PROLOGUE
Not only was Remus Lupin intelligent, he was witty, oddly physically alluring and, among all other things, highly unusual. He didn't come across as arrogant, however, as one might think. On the contrary, he was quite humble, never taking joy in the pain of others, but rather in seeing others take joy. Shy though he was, he retained a few friends who he felt, no matter the circumstance, would not abandon him.
He looked like the type of person to come out of an old romance film, black and white pictures included. Although a mere sixteen years of age, he had an outlandishly worn look about him; the kind of look a person gets from tirelessly straining for sleepless night after sleepless night.
His smooth, almond-colored hair fell down past his eyes gracefully whenever he bent over a book or a poem, and always looked like a skillful artist had swept a paintbrush in just the right way across his furrowed brow. Strange though it may sound, not many people noticed him for what he was. Many girls would give him a second glance in the corridors out of mere curiosity, but none would ever think about him at night, wishing he would write them poems or romanticize them with endless limericks and candlelit dinners. They might, however, if he was only bold enough to look them in the eye.
His eyes, though oddly bland and insignificant, held a spectacular beauty all their own. Upon first glance, they appeared to be nothing more than a common hazel. However, upon further assessment, they were silvery orbs flecked with scintillating highlights of a deep, forest green, timidly shrouded beneath a brilliant mind, which was burdened with insecure notions and arduous resolutions. If you really delved into his soulful, expressive eyes, you might find that they'd give you chills.
Another aspect that led to his bedraggled facade was his heedlessness to his appearance. He felt he didn't need a girl to tell him he looked handsome in order to achieve his ambitions. In fact, he believed that, in order to succeed in life, he needed only himself, with the exception of a few friends whom had already committed themselves to him as lifelong splinters in his side. So, as a result of this negligence, he proceeded to wear old, gray robes, patches stitched in areas that only could have deteriorated due to old age.
Yes, Remus Lupin was indeed an unusual teenager. This was not unknown due to his reputable nature and romantic identity. The fact that he came from a wealthy family certainly didn't help things along, either. People knew of him, and yet were unaware of him simultaneously. It was an odd relationship they had, Remus Lupin and the public. What made it even odder was that he was a werewolf.
Not only was Remus Lupin intelligent, he was witty, oddly physically alluring and, among all other things, highly unusual. He didn't come across as arrogant, however, as one might think. On the contrary, he was quite humble, never taking joy in the pain of others, but rather in seeing others take joy. Shy though he was, he retained a few friends who he felt, no matter the circumstance, would not abandon him.
He looked like the type of person to come out of an old romance film, black and white pictures included. Although a mere sixteen years of age, he had an outlandishly worn look about him; the kind of look a person gets from tirelessly straining for sleepless night after sleepless night.
His smooth, almond-colored hair fell down past his eyes gracefully whenever he bent over a book or a poem, and always looked like a skillful artist had swept a paintbrush in just the right way across his furrowed brow. Strange though it may sound, not many people noticed him for what he was. Many girls would give him a second glance in the corridors out of mere curiosity, but none would ever think about him at night, wishing he would write them poems or romanticize them with endless limericks and candlelit dinners. They might, however, if he was only bold enough to look them in the eye.
His eyes, though oddly bland and insignificant, held a spectacular beauty all their own. Upon first glance, they appeared to be nothing more than a common hazel. However, upon further assessment, they were silvery orbs flecked with scintillating highlights of a deep, forest green, timidly shrouded beneath a brilliant mind, which was burdened with insecure notions and arduous resolutions. If you really delved into his soulful, expressive eyes, you might find that they'd give you chills.
Another aspect that led to his bedraggled facade was his heedlessness to his appearance. He felt he didn't need a girl to tell him he looked handsome in order to achieve his ambitions. In fact, he believed that, in order to succeed in life, he needed only himself, with the exception of a few friends whom had already committed themselves to him as lifelong splinters in his side. So, as a result of this negligence, he proceeded to wear old, gray robes, patches stitched in areas that only could have deteriorated due to old age.
Yes, Remus Lupin was indeed an unusual teenager. This was not unknown due to his reputable nature and romantic identity. The fact that he came from a wealthy family certainly didn't help things along, either. People knew of him, and yet were unaware of him simultaneously. It was an odd relationship they had, Remus Lupin and the public. What made it even odder was that he was a werewolf.