"Cheer up, it might never happen."
Remus sighed, "That's what I'm afraid of."
His father, Lyall, passed by his open bedroom door with a dull brown paper bag. Nothing too conspicuous, and that itself made the bag stand out to Remus all the more. You see, it was Remus' birthday tomorrow - his eleventh birthday - and were he any ordinary boy, he would have been receiving a rather special letter. Well, when I say ordinary I probably ought to really say an ordinary wizard (if a wizard can be ordinary). The rest of the English wizards, the Scots and the Northern Irish wizards - and the Welsh, like Remus - would have been bouncing with excitement the night before their eleventh birthday; the day their Hogwarts letter would arrive.
As it was, Remus looked forward to one small present - though the size of it seldom reflected its quality - and a dinner of french fries, followed by a slice of chocolate brownie, with white chocolate ice cream on top. That was how it always went, and Remus knew his eleventh birthday wouldn't have been any different. Well, his father had just carried that brown bag. Since his parents were big on carrying items, and not wasting resources, that had surprised him. The only explanation would have been that he was hiding something. Would that mean two presents?
Despite the joy of the birthday thoughts, Remus couldn't help the gloom which swarmed his stomach. He looked over to his bedside table where the most recent edition of The Daily Prophet lay spread-eagled; photos of newly turned eleven year olds with their letters were grinning all over the pages as they waved their letters about. It would have been fantastic to know that was going to happen to Remus, but not-so deep down, he knew it wasn't going to happen. He was, after all, a werewolf. A freak 'accident' during his early life years ensured Remus would neither become a fully fledged wizard, or blend quietly into the realms of muggle society. Oh no, Fenrir Greyback had seen to that alright (though the finer details he didn't know; his father outright refused to speak of it, and all that Remus knew was what the Saint Mungo's staff had told him: the identity of the werewolf responsible, and that it had been a bloody and freak accident).
With such thoughts plaguing his otherwise vacant mind, it didn't take long for vague tears to swim at the base of his eyes. Though they didn't fall, they clouded his vision. The weakness, as he saw it, angered him almost as much as his lack of opportunity angered him; he didn't know who to blame for his werewolf predicament, so he took to blaming himself. It was a deep hatred, one such he didn't quite know what go do with.
"Ouch," he hissed quietly, accidentally placing his foot on a staple on the floor. His foot stung slightly, but otherwise it didn't feel uncomfortable. Such as, he bent to pick up the staple, pushing his door to as he did, and begin peeling it open so it lay on his palm as it would have in the stapler itself. He eyed the end for a moment; it had cut his foot, had it not? Maybe...
With little thought, fuelled only by a brimming hatred, he dragged the tip of the staple across the skin on his forearm. It stung, so much so he hissed again, but as he got used to it he felt nothing. Nothing but a joy, a slight hysteria that he could control something about himself. With that, he did it again an inch away. The skin grazed, and he watched it do so curiously. The newly stinging red marks didn't look completely out of place against his discoloured skin, save for the vague spots of blood slipping to the surface, but he went on to 'fill' it in, adding two more well-positioned lines so the marks now appeared as a 'W'. That way, he figured, he couldn't forget why he was at home all the time. He was a werewolf, he reasoned, and deserved nothing more.
The blood didn't poor, nor did it drip, but it lay there in a small quantity of red-purple bubbles as he moved to lie down fully onto his bed. His parents wouldn't question his motives for going to sleep at 8:30. He wasn't a normal child, after all, was he?
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Bright lights shone in from all directions as Remus opened his eyes the following morning. Moving to turn over and block it out, Remus found his right arm to feel slightly out of sorts. The night before quickly came back to him, and he immediately felt foolish and weak. It was going to have to be long sleeves until he could figure out what to do about the rather more noticeable 'W' that marked his forearm.
Knock, knock.
Remus looked up startled as someone stood outside his door. In a haste, he grabbed the nearest thing to him; a cotton light brown cardigan. That would do it.
"Remus, darling," his mother whispered outside the door, "Are you awake?"
He closed his eyes for a moment to prepare himself for a large smile.
