edward had spent the next week being tested. He'd thought the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s had been difficult (although he'd managed twelve of each), but these were even tougher. After the weekend, he had spent three days renting and furnishing a small house, and buying a (non-enchanted) motorcycle and getting a licence. He still needed to register at the small open-enrollment state university, where classes would be stating in just over a week.

He'd thought the Academy would have been located in the oldest part of the city. That's where it had been located for almost 200 years, but it had relocated a few years before to a more spacious area in what was called New Orleans East. Ted now stood just inside its hidden (to Muggles) grounds, waiting to hear what they would allow him to do. Since they'd helped him rent a small house and buy a motorcycle, they must have accepted him for something!

The Master and his Associate came out to great him.

"Mister Harold," the Master said, with a slight incline of his head, "welcome officially to the Vieux Carre Academy of Advanced Magical Studies. We have decided to accept you as a student of ancient symbols and languages; what your school mis-calls simply 'runes.' If you do not wish everyone to know you're from Hogwarts, I suggest you do not use that term here."

"We are not accepting you to formally study charms at this time, because to tell the truth, we have little to teach you. Over your study here, we will have you learn the advanced theory, but we will be concentrating on the languages and symbols. You may take the Master's exam later."

"We also do not feel you would benefit from studying at SUNO. We will help you go directly to the major university here, Tulane. You already know enough languages to study for their classics degree. You may then wish to study anthropology, archeology, or even continue with classics while you finish with us."

The Master looked expectantly at the young man. Edward suddenly smiled. "Sounds good!"

October, 1982

Dear Remus:

Technically, I'm not supposed to tell anyone where I am, although Dumbledore won't tell me exactly why. Still, since I told you anyway, I just won't repeat myself. As far as I know, you, Flitwick, and probably Dumbledore are the only ones besides my house elf who knows where I am. I'm giving this to the elf, who says she can get it to Potter Place. Give any responses to them whenever you see any of the elves. I hope you're still at the cottage; let me know if there are any problems!

Life is busy here. Not as busy as Seventh year, but close. I'm carrying a full class schedule at the Muggle university. My languages and Muggle studies background helped me skip over a 1/4 of the classes, so, by going to summer school as well, I should get the Muggle undergraduate degree in August 1984. I'll decide before then if I want to get some graduate degrees as well.

The work here in ancient symbols and languages (they make fun of me if I just say runes) is also going well. Still, I basically am doing runes -- the symbols and ancient languages of Western Europe. I hadn't really realized that most of these are still secret from the Muggle scholars!

What about charms? you might say, since that's what I was supposed to be studying. Well, between my natural talent and brilliance (he said modestly) and Flitwick's excellent teaching, I actually had a greater level of knowledge and ability than they usually graduate. I'm doing some reading on advanced theory, and will be tutored next summer. I should get my Master's licence next summer.

I've also joined the International Confederation and have been talking to the Sorcerers and the Warlocks. The International and the Sorcerers have agreed to accept me both under my assumed name and my real one. So, when the next list of apprentice sorcerers comes out, I should be on it! The Warlocks have me under consideration, but probably won't accept me for a while.

While I don't really live as a Muggle (I have a house elf, after all), I come fairly close. I rent a Muggle house in a Muggle neighborhood. I drive a Muggle motorcycle and just bought an old Muggle car called a Beetle. Everything runs by electricity (poor Linnie, trying to figure out how to cook and clean by electricity! I actually do most of the cooking now, while she does the cleaning. She almost flooded the garage with water and bubbles using the washing machine the first time!) and I eat Muggle produce. No butterbeer available in this part of the States, alas. Muggle soft drinks are too sweet for my taste. They have a good grocery store with an excellent wine and beer selection in the Muggle suburb I live in, thank goodness!

Other than butterbeer, I was afraid I'd miss flying the most. Can't really fly in a city! Fortunately, the community and the magical school have constant port-keys set up to take people to an isolated area not too far away, where we can fly to our hearts' content. Strange to say, since I'm not playing beater anymore, flying isn't that much fun. I still go every weekend when it's not raining, though, just to stay in practice.

I hope this finds you well. If you ever get news of Harry, please let me know.

