Title: Time of your life

Author: SteLLa

Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter and his amazing universe. Not. I own nothing but a couple of books and my imagination.

Summery: MWPP -- L/J. The Maurders arrive at Hogwarts..will it ever be the same? Classic MWPP Story.

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"Remus!"

A tiny boy, with sandy brown hair and soft hazel eyes curled up into a tighter ball underneath his blankets, stuffing his head underneath his soft down pillow. He let out a soft groan.

"Remus!" A women out of sight bellowed again, joy seeping from her voice, wherever it is she was. "Remus, dear, come here, look what Hercules has brought you!"

At the mention of the family owl, the boy curled up even smaller, his eyes shut tightly in his pale face. Calming light oozed in from the open window into the brightly light room, but the boy hated mornings and everything to do with them. Though only 11, he was already acquiring that prime teenage- grumpiness come 8 a.m.

His mother, downstairs in the kitchen, knew this. A lithe, young woman with a smile in her eyes and her hand on her hips, she stood beaming, calling irrepressibly for her youngest son. "Remus, dear come see!"

In her hand, she held a envelope, manila with green writing, addressed to a Mr. Remus J. Lupin, Third bedroom on the left, 156 Prophet Street, Ottery St. Catchpole.

At the kitchen table, behind a wide, grainy newspaper, a man with sandy brown hair and laughing blue eyes snorted. "Athena, dear, I think the boy is still asleep."

Athena scoffed at her husband, still beaming, though her hazel eyes were beginning to see the signs of impatience. "Nonsense, my love. He's ignoring me." She turned away from the hallway leading to the bedrooms, and whipped out a long, delicate stick of wood. Not just any wood, mind you. Maple, with a core of unicorn hair, 7 and a half inches.

For whatever else the Lupin's were, political, powerful, caring and wise, they were above else, something else. They were magic.

Wizards and witches had lived in their family for generations, and the current Lupin's were no exception. In fact, glancing around the kitchen, one could see dishes washing themselves, bacon sizzling merrily on the stove..by itself, Oranges squeezing themselves into a pitcher for freshly made orange juice. With a flick of her wand, Athena sent the pitcher of juice over to her husband, who caught it with a nod, his eyes back on his paper as he answered her.

"With good reason, too. It's barely 9 a.m., darling. You'll wake Romulus if you aren't careful."

Athena whirled around to face him, her blonde hair flying, her tone reproachful.

"For your information, Seth, Romulus has been up for an hour and is out with his broomstick in the back, throwing apples up in the air and making heart stopping dives, especially for a 15 year old. Venus is at her friend's house for the weekend, talking about whatever it is 15 year old girl's talk about. The only one not up, is our dear--"

"Remus, lad!" the man interrupted joyfully, terribly glad to have escaped the lecture as the pajama-clad boy dutifully wandered into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

Athena spun around, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Mum, what is it?" Remus asked in a yawn. "You'll wake the dead with your screaming, I mean..."

But whatever he meant, he didn't get to say, because his mother scooped him up in a crushing hug, jolting the breath out of the tiny elven year old. "Remus, your letter arrived!" she crowed.

The boy scrunched his face up and wiggled out of her grasp. "Mum," he complained, "I can't breath--gerroff!"

With a huff, she let him down, beaming still. He stared up blankly at her, his brain still foggy with sleep. "What did you say came?"

"Your letter, my boy, your letter!" Seth put down the paper, and beamed at his youngest son. "From Hogwarts, lad!"

Remus stared blankly still, suddenly very cold. He wished he had put some socks on. Silence followed his dad's announcement, and the boy suddenly found the floor very interesting.

Athena and Seth traded ominous glances. When Romulus and Venus had gotten his letter, there had been jumping and laughing, screaming and cheering. Romulus had swaggered around, boasting about how he knew it all along, didn't cha know, and Venus had squealed excitedly and immediately sat down to write her friends. But it appeared it would be again different with Remus. As everything was different with Remus...

"Remus, love?" his mother prompted softly, holding out the letter. The silence in the room was heavy as bricks, and she winced as her son turned quietly sad eyes to her. Her joy, seemingly endless a minute ago, was about to be replaced by tears if her little boy didn't look up, smile, laugh, cheer...do *something* other then stare at them with that mournful look in his deep eyes...

Remus reached out heavily and took it, a barely audible sigh escaping his lips. The crumpling of paper was the only sound in the tiny kitchen as Remus bitterly tore open the Hogwarts seal. The letters dropped to the floor as the envelope ripped open.

