Grey skies and rain had marked the past week. A dark figure stood slouched against the bus stop sign. His hood and his long hair obscured his face. The rain didn't bother the hooded figure, nor did the unnatural icy cold for this time of year. The bus stop was the best shelter around for miles, but he didn't seem to be waiting for the bus. As busses pulled up to the bus stop he waved them off, not intent on going anywhere. People passed him, but nobody as much as looked at him. Part of that was his fault. He was dirty, his clothes were torn and he was pretty sure he smelt like wet dog. I'm sure the people just thought that he was just another homeless person, nothing new for them. Connor could care less; he didn't want to be noticed anyway. He was essentially what they thought he was, homeless. When he was still underage, he was moved from foster home to foster home, never staying in one place too long, because he would never fit in. Eventually he had just ended up at the local child shelter, after everybody refused to take him in. He had spent two years going from foster home to foster home and had been to plenty of shelters, but that all ended a few weeks ago, on the day he turned sixteen.

He couldn't stay in those shelters anymore, there were rules against that. Not that he wanted to anyway, shelter life is hell for a teenager. Supervisors, doctors, guards, with everyone trying to fix you, even though there is nothing wrong with you. Connor had been kicked out off the last shelter for starting a fight with some other homeless kid. In Connor's defense, the kid was going through the few possessions he had, being his clothes and a tattered picture. For the past three weeks he had wandered the streets. He slept under bridges and tried to avoid the public. Nobody had bothered him, not until yesterday.

- 2 -

The night before, he had finally found a place that seemed unaffected by the torrential rain and howling winds. King's Bridge was on the outskirts, so there was no one around, no one to bother or bother Connor. As he slept by the small, smoldering fire, which managed to keep him less cold, a man came up to him. Connor had learnt to sleep lightly, so he heard the man walking towards him. Not sure what the man wanted, Connor's hand slipped into his pocket, clenching the small knife he had pocketed at a small store a few days back.

"There's no need to hold that knife, Connor." The man spoke with a raspy voice.

Connor's mind flashed. How did this man know he was holding a knife. Who was he and why was he here? There were plenty of other places to go.

The unknown man stepped into the light of the fire. Just like Connor, he had long dark hair and was unshaven. His face was severely scarred. Three scars ran parallel from his forehead to his cheekbone. They looked like claw marks. His clothes weren't as shabby as those that Connor had on him, but they weren't clean or new either. Even though he had been on edge when the man approached him, there was something familiar about him, yet Connor couldn't place what just yet. Still fingering the knife, he spoke up.

"Who…who are you? What do you want?"

"For now, that's not important. There's something you need to tell me first. You're Connor, aren't you?" This name seemed to trigger something in the younger figure and he nodded approval.

"What's it to you?" asked Connor. He still wasn't sure who the man was.

"Again, that doesn't matter. There is something more pressing right now. Am I right that you are Connor Lupin?"

"Don't you dare speak that name! Who are you? How do you know that name?" Connor shouted at the man with growing anger.

"I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself. My name is Sirius Black, and I was a good friend of your father's, we went to Hogwarts together."

Sirius Black, the name sounded familiar, but Connor had only heard that name spoken by his parents. The man before him might as well be someone else, using a name to hide his true identity.

"How did this man know my father? How did he find me? Does he really know my father? Is he telling the truth?" All of these questions needed answers.

"If you really knew my father, and you say you were a good friend, than you would know what made him different? What was it?"

The man named Sirius gave Connor a scathing look. "Is that your test, is that how you want to know if I can be trusted? Is that the best you can come up with? It's easy. Remus was a werewolf."

Remus. That was a name Connor hadn't heard in a long time. He didn't talk to anyone about the death of his parents, nobody would understand. He had seen his father killed in front of his own eyes, ripped to shreds by someone or something called Grey. He didn't want to think about it right now, it had haunted him long enough.

Connor still distrusted Sirius. He had to come up with a question that only a real friend knew the answer to. And he found it. Only someone close to his father would know the answer to this.

"When he was in Hogwarts, his friends had a special name for him. If you were his good friend, then you should know this. What was he called by his friends when he attended Hogwarts and why?"

"His friends, me, called him Moony, because of the fact that he was a werewolf and his rather 'peculiar' condition. My 'name' is Padfoot. And just for good measure, you're mother's name was Nymphadora Tonks." All these questions were agitating Sirius. He was looking around nervously, his left hand inside his jacket, clutching something. There was no time for this.

Connor tried to grasp all of this. He couldn't think of any other questions, and Sirius's answers were on point. Others than his friends and his enemies, no one really knew about the fact that his father had been a werewolf, but only true friends called him Moony. Connor let go of the distrust, and finally let go of the knife he was still holding.

"Look, I'm here to tell you something. Albus, or rather Professor Dumbledore sent me. It was difficult for us to track you down, and it took some time, as you aren't carrying the 'Trace'. You, Connor, need to attend Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore will explain everything later, but he needs you in the school." Sirius seemed to understand the urgency of what he was saying, as he spoke slowly.

Hogwarts, the school that wouldn't take Connor in all those years ago, even though Dumbledore knew his parents. All thanks to his feral nature. He was considered a risk to the students, and now they suddenly do want him.

"What's this about?" Connor asked Sirius, who was still looking around, checking for wrong shadows and looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"I don't know, Connor. Dumbledore just told me that I have to find you and that you have to get on the train to Hogwarts with the rest of the students. You'll have to get to King's Cross in London. The train leaves on the 30th of August at midday. It leaves from Platform 9 3/4. Don't be late." He handed Connor a sealed, crumpled envelope. The envelope had his name on it and the back was sealed with red candle wax and embossed with the Hogwarts crest. "Do not open this until you get on the train."

Connor wasn't sure what to do, and had a lot more questions, but when he looked up from the envelope, the man was gone.