Author's Note: Have been working on this for quite some time, and I'm quite pleased with the results. This was, among other things, a new form for me and a fun character study too. Hope you also enjoy!
Disclaimer: The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.
Warnings: Follows the pattern of discrimination and ableism set out in canon.
Word Count: 2930
Stacked with: MC4A; Spring Bingo; By Any Other Name; Snicket Fence; Shipping Wars
Individual Challenge(s): Gryffindor MC (x4); Hufflepuff (x1); Seeds; Long Haul (Y); Tiny Terror
Representation(s): NA
Bonus challenge(s): Machismo; Second Verse (Odd Feathers); Second Verse (Pear-Shaped); Nontraditional
Tertiary bonus challenge(s): NA
Spring Bingo entry information:
Space Address : 1B
Prompt: Fire
Word Count : 3000
Ship Wars entry information :
Ship (Team): Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)
List (Prompt): Medium 1 (Pinning)
Letters to the editor: Unsent correspondence regarding the status and legislation surrounding werewolves
By: Remus J. Lupin, OM First Class
Published posthumously
Compiled by friends and family
September 5th 1971,
Dear Mum and Dad,
Professor Dumbledore wanted to see me to talk this morning. I thought that he must have been up all night like I had, except he'd have been lying in bed thinking about how mad of an idea having a werewolf at Hogwarts really was.
But first, Madam Pomfrey insisted she had to bring me back to the infirmary and looked me over quickly. She put some kind of balm on the worst of my scratches and it helped, and she bandaged up my right arm—the one that always gets hurts. I think I have to practice wandwork with both hands in class, just in case I really get hurt one day. Professor McGonagall came by and brought hot chocolate too, which was nice of her even if she said that it was her job as head of Gryffindor. She also mentioned that you (Mum) had mentioned that I had a sweet tooth when you came over to summer to speak to all the professors, which is embarrassing but not wrong. Other than that, I was too nervous to eat.
Professor Dumbledore was sitting at his desk reading Newt Scamander's new book about Kelpies. He showed me all the pictures in the back, and a page that you could unfold so that it showed a life-sized footprint. Then he asked me how my night was, and I told him I didn't know. He asked if there was anything that could be done to make me more comfortable, and I said I didn't know. He promised that he wasn't going to call me to his office every moon, to stay discreet, but that I should tell him if I had any ideas. That was very kind of him. I asked if Mr Scamander was writing anything about werewolves, but he said that Mr Scamander liked beasts more than men as a rule.
I asked if there was a copy of the Kelpie book in the library, and Professor Dumbledore said that there wasn't yet, but that I was more than welcome to borrow his copy once he had finished browsing it. He said that he would have to write to Mr Scamander, telling him how intriguing his book was and how he should have written about kelpies a long time ago. He said something strange, like "I might even send this letter this time," and I might have looked confused because he kept explaining that he didn't send all the letters he wrote. He said he would exhaust every bird in the Hogwarts Owlery if he did but found writing letters incredibly soothing. He said that when nobody listened, you could always write a letter as if they were and sometimes that was all that could be done.
I thought I would try it to let you know that I was okay, because this was the nicest day-after-the-moon ever. I missed potions this morning but was in time for charms, and Sirius had saved me a seat even if he hadn't known for sure if I was coming. I wasn't very good in class, but I took good notes and I'm going to practice the levitation spell we did tomorrow when I feel better. There's a girl named Lily who is quite brilliant at charms and very nice, so I can ask her for help maybe. At lunch I had a piece of chocolate cake. And then we had flying lessons in the afternoon, but Mister Fledgling told me to sit on the sidelines because of my arm. James was by far the best flyer in class. He was so happy in the air, but still came to sit next to me during the free time that way I wasn't so alone.
We had free time, which we spent by the lake. I kept imagining kelpies in it, but really, we just skipped rocks. Sirius had never done it before, and Peter tried to show us his trick to make it jump four times in a row but none of us got it. He said it took practice, so we're going to try again later—I reckon there's a spell we can use, too.
Then we had supper and I ate a full meal and now I'm writing to you. I really like it at Hogwarts, and as you can see, I think I'm making friends. It's quite extraordinary. I know Madam Pomfrey probably sent you an owl already, but I thought I should let you know that I was alright myself so that you would not worry.
