Whether it was due to Lupin's resilient constitution or the sheer efficacy of Alaric Thorn's antidote, the wizard's vital signs stabilized remarkably fast. By the time he stirred from his stupor, it was the following morning.
Remus Lupin slowly opened his eyes to find himself reclining on a bed woven from living, supple vines. He was back in the main shop of Alaric's nursery. He rubbed his face, blinking as the morning sun streamed through the front window, stinging his eyes. His limbs felt stiff and leaden, a lingering phantom of the paralysis, but his mind was sharp and clear.
He quickly reconstructed the events leading to his blackout. He had mistaken a lethal neurotoxin for a healing herb. A bitter irony curled in his chest; he had come within an inch of becoming the first wizard in history to be assassinated by a sprig of Dittany.
The thought made him pull his hands over his face in a fit of embarrassment. Pathetic, he thought.
Shifting off the vine bed, he noted the clock on the wall. The hands pointed toward nine.
"Has an entire day passed?" he murmured. The shop was hushed, the usual morning bustle absent. He looked toward the counter, where the gateway to the plantation stood shut. Suspecting Alaric was inside, he moved toward it, only for the door to swing open abruptly.
A small, thin figure scurried out. The boy froze upon seeing Lupin, his eyes widening behind round glasses, before he spun around and darted back through the threshold.
"Wait!"
Lupin didn't even get a clear look at the boy's face before he vanished. A moment later, Alaric Thorn stepped out.
"Mr. Lupin, you're finally among the living," Alaric said, looking visibly relieved. "I was starting to think I'd have to find a very large flowerpot for you."
"Thank you for the help, Alaric," Lupin said stiffly, his voice still a bit raspy. "I was... extraordinarily reckless."
Alaric waved a hand dismissively. "It's an easy mistake to make in my garden. However, I'd suggest a bit more healthy suspicion regarding my flora from now on."
Lupin nodded fervently. "Lesson learned. Believe me."
Alaric walked to the counter and pulled a thick, leather-bound volume from a drawer, sliding it across the wood toward Lupin.
"What's this?"
"Field notes. Detailed descriptions of every 'anomaly' currently growing in my three conservatories. I stayed up half the night compiling it so we don't have a repeat of yesterday," Alaric explained.
Lupin took the book, his expression unreadable. In truth, the near-death experience had dampened his enthusiasm for the position. The risk premium for this job was reaching astronomical levels.
"Actually," Lupin began, his voice hesitant, "I think I need to reconsider this arrangement. The hazards are... significant."
Alaric didn't look surprised. "How does triple the original salary sound? It's the absolute ceiling of what I'm prepared to offer, Mr. Lupin, but I think the quality of your work—had you not been poisoned—would be worth it."
Even the allure of a small fortune in Galleons seemed to fail this time. Lupin's face remained a mask of resistance. He could still feel the terrifying weight of that helplessness in his marrow. Gold was a fine thing, but it was useless to a dead man.
Just as Lupin opened his mouth to formally decline, the door behind the counter creaked open again.
Harry Potter stepped out, his face flushed with excitement. He was clutching a small glass phial filled with a shimmering, clear liquid.
"Teacher! I think I finally got it this time!" Harry's voice was bright and full of a confidence Lupin hadn't expected. He hurried over to hand the phial to Alaric.
Lupin froze, his gaze locking onto the boy.
Alaric took the bottle, uncorking it and dabbing a drop onto the back of his hand. He sniffed it, then nodded with a look of genuine pride. "Mmm. Very well done, Harry. The purity is exceptional. It seems you've mastered the distillation process at last."
Harry beamed, a wide, triumphant grin breaking across his face.
Lupin, however, was staring at the boy as if he were a ghost. "Wait... Alaric, what did you call him?"
"Ah, I suppose introductions are in order," Alaric said, placing a steady hand on Harry's shoulder. "Remus Lupin, meet Harry Potter. I imagine you're familiar with the name."
Harry turned to look at Lupin, offering a polite, slightly shy nod. "Hello, Mr. Lupin. Teacher told me your name while you were... sleeping."
Lupin's breath hitched. He scanned the boy's face with a frantic, desperate intensity. The messy black hair. The brilliant green eyes. It was like looking into a mirror of the past.
"You... you're Harry Potter?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
Harry looked from Lupin to Alaric, confused by the man's visceral reaction. "Yes, sir."
Alaric watched the exchange with a calm, knowing expression. He was well aware of the history between the Marauders; seeing James Potter's son was bound to trigger an emotional landslide in Lupin.
"The genuine article, Mr. Lupin," Alaric noted smoothly. "He lives just a few doors down. As you can see, I've been giving him a few 'pre-school' lessons in Potion-making. The boy is quite obsessed with the craft."
Harry's lip twitched at that. Obsessed? He was only doing it because Alaric refused to teach him any "real" spells until he could brew a perfect Essence of Dittany.
Lupin took a shaky breath, trying to regain his composure. The realization that he was standing in the same room as James and Lily's son was staggering.
Alaric offered a thin, knowing smile. "So, have you made your decision, Mr. Lupin? Will you be staying on with us?"
Lupin looked at Harry, who was watching him with curious eyes. A complex storm of emotions swirled in his chest. He knew he couldn't leave now. Whatever Alaric's intentions were—and he seemed decent enough—Lupin couldn't bear the thought of leaving Harry's side. Even if Alaric meant well, his plants were clearly homicidal. Harry needed a protector.
"Of course," Lupin said finally, his voice gaining a new, iron-clad resolve. "I'll take the job."
"Excellent!" Alaric clapped his hands together. "I'm delighted to hear it, Mr. Lupin."
Harry offered an enthusiastic smile. "That's great, Mr. Lupin! I'm glad you're okay."