"James, honey. James, wake up. You need to get dressed and bring your trunk downstairs. The train leaves in two hours, and you wouldn't want to miss the train on your very first day at Hogwarts." Hannah Potter leaned over her sleeping boy, shaking his shoulder in an attempt to wake him. He finally rolled over, dark brown eyes popping open.
"Bloody hell, I'd forgotten!" James exclaimed. Hannah decided to overlook the cursing, knowing how excited he was. The raven haired boy shot out of bed and began to unbutton his sleep shirt. "Get out, mum! I've got to change, haven't I?"
Mrs. Potter smiled. Satisfied that James was fully awake, she gave him a kiss on his head and started down the stairs. Not a minute after she had reached the kitchen, James bounded down the steps, appropriately dressed in a muggle pair of jeans and a blue shirt. Behind him, he dragged a heavy red trunk, embossed with James's initials.
"Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!" James chanted.
"We've plenty of time, dear. Your father is meeting us at the platform. He had a commitment at the Ministry this morning, but he'll be there to see you off." Hannah finished making James's lunch, a turkey sandwich and a few chocolate frogs to share, and swiftly shoved it into his trunk.
"Where's Archimedes?" James hadn't listened to a word his mother said. He was intent on finding his owl.
"James!"
"Mum!" James mimicked in the exact tone his mother had used.
"Settle yourself. Archimedes is already at Hogwarts, in the Owlery. Dad sent him last night, after you went to bed. Now come here and let me fix your hair." Hannah swept forward, and with the quickness only a mother possessed, arranged James's hair in a way that looked more presentable.
"Oi! 'Gerroff me!" James ducked under the table, laughing.
Hannah smiled a watery smile. She was going to miss James so much; he was her baby, her only child. With him gone, who would keep her up to date on the latest Quidditch scores in the Quidditch world cup? Who would wake her up in the morning, requesting she make breakfast? Who would annoy her to no end, and then make it all better just by giving her a hug?
She and her husband were going to be very lonely these next few months, as they got used to James's absence. It would be a strange experience, yes, but Hannah was willing to endure it. Hannah wanted her son to be happy, and seeing him smile like that, laughing and jittery in excitement for Hogwarts, she couldn't hold him back.
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"Dad, get up! Mum! We're going to miss the train if you sleep much longer!" Remus Lupin, a usually serious boy, bounced on his hands and knees on his parent's bed.
John Lupin mumbled something and turned over in his sleep. Rose Lupin stirred a bit, but, to Remus's disappointment, did not open her eyes.
Fine. Remus knew he wasn't supposed to touch his mum's wand, but he felt his parents would accept it this one occasion. He grasped his mum's wand, which was on the bedside table, and pointed it at his parents. "Ennervate."
Instantly, both John and Rose opened their eyes. "You're not supposed to use magic, yet, Remus," Rose scolded, popping the boy's thigh lightly.
"Already breaking the rules, eh?" John chuckled. He put his glasses on and stood up. "Breakfast, shall we?"
Remus nodded, set his mother's wand back on the table, and hopped down from bed. "Ah, ah, ah. We've got to put your scar cream on first, Rem," his mother reminded him. "I know it stings, but we've got to put it on. Healer Dean said so. And I'll know if you don't put it on at Hogwarts."
Puffing out his cheeks in resigned obedience, Remus got the cream for his mother, who stood from bed and applied the thick white cream to her son's scarred face. Remus was anything but an ordinary child. He was a werewolf, and sometimes during his transformations he would scratch himself across the face. A single scar ran down the bridge of Remus's freckled nose, and a few others on his chin and cheeks.
"Mum!" Remus protested as Rose applied a particularly large quantity to the left side of his face.
"Remus, you'll get infected if I don't do this. Now go see if your father's started breakfast, and once you've eaten you can wash this off, okay?"
Nodding, Remus allowed his mother to kiss his head. He did, however, manage to duck when she attempted to brush his hair away from his eyes. She smiled fondly at him, watching as he ran down the hall.
She reminded herself that Remus would be in good hands at Hogwarts, with Professor Dumbledore as headmaster. Dumbledore had made sure Remus would be safe during his transformations. He would be locked away from everyone else, in a shack near the school. This way, he wouldn't hurt others, and no one would know about Remus being a werewolf.
"Morning, darling," John Lupin singsonged as he flipped a pancake onto Remus's waiting plate.
"Morning." Rose sat down across from Remus, who was attacking his pancakes. Rose couldn't cook to save her life, and she was glad John could, for she refused to enslave an elf.
"Mum, the cream. Please let me-"
"Remus," John said sternly, setting a plate in front of Rose and sitting down to eat his own breakfast, "You will wear the cream until breakfast is over, and you will wear it at Hogwarts during breakfast, too. Werewolf scratches are easily infected, Rem. We have to put the cream on you."
