Rising of the Moon

Part One

Year One

Element One

And Here in the Night

Authors Notes:

This will later be slash, but since they're all eleven, everyone is safe for some time.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

This started as a drabble, but it. . . evolved. I like the Maruaders begins stories, and I thought I'd write one of my own, and then the web sort of. . . grew. It's a long story, but I have a lot finished, and it actually might end up spanning this generation and Harry's. I haven't decided that yet.

Anyway, a lot of stories have Remus with a loving family, but with the way werewolves are treated in the books, I thought that Remus wouldn't have a loving family. That maybe it all started out sort of like. . . this.

Please, enjoy.

oOooOo

Remus Lupin sat on his nest on the floor, a single ratty blanket and a small, hard pillow, and stared at the blank stone wall. He was dressed in nothing but his under robe, a simple white sleevless shift. Well, it was supposed to be white. Days of going unwashed and time after time of washing it without soap and in hard water had made it smelly and turned the color a dull gray.

It was mid-summer, and his small windowless room, lit only by the small holes near the rafters that allowed the air in but no breeze, was stifiling hot. He was sweating and sticky, his long greasy hair sticking to his neck and face in hot clumps. The honey colored mass, mixed with chestnut streaks, reached to his waist, and fell in scragly strings. It hadn't been cut since he'd arrived at the orphanage at the age of five when he had recieved The Bite.

Two small and seemingly insignifigent words that made all the difference in his miserable life. If he hadn't left his house to go play outside with his elder brother, if he hadn't wandered into the woods while playing hide and seek, if he had only died, even, then he wouldn't be in the situation he was.

Eleven year old Remus Lupin was a werewolf. The bite that marked him as such was just under his arm, on his back where his shoulder connected to the trunk of his body. It had stayed red and fresh looking to this day, small puncture marks in the shape of the werewolf's mouth. Tiny little dots that followed the pattern of the beast's teeth. He had been bitten at the age of five when he and his older brother had sneaked from the house to play a game of hide and go seek in the bright moonlight in the woods near their home. Justin was fine. He had not even seen the werewolf. Remus, who had been known as John at the time, was not. He had been bitten, then disowned when they discovered that once a month he would turn into a bloodthirsty monster.

Stripped of his family and name, Remus renamed himself after the supposed first werewolf--he was smart for a five year old, always reading instead of playing the "manly" games his father would have liked--and Lupin, his own personal joke as it was a twisted form of lupis, the canine family in Latin.

And all of that was how he came to this. A lonely little abandoned boy with no history and a name that he had given himself stuck in a hot room with no windows that had a locked door, a silver door handle, no way out, and without a bed. There were three things in his room besides his ratty blanket nest the first being a small, battered trunk where he put his things during the full moon, kept the only robe he owned, and the only books he owned. The only thing that kept him sane in this small, empty room. The second was a bucket he kept water in, his weekly rations, and the third was a chamber pot. He was allowed out of the room once a week, and all his meals were passed to him through the locked cat-flap at the bottom of the door.

He moved and a soft jangle from his dogtags, the tags that marked him as the monster he was, caught his attention. He could be denied many things by those tags. A job, medical care, service in a resteraunt, admission to a school, things that he needed to have to get by. They did have their uses, his blood type, his name, what he was allergic to, his next of kin--currently blank--and things like that, but it was hardly helpful now.

He sighed and put his head in his hands. He was eleven years old and should have received a letter by now accepting him to a wizarding school, but no such letter ever came. The ones that had all turned him down, and several of the other headmasters had come to taunt the small werewolf that had the gall to ask to be admitted to their school. Remus felt his eyes fill with tears. He was so weak, so stupid to believe that anyone could ever want him.

"All I want is someone to care," Remus muttered brokenly. The only time he was allowed to talk was when he was alone. "Is that so much to ask?"

But appearently it was, and Remus fell into a fitful sleep full of nightmares.
oOooOo

"I have heard you have a magical student here," Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, turned to the headmaster of the orphanage. "I thought this place was only for squibs."

"It was, but the ministry got a male werewolf dumped on their doorstep so I got it dumped on me. I can see why its parents didn't want it, horrid creatures they are. I can't see why they didn't just kill it, though. Would have made everyone's lives a bit easier for us," The man sneered at the thought of the werewolf that soiled his perfect home.

"May I speak to the boy?" Dumbledore frowned. Surely the boy would be getting a magical education. "Where is he going to school?"

"Who'd want it?" The headmaster snorted, incredulous. "No, it's stuck here. I ain't teaching it, that's for certain, and the ministry sure ain't. Its had a buch of schools reject it already. Not that it could even pay for a school if it could actually go."

