CHAPTER ONE
Remus Lupin
Remus' mother wakes him early, the bags under her eyes terribly prominent. Remus thinks she mustn't have slept at all the night before, for worrying about him. He wants to reassure her everything will be fine, but he's no more sure himself. She kisses the top of his head on her way out of his bedroom door, telling him to hurry up and get dressed and gesturing to the freshly ironed clothes she'd set out, draped carefully over the back of his rickety desk chair. The door creaks as she flits out, leaving Remus to his thoughts. He ponders the likelihood of completing a seven year stay at Hogwarts, and knows the odds are against him. There is far too much against him indeed, he feels. Prejudice, poverty, shyness and the fact that he is inescapably dangerous, to begin with. He turns to the clothing left for him – a light blue shirt with sleeves too long, bought at a garage sale, and his nicest pants, fading khakis with nice big pockets, patched only in the knees – and slips out of his old pyjamas. The shirt and khakis still feel warm from the iron and he hugs himself tightly, wondering why he didn't notice how cold he was before.
The petite three room cottage he shares with his mother and father, burrowed in the valley between two loping hills, doesn't have many windows to let the sunlight in, and the walls are primarily stone, leaving the sickly boy chilled most of his short life. His bare feet pad through the door and into the little nook between the staircase and his bedroom, the only room on the second floor. Hanging on the wall here is a faintly cracked mirror, into which he peers, cautiously. Remus has become fairly adjusted to the pale scars that mar his neck and disappear beneath the thick fabric of his shirt – or, rather, as adjusted as he feels he will ever come. There is the thick dark one which zig-zags past his ear to ruin his cheek. That one always gives him pause. He smooths his dark blonde hair, chin length and shaggy now, ready for a cut.
As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he nearly trips over his trunk, packed tight with robes and books the night before. Righting it again, he leans down and pulls a thin wand from the front pocket, running his hands over the wood in awe. Never before that shocking visit from the old lady - Professor McGonagal, she'd introduced herself - had he thought he would ever be in possession of such an instrument. He remembers his reluctance to enter the wand shop, having been told that "the wand chooses the wizard." Remus had been utterly, dreadfully, positive that no wand could choose him, that he hardly counted as a wizard to begin with. It had been his mother who had urged him inside, insisting that he at least try, and so try he did, feeling heavy and scared. The joy he'd felt when, finally, a shower of sparks in red and gold had burst from this very wand had brought on a warm, happy feeling that, perhaps, just maybe, this counted as proof that Dumbledore hadn't made a mistake. He tries to remember that feeling through his nervousness and anticipation. He slips the wand into one of those nice big pockets in his pants.
When Remus enters the main room, furnished with a homey wooden table and chairs, an overstuffed lavender couch with white thread embroidery and a little stove on which a blackened pan rests, he is hit by the satisfying scent of french toast and sausage, a warm breakfast he hasn't been treated to for nearly as long as he can remember. His prematurely greying mother is trying her best to put on a brave face about her son being alone for the first time in his life. His mother and father worry endlessly about their frail, studious son and his dangerous condition, and Remus knows deep down she wishes he'd stay here with her. At this he feels guilty, but can't bring himself to turn down Hogwarts, the one thing he had always wanted most, never thinking he would get it.
When he finishes his breakfast, which feels wonderfully warm in his belly, Remus runs back upstairs to retrieve what anyone else would assume was merely a worn down notebook, perhaps printed with school notes or to-do lists, but means much more to Remus. He is horrified to find it missing from his bedside table, an empty spot of wood visible where it had once lain nestled in the clutter of his other trinkets. Tearing through his drawers and listening with growing panic to his mother's calls imploring that he hurry up, Remus fears the worst. Can he have lost it? He can't go to Hogwarts without it, for printed on those worn pages, after hours of careful calculation, is the moon cycle for the coming school year, written out in black ink one afternoon at the kitchen table, with the help of his father. If Remus has lost that book his school year could be hellish. Just thinking of the terrible things that could go wrong makes him feel sick, he has to be able to plan ahead for the full moon. He comes dashing down the stairs, calling to his mother that he can't find his lunar cycle – and rounds the corner to find her waving it lazily in the air at him, a smirk pulling at the lips which too often turn down. She shakes her head at him, explaining that in his excitement to get to bed the last night he had managed to leave it spread out on the couch, where he had been re-checking the dates. He laughs shakily in relief at first, then at his overreaction.
