Chapter Text
Late afternoon sun is glinting off the Black Lake, and a crisp breeze blows ripples across the deep blue water. It’s unseasonably warm for late May, and the water is tempting Remus as he propels the canoe along with long, broad strokes of his oar, a few beads of sweat dripping down his temple. Lily sits ahead of him, in the bow of the boat. Her hair is illuminated like a fiery halo in the low light.
“Lily? Your paddle?” Remus gestures towards his best friend's feet, where her oar is lying, useless. Remus’s arms are beginning to ache, terribly out of practice after a year at school. Unfortunately, his friend has been rambling on for the past half hour with no intention of stopping any time soon. Her mental list of care packages, bunk assignments, and pay stubs has been thoroughly checked, but she runs through it repeatedly anyway. Remus thinks Lily might just be the only other person who can overthink things as well as he can.
“I’m sorry,” Lily pauses, worrying, but still neglects her oar. “I just want everything to go well this summer.”
“I know,” Remus sighs, “So do I.”
“And I’m excited to be head counselor, I mean really excited, but there’s so much already riding on this year,” Lily groans and throws her head back, freckles illuminated in the sun. “What do you think they’ll be like?” Lily asks, tilting her face back to Remus. She’s referring to four people currently flying over the Atlantic. Camp Ilvermorny’s newest staff members.
“Useless, annoying, stuck up...” He’s not being completely serious, but his words ring true to many of his misgivings.
“Remus,” Lily snatches a lily pad from the water and chucks it at him. The slimy side smacks right into his cheek with a wet thunk. “Be nice.”
“Honestly, I have no idea what they’ll be like,” Remus says, chucking the plant back at his friend. She ducks, and it splashes back into the lake in front of her. “I really, truly, have not a clue, and I wish I did.”
“Well, a little change won’t end the world, right?”
Remus raises his eyebrows, “It might.” He’s only half kidding. He'd spent the last few days pondering over the incoming staff members. He doesn’t know anything about them. Two men, two women. As far as he can tell, they all come from wealthy, European families. The kind of kids who come to the United States to ‘find themselves.’ Remus just hopes they don’t mess up camp in the process.
Lily ignores his sarcasm and, thankfully, picks her paddle back up. “I’m nervous, but part of me is excited. You know? This could be exactly what we need.”
“We’ll see,” Remus says.
“And I’m sorry, but you really think two bug sprays per car package is enough? I really can’t decide.” Lily returns to her stressed planning, and Remus only feels a little guilty tuning her out as his mind wanders.
After a few years of cut funding and tense camp politics, Ilvermorny was in a bad place. They had the lowest number of registered campers in ten years, and not nearly enough returning staff. With mere months before the start of camp, the greater council had made a desperate move to fully staff the camp, sending out an international call for help. Thirty years ago, the camp had relied entirely on international staff to lead their programs, but as the camp became a beloved staple of the area, there was soon enough support for a fully domestic staff. This year would be the first Remus remembered with staff from across the pond. It was exactly the kind of change that made him nervous, especially with this summer’s success being crucial to the camp’s survival.
A loon calls quietly from the far shore, breaking Remus out of his thoughts. He squints, looking for the tell-tale black and white feathers, but the bird must have dove under the cool blue water. His gaze follows the shoreline, the cabins peeking out over the lake, and tall pine trees stretching above the gentle waves. He takes a deep, appreciative breath, grateful that the old lake is as steady as always. After a winter of long classes and stressful exams, he was grateful for the calm of late spring. The sun had started its slow descent toward the water, bathing everything in a golden glow. Soon, camp will be loud and chaotic. He enjoys his last bits of calm before the storm, and paddles on.
A chime echoes out from the forest and across the lake, causing a flock of trumpeter swans to erupt from their nest in a squawking mess. The blocky red letters of Remus’s ancient Casio watch flash 5:30 pm, signaling dinner time. The pair guides their canoe back to shore with a practiced ease. Years of paddling under their belts. Sand crunches under the canoe as it gently bumps into the shore. They heft the canoe over their shoulders and slide it onto its rack, their oars dropped into an old rain barrel on the side of the path. Soft, red dirt squishes under Remus’s sneakers as he follows Lily up the tree-lined path towards the dining hall.
There’s one table occupied when they arrive, and the smell of hamburgers wafts out of the kitchen. Remus’s stomach grumbles, and Lily laughs.
“How was the water?” Arthur Weasley looks up from his conversation. “Those old canoes still working?”