Ted

PS -- forgot to say that I'm not called Ted anymore. I introduced myself as Edward, so the Americans all call me Ed (better than Eddie I guess!)

12 February, 1983

Dear Moony

Thank you for your Christmas letter; sorry I only had time to send you a card. Enclosed is a flyer; they're recruiting Apparation teachers for a big workshop this August at the Ysgol in Maine. I know that's one of the few ways you're working, so please consider it. If it costs too much to go, please, please, for James', Lily's, and Harry's sake, swallow your pride and let me pay for it. I already checked; the three weeks are between full moons. I wish you'd let me do a little more, but take this and I won't bother you about money the rest of this year. Remember, I somehow hit one of Dumbledore's few sore spots, and am banned from meeting with Harry before 1996 or 1997. (Why won't he simply tell me why he wants me to stay away from Harry!) If anything happens, Dumbledore will have to turn to you for help. You're Harry's uncle in every way but blood (just as I consider myself Harry's uncle, not 1st cousin 1 time removed). All feelings of friendship aside, I want you there, healthy and able, since Dumbledore won't accept me.

My Muggle classes are pretty easy, now that I'm in the right mind-set. It's mostly about memorization so far, and most of us have much better memories than Muggles. Too bad it doesn't also apply to logical thought! The language work is coming along nicely, too. I may study Muggle archeology in graduate school; their techniques and methodology look useful.

To answer your question about Gringotts, no, they don't have underground vaults here. There isn't even a goblin in sight! They have some sort of special long-distance port-key system. Except for a few of the major Eastern cities (New York, Philadelphia, Washington, Toronto, and Chicago have the vault system like London), these high-speed port-keys whisk you from where ever you are to wherever the main Gringotts bank is (best guess? someplace in the Great Plains near the foothills of the Rockies). It is HUGE! It's also one of the main depositories of Goblin wealth.

Take care,

Ted

14 May, 1983

Dear Moony:

No, I'm not just writing to you; I'm also writing to Professor Flitwick and exchanged Christmas cards with Hagrid. No one else; I was rather abandoned after those events, just as you were. Everyone preferred remembering my friendship with Sirius to my relationship to James and Lily. Maybe that's the difference between brother/uncle and cousin? Once I gave up Quidditch and being Head Boy, I was dropped by the few others that still had uses for me.

I haven't made any real friends. The 'secret place' I'm studying at doesn't have many students; and although there are a LOT of cute girls at the university, I haven't gotten close to any yet. In large part, it's because I have too much at home that would need explaining (like a house elf!) I am reorganizing things to make things a little less obvious.

I'm glad you're coming to America in August. I'll send tickets if you'll come and visit me for a few days. It looks like it would be better timing if it's after the workshop.

your friend

Ted

July 4, 1983

Dear Moony:

Don't be an idiot. Both schools are out in August, so there will be NO stray nude girls. Or were you hoping there'd be a plethora to choose from? Or, if the rumours were true about which team the Marauders played for, you can troll the French Quarter on your own. I've seen a number of people that look like they tried to do the sex-shift spell and only made it half-way!

Actually, I have created/uncovered a scandal here. It seems a number of young wizards and witches here have small houses or even flats and have to find some place for their house elf to live. A number of old New Orleans' families have set up quarters for us to rent for our house elves. They were quite shocked when I wanted to inspect them before paying for them. You know how little the most vocal elf would complain about bad treatment. It was a system just waiting for abuse, and about a third were abusing it. So, I'm quite popular with the general community, and rather disliked by some of the small number of Old Families. God, I hate "Old Families." Yes, I know the Potters are about the oldest around Britain these days, but while it's interesting to be able to trace it back, it really doesn't make me who I am (at least I hope not!). I wish I could stop making people care that much about their "family heritage!" I know; not possible.

As for my house, it's pretty small. No cellar -- very high water table here, in fact, we're technically below sea level. Three small bedrooms, one with what they call a 1/2 bath and what we might call a WC. Bathroom (more of a shower room, the tub is tiny), 'living room,' kitchen, attached garage (with a Muggle washer and dryer). There's also another room that was built on later off the kitchen. I use the large bedroom as a study and the 'living room' as a library. The extra room is my sitting room. The tiniest bedroom is the guest room. Well, it was a box room, but I moved the boxes out to the rafters in the garage and got you a nice cot.