"Didn't you tell them?" Remus asked hoarsely after a moment as he watched his letters float to the ground, landing in a sad heap. "Don't they know?"

Seth paled, and Athena rushed to answer. "Yes, sweetheart, it's all settled! Dumbledore -- he's the headmaster, see --- he's a very understanding man, sweet pea, very understand and he knows all about your-- " she paused, forced past the lump in her throat -- "*special* circumstances--"

"You mean that I turn into a full fledge monster once a month?" Remus asked quietly, his voice full of much too much bitterness and angst for someone so young. "That 12 days out of the year I become a horrifying monster, people's worst nightmares, that I'm a menace to society and--"

Athena rushed to her son, scooping him her up easily despite her thin frame. "Oh, Remus, dear, *don't*!"

Seth shook his head, stooping down to pick up the letters tenderly. Athena rocked the boy back and forth, her face pained with unshed tears as she hugged him tighter, but Remus refused to cry.

"I can't go, Mum," he told her, his voice muffled against her shoulder as he buried his face in her hair. "I just can't. What if I hurt someone?"

"Oh, Remus." Seth murmured softly, reaching over to tousle the boy's hair. "Don't worry, son. We've got it all figured out. Dumbledore--"

"Dumbledore knows what I am?" Remus asked suspiciously, pushing himself away from his mother to glare at his father. "He knows I'm a were--"

"Yes, sweetie, he knows." Athena answered hurriedly.

Even now, after 9 years of living with it, she couldn't bear hear the name aloud. If only they hadn't decided to go searching for fireflies that one summer night, just after Remus's second birthday. If only they hadn't ignored the loud, prowling footsteps they heard as they tried to comfort little Romulus, who was crying over a wayward shadow. If only Athena hadn't been so preoccupied with Venus's scraped knee, if only Seth hadn't been comforting Romulus, if only Remus hadn't wandered off, following a ladybug.

Athena could still hear her Remus's screams at night, before she lay herself down to sleep. Could still see the fear in Seth's face as he gasped, and two luminous yellow eyes gleamed out of the darkness. Could still see the jagged teeth marks in her Remus's flesh, and feel the sinking sensation in her heart as she realized what it ment. Her Remus, her baby, her everything...was a werewolf.

For 12 nights out of the year, he became a living nightmare, an animal, hungry for human flesh. But those other 353 days...he was still her Remus.

"He knows, Remus." Seth assured him quietly. "And he still wants you to come. He insists, in fact."

Remus raised a bright eye to his father, his lip quivering with unshed tears. It wasn't fair..

"But dad...what if I hurt someone? And how will I make any friends, no one wants to be friends with a were--" he stopped, shot a apprehensive look at his mum, correcting himself --" with someone like me."

"True friends won't care, sweetie." Athena assured him feverently. "True friends won't care at all."

Remus looked doubtful, and still shook his head. "Maybe I should just stay home this year..."

Seth shook his head definitely. "Remus, you're going. No, ifs, ands, or buts about it."

Remus frowned. "But dad.."

"Trust us, Remus. Hogwarts will be the time of your life."

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"Master?"

A small, hunched over, house elf, looked up respectively, blinking.

A tall, handsome women looked down at him, her black eyes cold as she leaned away from the dining room table, putting her gold fork down. The Black Family coat of arms hung just above her head on the wall next to her, mirrored by the replica that dressed the tablecloth. Pearls danced around her throat, a blunt representation of the wealth the family possessed.

"Yes, Kreacher?"

"Kreacher is sorry to disturb Mistress while she is eating breakfast with his family, Kreacher knows Mistress does not like to be disturbed, but Kreacher has a letter for young Master Sirius, and Kreacher thought he should get it to him. Kreacher is sorry, madam, very sorry."

The women frowned slightly, the corners of her mouth tipping down dissatisfied, but she nodded nonetheless. "Very well, Kreacher, it's fine. Enough with your apologizes. Give me the letter."

He handed it over, bowing low to the ground, his large, squishy noise nearly touching her shoes.

"Yes, Mistress, here Mistress."

Bowing still, he slinked out of the room.

At the far end of the table, a boy's eyes gleamed excitedly as he stifled a laugh at the pathetic house elf. The boy had dark, chocolate eyes and elegant black hair, a charming smile and a disarming laugh. Right now, however, he was wearing his best robes and a politely bored expression on his face, his half eaten breakfast forgotten on his plate. His eyes were glued to his mother, and the letter she held so loosely in her hand. Manila, with green writing.

