Disclaimer: I don't own the words, just the way some of them are strung together.

Prologue: Part 1

Friday, July 21st 1967

The owl flew through the open kitchen window and landed on the breakfast table with practiced elegance. It peered down at the table's occupants, as if it were a king surveying his subjects, before sticking out a leg.

Dr Emily Lupin, long since used to the idea that magic was real, wizards existed and her husband belonged to such a world, barely even blinked at the bird's behaviour. Instead she swiftly untied the letter from its leg, fed it an owl treat and offered it a drink of water. It declined and hopped onto the windowsill before launching itself out of sight. Only then did she glance down at the yellowish envelope.

Mr R. M. Lupin, the Kitchen Table, Honey Cottage, Devon.

The back of the envelope was sealed with a lump purple wax bearing a coat of arms. The Hogwarts coat of arms, Dr Lupin realised. It was the wizarding school her husband had talked to fondly about.

She looked at the two children sitting at the breakfast table with her. Remus, the youngest, held his glass of orange juice with both hands, gulping it noisily and swinging his legs under the table. Romulus, at eleven years of age, was quietly eating his cornflakes. Both boys had light brown hair and eyes and, if one had not been three inches taller than the other, they might easily be mistaken for twins.

"Letter for me, darling?" Mr Lupin asked as he entered the kitchen dressed in his wizard's robes.

"For Romulus," Dr Lupin replied. "And it has the Hogwarts crest on it," she added mysteriously.

The two of them looked at their eldest son who in turn looked up at his mother or, more specifically, the letter in her hands. She smiled and handed it to him.

"What is it? What is it?" the younger Lupin boy asked excitedly before his brother had even broken the seal.

"Read it aloud, son," Mr Lupin suggested, more calmly, although his wife could sense undertones of pride and excitement in his voice.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore…" Romulus' eyes skimmed over the page before continuing. "Dear Mr Lupin, we are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School..."

The boy was unable to finish as he was swept off his feet by his father and enveloped in a tight embrace.

"Well done son! Well done!"

"John, it's eight o'clock. You're going to be late," Dr Lupin chastised, though she smiled. "We can celebrate Rom's achievement with a meal later tonight."

Mr Lupin peered over the top of his son's head at his wife.

"My promotion to the Werewolf Registry and Capture Unit means that I'll probably have to work later than usual. It is the full moon after all. Why don't you ask Ezra round, instead? I'll have to celebrate it with you another time." He looked down at his eldest son. "You don't mind having two celebrations over this, do you?"

Romulus grinned and shook his head. Mr Lupin leaned down to kiss the boy's forehead. He then headed towards the fireplace.

"What about me?"

Mr Lupin turned, this time to grin at his youngest son.

"How could I forget!" he exclaimed, kissing Remus lightly on his head and squeezing his small shoulders. Then he grabbed a handful of floo powder and disappeared behind green flames.

XXX

Ezra Seward, known fondly by the two Lupin boys as 'Uncle Ez', was a muggle-born wizard who had been best friends with Emily Lupin, nee Matthews, at primary school before meeting John Lupin at Hogwarts School. It was he who had introduced the two to one another and thus had earned the rank of best man at their wedding and, later godfather to Romulus. After the sudden death of Remus' own godparent, Ezra had become, unofficially, godfather to him as well. He was unmarried and had no children of his own which, Dr Lupin thought, was a shame because he was so good with her own boys.

"It's because they're polite," he had once told her. "Any child of mine would never be polite." He then proceeded to back his argument up with a well-timed burp, much to the amusement of his godsons.

It was late when the four of them finished their celebratory meal. Dr Lupin had put off serving it for as long as she could in the vain hope that her husband would return home early and join them. Now, she and Ezra sat back in their chairs and began to reminisce about their childhood together, whilst her two sons left the kitchen to play by themselves. She let them. It was, after all, the weekend tomorrow. She would not be working and would not, therefore, need to drop the boys off at a local friend's house to be babysat. If they got tired tonight, they could have a lie-in tomorrow morning.

It was a decision she would always regret.

Screams woke the two adults from their reverie. Ezra was the first to react, leaping to his feet and reaching for his wand. He then raced into the living room, to the open French windows, and came to an abrupt halt.

There, less than twenty metres away, stood a wolf. A werewolf. Its eyes glittered like amber fire in the moonlight and its pearly white teeth were wrapped tightly around the arm of a small, human figure.

Suddenly the wolf let go and turned. Ezra could see another figure behind it, attacking the creature with what appeared to be a tennis racquet, a pitiful weapon against a terrible foe. Ezra yelled out a warning, raising his wand to cast a shield between the predator and its prey, but it was too late. In less than a second the wolf had leapt at the figure's throat. There was a strangled yell, cut short, and then the second boy fell.

A flash of green light lit the sky, but Ezra's curse fell short of its target. The wolf turned and fled into the night.

"Stay here!" the man ordered hoarsely to the women standing, paralysed, beside him. He then ran forwards towards the two limp figures the grass.

"Lumos," he muttered and then gasped.

Romulus lay, quite still, racquet still in his hand, on his side, his eyes gazing blankly up at his godfather. The righteous anger that had filled them as he had defended his brother was already beginning to fade away. Dark liquid pooled beneath him, having gushed like a river from the great tear that marred his throat.

Opposite him, and also on his side, lay his younger brother. Remus held his left forearm with his right, as though attempting to stop the flow of blood that seeped from the semi-circular wound upon his pale skin. His eyes had rolled upwards, into his skull, and he was beginning to twitch as the venom oozed its way into every fibre of his being.

Ezra heard a gasp beside him and knew that the boys' mother had followed him. He knew also that there was nothing he could do for Romulus. But Remus needed urgent attention. Without hesitation he lifted the boy over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, grabbed his school friend's hand and pulled her back into the house. Then, without further ado, he threw a handful of floo powder into the open fireplace.

"St Mungo's!" he cried, before the three of them were consumed by emerald flame.