See you soon!

Ted

August, 1983

Remus Lupin was tired, worried, and embarrassed. Tired, because the 18 day advanced Apparation techniques workshop had been hard work; worried, because once he got back home he'd only have two days before the full moon. He hoped nothing would delay his trips back.

Lupin was embarrassed because he was flying first class. 'Ted shouldn't have spent this much on me,' Remus thought. 'Actually, Ted shouldn't have spent anything, but he especially shouldn't have spent this much.'

'Still,' Remus mused, 'that is Ted.' James had spent exactly what he needed to spend from the small part of the wealth the Potter trust automatically granted him. The rest had piled up in a vault in Gringotts, where it would sit earning interest until Harry turned 11. Edward wasn't a spendthrift, but he wasn't a thrifty as his cousin had been, either.

As the plane came in for a landing, Remus vowed this would be his last overseas trip. Port-keying from London to New Orleans would have been a two-stop jump, and most long-distance port-keys really upset most people's digestion. Apparation would have been a 6 stage trip, and would leave even a wizard as powerful and expert as Lupin dead tired for days. Traveling by Muggle plane, however, was just too crowded and uncomfortable to be a comfortable alternative. Lupin smiled however, as he wondered how those wizards used to wearing gowns and robes would feel confined to Muggle trousers in the back of a crowded airplane.

Walking off the plane, Lupin saw the stocky figure of Ted Potter, his hair cut short and dyed brown but still as wild as ever.

"Was the flight horrible or just uncomfortable?" Edward said after they'd embraced. Both felt a little awkward, as they had realized the other was the only man left alive that they could embrace under any circumstance.

"Uncomfortable. This is all the luggage I have," Lupin said, holding up his large rucksack.

"Cool. Let's buzz out and get you a cool, sweet drink, and I'll take ya home." Remus smiled as the attempted Americanisms were spoiled by such an obvious 'posh' British accent.

It was even hotter than Remus had imagined. Sweat broke out within seconds of leaving the terminal for the parking lot. Edward led him to a small auto, and within minutes, they were heading into a very urbanized development via a short highway. The wind blew off the sweat, which reformed as soon as the car slowed for any traffic or traffic light.

Lupin had never really seen anything like it. No doubt parts of Greater London were similar, but not the parts he ever traveled in. Remus had thought they might be heading to a pub, but instead they drove through to a small garish building, and Edward ordered him something through a window.

"Not having anything?" Remus asked.

"No, these are too strong for safe driving." He handed Remus a tall iced drink in a plastic cup.

Remus took a cautious sip through the straw -- ice, alcohol, and chocolate hit his mouth (in that order and intensity). "Wow!"

"Thought you'd like it," Edward said, and drove on towards his house. Lupin laughed.

A short drive through the developed area and a quick turn took them into a neighborhood whose houses confused Remus. Some were nearly mansions while others were cottages, with everything in-between.

Edward pulled into the driveway of the smallest house on the street. He stopped in front of the attached garage, but did not drive into it. The little house was faux-stone, surrounded by a steel-mesh fence and a well-kept yard. Rose and holly bushes, defying the withering heat, were set around the raised foundation. A motorcycle sat under a tarp between the garage and the fence.

"I started using the garage for other stuff," Edward said simply as they walked to the front door. Edward picked up the mail and let them in. Inside was deliciously cool. Edward took Remus around to the little 8x10 foot bedroom across from the bathroom.

"These are your spacious accommodations; the Roman bath is across this corridor," Edward joked. The two men nearly filled the length of the 'corridor'.

"Would you mind if I took a quick shower?"

"Go ahead. The white towel is yours."

"So, how are you really doing?" Remus asked twenty minutes later.

Edward frowned in concentration for a few moments. "On one level, I'm doing great. My studies are fun, if time-consuming. I officially got my Master's in Charms license yesterday. . . ."

"Congratulations!"

"Thanks! I've decided to do a course in charm-breaking, too. The Academy, along with a few of the other associations, are planning on creating a large, joint archeological Institute next year. Gringotts is kicking and screaming, but they've been ruining sites with their damn treasure hunting too long. This would allow the International, the Institute itself, and Gringotts to benefit financially, without ruining the sites."

