Orion and Walburga Black strode across Platform 9 and ¾ with intention in their step. Trailing along beside them, guided by Walburga's firm hand on his shoulder, was their firstborn son, Sirius. Other witches and wizards milled about around them, but the Blacks barely afforded them a glance. The crowd seemed subconsciously to shift apart and let them through wherever they passed.
When the Hogwarts Express came into view, Sirius had had enough of his mother. He stopped walking and wriggled out from under her grip. "Mum, please," he muttered. "You don't have to walk me like a dog. I'm not a child."
"Well, you certainly aren't a man," Walburga retorted. "If you want to go unsupervised in public, you'll have to stop setting off those wretched Dungbombs everywhere."
A grin flashed across Sirius's face, but it quickly disappeared when the boy caught sight of his father's stern expression. "I agree with your mother, Sirius," Orion said. "You are representing the Black family at Hogwarts now. The time for childish pranks and jokes is past. You're entering wizarding society, and along with that comes a certain degree of responsibility."
"Especially in these times," Walburga added. She dropped the volume of her voice down an octave until Sirius could barely hear her, but rather than leaning in closer to his mother, he only rolled his eyes. He already knew what she was going to say, because she'd said it a million times before. "Lots of things are changing in the world, Sirius. You're too young to understand right now, but trust us. Make the right friends. Gain favor with the right families. One day, it will benefit you."
Sirius sighed. "Yes, Mum."
It wasn't worth giving her any cheek, as he usually did when she prattled on with her tiresome lectures. He didn't want to make a scene on the train platform in front of so many people. And besides, he wouldn't see his parents for four whole months until the winter hols. He didn't want his last memory with them to be an argument. Sirius knew it wasn't proper for an eleven-year-old boy to cry, but if he was being honest with himself, the thought of getting on the train and speeding off to school alone was just a tiny bit scary. He wanted to throw his arms around his mum and dad and squeeze hard. But of course, neither his mum nor his dad would respond favorably to that kind of behavior. Sirius couldn't remember the last time his parents had given him or his younger brother, Regulus, a hug.
Walburga tapped Sirius on the back with the palm of her hand. "Stand up straight," she commanded. Sirius bit back a retort and grudgingly drew his shoulders back. He allowed his mum to tug at his new school robes, still stiff out of the box, until the wrinkles fell away.
"Alright, son, time to get on the train," Orion said. "Remember, try to find your cousin Cissy. She'll help you choose a good compartment to sit in."
Sirius shrugged, but his parents had turned around to retrieve his trunk and hadn't noticed his lukewarm response. His luggage had followed them across the platform on a small handcart pushed by their surly house elf.
The elf was now hiding behind the cart, glaring at the crowd. Sirius bent down to address him. "Kreacher, thank you for bringing my trunk."
Walburga immediately recoiled. "Sirius," she hissed under her breath. "How many times must I tell you? If you are not giving orders, you are not to speak to house elves."
Sirius ignored his mother. "So long, Kreacher," he added politely.
"Farewell, Master Sirius," Kreacher croaked dutifully, but said no more under the cold gaze of his mistress.
Orion sighed and shook his head. He heaved his son's trunk into the nearest train car, and gave Sirius a firm push in the same direction. "Go on, then. Make us proud."
"Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad." Sirius lingered on the stairs of the train car for a moment, looking from his mother to his father. Orion only gave him a short nod before turning on his heel and heading back across the platform, his cloak billowing out behind him. His mother cast one more glance at her son and then quickly followed.
Sirius blinked a few times, trying to shake away a hazy feeling of confusion. He had spent so much time in the shadow of his parents – rolling his eyes and defying them in small ways just to annoy them, sure, but he had still shaped his whole life around what they thought and said and did. But now, they were just…gone. Without them, the sudden freedom was bewildering. What should he do? He could do anything. Who should he be? He could be anyone.
The thought was enough to make his heart pound, but he didn't have time to think. The train blew a loud horn, the first warning horn signaling that the train would leave the station in a few minutes. Sirius turned and began to wander down the train car corridor, in search of something, but he wasn't sure what.
Lyall and Hope Lupin were rushing to make the train. They barreled down the walkway at King's Cross Station, pushing a cart laden with luggage in front of them. A pale, sandy-haired boy – their son Remus – jogged alongside them, munching on a bar of chocolate.
Out of nowhere, a stern-looking man stepped out into their path. Lyall pulled back on the cart to avoid colliding with him, and the wheels squeaked to a stop mere centimeters from the man's shiny leather shoes.