With love,
Remus
January 17th 1971,
Dear Mr Scamander,
My name is Remus Lupin and I am a big fan of your work. I am a first-year student at Hogwarts, and Professor Dumbledore lent me a copy of your book on kelpies. It only took me four hours to read it, while I was in the infirmary waiting for the bones in my arm to heal. I went to the library right after and checked out your book on bowtruckles, which is apparently your best one. My friends also insisted to carry my books for me, so I wanted to pick one that wasn't quite as big as Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
Professor Dumbledore told me that you hadn't written a book on werewolves, but I think that you should. I don't know if you've heard (I don't think many people care about this), but the Ministry of Magic wants to pass a law that will make it impossible for werewolves to obtain their Apparating licenses.
You see (and please keep this to yourself), I am a werewolf and I would quite like to get mine when I turn sixteen. I don't think that werewolves are able to Apparate during Full Moons, the same way that we cannot talk or think or use any other kind of magic. If we could, wouldn't it already be a problem? And wouldn't we just do it without appropriate licensing since, as I mentioned, we can't really think straight? It's quite ridiculous. I don't think that that should be the main part of a book on werewolves, of course, but if people knew more about us than maybe they wouldn't be passing these laws. You said it yourself in A Discussion on Flaws in the Ministry's Ranking Dangerous Beasts: "Our ignorance is more dangerous than the poison, fangs or talons of any magical beast." I think werewolves count there.
Sincerely,
Remus J. Lupin
March 3rd 1972
Dear James, Sirius, and Peter,
I am leaving Hogwarts, that way you need no longer worry about sharing your room with a werewolf. I know that you have guessed what I am: Sirius never checks out library books. There is no other reason for Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them to be his first, nor for there to be a lunar calendar slipped between its pages. I apologize for the lies I have told you and the danger that I have put you in. You were great friends and you did not deserve this, nor did I deserve you.
Good luck with your studies,
Remus
(On the back of the parchment, in a different penmanship)
Dear Remus,
James writing, in the name of the group since I've got the best penmanship aside from you. Our unanimous statement is: We're not afraid of you. You're our friend. We're your friends.
Sirius would like to add that since we've seen you arrange the clothes in your trunk by colour, you will have to work much harder to convince us of your inner savagery. Monsters do not fold laundry and colour-code, nor do they help friends with their homework, nor are they so funny and witty, nor do they drink such ridiculous quantities of Early Grey tea (unless that is what the blood of children also tastes like).
Peter says that he wishes that we had known, that way we could have helped you.
James again: Stop being a tool, stop sleeping in the infirmary while you wait for your parents to pick you up, and come back. We've left chocolate under your pillow to lure you back; perhaps we'll say your name in a mirror three times too.
We asked McGonagall to deliver this for us, and we'll stay up waiting. If you leave without saying goodbye, we'll be quite sad, but we'll always think of your fondly.
Your friends,
Friend-James, Friend-Sirius, and Friend-Peter
December 28th, 1975
To Misters Prongs, Padfoot, and Wormtail,
I'm writing a letter none of you will ever see because I know that I will never be able to thank you enough.
Thank you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Thank you for seeing the best in me instead of the beast. Thank you for the work you have put in to lessen my pain.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I feel like I will be writing these letters to you once a month, because I cannot sufficiently explain how much better my life is and how much you have lessened my pain.
Best,
Moony
May 6th 1981
Dearest Lily,
I do agree that I miss our visits to the library. Recently, I've managed to secure a job at Flourish and Blott's—and though I won't be able to stay long, I've spotted all kinds of great titles you might enjoy. I'll make sure to bring some to Godric's Hollow next time I can come, in between Order tasks. I know it won't alleviate any of your troubles, but at least it will give you something to do while you're at home.
Other than that, I'm doing well. I don't know if you heard, but Fenrir Greyback attacked a Wizarding school just outside of Belfast last month. It was truly disgusting and cruel. They've tightened up the lycanthropy legislation as a result—as emergency acts, not through any of the proper channels. By the time any of us knew what was happening, it was too late to bring our complaints to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Not only did we have to register on a new list, but now we have to check-in with what, for all intents and purposes, is a parole officer every month. If they follow the pattern they've set out for themselves today, these visits will be incredibly bureaucratically intensive, invasive, and visible within the Ministry—which will make it very clear who we are and what business brings us there.
But I promise, I'm doing well.
Of course, I won't send you this letter. I don't need to go around worrying you about me while there's so much at stake on your end. However, I'll finish this letter as if it was real, telling you to kiss Harry for me and give James my regards as well.
Best,
Remus
December 7th 1981
Sirius
How could you
October 20th 1984
Charlotte,
Please, please, please, answer my letters. The answer can be "fuck off Remus" if you so desire, but I need to know that you are okay. I hope you have not joined Greyback's pack. I know that things have been difficult recently, and that they will most likely continue given the Ministry, but Greyback is not an answer.