"But everybody will ask why I have to wear it," protested Remus, who simply thought the cream was the worst invention there was.
"And you're to tell them you have a rash. We've been over this. When you go to transform, you're to say that your mum is sick, and you're needed at home. Now I love you, but I don't want to hear another word about this." Mr. Lupin finished speaking and resumed eating.
Remus looked down at his plate, no longer hungry as he once had been. "Sorry," he mumbled. John looked at his son for a moment before setting down his fork and ruffling Remus's hair.
"Oh, Rem. We'll miss you."
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"Regulus, get in the closet. Now." Sirius directed quickly, shoving his little brother into the closet and standing in front of it just as Orion Black came upstairs.
"WHO PUT CHEWING GUM ON YOUR GRANDMOTHER'S PORTRAIT?"
In truth, it had been Regulus who had done this, for he was only six years old and thought it would be a funny prank. Sirius had seen him do it late last night, and had scolded him before trying to get it off. Without a wand, though, this was hard, and Sirius was unsuccessful.
Which was why Sirius was hiding his brother in the closet. Orion Black, the boys' father, had a quick temper, and an even quicker fist. When he found out Regulus had put the gum there, a beating was sure to occur. Sirius couldn't let this happen. He was five years older than his brother, and felt, as such, that it was his responsibility to take whatever punishments his father dealt out.
"I did, Father," Sirius lied with practiced ease.
"DID YOU THINK IT WOULD BE FUNNY, BOY?"
Sirius nodded and kicked the door lightly with the back of his shoe, hoping Regulus wouldn't try to confess to the crime. "Yes, sir, Father."
The beating went as it always did, starting with Sirius bent over the bed, and ending with a bruised Sirius sprawled out on the floor as Orion towered over him. "Now get up," Orion demanded, putting his belt back on. "Hogwarts train leaves in an hour."
Only when the door was slammed shut did Regulus venture out of the closet. "Was it bad?" The little boy asked, always hoping for an answer different from the usual one, which was almost always 'yes'.
"Not really," Sirius answered, rising and giving his brother a pat on the head before continuing to pack his clothing into his trunk. This was an honest answer. It was not bad, not compared to the ones Orion usually doled out.
Walburga entered the room, her wrinkled face showing no emotion. She said nothing at first, only stood in the doorway. Finally, she handed Sirius a tiny container of bruise salve. "No one can know what goes on. You are to put that on, it will heal you." She did not say anything else, merely turned back the way she had came and exited the room, her black robes billowing behind her. This did not surprise Sirius; his mother wanted to keep her reputation in tact, and it would not do for someone to find out about what happening in the Black house.
Sirius excused himself from the room. His brother did not need to see his back, not the scars on it, nor the bruises. He rubbed the cream on his back, grateful for relief, and watched as the bruises faded. He pulled his shirt back on and ventured down the stairs, carrying his trunk and his owl, Pluto. Regulus was eating a bagel, and Sirius was relieved that neither of his parents were in the kitchen, only Kreacher and Henny, the house elves.
Guilty. That was what Sirius felt. He felt guilty that he was so eager to leave this house, the house where his brother would be trapped. Excited. That's what he also felt. Because for the first time, Sirius was going away. Away from the place where he had taken so many beatings, felt so much anger. Away.
Peter Pettigrew slept. He slept through everything, including the death of his parents. Of course, this didn't really count. Peter was only a toddler when his parents had died, a mere 3 year old. Gretchen and Ralph Pettigrew had died in a fire in the kitchen, while Peter slept upstairs, oblivious to the cries of his parents down below.
So it did not surprise Rachel, Peter's aunt, that she was forced to douse Peter in a bucket of water before he even stirred. "Hmm," Peter mumbled, sitting up.
Rachel chuckled at her nephew, the closest thing to a son she had. "Go take a shower," she ordered, dragging him up. "Hogwarts is waiting."
"Then let it wait," Peter grumbled as his aunt pushed him towards the bathroom. Rachel pushed the door closed after Peter.
"Don't come out until you're good and clean!"
Ten minutes later, as Rachel waited for Pinky the house elf to finish breakfast, Peter emerged from the bathroom, looking much more awake than he had previously. "I bet I'll be in Hufflepuff," he groaned by way of morning greeting.
Rachel put her hand to her heart in mock offense. "Your dear old Aunt Rachel was in Hufflepuff, Peter."
Peter picked at the eggs Pinky set in front of him. "You're not old, Aunt Rachel. And I wouldn't mind Hufflepuff, really. I just want to be a Gryffindor."
Rachel smiled, leaned across the table, and put her hand on Peter's. "Then you will be. If it's Gryffindor where you see yourself, then the hat won't stop you."
A/N: Sorry about Peter's part. I just really, really hate Peter so it was hard to write about him. Gah. Anyway, hope you like. Review and I'll give you a chocolate frog.