"So you're going for the Muggle degrees as well?"

"Yeah, I should be totally finished by Eighty-eight or nine." His expression darkened. "It'll give me something to do while waiting to be allowed to see Harry."

"I haven't seen him either," Remus admitted. "I tried to visit, and Arabella Figg nearly scorched me!"

"She's a tougher old squib than I'd imagined at first," Edward admitted. "Anyway, that aspect of my life is on hold, and I really have to admit it's even festering a little. I hope Harry comes out without too many emotional scars -- if there are, or if there're any physical ones, I'll skin the pair of them alive."

The air conditioning wasn't set too low, but Remus shuddered. When James, Harold, or Edward used that tone of voice, they meant what they said.

Edward saw it. "I told them that, too. Dursley nearly shit his pants when I told him I'd make a vest out of him."

"You'd go to Azkaban," Remus said simply.

"You know, I found an interesting set of charms in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. It peels the skin off, and then restores it perfectly. Healers use it, while the patient is unconscious, to take care of certain types of scaring. It was especially useful for small-pox survivors."

"Don't talk like that Ted. That's the first step. . . ."

". . .Down the road to Darkness. We're always dancing on that first step. Sirius' baiting of Snape wasn't an irrevocable step, assuming he really was guilty, it was a couple of steps further that kept him going."

Remus looked like he had been punched. "Do you still doubt he was guilty?"

"I do. If I was certain he wasn't guilty, I'd still be there fighting for him, but I'm not certain." Edward and Remus both looked torn. "I just have doubts."

"If he wasn't. . . ."

"Then he must have switched with Peter, making a double-bluff, and Peter was either a traitor, or had been under the Imperius curse."

"Possible, but do you really think it likely?"

"It would be more characteristic of Sirius than betraying James!" Edward fell back in his chair in the living room. "But I admit, I don't see Peter, even under the Imperius, having the power to blow up that street."

"Exactly. I wish you were right." Remus sipped on the huge once-frozen drink. "Damn, I'm going to be pissed from this!"

"Remember, you're in America. 'Pissed' means angry, not drunk. And I've got a nice big, early dinner for us. Jambalaya, red beans and rice, and jumbo. Welcome ta N'Awlins, Moony."

Christmas, 1988

Remus Lupin looked up from the woodpile. It was cool, but not cold, on the Potter estate that December.

The estate was very large, although not vast (nothing is 'vast' in Western Europe). And it was old; so old it didn't figure on any Muggle map, so old it was not clear on any Magical map. Nearly a third of it was more heavily protected than anything else in Britain except Hogwarts. A tenth of it was more protected than any place in Western Europe.

Lupin was in the heavily-protected area. He had lived in the smallest of the six game keeper cottages for over three years full-time, and had lived there part-time since he'd left Hogwarts. It was the only cottage in the protected area. On nights of the full moon, the wolf was confined to this area, and the other humans stayed outside, and the house elves stayed inside the safest area.

It wasn't a perfect system, but it worked.

It wasn't home, for a werewolf wasn't really welcome anywhere.

"Stop that!" Lupin muttered to himself. The people who lived on the Potter estate had been given a clear choice; accept Remus or leave. James and Edward had both been very clear on that point, and no one had left.

They stayed clear of Lupin, but they stayed on.

Lupin turned when he heard a soft 'pop.' There was only one person alive who should be able to Apparate here.

"Ted!"

"Remus!"

"What are you doing here?"

"I own this place, remember?"

"I mean. . . ."

"I came to celebrate Christmas with my foster-brother. Is that okay with you?"

Remus smiled. "It is. When did you get in?"

"To Potter Place? Late last night. I was in London for two days, working with the solicitors."

Most of the time, Remus studied. He read, studied the magical creatures, and even wrote some well-received articles. His house and food were free. He made a little money teaching Apparation and tracking down magical creatures that bothered farmers and such.

It was not such a bad life. Lonely, perhaps, not what he had hoped for, but not such a bad life compared to most werewolves.

And, for the first time in years, he could celebrate Christmas.