"I'm awake," he replied, rushing across to open the door. His eyebrows immediately soared. Outside his door was his mother, Hope, his father and his Aunt June.
"Happy birthday," they chorused, each of them looking eager to escort Remus downstairs, firing questions such as 'how did you sleep', 'are you feeling excited' and 'would you prepare the table, with your Aunt, Remus' whilst they descended the old staircase.
All of a daze, Remus did indeed set out the table though he did so without his Aunt's help. She stood back and commented on how thin he was, and how the cardigan hung off him making him look 'even more like a twig'.
Ignoring her well-meant words, since she knew nothing about his lycanthropy (she was, after all, on his mother's side of the family; a muggle) Remus pulled out a chair for her just as his mother and father returned. His mother held a tray which she set down on the table; it held a glass of chocolate milk, a ripe tangerine and-
"CoCo Wheats!" Remus said aloud. A genuine grin lit up his face as he looked at the cereal. It had always been expensive, so he hadn't ever expected to be eating it, "But where did you-"
"Ask no questions," his Aunt replied as his parents gushed at how happy he looked.
Judging by the grandness of his breakfast, he didn't expect to have much food later on but he would happily miss meals for the rest of the week if it meant enjoying the CoCo Wheats.
"And when you've finished that-"
"But don't rush it."
"-then you can open your presents," Lyall finished, despite Hope's interruption.
Remus couldn't help note the plural.
"What are you going to eat?" Remus asked the three adults watching him in wonder.
His parents shared an uneasy look, before his aunt replied, "You enjoy your CoCo, I'll see that they're fed."
It was a sign of Remus' faith in his aunt that he didn't argue. Whilst she wasn't rich, she had money and would therefore not surprise Remus if she had stocked up the cupboards with bread and jam. If only she would put a few shillings in the Box Not To Be Touched (so called because it cost money that the family did not have and with the muggle inflation going on they couldn't afford to spend, so Remus was to be kept away from it. He knew from watching that when money was put in, however, the electricity started to work).
Not long after their departure, Remus' parents and aunt returned with plates of jam toast.
"Would you like some of this?" Remus asked the three of them, who immediately shook their heads as his mother swallowed a lump of toast and replied.
"No, no. You enjoy your birthday breakfast, sweetheart, you deserve it."
Remus sighed quietly, but had no opportunity to argue that his parents needed food, too, when his father stood up suddenly.
"Are your hands clean?" Lyall asked, to which Remus nodded so he continued, "Your mother and I got you these..." He handed Remus the brown bag.
Remus' eyes darted around at his parents' faces - nodding, encouraging - and he thrust his hand into the bag. It almost came up empty, but then his fingers closed around some warm fabric. Pulling it out, he saw his hand was clasped around a woolly jumper; it looked about the right size, though a little big, and a grand burgundy in colour.
"Oh, that's lovely," Remus thanked his parents, hugging the delicate and warm fabric to him.
"I may need to take it in an inch or so, but..." His mother's voice faded to give way to a smile, before she added, "There should be something else in there, too..."
Frowning in confusion, Remus reached back into the bag and came up with a box.
"What's this?" He asked in surprise.
"Open it and see," his father told him.
Doing so, he slid open the metal lid to find...a slightly faded but otherwise well cared for watch, with stars for hands and a golden ball behind. A snitch, he knew. It was a coming of age watch.
"But I'm not seventeen..." Remus protested; his parents couldn't have afforded such a thing. Not if they couldn't have afforded his breakfast without forfeiting a week of earnings.
"Who needs to be seventeen to own a watch?" Aunt June asked in uncertainty. As a muggle, she naturally didn't understand, "You can tell the time, can't you?"
Rather than answer, Lyall went on, "I know it's difficult for you, given that you won't be able to go to the school you'd liked to have done, but your mother and I thought you deserved something...traditional - along the same lines. I don't know if it is something you would have wan-"
"It's amazing, thank you so much!" Remus cried before his father had finished speaking, hugging his parents together.
Aunt June cleared her throat, "You've got mine to open just yet," she said, sliding a box over to Remus' place at the table.