"He needs to learn control!" Dumbledore protested. "He has magical abilities that must be trained!"

"It has no reason for control, it'd only turn to evil."

Dumbledore wore a tight-lipped expression, eyes dark with anger. "May I speak with him, Smyth?"

"Of course. The little rat's probably got its room in a right mess, it can't do anything right, but you can talk to it, sure."

Dumbledore did, quite frankly, depise this man, but he also needed to speak to the boy. "Lead the way, then."

Smyth shrugged and lead Dumbledore into a remote part of the orphanage, deary and molding with age. "Why is he so far from the others?"

"They didn't want it near them," Smyth turned the corner into a hall. "We keep it locked in here most of the time so it can't hurt anyone else."

"You lock him in a room?" Dumbledore demanded, trying to remain calm. "How could you do such a thing to a child?"

"Don't get me wrong, Headmaster Dumbledore, but this thing ain't no child. It's a werewolf and I treat it right proper. I'm only concered with keeping my students safe! You might think you're the smartest man that ever lived but you take it from me, that thing ain't fit for society."

"You listen to me!" Dumbledore roared, "Werewolves are harmless people every night but that of the full moon! If he is uncontrolable, then that is entirely your fault!"

Smyth cringed back, unable to stand up to the angry headmaster.

They arrived at a small door set in a cracked plaster wall and Smyth unlocked it, pulling it open. "You've got a visitor," Smyth sneered.

"Is it my parents?" The small voice, through raspy, sounded so hopeful. "Have they come to take me home?"

"You idiot," Smyth sneered, stepping forward and slapping the boy. "No one wants a monster like you."

"I-I'm sorry--" A tearful voice whispered, crackling slightly. "I just thought--"

"You don't think, you hear me, wolf? You are a werewolf. An animal--" Smyth slapped him again and this time a cry passed the boy's lips.

"Get out, Smyth," Dumbledore snarled. His power seemed to radiate from his body. "Now."

"Lock the door when you've finished speaking to it," Smyth threw the headmaster a heavy silver key.

"Go."

Smyth fled down the hall.

Dumbledore entered the room, flipping on a small light. A child of about eleven sat huddled in one corner, head bent. His light brown hair was greasy and hung in lank strings to the middle of his back. He was obviously underfed, and malnourised, and no one appeared to be taking proper care of him after the nights of the full moon. Wolf gold eyes stared at the headmaster from a pale face covered in partially dried tear tracks. The two stared at each other before the boy softly asked, "Who are you?" And then cringed.
oOooOo

Remus looked up at the sound of voices approaching. One was a deep man's voice. Maybe his father's! The door unlocked and Remus could feel the hope within him swell. "You've got a visitor," Mr. Smyth all but sneered.

Remus sat up at attention, hope shining through golden eyes. "Is it my parents? Have they come to take me home?" He winced as his voice rasped slightly.

"You idiot," Remus could hear the sneer in his voice. "No one wants a monster like you." A slap accented his words.

"I-I'm sorry--" He could feel the tears falling down his cheeks, his voice cracked, and his shoulders fell in total defeat. "I just thought--"

"You don't think, you hear me, wolf? You're just a werewolf, an animal--" Another slap. Remus clenched his eyes shut but didn't manage to hold back a cry.

"Get out, Smyth," The new voice snarled. "Now."

Remus ignored the rest of the conversation and noticed footsteps retreating down the hall when an old man entered. His hair fell past his waist and his beard could have touched the floor were it just a few inches longer. Remus knew he was staring, he'd probably be hit for it later, when he croaked, "Who are you?"

He realized his mistake as it happened and cringed, waiting for the sure-to-come slap that always accompanied his speech. When no blow fell he risked a look up. The man was watching his carefully, eyes raking over his greasy, dirty hair and pitifully thin frame. "I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardary."

"Have you come to taunt me, too?" Remus finally asked, eyes filling with tears determined to speak his mind even though the man would probably beat him. "The headmaster of Logan's Academy did. I know I can't go to school there, you don't have to tell me. I'd just be a danger to everyone. I know that. I guess I really am useless. Can't even learn magic without messing it up. Maybe my parents were right. I should just up and die. They disowned me, you know. I don't have their last name anymore, even. I gave this one to myself. I can take rejection. It's okay."

"Remus," Dumbledore began. Remus shuddered when no slap came, and Dumbledore frowned. "How long has it been since you've heard your own name?" He watched the child closely as he answered.

"I tell it to myself everyday so I don't forget. It's on my tags, too," Remus told him, cringing back again.

"When was the last time someone else said it to you?"