“It was great,” Lily reassures him.
Arthur grins, always glad to have the waterfront in working order. He’s the son of the former camp director and is now the diligent waterfront manager. The man’s whole life has been Ilvermorny, practically raised to be a camp counselor. His steady and optimistic presence keeps camp in one piece, even through the most chaotic sessions.
To his right is Molly Prewett, whose flaming mess of hair rivals Lily’s. She’s without a doubt the scariest woman Remus has ever met, but only when she’s angry. Despite being only a few years Remus’s senior, she has a warm maternal energy that draws all the campers right to her. It also allows her to take attentive care of the camp’s horses, a job that is no easy feat. A simple band glints on her left hand, signifying her undying love for a certain waterfront director.
Across from them sits Minerva McGonagall, buried in a stack of tax documents, a pencil tucked behind her ear. More affectionately known as Minnie, this stern-looking woman is the head of it all. She runs a tight ship, and won’t hesitate to call out someone’s bullshit. Under her tough exterior, though, everyone knows she’s got a heart of gold. She was promoted to direct the summer before Remus first arrived here. He couldn’t imagine the place without her.
A clattering of dishes echoes across the dining hall, and Remus looks towards the kitchen. Peter Pettigrew, the camp’s loyal cook, is shoving plates of hot food out the service window. “Come and get it!” He calls. Remus doesn’t need to be told twice; Pete’s burgers are unbeatable.
Quiet conversations rumble across the table and echo through the empty dining hall as they dig into their meal. There’s an underlying sense of anticipation that Remus can feel coiling in his chest. His leg is bouncing up and down, Lily anxiously spins her fork, and even Minnie is chewing the inside of her cheek. In twelve hours, their numbers will be doubled, and in a week, they will all be outnumbered by campers. The dining hall that is so quiet now will be bubbling with activity and laughter before long. He gets that certain feeling that comes around at the start of every summer. A flutter in his chest, and a warmth in his stomach. He knows the people around him understand. It’s the shared understanding of every wonderful thing that has happened and will happen at this cozy little summer camp, he just hopes this summer will hold the same magic.
Their conversation continues as the group wraps up dinner and wanders through the tall pine trees. They slowly split off into the woods. Lily to the shower house. Arthur and Pete to the fishing dock. Minerva to her office. Remus is talked into accompanying Molly on her nightly check at the barn.
Remus pulls the rusty blue door of the camp truck closed and spins the dial of the radio all the way up. An old Johnny Cash song crackles across the old speakers. Molly sings quietly with the lyrics, and crickets chirp loudly in the ditches that line the old county road. They pull up the barn in a cloud of dust, and the horses nicker softly. They push their soft noses into Remus’s hands as he helps Molly feed. She's telling a story about her days as a camper, so many years ago. Once the horses have been thoroughly fed, watered, and loved on the two clamber back into the fading leather seats of the truck.
They find their coworkers gathered in the staff house when they return. To no one's surprise, Lily is poring over her carefully crafted care packages. Arthur and Pete play a game of cards, both squinting at their hand and tapping their feet. Through the house’s large windows, a soft glow of light emanates from Minerva’s private cabin. Remus flops down onto the sagging brown couch which groans under his weight.
“Are Dorcas and Poppy coming tomorrow?” Lily asks, pulling herself out of her world of t-shirts, bug spray, and swimsuits.
“Yeah, I think they hope to be here before the new staff arrives,” Molly responds. Remus smiles, happy to have one predictable thing to look forward to.
“I wonder how much calamine and aloe Poppy will need to dole out by the end of tomorrow?” Arthur muses. He earns a laugh from everyone, but the bugs in Northern Minnesota are no joke.
The sun has fully set over the lake, and Remus watches the reflection of the moon on the water as he climbs into his bunk. The bunk room is a shared space, with just mere feet between one bunk and the next. Some might find this suffocating, but Remus feels more at home here than in his own apartment. The thin cots and wire frames provide him more comfort than any mattress he’s ever tried. The faint smell of pine emanating from the walls was miles better than his upstairs neighbors' poor cooking
Peter is snoring quietly already, and Arthur is engrossed in a book on fly fishing. Molly and Lily’s conversation can just barely be heard through the thin wall that separates the men's and women's rooms. Remus pulls his blankets over his shoulders and double-checks his alarm. The bunk to his left is empty, just a cot covers the frame. He wonders about the person who will be filling it by tomorrow night as he drifts off to sleep.