Who: Marauders, preferably, but anyone!What: Remus has just turned up at Hogwarts, a few days late, to start the term.Where: Outside the Gryffindor common room; he's heading to the boys' dorms.Rating: PG, because I think I say 'bloody' occasionally. xDRemus swears it didn't used to take days to recover. Not even at home. Maybe, he chastises himself as he struggles with his trunk and yawns into his sleeve, he's getting lazy. That must be it. 'Willow nights', as he and Sirius call them nowadays, just don't take it out of him like being chained up at home, tearing himself to shreds, always has. He'd forgotten how to cope with it, the strange effervescent pull of the full moon and the silver in the collar at his throat, forgotten because it's been so long since he changed with Sirius, James and Peter. He hadn't changed at home for years, but the moon fell inconveniently this summer. He is nursing only minor cuts, now- it's three days since the full moon- but he aches like he's been waltzing with the whomping willow all summer. And he's missed the train ride with everybody else, the ride to Hogwarts (The ride back home, he thinks, guiltily) which he enjoys so much. He apparated to platform nine and three quarters. His father is having a plasterer in, to assess the extent of the damage that Remus's 'wild party' caused to the brickwork, and his mother 'isn't feeling up to it'. She's having one of her turns. He feels a little guilty for that, too. Mostly, though, he's glad to be going back, back to the Marauders and the work, which he furtively enjoys, and the great endless dusty library where he can be a geek to his heart's content and only Sirius will tell him what a sad act he is. Getting his apparition license was the most exciting thing that happened all holiday, and thanks to the stupid moon he didn't even get to meet up with Sirius, or James, or Peter. Or anyone. He thinks jealously that Siri and James probably spent summer together, being lads, like they do, while he was at home doing his work and worrying his mother. Maybe he is a bit of a sad act. He reflects, wrestling his battered trunk, still bearing the stamp 'R. J. Lupin' proudly from when he was bought it for his first year, that he probably is more than a bit of one. He doesn't really mind. The train journey was short, and now he's apparated again to the hillside outside Hogwarts; can't apparate inside, of course. Ever since the whispers started, about the war and all of that, all these new guards have gone up all around Hogwarts, and even the Marauders can't take them down. Yet. He holds out hope; who knows what Sirius might have accomplished this holiday? He bloody doesn't. He was in the basement licking his wounds for the whole thing. Humph. He is still brooding about this as he treks up the hill, disenchants the glamour of a ruined house that they've affected for the muggles since last year. Still brooding as he walks up through the grounds. By the time he reaches the castle, though, he's brooding and also content, which is a strange mixture. He takes the steps up to the Gryffindor common room two at a time, which makes his trunk threaten to rip his arm off, but that's alright. (he isn't giving it to the house elves. He thinks it's a bit cruel, even if they do use their magic. He sympathises with them... probably because they're shabby and pathetic, not a lot unlike him. Humph.)It's alright, because he's home. Now. Wherever can the others be?