Eleven-year-old Remus Lupin was eating breakfast with his mother and father when someone knocked on the door.

Lyall Lupin glanced at his wife, who shrugged, just as confused as he. It was only 7:30 a.m., a bit early for door-to-door salesmen, the only unexpected visitors to the Lupin home.

Still, ever polite, Hope stood up and opened the door.

"Good afternoon," a pleasant sounding voice said. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. May I come in?"

Then a strange thing happened. Remus watched as his father's face drained of all color, and the wizard jumped up and slammed the door in the stranger's face.

"Lyall!" His mother gasped, scandalized at such treatment of a guest.

"Hide Remus," Lyall said urgently. "There's no time to explain."

"Huh?" Remus said, dropping his porridge spoon. For some reason, his mother followed the direction without question, whisking Remus away from the table and rushing him into the bathroom.

"In the linen cabinet dear, hurry," his mother whispered urgently.

"What's going on?" Remus demanded. He was a polite and soft-spoken child, but this was just madness.

"Please love, just be quiet now," his mother begged. Despite his confusion, Remus recognized the fear in her eyes and fell silent

"HOPE!" Lyall's voice called urgently from the kitchen.

"There's no need for such panic," Remus heard the stranger's voice carry into the bathroom, where his mother was still trying to shove him into the linen cabinet. It was no use – Remus was far too big. From the sound of footsteps, it sounded as though the stranger had somehow made his way into the house.

"Please, leave us," Lyall was saying, sounding desperate.

"Dear man, I do understand your concern, but you misunderstand why I'm here," the man called Dumbledore said. "If you would just let me explain…"

"Please just leave us in peace!" Remus was tense. He'd never heard such panic in his father's voice, not since that night…

"But then I'd be unable to deliver my message, and it's one you'll want to hear, I assure you."

"My wand, Hope, where is my wand?" Lyall shouted frantically.

"Really, just let me see your son, I assure you I mean him no harm. But do you really suppose you can get the better of me if it comes to a duel? Clearly you're aware of who I am."

"Why would you mean my son harm?" Lyall asked defensively.

Remus heard footsteps coming down the hall. His mother, realizing the linen cabinet was a failure, was squeezing him into her, as if trying to protect him with her body. Remus went cold. He knew what wizards thought of werewolves. He knew about the registry and he'd heard about vigilantes who took it upon themselves to target werewolves at their most vulnerable and exterminate them. Is that was this man was?

The bathroom door opened, and the stranger, who sported a long white beard and spectacles, kneeled down to Remus' level. His mother squeezed him tightly but it was no use – it was clear this man was a wizard and his Muggle mother could not protect him.

"Hello Remus," the man said softly. "Do you know who I am?"

"No," Remus responded, his voice barely a whisper. He tried to look around the man for his father, but he could not see him.

The man just smiled. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I'm the headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And I'm here because I'd very much like for you to attend next year, though judging from your parents' reaction I may have to do some persuading."

"Remus cannot attend Hogwarts," his father appeared as if out of nowhere. "He's too sickly."

"On the contrary, as I understand it, your son's condition is only a problem once a month," Dumbledore said firmly.

His mother gasped. "How do you – who are you?!"

The man just smiled again. "As I said, I'm the headmaster at Hogwarts," he told her.

Hope looked at her husband for confirmation.

"I have heard the unfortunate circumstances that fell upon your son," Dumbledore said. "And I am here, not to reveal this secret or do you harm, but to offer your son a place at our school."

Lyall eyed Dumbledore suspiciously. "What circumstances are you referring to?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "The fact that your son had an unfortunate run-in with a transformed werewolf as a child."

Remus felt his mother squeeze him again, and he felt a jolt of fear run through him. His fears had been correct. This man knew his secret. The secret his parents had so painstakingly tried to hide. The one that left them with little money, moving from place to place as to avoid strange questions and unwanted discoveries.

"But then you know that I'm a werewolf," Remus said to the man called Dumbledore. "I can't go to school with normal children."

The man just smiled back at him. "It's true, you are a werewolf," he said calmly. "But isn't it also true that you're a wizard?"

The boy was unsure of how to respond to this and looked to his father, who was staring at the back of Dumbledore's head with a peculiar dreamy expression on his face.

"You're serious?" His mother whispered. "You can really give him a place at school?"

Dumbledore turned to the woman and nodded. "I am entirely serious, Mrs. Lupin. I believe your son deserves an education, just like any other child in the magical world."

Is that really true? Remus wondered. Once a month, he became a terrible monster. Once a month, he howled and slobbered like an animal and ripped himself apart, just as he would rip everyone else apart if ever given the chance in that form. He did not want to hurt anyone else.

"Wouldn't it be nice," Dumbledore said gently, "to stay in one place for a while?" He addressed the question not just to Remus but to his parents as well.