"Since before they. . . before they knew." Remus sniffed. "It's--It's all right. Just. . . get it over with. I know I can't go, so just say it. Mr. Lupin, we can't accept you--" He broke off, eyes filling with tears and had to begin again. "Mr. Lupin, we can't accept you--can't accept you into Hogwarts S-s-school of Witchcraft and Wizardry because you are a werewolf--" He choked, hiding his face to hide his tears. He had so hoped that maybe, just maybe there would be one school that would let him enter, let him enroll. It really hurt to finally have his one hope, one final and only dream, die. Dumbledore sat down next to him with a surprising spryness that Remus wouldn't have guessed he possessed. Remus looked up, shocked that anyone would sit next to him, much less by choice. He was no longer worried about being slapped. If the headmaster was going to hit him, he surely would have done so by then.

"Mr. Lupin, you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardary despite your condition." Dumbledore finally said.

"See I knew--" Remus processed the words. "That's not very funny."

"I would say that's a good thing since it wasn't a joke," Sincere warmth shone through sparkling blue eyes partially convered with half-moon specticals.

"You mean it? I can--I can go to Hogwarts?" Remus asked, breathless in shock and hope. Then his face fell. "I don't have any money, sir. I still can't go. I'm sorry, sir. It was nice of you to offer, but I--"

"We will deal with money matters later, Remus. But do you want to go to Hogwarts?"

Remus's heart began to pound. He had wanted nothing more that that since he had first heard his parents tell stories of their days in the school. "Could I really?" He breathed.

"Just say yes," Dumbledore instructed. "And you will be able to go."

"Yes, yes, please yes," Remus trembled from head to toe. "Just tell me what I have to do."

"We will have someone come a fetch you to buy robes and a wand," Dumbledore grinned, and turned away. "Here is your letter."

Remus took the parchment and licked him lips. "Thank you, sir," He breathed. "Thank you." He was ready to throw his arms around the aging headmaster when he stopped, remembering the last time he tried to hug anyone. He'd been throw roughly away, harshly hitting a wall, then hit for presuming that he was allowed to even touch someone else and risk infecting them.

Albus noticed, and smiled, gathering the boy into his arms and hugging him tightly. Remus tensed for a moment, but sucumbed to the hug, clinging to the elderly man as tightly as he could. He hadn't been hugged like that since--since before.

Then, with one last smile, and a swish of his robes, Albus Dumbledore was gone.
oOooOo

It was several days later before he was allowed to go to Diagon Alley with the letter Dumbledore had given him, telling him the details about the vault he would have. It contained a sum of money that had to get him through all seven years of school so it would be prudent to spend it wisely.

Remus had never had money before, and he was determined not to waste a bit of it. He was, however, waiting for the professor that would accompany him to Diagon Alley. He had dressed in his nicest--and only--robe, freshly washed. His shift had been washed too. It had taken him his final water rations for the week, but at least they were clean.

"He's here, werewolf." Smyth ripped the door open and grabbed Remus' collar. "This is the werewolf."

The teacher was sour looking with sallow skin, a large flat nose, and was balding. He grabbed Remus' collar away from the director of the orphanage and growled. Remus flinched back, his legs nearly giving out, and tried his best to follow him down the hall. After years of being locked in his small room as well as malnutrition and dehydration, Remus had very little muscle mass and was dreadfully weak.

"Hurry up you stupid moron," The man growled. "I am Professor Terrin. You will address me as sir. Nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Remus murmured. Why had he even entertained the thought that school would be different than the orphanage? His secret would probably get out and he'd be expelled in less than a year. But at least he would be there for a little while.

"Good." Terrin growled, dragging him to the front walk and called the Night Bus. Remus was struggling to stay afoot and was glad the bus had places to sit. At least, they did until the man saw his dogtags.

"You're lucky we're letting you ride this bus," The driver growled. "You can stand in the back. Don't touch a the beds."

Remus' shoulder's slumped and he nodded in a dejected fashion, walking slowly past the rows of beds to the back of the bus to sit on the hard floor. The driver flicked his wand and a collar with a chain attached to the wall locked itself about his neck. He tucked himself into a ball and tried to keep his tears at bay, sniffing slightly.

Why was it always him?
oOooOo

A while later, Remus was unsure of exactly how long, and they arrived at the small pub called the Leaky Cauldron. Remus kept his head down as he was drug inside by Terrin, hoping to avoid notice. "Be back here in four hours with everything. You won't have another chance. I'll be waiting in here, understand?" Terrin snapped, and Remus nodded in fright, backing away from the man.

The bartender looked up, eyeing Remus' tags for a moment, then offered the small werewolf a tiny smile. "How about I get you a drink and get your charge to Diagon Alley, how's that, Terrin?"