Her eyes racked over it once, before she tossed it aside dismissing it.

"Your Hogwarts letter has arrived, Sirius." She informed him coolly, with a sophisticated bite of her eggs. "I trust you will not embarrass us."

Sirius lowered his eyes away from her piercing glare. He hated her eyes. Cold and black, lifeless almost, except for the cold spark of disapproval that flashed every so often. "No, mother. I won't."

His father glowered at him from across the table. "Look at your mother when she speaks to you, boy." He reprimanded sharply and Sirius looked up quickly, ignoring the snickers coming from his younger brother, seated next to him. A sharp look from their father quickly silenced the younger Black. "My apologies, mother." Sirius said softly.

"It's fine." She told him icily. "I trust," she began after a moment, "that when you come home next June, you shall be clothed in Slytherin green?"

Sirius felt something clench inside his stomach at the thought of Slytherin, at the thought of what it stood for and following in his family's footsteps. His father had been in Slytherin, and mother. In fact, most of the Blacks were in Slytherin. He had heard stories of its greatness since before he could walk, the only stories his father ever told him. His father and mother were proud to have been Slytherins -- felt it was an honor that was saved for only the best of wizards...purebloods. He would do everything in his power to make it into anything but Slytherin..even Hufflepuff, for goodness sakes.

"Yes mother." Sirius replied automatically. "I'll try my best."

"You won't try," his father ordered, his voice icy. "You'll do. I don't think I could stand the shame if you were put, in lets say --" his voice took on a mocking tone reeking of sarcasm and distaste as he hissed the word -- "Gryffindor."

A odd gleam came into Sirius's eyes. Gryffindor, eh? He had heard stories of this house too, of the glory-loving fools with their heart on their sleeves who represented bravery and loyalty. His parents hated the house and anyone who had ever been in it.

"I don't want to shame you, father." He answered, his voice amiable but his tone bored. He was tired of playing the dutiful son and the day was bright outside his window. He wanted to go try out his new broomstick, and examine his letter, relish the fact that a few months from now, he would finally be free. "May I be excused?"

"No." His mother barked. "We're not all finished, Sirius. Mind your manners."

"Yes mother."

The usual tense silence returned, broken only by the clinking of silverware.

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The wind whistled in his ears, ruffling his hair affectionately as he tore through the skies. The broom below him obeyed his slightest touch and thought rather then his grip, the brand new Nimbus 1000. The boy, a scrawny chap with hazel eyes and messy hair that wouldn't stay put no matter what he did to it, grinned as he reached out from under his arm and took the ball in his hand, waiting until the perfect moment. His eyes narrowed as he approached the hoop, his brow furrowed in concentration. He reeled back and threw the ball as hard as he possibly could, swooping down to catch it if he was off target.

His father, hovered in front of the hoop for a moment, but ducked as the Quaffle came straight towards his head. He rolled over in midair to avoid decapitation, laughing hysterically all the while his son grinned.

"I win!" James Potter exclaimed triumphantly, still dozens of feet in the air as he flew circles around his father, the ball he had just thrown and now caught saftely tucked under his arms.

Harold Potter smiled proudly. "You sure did, Jimmy, my boy! That was a great shot!" He raised a hesitant hand to his messy hair, the trademark Potter hair that his son had inherited, his expression uneasy. "Nearly took my head off there for a moment."

James let out a bark of a laugh. "Not my fault you can't take the heat."

Mr. Potter growled mockingly. "You wait, James, my boy. One day, I'm going to catch that Quaffle if its the last thing I do."

James grinned. "The way you play, it *will* be the last thing you do."

His father stared at him for a moment, before bursting into laughter. "Why you little--"

James gave a great giggle before zooming away, down and then up, looping in circles as his father chased him, hooting and yelling.

The two were participating in their favorite pastime, Qudditch. It was a wizarding sport, played on a broomstick, and James was an absolute fanatic about it. Harry, who shared the feeling, and his son trained every Sunday morning for that one day when James would make the house team at Hogwarts. Of course, he had to get into Hogwarts first. Minor detail.