Remus offered his parents another warm, grateful smile before turning to the gift from his Aunt.
He stripped away the tape keeping the box closed, and opened it up with a great deal of intrigue.
"Oh, wow," he said in legitimate awe. Inside the box lay a number - four, to be precise - of classical books he had sought after for a rather long time. It became clear to him how he would be spending the next several weeks.
"I thought you'd like them," Aunt June replied rather modestly, ruffling her nephew's hair.
His parents watched on; his mother with a tearful smile.
After looking at the books in wonder, Remus turned to his mother, "May I-"
"Remus," she chuckled kindly, "If you'd like to spend your birthday with a book, you'll hear no complaint from me. Though I do ask that you come back downstairs in a few hours and we can see to the c-"
"Food," Lyall finished with a sly wink.
"Thank you," Remus said gratefully, to both his parents and to his Aunt, "Thank you all, so very much." He finished, before he did indeed vanish up the stairs.
Once their son was out of earshot, Hope turned to her husband, "Right, now we need to find them bloody candles".
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"Right, is everything ready?" Lyall asked for the fourth time in a row.
"Yes, yes," his sister-in-law replied with a roll of her eyes, "I'll turn the lights off, you fetch the boy."
As his mother left the room to call for Remus, Aunt June did indeed switch off the lights as Lyall waited in the doorway with a small tray which hosted the cake. A lighter stuck out of his back pocket.
Remus, as he made his way down the aged wooden staircase, forced himself to draw his mind away from the Adventures in Wonderland he had just been enjoying, and rounded the corner to their kitchen.
He was faced with darkness, before hearing a flick as the lighter sent a small flame out into the darkened room. The surrounding area was slightly illuminated as the candles were let, before Lyall stepped back and cleared his throat.
Simultaneously, three voices began to sing, "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Remus, happy birthday to you."
"Make a wish," Hope added, as Remus approached the cake. In the dark, its style wasn't particularly evident but the curled pieces of dark and white chocolate lay around the lit areas.
Thinking that somehow, he wished his life would improve Remus blew out the candles.
Seconds later, Lyall turned on the light.
The cake was grand, two tiers of varied chocolate with pristine white chocolate buttercream in between. On the top lay a generous layer of milk chocolate frosting, topped with curled pieces of chocolate.
In one particular area, it became clear that the heat of the candle had slightly melted the frosting but otherwise the cake looked perfect.
"What do you think?" Aunt June asked him, turning her attention from the cake to her nephew.
"I think it is-" but Remus' words fell silent when he saw his father pull out his wand - a wand Remus recognised, but had seen only seldom before - and mumbled something incoherent. Just as soon as he had, the melted frosting swiftly corrected itself as Remus watched on in complete awe.
"-absolutely incredible," Remus finished, though unsure whether he was talking about the cake itself or the magic he had just witnessed.
"Everyone wants a piece?" Remus' mother asked, completely unaware as she began slicing the cake. This was proving to be a rather unbelievable day.
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The next morning, Remus awoke early to the sound of voices downstairs. One of which was clearly his father's. The other...sounded odd. No one Remus had heard before.
Feeling intrigued (not that he could sleep with the feeling of wonder which swarmed through his entire being). As he crept downstairs, careful to stay on the outsides of the staircase to avoid the wood beneath him creaking, Remus made sure to keep out an ear for the goings on in the room close by.
"-possible. I know what you think about the situation, Mr Lupin, but I must assure you that measures can be put into place. Under my watch, every young-" the words of the man cut off as he cleared his throat slightly, before speaking louder, "Remus, my child, it is probably best you do not lean against the stairs like that lest you develop a rather bade back. And I dare say you have enough issues in your life without walking around like I do."
Remus jumped, startled, but rushed down the stairs to enter the room. He had been that desperate, that he hadn't even considered to change his clothes before heading down the stairs - of course, he hadn't expected to be caught - but it occurred to him how odd he must have appeared beside his father (who had clearly gone to great lengths to wear a rather tidy looking blazer and trousers) whilst the other man wore a set of long glimmering robes and a rather pointed hat.
