Remus had no way of knowing that he was not the only person on the train
who felt they were hurtling helplessly toward a future that no force but
time could reveal.
Unbeknownst to him, a young woman sat in the compartment just down the
corridor. Like him, she sat alone. Like him, she was questioning her
decision to travel to Hogwarts. Like him, she was thinking of a letter.
And like him, that letter was from Albus Dumbledore.
Apparently he was a great wizard, and a famous one. She wouldn't know.
Her upbringing had not been exactly conventional. The first she had learned
of Albus Dumbledore's existence had been from the back of children's trading
card, only a few months ago.
He had looked familiar, though. He had looked ... the answer eluded
her for several long minutes as she wracked her brain for the connection.
Then it hit her, and the realisation had sent her rigid with shock.
The man in the picture looked like her father. But no - a sly stab of
pain forced her to amend the thought. He looked as her father might have
looked, if he had ever lived to reach such an age.
Alone, and desperate for any lead that would help her to find the answers
she sought, she had written to this ‘Albus Dumbledore’. Taken a wild
risk and told him everything. Begged him to tell her anything he might
know about her family.
His response had been prompt, and its content most unexpected. He was
not certain that he could help her with respect to her inquiries, he had
written, but he had noticed in her letter that she had referred to her
mother as a Charmer,and was wondering if the trait had been inherited
because his school had not had a decent Charmer on staff in years.
It had taken her a good few moments before she had worked out that he
was offering her a job.
Well, she wasn't stupid. She had told Dumbledore of the danger she feared
she was in. She knew perfectly well that the letter she now held in her
hands was not simply an altruistic offer of employment, but an offer of
It was unexpected. She had not anticipated his protection, all she had
sought was information. And truth be told, she had not even held much
hope of that. For more than a year, she had investigated tirelessly,
with not even the flimsiest of leads to show for all her efforts ...
She was so tired. And if it was true what they were saying about Voldemort's
resurrection, then she was scared, too. Tired, scared, and running out
of places to run to.
Given her circumstances, she knew that only a fool would decline what
Dumbledore was offering her, but nonetheless, she had struggled with her
decision. She still wondered if she had made the right choice.
She thought again of the letter she had received, and the futile cycle
of her thoughts began again. With an impatient sigh, she shook her head.
There was no point dwelling on the same questions for hours on end when
no answers were available. Only time would tell what the future held.
And meanwhile, she decided firmly, she was going for a walk.