Chapter 1 – The Boy Who Never Smiles
Disclaimer: I own the plot, the whole plot and nothing but the plot.
A/N: First of all: thanks a million to my new beta Ceanen! You've been great darling! Love you lots!
Secondly: to all those enlightened enough to be reading my story (yeah right!) thank you very much, I hope you enjoy it. Please leave a review when you're done, you can email me if you want. I promise to love you forever if you do! Remember that an objective, fair critique is the most helpful. But adoring fan mail is good too! And another thing, if you think you recognise any part of this from another fic, please forgive me, it wont be intentional. I have read MANY wonderful Marauder fics, the best among them being Cœur de Loupe by Lady Jaida. Go check it out; it's brilliant, honestly. I swear it was my inspiration, although this tale will be very different. Well, that's enough rambling for now! But do be sure to stroke my ego by commenting, please!
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry sipped daintily at his tea, apparently unaware of the fact that he had just thrown the lives of three people into an uproar.
"Well," he said, standing up, "I must be going. Thank you so much for the tea. Irish breakfast, I believe."
The younger man rose as well, staring his uninvited guest in the eye with a brand of pride that comes naturally to those who have little and hate being pitied.
"No, thank you… for coming," he said politely, shaking the proffered hand, "we will think about what you said."
"Of course. The decision is yours, and," he paused, "Remus'. Do let me know if you will be satisfied with the arrangements! I'll show myself out."
As he walked past, he winked one bright blue eye at the young boy standing in the hallway.
*
"…So you can go to Hogwarts, even though… despite your condition," finished Jean Lupin with some relief. There was pregnant pause, in which the two older occupants of the room watched their son nervously.
"Well?" Amélie asked at last, "Do you want to go?"
"I don't know," said Remus, his eyes carefully blank. Even so, his mother saw that for a moment before he composed himself, he looked lost. Her husband sighed, knowing they would get nothing more out of him.
"You can go then Remus," he said gently. As soon as the boy left the room, his shoulders sagged visibly.
"What are we going to do, Amélie? He won't talk to us. I don't know if he even can anymore!"
Amélie crouched down before the man she had married, taking his face in her hands and meeting his despairing gaze. She never lost hope; the word despair simply wasn't in her vocabulary. She smiled, her dark blue eyes regarding him evenly.
"We will send him to Hogwarts," she said in her soft tones, her voice still unmistakeably French, "and this man Dumbledore will look after him. He is the most powerful wizard in the world."
Jean nodded almost imperceptibly, then leaned forward, burying his hands in her hair and his face in her neck.
"I'm so sorry," he breathed as she slipped her arms around his shoulders, and his voice was laced with grief, "I should never have married you. It's all my fault, and I can't do anything about it."
"No one can blame a man for what his family does," she said, her voice uncommonly stern as she felt his tears on her neck, "and you weren't the only one who participated in our marriage. I was fully aware of what I was doing."
"Of course," Jean sighed, and she knew he was smiling. "Remus will go to Hogwarts. And we will have hope."
*
As Remus entered Diagon Alley his keen senses were assaulted by a barrage of sounds, sights and smells. Witches and wizards coursed through the street and in the shops, many of them wearing long, colourful robes and carrying various parcels and objects that were completely different from anything that could be seen in the rest of London.
Although he had grown up knowing of magic and the wizarding world, the boy had experienced little of it, and over the past years he had almost forgotten it existed. Dumbledore's visit had brought snippets of memory to the surface, such as images of sweeping the floor unaided, talking mirror and faces appearing in grates. Now, surrounded by magical phenomena, a little more had come flooding back, although he was unsure of what was real and what he had read or heard. But when memories have been buried for a long time, it isn't always easy to resurrect them, especially if they bring great pain.
*
Jean watched his son carefully as they visited Gringotts Bank and made their way through the various shops buying robes and equipment. However, the boy's face remained devoid of any emotion, except for a flicker of longing in the bookshop. Jean immediately bought Remus every book he showed any interest in, but only ten minutes later the young werewolf had returned to his normal state of indifference. Frustration welled up bitter as bile within the tired man as he longed desperately to find something that would make his child feel.
*
Dust filled Remus' lungs as he stepped into a dingy, dimly lit shop. The walls were lined with shelf upon shelf of unmarked rectangular boxes, haphazardly strewn about, with no system of organisation evident.
"Can I be of some help?" said a voice that sounded as dusty as the room itself.
"Mr Ollivander?" asked Jean, "I am looking for a wand for my son."
The man nodded thoughtfully, stepping closer to take a look at Remus, peering keenly into the boy's eyes, as if he were looking for some mark or sign.
"Indeed, Mr …?"
"Lupin." The younger man supplied.
"Aha. Bear with me, I have just the thing." The strange man retreated and began rooting in a haphazard pile of boxes, humming tunelessly as he worked.
"Hhhmmm, haaaaaa, hhhmmm, yes, here it is!" he turned around, tossing aside a box, and handed Remus a dark wooden rod, about a foot long and tapering at one end.
"Yew, 13 inches, and the core," he paused, his dark eyes unreadable, "werewolf hair."
The boy shuddered involuntarily; tightly clutching the wand, and jumping when coloured sparks shot from the end.