Please let me know that you are safe. Please don't become another friend I've lost. Please don't be just another radicalized werewolf who disappeared. Please don't become what they think we are.
Your friend,
Remus
November 6th 1987
Dear M. Belby,
I wanted to personally congratulate you on your recent invention of the Wolfsbane Potion and share with you my honest belief that you were robbed at the Annual Potion Master's Guild Awards, when you were not awarded Brew of The Year.
More than that; I wanted to voice my sincere appreciation for your attempts to tackle lycanthropy and ease the condition for those of us who are afflicted. I would also implore you not to give up your fight to have this potion produced and distributed by the Ministry for Magic. You might not have heard much in the way of appreciation and thanks from our ranks but let me assure you that if secrecy was not a necessity of the average werewolf's, we would be acclaiming you as a hero.
Sincerely,
Anonymous
July 16th, 1993
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Before we proceed with any additional talks of teaching, I do feel the need to ask you, with all due respect, if you are absolutely sure.
Best,
Remus J. Lupin
September 17th, 1994
To Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge,
Madam,
I dare say, I do not think that I have enough time to fully convey my frustration, disappointment, and complete bewilderment that a person such as yourself can be trusted as a legislator. Oh wait—on second thought, I am unemployable due to your most recent legislature and resultingly have all the time in the world. Convenient, isn't it?
Yet I am so tired, and you have gone to such lengths to bar voices like mine. Your ignorance will do more harm in this world than the half-breeds you so fear. Shame on you.
Best,
Someone who has realized that you are not worth the cost of the ink it would take to properly and accurately pen down the extent of your ignorance and short-sightedness. Especially since I am about to be poorer than I ever have been—which in itself is quite a trick.
June 8th, 1995
Dear Dora,
While I know the thing I'm filled with is dread, it's really like a rock quarry in my stomach. Spending time with you has started something that I won't be able to stop, there's a second heart beating in my chest that has no business being there.
I do believe I will be writing many love letters to nothing to try and mitigate this flood, but dear God. This is not good.
Remus
December 30th, 1995,
Dear Andrew,
It was nice to meet you at St. Mungo's today, though I wish the circumstances had been different.
The next Full Moon is January 17th. Please let me know if you would like to talk before. If there is anything, I can do to help you prepare for it, it would be my greatest pleasure.
You'll see; there's a strange sense of community amongst us wolves. Good taste in coffee, too.
Best,
Remus (Arthur's friend)
May 7th, 1996,
Dora,
Stop. You know better than to ruin your life on me.
Remus
March 3rd, 1998,
To a younger version of myself,
Know this, as I desperately wish you did.
Tonight, your beautiful wife fell asleep with her head resting in your lap, as you lounged in front of a warm and comfortable fire.
I call her beautiful which, no matter how true, is the least interesting thing about her. She is witty and spunky, strong and hilarious, unspeakably patient, observant, twice as powerful as your average witch, and thrice as kind. I simply call her beautiful for now because that is the easiest thing to spot while she is asleep. Her hair is bright pink, but when she sleeps very deeply the colour flickers like Northern lights. Her lips are always pulled into somewhat of a smile, and there is a freckle on the top of her ear that is absolutely adorable.
On her chest and cradled in her arms is a baby, your son, who currently favours his hair a vibrant shade of yellow though he has tried out the entire rainbow since being born. He is beautiful. When you look in his eyes, you see the whole world. More particularly, your world. He is at the moment incredibly young and incredibly small. But so much like his mother already. And, as of yet, nothing like you. Untouched by the sickness, though he was reportedly quite annoyed about only having one pair of arms to nestle in during the last full moon. I too was disappointed not to be there for him, but annoyance and disappointment can be tolerated.
He is a blank slate. No doubt he'll have some of his mother's mischief (she is in a class of her own, you have no idea what is in store for you). But from you, the horizon is clear. A wise man, your son's godfather as a matter of fact, once said that parents ought to stay with their children. And because you will, you can give him and pass on to him the best of yourself.
And so, with this in mind: this is what I would truly like to say to you, my younger self.
Yes, there are good parts of you—beautiful if you listen to your wife (which you ought to). Your future may seem dull, but one day you will be sitting comfortably with a beautiful woman and a beautiful boy and you will be able to find the good within yourself. You will learn to see it after enough practice.
If I could send letters into the past, I would tell you to be patient. Hang in there. And start practicing.
As I cannot, and as watching my family and the warmth of this fire make me realize just how tempting sleep is, I will lay down my quill and rest happily. This is a beautiful start to the rest of my life.
RJL
Husband to Dora
Father to Teddy