"I didn't mean to interrupt...sir," Remus whispered, respectfully.
"Nonsense," the man replied, his eyes twinkled with a kindness Remus had rarely seen looking so genuine.
"Remus," Lyall addressed his son rather seriously, "This is Professor Dumbledore; headmaster of Hogwarts. He...well, I'm not quite sure what else to say."
Professor Dumbledore shook his head, "You need not say anything, Mr Lupin. And though I understand your concerns, I must assure you that my convictions are serious. I spoke to our hospital matron for a good few hours before I arrived here, and other than that only one other member of staff will know. Remus," Professor Dumbledore turned to a Remus, "I am here to offer you a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Remus looked between his father and the professor in utter bewilderment. How could he ask his father how this could happen given his lycanthropy, without saying such to the professor. Professor Dumbledore, however, seemed to have read Remus' mind.
"I was just telling your father about the arrangements I have in place, developing as we speak, to ensure you are able to remain on the grounds all the time. Every day of the month, in fact," Professor Dumbledore explained.
It was then that Remus accepted the professor knew what he was dealing with.
"But how? I mean, anything could happen. Things could go wrong and-"
"Remus, Remus. If we stopped doing things because we feared they 'could' go wrong..." he sighed, before addressing Remus directly and deadly serious, "I implore you to see sense, this is one of the greatest opportunities you will ever have; one which no other professor would have offered you. Of course, the choice is yours - and yours alone. I will leave this letter-"
Professor Dumbledore placed a cream-coloured envelope, sealed with a red wax, upon the arm of the chair in which he sat.
"- it contains all the details about your arrival, should you choose to do so."
His eyes twinkled again, as though he already knew the answer to that.
Remus was all set to deliver his verdict, when he realised something, "But the moon-"
"Is in the first week of term, yes," Professor Dumbledore answered instantly, "Which is why your letter contains details of how to arrive on the seventh of September, rather than the first." He smiled kindly, nodding at Remus before addressing Lyall again.
All of the following conversation was more of a blur to Remus than anything else as he sought to process the offer he had just received. He could be going to Hogwarts like a normal wizard...
"-look forward to hearing from you. Lyall, Remus," Professor Dumbledore bid his farewell to Lyall with a hand shake, but he made a point of grasping Remus' arm - the precise spot in which Remus had left the 'W' the night before.
"You are more than this," Professor Dumbledore said softly to Remus, too quietly for Lyall to hear, "And Hogwarts is the best place for you to see that."
With that, Professor Dumbledore left and Lyall ushered Remus back up the stairs - letter in hand.
"Now, do you want me to keep hold of this or would you-"
"I'll take it," Remus said, all but pulling it from his father's grasp. Willingly, Lyall let go and pressed a small kiss to his son's forehead.
"Happy birthday, Remus," he said, before closing his bedroom door.
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Getting off the train, Remus found himself heading through the grand castle gates; gates larger than one could have otherwise imagined, through to an enormous hall decked with four large tables. Odd students turned to look at him as he entered. He was, after all, the newcomer; late, scrawny and unkempt. Taking a seat upon the table decked in red and gold, as his letter from Professor Dumbledore had instructed only six months earlier. Remus sat down and sort of shuffled himself into the end without a word, keeping his eyes cast downward.
He was quite afraid of messing up; school was a new thing to him. In fact, his last experience had been before his sixth birthday when his year one class were reading through Little Red Riding Hood. Without realising his mistake, Remus hadn't hesitated to hold up his hand and announce that wolves were real; "man-wolves, too. Like werewolves." Lyall and Hope had withdrawn him from the school quite soon after and Hope proceeded to home-tutor him.
"James Potter," a bespectacled boy with messy hair turned to Remus and offered a hand, disrupting Remus' outdated memories. James' confidence staggered Remus, but he made to return the hand shake whilst smiling softly, sort of at a loss for what to say.
"Sirius Black," another boy said, pushing James' hand out of the way and grasping Remus' small hand in a firm grip, "Welcome to Hogwarts."