𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙽𝙸𝙰 » 𝚂𝚂/𝚁𝙻

𝚇𝙻𝚅 » 𝙰 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙼𝚃𝙷, 𝙰 𝙿𝚄𝚁𝙿𝙾𝚂𝙴

11 June, 1982

I awoke in what I'm not sure was the late evening or the early morning to a shaking sound coming from the kitchen. It sounded like no mouse or otherwise sentient intruder. Not quite a rattle, not quite a scuffle; something most akin to an object moving about.

I left the comfort of Sev's soft skin, which, though it was typically cold to the touch, left me chillier once I had parted from its side. Unhurriedly, I paced slowly to where I heard the noise.

Abruptly it stopped; my feet had just reached the doorway to the kitchen when all movement ceased and the heaviest presence in my ears was the weight of my own skull. With less than even a fleeting glance I knew what had caused the ruckus, as the pendant hanging from the hook near the entrance of the home was glowing blue in the barely-moonlit room. I approached further, narrowing my eyes to observe its thin frame, to find steam billowing off its surface. I dared not touch it. It looked too hot to make contact with, and so I left it hanging for a few moments before taking a fork from the nearest drawer, using it to pick up the chain, and bringing it out into the front garden.

The sky was pale and unyielding, the air comfortably cool and moist against my face and hair. I set the pendant on the walkway leading from the door to the street and fetched Sev's watering can from where I stood. The handle was cold against my grip as I poured whatever water remained within out onto the steaming piece of metal.

It sizzled and steamed, audibly hissing as the water evaporated off of it but still soothed the surface, and the glowing slowly faded out. I lightly touched the metal with my knuckles to test the heat, noticing it was still uncomfortably warm, yet not quite worrisome. I picked it up again and held it up to the faint light of the sky, studying the blackened and burned surface as it slowly reverted back to its typical metallic form.

"You could sell that for a lot, you know!" called a fellow behind me, and I turned quickly round to see a neighbor of Sev's on a bicycle on the corner. He was pointing to the pendant with an outstretched hand, a fascinated grin crossing his lips.

"Good morning," I replied, not quite minding that he was seeing me in an askew pair of pajamas; he was likely too elderly to care much about societal expectations. "You're familiar with this?"

He nodded once, and I took a few steps toward him. His eyes widened as he peered closer at it, his tired expression turning rather youthful as deep interest crossed it.

"You'd be lucky to find this at even the highest-end of auctions," he said. "I mustn't touch it, really. But it is beautiful. They're powerful buggers, them. Second one I've ever had the glory of seeing myself. They're known for both mending and breaking, so I hear."

The warmth from the pendant was still strong against my skin. I watched him look upon it, wondering what exactly he meant with his cryptic and non-informative description. "Mending and breaking... what, exactly?"

He shrugged. "Never used one. Only know what I've been told, but who knows the accuracy of even that. It's all a good old game of telephone." He met my eyes and, seeing my expectant expression, took a breath and spoke again. "It takes one on a personal journey—whoever, of course, it selects or finds its way to. It will take them on their own inner adventure to heal, to discover, to answer, to face the inevitable. It comes with danger, it comes with hope. It's all balanced, good and bad and safety and risk."

"How do you know who it has selected? How do you know when the journey has begun?" I asked, beginning to fire off questions and forgetting fully my skepticism. "What is it called? Are there books on it?"

"Oh, I'd've told you if I knew," he said solemnly. "But you're a smart lad. You'll discover what it's all about. It'll show you soon enough." He gave my shoulder a pat and re-mounted his bicycle. "Good day."

He rounded the corner of the street and was gone. I reluctantly returned inside, hanging the pendant back on the hook and closing the door behind me.

All this I recited eagerly to Severus over morning coffee once I'd gone back to sleep and awoken yet again to, this time around, daylight sun. As I told him this all, he smiled stiffly and leaned back in his chair until I'd finished speaking.

"Is that all he said, then, Rem?" Sev inquired, not quite as fascinated by the experience as I'd expected he'd be. I paused, wondering now if he thought my tale was insignificant, and I quieted down before I could potentially bore him further.

"Why do you ask?"

Sev shifted forward and leaned his elbows on the table. "I should tell you now that the pendant is mine. It has been in my possession previously. In my fit of chanting and casting the other night, I used delocaponum and I only assume it found its way back."

"When was it in your possession?" I asked, now more perplexed than I had been previously.

"Last year. It was on my desk, on my shelves... it made its way around my office. You've seen it, I'm certain..." He trailed off for a moment, gazing over at it from where he sat at the table. "It was never on a chain. And it was never this... active. It only ever sat there. Never glowed or steamed or... burned."

"Is it the work of the pendant that let it here, or the spell you cast to begin with, then?" I asked, not seeing any answers in his body language as I spoke—though this was typical with Severus. "Or is it only coincidentally here because Biobi thought you would know about it and the agreement was made for it to stay here?"

"Ah, Remus, your sense of wonderment is appalling. You have no adventure. You assume it's here by only satirical means? How absolutely... volatile of such a lovely boy," Severus playfully scolded. He took a breath and looked down at the table, his coffee now left alone and cold. "I can only assume, Lupin... that whatever it is that brought it back is trying to connect us with Biobi in some circumstance. What it wants past that I would not know... but it found its way to him, and he found his way to us... Coincidence does not act in purpose."

I was quiet, reserved now in the fact that I knew he was right.

"It's... exhausting, Severus," I said then, the words leaving me before I'd even really processed them. "I'd like to have just one portion of my existence where I'm not having to solve a problem, or go on a journey, or battle someone in the woods. I'd like to one day sit with you in our kitchen and not have a single question."

Severus smirked, and the morning light gleamed in the deep brown of his eyes. "Now, then, Remus," he cooed, his words slow and calculated as always, "Where's the wonder in that?"