Disclaimer: Thank you J. for creating these wonderful characters, settings, spells and everything else. I just borrow them, and think a new story into existence.
Summary: Does your deep, secret nature make you who you are, or is it who you choose to be? Is it who you are born, or who you become? Is it who you hate, or who you love? Is it the things you do not decide, or the things you do? In other words the school-time of one werewolf, one Black, one Potter and, well, Peter.
Rating: M, but that will come much, much later on. But beware that I am writing this with slash in mind.
If you like the story, let me know, so that I know if it is worth to spend my time on it or not. Useful critique asked for. This is my first story and English is not my first language, but I do not find either to be an excuse for writing badly.
Remus wondered if any boy ever looked at the Hogwarts Express with equal, or at least similar gratitude. He still held inside all his mothers silences, at the mention of the word „future". They were twinned with the hastily, entirely-too-cheery „You´ll see, son, it will all work out in the end!" from his dad.
John Lupin has been only a shadow of the man he was before the attack, man that Helena Macmillan married. He had been worth it, then, to turn back on her pure-blood family and marry, gasp, a Muggle. John had been, in a fact still was, strong and he knew it. Back in those happy times he used it to his advantage and boasted about it. Until he made a mistake, and laughed in the face of the wrong man. (If you could call him a man, but for the sake of Remus they did.) After that he never used his strength again, not even to protect his own son.
When Dumbledore came, in person, to their hiding place, little village in Scotland named Faolán, they were rejoiced, all three of them. John, because it alleviated his guilt by a tiny fraction, Helena, for she was a Ravenclaw, and little Lupin, for he naively thought that it would mean end to the silences and jolly outbursts.
Right now he loved everything about the train, from the „5972" on its nose, to the fluffy steam that spiraled from its chimney. Remus has learned to love inanimate objects since he knew he could not allow him self to love the living ones. Animals ran to cover as soon as they caught even a whiff of his scent, and humans...well, they were not that much better. Besides, as his mother told him „Love makes you do stupid things." And werewolves could not afford to do stupid things. Like making friends with people who were intelligent, or pure-bloods. Another of his mothers advices. But it did not matter, there were worst things then not having friends, like scars, blood, the moon and that look in your parents eyes, when they have just been told their son has an incurable, awful disease, and there is nothing they can do about it. And he had his books, his wise, but safe friends, that talked to him, but never betrayed him. He knew that he could never hope for such friends in flesh.
Remus hugged his dad goodbye. His mother did not come. „Not to draw attention, dear" she said. Truth was that she was too ashamed to face other pure-bloods. Husband a Muggle, she could bear that, she was even proud of it before, but son a werewolf..No. She loved him, she was a mother after all, but she could not be proud of her life anymore.
He tried the very first compartment. One look in the face of the boy sitting there made him shut the door right back, with too much force. „Intelligent and pure-blood,now that would not do". His fine mood got stained by fear. Getting into the school was only the first step, facing people without letting anyone know what he was, another. A much harder one, it occurred to him suddenly.
Walburga would be proud of her son, for once, for it was only right that Blacks should provoke fear in the scum.
In reality, making his mother proud was the last thing the Black in question wished for. He was prepared, with all his might, to be a rebel. Truth be told, he was not entirely sure what it entailed, but he had a vague impression it had to do something with his mother shouting and Gryffindors.
It was not that Gryffindor appealed to him so much by its self , though he did find him self pretty daring and was proud of it, but it was the ultimate mean of getting back at the people who called themselves his family. That, and he hated anything Slytherin (= Black). Which, Sirus though, was next to identical to wanting to be in Gryffindor.
So far it did not go too well. Two boys have opened the doors to his apartment, only to leave again. The first, boy of the Potter clan complete with the signature black mess on his head, left no question as on why. "Hey, is it free he..Oh, a Black, never mind then". Sirius, full of resolve to betray his family, proudly proclaimed "I do not consider my self to be on any level similar to my family Apart from my astonishing looks". That's bound to get him some wrong friends, right? Wrong. "Once a Black, always a Black, same as once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin". And the door was shut. Sirius was never this unsuccessful before (well, he did not get a panther for his birthday, but he blamed that on his parents missing one of the vital organs). Will trying to look like Gryffindor make him weak, as they all were according to his parents?, he wondered briefly and started re-evaluating his brilliant idea. Before he had time reach any sort of conclusion, the door opened again. This time a tawny- haired boy appeared, (bearing no signs of any pure-blood family that Sirius was forced to learn), took one proper look at his face, something like fear flared in his eyes, and then the door closed again. Great, thought Sirius, just getting better and better, do I look that Black? (he could not think of anything else that could be wrong with him) Finally a chubby, sandy haired boy appeared. He did run not run away at first sight of a Black, though Sirius much doubted that he even knew what they were. Even better, Sirius had a mental image of his parents face if a boy like that, obviously Muggle-born or at most half-blood, would step into Grimauld place. Sirius decided that what ever his parents would dislike, would be good for him. Plus the boy seemed on awe of him. Finally someone with a proper attitude.
At the end of the train Remus was sitting alone in a compartment He could not find another one where people seemed stupid or Muggle-born enough. He caught a glimpse of a blond boy who looked promising, but he ended in that Black boy compartment Remus knew the look of all the pure-blood families as good as (if not better) pure-bloods themselves. His mother made sure of it, so that he would make no mistake in befriending one of them. Muggle-borns and the less intelligent were far less probable to realize that he was a werewolf, and, if necessary, were more likely be persuaded not to call the ministry if they would. Remus felt a pang of sadness, he hoped to find someone he could allow himself to talk to, at least once every while, but stifled it at once. Instead, how took out "Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time" and read undisturbed, until a food trolley lady knocked on his door. Remus decided to treat him self for once with a Chocolate frog. He privately believed that chocolate was the secret cure for everything, minus lycatrophy, even though...he can give a try, right? The lady´s hand shook when she handed him the chocolate and would not look him in the eyes. Remus guessed immediately the cause for this. It left him for the rest of the journey wondering if the teachers, who had to know, will be the same or worst.