You hadn’t realized how much Hogwarts still lived in you until you were standing in an empty classroom, sleeves rolled up, wand tucked behind your ear as you tried to coax old desks into straight rows.

The room smelled faintly of dust and parchment. Sunlight spilled in through tall windows, catching on floating motes of magic that never quite settled. You paused, taking it in. Professor. You were actually a professor now.

Muggle Studies.

It felt strange, being back. Not as a student rushing to lessons, but as someone expected to teach. Stranger still knowing that one familiar face from your school years was somewhere in the castle too.

You and Remus Lupín had never been close at Hogwarts. Not best friends. Not study partners. But you’d known of each other the way students sometimes do. Quiet recognition in corridors, shared classes, the occasional polite nod. You remembered him as kind, reserved, always with a book in hand and a tired softness in his eyes even then.

You were adjusting a stack of textbooks when a knock sounded softly against the doorframe.

“Still all right to come in?” a voice asked, warm and familiar in a way that made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

You turned.

Remus stood there, hands folded loosely in front of him, sleeves of his cardigan slightly frayed, eyes lighting up with gentle surprise when he saw you properly.

“I thought it was you,” he said with a small smile. “I saw your name on the staff list and hoped.”

You smiled back before you could stop yourself. “Professor Lupín.”

“Remus,” he corrected gently, stepping inside. His gaze moved around the room, thoughtful, approving. “Muggle Studies suits you. It always did.”

You laughed softly. “You remember that?”

“I remember more than you’d think,” he replied, and there was something careful in his voice. Not heavy. Just honest.

He reached out and nudged one of the desks into place, helping without comment, then another. The silence between you wasn’t awkward, just full. Like an old familiarity resurfacing slowly, cautiously.

“It’s strange,” he said after a moment, leaning lightly against the edge of a desk. “Seeing familiar faces here again. Makes the castle feel… kinder.”

You nodded. “Less lonely.”

His eyes met yours at that, something unreadable passing through them. Understanding, maybe. Or relief.

“Well,” he said softly, not moving away, “if you ever need help settling in or if the castle gets overwhelming… my office door is always open.”