Standing upright, Remus Lupin barely cleared four feet. Dark freckles dotted his creamy skin, accenting his soft, light features. Scars littered his body; some pink and fresh, others white with age, hidden beneath long pants and longer sleeves.
His hair was a sandy-brown complemented by warm, golden eyes, pools of honey that roamed the busy platform with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. He attributed his slight frame and soft features to his parents; the scars, however, he credited to his lupine conterpart.
Intelligent, shy, and good-natured, Rems was the most unseemly werewolf you could find.
Sirius Black, stiff as a board, stood obediantly next to his mother. Aching to bolt towards the scarlet steam engine, relax his posture, and attatch to his face the same easy smile donned by every other child on the platform, Sirius found it increasingly difficult to restrain himself. Blacks prided themselves in their regal demeanors and stiff upper lips. They did not, as his dearest mother was fond of saying, give way to the weakened emotions that were joy and elation. In Sirius' opinion, there were better ways of telling the world you were unhappy with your life, but he doubted his mother would find humor in his frankness. He chanced a glance upwards, and found his mother's steely eyes observing him with disdain.
"Go."
That was all Sirius needed. The small boy reached for his trunk, bounding through the thick white smoke billowing from one end of the Hogwarts Express. He made his way to the end of the train, walking with purpose and determination, not sparing a glance behind him. He was going.