The man rounded on the couple. "Watch where you're going," he snarled. The look of irritation on his face deepened into disgust when he recognized who had nearly hit him. "A blood traitor like you should make way for those of us who don't disgrace wizardkind, Lupin."
"Lyall, do you know this man?" Hope turned to her husband. She was a Muggle, which was what wizards like her husband called non-magical folk. She had had the shock of her life at age 26, when the wonderful man she'd been dating finally revealed that he was part of a hidden subculture of wizards who could do real magic. Twelve years and one son later, the surprises kept on coming. She'd gotten used to asking many questions whenever the magical world was concerned.
Lyall glared at the man with his jaw set. "Unfortunately," he muttered. "This is—"
"Orion!" A woman hurried up beside the stern-looking man. "What's the matter?" She caught sight of the Lupins and her expression turned sour.
"I'm sorry," Hope tried, "we didn't mean to nearly knock you over. We are just rushing to make a train – it's Remus's first day of school." She nodded to Remus, who was silently observing the interaction from several feet away.
"Don't speak to me," the man called Orion snapped, glaring at a point a few inches above Hope's head. "You aren't fit to escort your half-blood son to the Hogwarts Express. You can't even get through the barrier to see him off."
Hope, taken aback by his animosity, fell silent. A small, indignant grunt emanated from Remus, and his hands clenched angrily, crushing the chocolate bar he was holding.
"Enough," Lyall snarled. "We don't have to stand here and listen to your ignorant drivel, Black. Come on, let's go. We can't miss the train." He shoved his luggage cart forward into the crowd without a backward glance at the other couple.
Remus said nothing of the incident and followed his parents through the station until they were standing next to a clear expanse of brick between Platforms 9 and 10.
"This is where your mum has to leave us," his father said quietly. "Only witches and wizards can pass through this wall."
Remus turned to his mother. She had a sad smile on her face, one that flickered with worry as she noticed the crushed remains of his chocolate bar still clenched in his fist. She reached out and carefully pried his fingers open and freed the chocolate fragments. "You mustn't lose your temper at school, Remus," she said, clasping his hand. "Headmaster Dumbledore has done this family a great service, allowing you to attend. You know this. Don't take it for granted. We all want you to do well."
Remus avoided his mother's eyes and looked down at his shoes instead. "I don't lose my temper," he mumbled. It had been six years since he was turned into a werewolf, but he still felt ashamed whenever his parents talked to him like this. Like he was carrying a monster within his chest that could burst forth at any moment. Like he was a bomb, and he could only prevent detonation by carefully monitoring himself.
His mother and father certainly monitored him at home: checking in on him, standing at the window watching him ride his bicycle up and down the street, even coming into his room at night to observe him when they thought he was sleeping. Remus was tired of being treated like this. He knew his parents only thought they were managing his condition, but it made him feel like a creature. Something alien and unknowable to his parents and to all the other witches and wizards he would soon meet.
He was almost certain that, deep down, even if they didn't want to admit it, his parents were somewhat afraid of their only child. And if that was the case, then there was really no hope for making real friends at Hogwarts: everyone who found out he was a werewolf would only feel the same way.
Remus swallowed the lump in his throat and busied himself saying goodbye to his mother rather than continue down that train of thought. It was something he'd worried about since the day his Hogwarts letter arrived, but he hadn't told his parents. He rarely shared his thoughts with his parents. They both always seemed worried as it was; he didn't need to add to their troubles further.
"If we don't go now, we'll miss the train," his father said. "Now, Remus, remember what I told you? Run at the wall, as fast as you can. Follow me, and don't hesitate – just believe that you can run through it, and you will."
Hope watched incredulously as her husband and son bolted toward a solid brick wall with the luggage cart. She cringed, bracing for impact, but once they reached the barrier, they disappeared.
The Hogwarts Express was sounding its final warning horn as Lyall and Remus crossed onto the platform. They raced up to the nearest train car and Remus jumped inside, dragging his trunk up behind him with some difficulty. His father gave the trunk a boost and then reached up to clap him on the shoulder.
"Good luck at Hogwarts, son," Lyall said. "You'll enjoy it. Just…be good, and take care of yourself."
Remus sighed. "Don't worry, Dad. I will." But he didn't have much hope. Between his furry little problem that not even a mother could love, and the hatred of wizards born to non-magical parents that he'd just witnessed, he didn't stand a chance.
Author's Note: This is my first time writing on (you can also find me over at the HPFF community under the same pen name). Leave me a review to let me know what you think - it would make my day!
