That's My Boy

And another thing: For you really sharp readers, you'll notice that at the end of the last chapter when Harry is trotting off to bed, he wonder if he will "have that dream again." I apologize. There was, originally, a dream in that chapter, but alas, it was edited out. Well, I thought it was, anyway. Just ignore it. It has nothing to do with future chapters. A train of thought hit a dead end, that's all.

Oh, and heaven forbid I'm not a Brit, and I don't write like one. I know there are small linguistic mistakes. This isn't a graduate thesis, it's a story. Deal with it.

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Remus straightened his tie in the mirror and looked himself over. The Muggle clothes look surprisingly normal on me, he thought as he inspected himself in the mirror from head to toe, looking for discrepancies. Professor Dumbledore had given him plenty of money to acquire all the Muggle necessities that he needed, like clothes, shoes, furniture, food, etc. Although living in a Muggle neighborhood and in a Muggle house was far from what he was used to, he had never before had nice furniture, or nice clothes, or even nice surroundings. Poor through childhood and even more so in adulthood, having nice, new things came as a welcome change to Remus. He had discovered quickly that Dumbledore had been exceedingly generous in his salary, either through ignorance of the Muggle money system or because Dumbledore felt he deserved it. Either way, Remus had furnished the house (his house, he would think to himself with pride) with everything he had never had before. Finally, he had a warm bed to sleep in and a full refrigerator at his disposal.

Smiling to himself, Remus noted with pleasure how much better he was feeling now that he didn't have to wear tattered clothes, or live in an apartment with a leaky roof, or survive on meager meals that most people would turn their nose up at. Then there was the unusual matter of his transformations. Usually, Remus felt tired and ill for a good four or five days after one of these transformations; they stole what little energy and spunk Remus had left within him. Two days ago, when Remus had turned back into a man, he didn't expect his recovery time to change at all. But now, a mere forty eight hours after changing back, Remus felt as good as new, even better than new, and marveled at what a couple of quiet days at home could do for the spirit.

Muggle life had been quite a change for Remus. This had come as a shock, seeing as how he had never really thought about the differences before. Installing and using a telephone had been an adventure in itself, not to mention things like microwaves and television. The television had been the most interesting thing for Remus; what better way to learn the Muggle lifestyle than by watching it on TV? He learned that, apparently, the most important things in a Muggle's life are hairstyle and weight. This puzzled Remus some, as he had never bothered too much with either. He was also amazed at the number of ads on TV, encouraging viewers to buy things they didn't need and that would sink them into debt. This idea of superfluous consumer goods and the advertising that had gone into them interested Remus intensely-sure, there were things in the wizarding world that one didn't need but wanted anyway, but it almost seemed minuscule next to the quantity of these unnecessary products in the Muggle world. Remus had stayed up late one night watching a program on the Salem Witch Trials and had spent most of the program doubled up in laughter. After that show had come something called an "infomercial". An informercial, as far as Remus could gather, was a long, boring show that no one watched but in which the hosts, raving at the quality and usefulness of a certain item, would desperately try to get consumers to buy it. This particular night the item had been a white plastic thing in which to chop radishes into pulp. He had pondered for a good minute or two on what pulped radishes might add to the culinary arts but couldn't come up with anything. He scratched his head and asked himself if one could actually pulp a radish, but that didn't seem important to the hosts, who were busy flitting on and off camera and gibbering compliments to the fool who'd invented it. Remus had finally turned it off, and a question that had been bothering him for some time finally seemed to have an answer. Most of the Muggles Remus had come in contact with were always in a hurry, and never seemed very friendly or happy. Maybe it was because they had spent their life chasing after things that didn't matter, and that they didn't really want. Maybe it was because they spent their lives working to afford things like radish pulpers. Maybe they had been told what to want for so long, that they didn't really know what they wanted anymore. Maybe things like love and friendship had gotten lost in the mix, and were sold piece by piece by smiling idiots on the television.

For the first time in a long time, Remus felt really, truly blessed. He didn't have to worry about things like that. Whatever he had, he was glad to have it. He knew things could always be worse. He appreciated his friends and loved all of them, even those not living anymore. He was glad to have each day. Though he was poor, Remus could say that for the most part, he was a contented individual. It seemed that not many people in the Muggle world had that privilege.

Looking at the clock on the wall, Remus realized it was high time he headed down to the Dursleys for his interview. Of course, he knew he would get the job-as soon as he discovered the ad in the newspaper, he put an invisibility charm on it so no one but him would be able to read it. Dumbledore had given Remus specific instructions on how to act around the Dursleys. "You can't act like yourself, Remus, you're far too good-natured," he had said. "Your job is to help Harry, even if that means assuming another personality when around his guardians. They like discipline and mediocrity. Try to sound as boring as you can," Dumbledore had finished with a small smile.

Remus nodded to himself in the mirror. "Don't worry Professor, I won't let you down," he whispered. "And I won't let James or Lily or Harry down either."

The Dursleys were only three houses down which enabled Remus to keep an eye on the family even when he wasn't looking after Harry. Dumbledore had been insistent that Remus stick close by, even with Arabella Figg living just a few doors away.

Remus rang the doorbell of 4 Privet Drive and waited patiently. He tried to glance through the window but saw nothing. He was just about to ring the doorbell a second time when a tall, horse-faced woman threw open the door.