Ollivander smiled. "Oh yes," he said, "that's the one. Wave it about a bit."
Remus did as the man said, bringing his arm up and around in a smooth arc. A strange sensation shot through him like electricity leaving him reeling, and something stirred in the depths of his mind. He felt excited, although he barely recognized the emotion.
Jean saw the look in Remus' wide eyes, and felt a sudden, powerful surge of gratitude and relief. With it came a spark of hope, swelling despite his best efforts to ignore it. Perhaps he had been wrong all along. Perhaps Hogwarts and magic was the key to his son's future.
*
Platform 9 ¾ materialised rapidly before Remus, while witches, wizards and confused Muggle relatives alike bustled around him, pushing laden trolleys and staggering under the weight of large parcels, while sounds of yelled greetings and tearful farewells rang in his ears.
Lupin tugged his boy gently around to face him and knelt to button up the front of his jacket.
"You don't have to go Rem," he said quietly, "no one is making you."
"I know Dad. But," he paused, his face working "I think I want to go."
His father nodded mutely; stunned by the fact that Remus had voiced an emotion. Standing up, he pushed the trolley over to the train, and clapped his hand down on the child's shoulder, forcing a smile to hide his discomfort and sadness. He thought of how his wife had said goodbye to their son at the house, embracing him and kissing his forehead, but no such affectionate farewell came to Jean, and Remus didn't seem to expect it.
"Have a good time son, be careful" he said, his voice hoarse.
Remus nodded and turned, hauling the trunk after him, the moneybag pinned to the inside of his coat bouncing against his chest oddly comforting. He felt his father's eyes following him, and heard him yell "Write to us Remus!" just before he disappeared inside the train.
*
Remus sat staring out of the window, his elbow on the narrow arm of the seat, chin cupped in his hand. He had managed to drag the trunk into an empty compartment and push it under the bench he was now perched upon. He had already removed his jacket in favour of his new school robes, and he absently wandered what Hogwarts would be like. Even now he could feel his wand in his pocket, reminding him what he was. He was a wizard, yes, but also a beast. Would that be visible to the other students?
His train of thought was interrupted as the door opened violently, and two boys burst in, turning around to peer out into the corridor from which they had come. They didn't seem to notice that someone was there already, and after glancing at them once, Remus looked away again. He was used to being in the background.
*
When the boys turned to sit down, they saw that one of the seats was occupied already. A smallish boy with shaggily cut honey blond hair, obviously a first year, was staring idly out of the window, apparently oblivious to their presence, because he jumped when one of them approached him. The boy had silky black locks that just brushed the back of his neck, and dark, sparkling blue eyes looked out from a handsome face. He seemed to radiate charm and cheer.
"Hello," he said, "do you mind if we sit down? All the other carriages were full." Without waiting for a reply he flopped down onto the seat opposite Remus, smiling disarmingly. "I'm Sirius by the way. And this is James."
The other boy sat down with a nod. He too had black hair, but it was shorter and stuck out from his head untidily, giving him the appearance of someone who had just got out of bed.
"Hi," he said cordially, regarding Remus with dark, mischievous brown eyes partially hidden by glasses, "James Potter. Who are you?"
Just then the train lurched into movement. They were off.
If Remus had known anything about the rules of society, he might have realised he had been silent far longer than was normal, and he didn't even notice that both boys were looking at him with odd expressions.
"I'm Remus Lupin," the young wizard replied at last, gazing at the two newcomers with unabashed blankness, although he didn't seem in the least sullen.
James was busy trying to work out whether this quiet boy was simple, strange or just rude, when the door to the compartment slid open again, and a plump, sandy-haired face wearing an apologetic expression looked in.
"Um, sorry, can I come in?" he stuttered, sounding as if he were on the verge of tears, " It's just that I couldn't find anywhere else."
And so this newest addition to the carriage, who went by the name of Peter Pettigrew, was brought in, comforted, and introduced. Only moments after, a tiny witch came round wielding a little trolley loaded with all kinds of wizard snacks, and the boys managed to coax Remus into buying some with them. Soon, although Remus wasn't quite sure how it had happened, they were feasting on Pumpkin Pasties and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. He was inexplicably included in everything, for although he barely said a word and, despite Sirius' best efforts didn't smile once, he seemed eager to learn and please. It was a new experience for him, and he hadn't yet decided whether it was a pleasant one or not.
It also seemed that his schooling had already started, for he learned a lot on that train. He discovered, among many things, that in wizard photos the subjects could move, and that stories of witches on broomsticks were by no means unfounded. However, these revelations didn't completely surprise him; again he felt he could almost remember having known it all before.
As he listened to Sirius and James as they discussed Quidditch and talked about the four houses at Hogwarts, Remus felt strange. Having blocked out all emotion for so long, he didn't realise he was puzzled, and slightly resentful. How could he be a wizard, with magical parents, end up living as a Muggle and not knowing anything about his world? But almost as soon as the thought entered his mind, it was banished, and he found himself sucked back into the conversation. To them, Gryffindor House was the most desirable, and Slytherin the least so. They went on to talk of famous wizarding families and events, flooding Remus with new information. He found himself wondering what life at Hogwarts would be like for a young werewolf.