"Good." Terrin nodded and Tom served him a drink and took Remus back to the gate to Diagon Alley.

Remus cringed as they walked out of the crowded pub, wondering what Tom was going to do. "No need to fear me, child," Tom chuckled. "I get all types in here. I'm not going to harm you. Just do as Terrin says and you'll be all right."

"Thank you, sir," Remus bowed and walked through the archway into the wizarding world. He first headed to Gringotts, the wizarding bank, keeping his head down. No one spared the small figure a second glance, but they did all check their pockets as the smelly child passed by.

He was only three and a half feet tall and all skin and bone. The trip had taxed him already and he had not yet made it to the bank. Remus shook his head. He would never be a good wizard, he couldn't even walk alone. Needed someone to drag him along by the collar.

It took him thirty minutes to get to the bank, and when he did, he nearly cried. The doors leading inside were silver. If he didn't touch it, he should be fine, but silver made him scared. He limped through and made his way to the counter, handing them the letter that Dumbledore had given him. All he could think was that he had no idea what he'd do it the goblins turned him out. They could, of course, as he was a werewolf.

"Every thing seems to be in order," The goblin told him. Then handed him a bag of money. Remus looked through it and noticed that there were no sickles, only gallons and knuts. "If you need more, you shall have to write the headmaster," The goblin added, then shooed Remus on his way. Remus bowed, then hurried from the bank, worried about what the goblin might do if they discovered he was a werewolf.

First it was off to the wand shop. Ollivander was expecting him, muttering about his parents (he was terribly confused), and then the little man was searching for the "perfect" wand. He didn't find it for nearly an hour, and Remus growing concerned that he wouldn't get done in time, but then something happened. A curious thing, Mr. Ollivander called it. He picked up a wand, ten inches, elder wood, with a phonix feather. Fitting, Remus thought, that a tree standing for both banishment and magical ability should be his. One foot in the wizarding world, but never fully able to belong to it.

After that, he felt well enough to wander over to the robe shop and get several second hand robes. So far, no one had looked twice at his tags, though it was a close thing in the robe shop. Still, few people wore the size he did and it had been hard to find robes--never mind a cloak--but he now had several new pairs, many graying and with a few patches as well as ragged hems, but better than the ones he now wore, and a cloak.

Then he hurried to get his potions ingredients, scales, phials, and cauldron. He was kicked out of one potions store and it was nearly half an hour until he found another one, and he realized his time was almost two thirds of the was over. A rushed trip to the book store, and one to find some dragon hide gloves, and Remus counted his money. A brief smile lite his face as he realized that he had saved enough by buying second hand to get a new trunk, blanket, pillow, and watch.

This was exciting for a boy that had never had anything new in his life after the incident. Even after that he had a little extra, and wandered into a small toy shop he found near the pub. He had about fifteen minutes before he had to be back, and he wanted a way to entertain himself after he finished his books.

What he found instead was a stuffed wolf, the perfect size for hugging. It was gray with amber colored eyes. It was also charmed to stay clean--always important--and to act a little like a dog. Walk around, fetch things, and cuddle on command. Remus was in love. He had never had anything like that in his life, at least not that he could remember, but when he looked at the price tag, his face fell. It was just a little too much. Slowly he put it back and turned to go, not really wanting anything else, when he ran into a large man.

Twice Remus' height and four times wider at least, he was a rather frightening vision for the small eleven year old despite his wide smile. "What's the matter, kid?"

Remus looked down, refusing to speak, and shook his head, silently offering him a glimpse at his dog tags. "Ah, a werewolf, hey? Good choice for you, then, kid."

Remus blinked up. Everyone else that had found out had kicked him out. Unless he was paying to leave. Then they just told him not to come back. "Why aren't you going to buy it?" The man didn't seem to get the hint. He looked Remus over for real, taking in his ratty, dirty clothes, then nodded. "Can't afford it, huh?"

"I almost can," Remus said in a near whisper. "It's ten knuts and I have seven."

"Sold," The man chuckled. "Come on, let's get that in a bag, okay?" He led Remus to the counter and took the seven knuts, then handed Remus the stuffed toy.

"Thank you," Remus murmured, then left, holding his bags tightly. He didn't see the man offer him a sad smile and add three knuts to the drawer from his own pocket. He had just enough time to get back to the pub before his time was up, and very nearly missed Terrin, who was angry he had made it and was four times rougher on the journey home which took a major toll on his already tired body.

When he reached the orphanage, he collapsed back into his blanket, not caring about the locked door or lack of water or food or anything, and held his new--and only--toy close, then fell fast asleep.
oOooOo