"We don't want any insurance, thank you!" she said hotly, and tried to slam the door in his face. Remus stopped it with his foot.

"I'm not a salesman, ma'am, I was here about the ad in the newspaper," Remus said quickly, his foot throbbing painfully. The woman's face immediately turned into a phony display of politeness.

"Of course, of course. Won't you please come in?" she said, stepping back and ushering the way in. Remus smiled gratefully, shook his foot slightly and stepped inside. It was a completely normal house, Remus noted with curiosity. Somehow, when being told about the Dursleys, he had imagined they lived in a hovel of some sort, or at least a dungeon. This wasn't the case at all; it was a cozy looking household, well kept and covered in doilies. There were a few toys strewn around, but that was to be expected when there was two nine year olds in the house---

"Duddykins! Where's Mommy's big, strong, Ittsywittsyduddypoo?" the horse-faced woman cooed. Remus wondered if she was having some sort of fit in which she spoke in tongues, but before he could ask if she was all right, a round, stout boy with blonde hair stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway.

"Whaaaaaat?!" he whined, with bits of food falling from his mouth.

"We have a visitor Duddeycakes, and you need to come out here and pick up your toys!"

The fat boy looked like he'd been slapped in the face. "But Muuuuuuummm! I'm eating my snaaaaaack! Make Haaaaary do it!" he bellowed, squinching up his face like he was about to cry. With this, he sort of went limp against the doorway, looking feeble and ill. "I've been at school all day Mum, and I'm hungry!"

Remus thought to himself that what this kid ate could feed the country for a few years but kept his mouth shut.

The horse-faced woman looked admiringly at her son for a moment, before her expression turned stony and she screeched, "Harry! Get down here!"

Remus' eyes perked at the sound of Harry's name, but he thought it best to play it indifferent. "Ma'am, its really all right. Really, I don't care if there's a few toys around..."

"I do. Its about time for him to help me make dinner anyway," she snapped at Remus. "Just you wait, he's a troublemaker, you'll see that right away."

Remus looked away, musing on the fact that no one in the world could be a bigger troublemaker than Harry's father, when he heard a small voice say,

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?"

They both wheeled around to find a short, skinny pale little boy looking back up at them. Remus' breath caught in his throat and memories he hadn't thought of in years came rushing back at him: playing pranks with the Marauders, sitting up all night talking about the meaning of life with his friends, memories of Sirius and Peter, memories of James and Lily.

"Clean up these toys and be snappy about it. We've still got to make dinner, you know."

Harry nodded passively and went about collecting the toys from the floor. Before he even thought about it, Remus was helping him carry the heavier toys over to the toy box. "Hello Harry," Remus said nervously. "My name is Remus."

Harry didn't even look up at him. "Hullo," he muttered before scurrying off to the kitchen.

"He's not the sociable type," Petunia said, shaking her head. "Vernon and I have done all we can, but he's hopeless." Remus very much doubted this, but only nodded.

"I'm used to his type. You know...disturbed," he said as drolly as he could. "I believe I could rectify his behavior. I have my ways."

Petunia looked to him in high regard for a moment before saying in a dreamy voice, "Then you're the man for the job. He's difficult. Ungrateful and all of that. Needs someone to knock him back in line, you know. What did you say your name was?"

"Remus Lupin," he said, holding out his hand. "And I can start tomorrow."

"Wonderful!" Petunia cried, her face beaming. "Shall we talk business, then?"

"Of course," Remus said, taking a cue from Petunia and sitting down on the couch. "How many hours a day are we talking about?"

"Not more than three, I assure you. I wouldn't dream of leaving him there any longer than that with you; I like you too much," she snickered. Remus feigned a weak smile. "Of course, you'll have to keep him at your house. He nearly ruined our house the other day, and we want to keep him away as much as we can." Remus clenched his jaw at this statement but kept a ambivalent expression.

"That would be fine. I just live down the street at number 7."

"Oh, the Finchley's house! Yes, I remember them quite well. They had a daughter who was, to say the least, unmanageable, if you know what I mean," Petunia prated. "And their lawn was a disgrace! I remember walking by there once and there must have been three, maybe four, weeds standing straight up in their driveway. Well, I came home and I said to Vernon, `Vernon, those people live like animals. No wonder she's an alcoholic and he's a gambler.' Of course, I didn't know these things for sure, but I pride myself on having a sixth sense about people. I just knew, I don't know how to explain it. But really, anyone with weeds in their driveway must just be miserable people."

"Yes, well, that's wonderful," Remus said briskly with a smile, hoping Petunia would shut up. He stood up. "I must be off. Child discipline seminar I'm teaching tonight, you know. Have to go home and get my whip," he chortled cheerfully. Petunia looked up at him in unbridled awe.

"I'm so glad you called on us, Mr. Lupin. I know you are exactly what Harry needs. Thank you so much for coming."

"My pleasure, madam. I will be seeing you shortly," Remus said, shuffling for the door. He noticed Harry poking his head in the doorway of the living room. Remus smiled. "I'll be seeing you soon too, Harry," he said, winking. Harry looked at him in surprise and disappeared again. Remus peered back over at Petunia.

"Not to worry, Mrs. Dursley. In a few weeks, you won't even recognize your nephew..."