Harry finally caught up with James as his son preformed a spectactular dive, flying just about a foot above the ground. Reaching over, he tugged on his son's hair and shoved him roughly. Startled, James let go of his broom to brush his father away. "Hey, dad, gerroff--" he called, but Harold laughed as James suddenly found himself off balanced and toppled off the broom into the soft grass below.

James blinked as Harry circled and then landed gracefully. "Never," he warned with a twinkle in his eyes, "take your hands off the broom."

James frowned as he considered this. "Unless you're reaching for the Quaffle."

Harry looked puzzled. "Well, I guess yes, unless you're reaching for the Quaffle."

"Or the snitch."

"Or the snitch," he agreed.

"Or if you're a beater."

"Or..if you're a beater."

"Or a keeper."

"Or a keeper," he echoed.

"So basically," James finished wryly. "Always take your hands of the broom."

Harry studied him for a moment, before letting out a burst of laughter. "Exactly."

James nodded firmly, a slow michevious smile working its way across his face. "That's what I thought you said."

Suddenly, a lone figured appeared walking towards them, coming from the rather large house in whose yard they had been practicing in. Harry grinned as his wife scowled at him, his blonde hair dancing in the brisk wind, her hazel eyes laughing.

"Harry, I saw that. No tugging on the boy's hair, that's cheating."

Harry shrugged innocently. "But Maryann, darling, he deserved it."

She laughed affectionately, reaching over with both hands to tousle both of their hair. "Erm, gerroff--" both muttered, and Maryann laughed, as did Harry. But James's attention had been drawn to the letter his mother had just dropped in his lap.

Manila, with green writing.

"Mum.." James began cautiously. "Is that...what I think it is?"

Maryann Potter, with her hazel eyes and mischievous grin, stared blankly for a moment before a slow grin worked its way across her face. She nodded once.

"WAAHOOO!!" James let out a huge whoop, jumping to his feet, grabbing the letter. He threw himself at his father, hugging him fiercely and then at his mother. "I made it?"

"You made it!" his mother crowed excitedly, and Harry grin. "Well done, James. Well done!"

James grinned. "Hogwarts, here I come."

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Peter Pettigew frowned as he opened his letter. Manila with green writing.

Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His letter had finally arrived.

He hadn't thought it was coming. Neither did his mum. He could tell by the look on his mother's face as they stood in his bedroom, light cascading in softly through the half open window. "I'm going to Hogwarts." He tried saying it aloud, to make it seem more real, but it still seemed like a cruel joke. "*I'm* going to Hogwarts?" he asked instead.

His mother, her blonde hair already sporting a few grays, smiled wobbly at him, the tears she was threatening to spill leaking out of her blue eyes. His father was downstairs, sleeping still, but they would tell him later, anyways.

"I'm so proud of you, Peter," she whispered in a hushed voice as she reached over and pulled him into an embrace, the small, tiny boy with the pale blue watery eyes he had gotten from her, and mousy brown hair he had gotten from his father. "So proud."

"Thanks, mum," he whispered back, feeling rather stupid. What had he done for her to be proud of him for? "You're going to love it," she continued, oblivious to the stiffness in his stance. "Absolutely love it. And of course, you'll be in Gryffindor, just like I was..."

"I was thinking more like Hufflepuff, mum." Peter interjected. "Like dad."

"Psh," his mother scoffed, before smiling wildly, holding him at arms length. She had to stoop a little to look him in the eyes. "You'll be a Gryffindor. Brave and true. Right, Pete?"

Peter glanced away. "Right."

She beamed at him. "So proud of you," she whispered again, pulling him in for another bone crushing hug. She wiped her eyes daintily. "Come, now let's go tell your father."

"He's asleep," Peter informed her. "And I think I just wanna look over my letter for a bit, if that's alright."

She continued beaming at him. "That's fine, sweetie, just fine,. You just come down when we're done and I'll make you the biggest breakfast ever! Omelet with cheese alright?"

"Extra cheese. Cheddar." Peter corrected with a smile.

"Right, right." She agreed, smiling. "Extra cheese."

Before she disappeared in the doorway, she smiled. "Good job, Pete!"

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TBC...

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Author's Note: I've made some corrections, because when I originally wrote this I did not have the Fifth Book with me and was going by memory, lol. I have just realized that Regulus, stupid prat, was younger then Sirius, lol, at about the same time blah-blah reminded me, (thank you, btw). It's been fixed, as has the spelling of Kreacher's name lol. Stupid elf. Anyways, the next chapter will be up very shortly, within the hour perhaps, so check back soon!