His mother rolls her eyes, smiling tiredly before striding across the room and slipping it into the front pocket of his trunk. She stands and brushes her frizzy hair out of her eyes, pointing a stern finger at Remus and making him promise to be more careful about where he leaves the telling notebook lying around when he gets to school. He looks at the floor, thinking of the consequences. Fear, contempt, rejection. Not that he expects to be particularly accepted as is, but being cast out as a shy, sickly bookworm is surely better than being scorned as a wretched monster. He nods, shamefaced. Remus is rarely so careless, he had to mature very quickly to adapt to his burden. His mother rubs his back and he grabs his trunk, the two leaving through the thick green door of their cottage, down the stone steps, across the grass and into their beat up second hand car, pausing only to load the trunk into the backseat. As Mrs. Lupin starts the car, Remus pulls his knees to his chest and presses his face to the window to watch as the white walls and green trim of the homey, secluded cottage slip behind the hills and out of sight.
The trip to the strip mall is pot-holed and bumpy, the old car creaking in protest and its inhabitants bouncing in their seats. The trip to the mall is also long, an hour at least before they reach the spot where Mr. Lupin is to be waiting to apparate them to the station. An hour is a long time for a nervous little boy to sit and reflect on what's to come. He reflects on the horror of someone discovering his secret, of spending the full moon away from home for the very first time, waking up to someone other than his mother's caring face in the sturdy padlocked shed behind their cottage. By the time they turn onto the paved road of the town, Remus feels ready to throw up and is trying to work up the courage to beg his mother to turn around and just take him home. The only thing that stops him is knowing that she would.
The car rocks to a halt in a dauntingly large parking lot situated beside a chain department store. Through the windshield, Remus spots Mr. Lupin leaning against the side of the building and pops open his door, ducking out of the car and reaching to take his trunk from the backseat. His mother waves him off, grabbing the trunk herself and following behind him as he instead goes to his father, being enveloped in a tight hug. His father had gone to work early that morning so that he could get time off to take them to King's Cross. He works very hard to pay for Remus' hospital bills and is rarely home. When Remus' mother reaches them Mr. Lupin takes the trunk from her and kisses her hello, then asks Remus if he is ready for Hogwarts. The child has no real answer, shrugging his shoulders slightly and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. His parents' eyes meet worriedly. Mr. Lupin offers an arm to each of them, Mrs. Lupin reminding her son to hold on tightly as her husband disapparates.
Upon reaching King's Cross, everything begins to happen very quickly, in Remus' opinion. They arrive and are off scurrying down the platform before he even has time to get his bearings back after the nauseated feeling that so often accompanies apparition. His mother is dragging him by the hand into a throng of muggles, complaining that they'll be late for sure at this rate. There are altogether too many people here, Remus decides, and all with only one thing in mind – where they have to go. He worries that if he gets jostled by one more rushing train boarder he might get separated from his parents. His scarred hands cling more tightly to his mother's.
The three of them reach Platform 9, but his father keeps walking until he reaches the pillar between it and Platform 10. The entrance to the magical Platform 9 ¾, Remus knows. They each casually slip through, Remus still clutching his mother's fingers so tightly they've turned nearly as pale as his own. Finally, the train. The moment Remus lays eyes on it, he stops in his tracks, looking up in awe. It shines brightly in the magically created sunlight, as though it is newly waxed, and it is so huge Remus takes a moment to ponder how long it would take him to walk all the way from one end to another. And the children! Surrounding and filling the train are more children than Remus had ever thought he'd see, all toting trunks and wands and spellbooks. At first he merely tries to take it all in, but soon anxiety takes hold. The other students are so childlike, chasing each other about, laughing and shrieking, Remus finds it all very intimidating. Through most are older than him – returning students – Remus is much more careworn, haggard beyond his years and theirs. He knows how all of those children were raised, believing things that to them are tidbits of wisdom from their parents, but to him are condemning. They've grown up accepting that half-breeds, like werewolves and centaurs, are dangerous and fundamentally wrong, to be rooted out before they can corrupt the human race any further. Remus oft wonders if they are right.
But his doting mother and father, and the brilliant Professor Dumbledore, have deemed it safe for him to go to Hogwarts and he decides to trust their judgement, burying his concerns and trying to regain the excitement he had felt that morning. Remembering his wand, that it, at least, has faith in him, Remus turns to say goodbye to his parents. They catch him in a tight embrace and his father whispers that he'll have a wonderful time. His mother pulls back and takes Remus' face in her hands, and looking into her eyes he sees for the first time how truly worried she is. She asks him quietly to please be careful, to stay safe and happy out there on his own. He tells her he'll try and turns to go, bending to pick up his trunk and boarding the train that will bring him to the next chapter of his life, good or bad.
Alright! If you've gotten to this point, I thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed. There will be more chapters to come, the next one features Sirius' point of view, if you're interested. Any reviews and constructive criticism are extremely appreciated, but I make no demands. Thanks again for your time, leave a review and I hope you read on. =)