Chapter One Hundred Twelve
It's a Werewolf Thing
Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers
Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters
A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night
May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright
(Howl - Florence + The Machine)March 4th, 1995Embarrassing is what it was.
A nearly thirty-five-year-old man hovering outside Sugarplum's Sweets Shop
because the owner thought she saw a Death Eater walking down the street. Since the attack
at the Quidditch World Cup the previous summer, alleged Death Eater sightings had
increased tenfold. While Remus had no business investigating them, he could not help but
linger around Diagon Alley as the Aurors followed up on each report.
Well... one Auror.
The purple-haired witch stared incredulously at the old shop owner, looking like
she was trying her best not to appear bored. Her robes hung open haphazardly—the hint
of a Weird Sisters logo printed on the shirt she wore beneath—and there were rips in her
jeans that looked like she had done them herself on purpose. Her black boots were
decidedly non-Muggle and came up an inch or so above her ankles. One had a large scuff
mark across the toe that looked like paint. Unlike every other part of her that screamed "I
don't give a fuck what you think about me," her Auror badge was pinned in exactly the
right spot, and shined so brightly that the reflected sunlight pouring in from the nearest
window was creating spots on the wall in front of her.
Her youthful appearance deserved a constant smile, Remus thought, but she instead
looked frustrated as she prompted the old woman to continue speaking, "And you think
he was a Death Eater because... ?"
"I don't think missy, I know! It was a Death Eater, it was! I saw them back in the first
war!"
An owl perched on the counter flinched at the piercing tone and took flight.