It would be nice, quite nice. The Lupins hadn't stayed in one place for more than a year ever since the attack.

Lyall was shaking his head. "But his condition…"

"Is something I can make arrangements for," Dumbledore finished for him. "Mr. Lupin, I understand you're only trying to protect your son. But I assure you I'm more than capable of handling his accommodations."

"How did you find out?" Lyall whispered.

At this, Dumbledore lost the smile on his face. "I cannot go into great detail on that," he said. "But to summarize, in these dark times I am doing what I can do protect our way of life. Sometimes that includes associating with certain types of people, and placing spies among the darkest corners of our wizarding world. One such spy happens to have spent some time with a man named Fenrir Greyback."

"Owww," Remus' mother had dug her nails into his arm at the sound of the name. "Who is Fenrir Greyback?" He asked, rubbing his arm.

But the adults all ignored him. His father clearly understood Dumbledore's explanation, although Remus certainly did not. Remus filed the name away, to look into at a later time.

"So you'll really give Remus a spot at Hogwarts?" Lyall asked, sounding as if he couldn't believe it.

"Yes, if of course, that is what he wants," Dumbledore turned back to Remus, the smile once again on his face. "What do you think, Remus?"

The boy hesitated. "Are you sure I won't be able to hurt anyone?" He asked. He did very much want to learn magic. His father had promised to take him for a wand and teach him all he could, but that certainly wouldn't compare to an established education at a well-known institution. However, he could not bear the idea that his presence might put others in danger. He wasn't worth that.

"Entirely sure," Dumbledore said. "Now, why don't we discuss this in a more comfortable setting, perhaps somewhere other than the loo?"

/

"MUM!" Peter Pettigrew squealed excitedly. "The letter came! The letter came!"

"Of course it did, dear," his mother said fondly. "Did you expect anything else?"

The rotund little boy had privately nursed concerns for the last few months that he wouldn't be accepted - despite his mother's constant assurances that he had displayed some magical ability as a child and everyone was welcome at Hogwarts.

"Does this mean I can get a wand? And a cauldron?" He was beside himself with excitement. Hogwarts would be a fresh start from their life in the little Muggle village in the hills. It was a quaint enough place, and he loved his mother dearly, but the Muggle boys thought him a bit strange and the Muggle girls thought him rather gross - though his mother constantly assured him that that was the way all children viewed the opposite gender until around 13 or so. He longed for real friends - the kind that laughed and pulled pranks together - a gang that were always spotted together, no matter what the place or the time.

"We can go day after next," his mother promised him. "A wand of course. And books and new robes. Though I'd hoped perhaps you'd be interested in taking my cauldron? It's been in the family for generations and is still perfectly good."

Peter nodded furiously. Once he had a wand, he could begin practicing his spell work. He planned to make up for any deficit in magical ability with sheer hard work, and hopefully he'd be able to hide any shortcomings by practicing before he arrived at school. He was determined to make friends quickly - he didn't want to be the odd man out like he so often found himself.

He was a bit nervous about the sorting - his mother had been a Hufflepuff - he figured that sounded nice enough. But secretly he dreamed of being placed in Gryffindor - "where dwell the brave at heart." He doubted he stood much a chance being sorted into the bookish and clever Ravenclaw house, and Slytherin seemed to require a level of ambitious and cunning that he felt was beyond him. But he could learn to be brave and chivalrous - that was the kind of person he so badly wanted to be. And Hogwarts would be the way to become that person.

Peter had never known his father - the man had died just before he was born. His mother rarely spoke of him - it was too hard - but there was a picture of the two of them on the mantle over the fireplace. Mildred Pettigrew was just starting to get a big round belly, for she'd been pregnant will Peter when the photograph was taken. She was smiling up at her husband, and occasionally raised a hand to touch his cheek.

The man smiled back and when she reached up he took her hand in his and laid it on the side of his face. Sometimes the other hand would sneak down to her belly. They looked so very happy.

Peter had only recently discovered the nature of his father's death - he'd uncovered an old copy of the Daily Prophet.

Aurors have been called in to investigate after a wizard was murdered by use of the Killing Curse outside his office in Diagon Alley.

A Ministry spokesman identified the victim as 31-year-old Paul Pettigrew, who worked for as a liaison between parents of Muggle-born children and the rest of the wizarding world.

Pettigrew was found half past six, still wearing his watch and with his wallet in his pocket. Sources close to the investigation say robbery does not appear to be the motive. Other business owners in the area tell us Pettigrew was a friendly man.

"Pleasant bloke, always up for a quick firewhiskey at the Leaky Cauldron. Often came in shopping with his clients and their children - wanting to ensure fair business on all sides," said Hebert Huffalump, who runs a newsstand outside Pettigrew's office. "Can't imagine anyone having a problem with him. Terrible shame."

Officials have not identified a suspect at this time and are asking anyone with information to come forward.

When Peter first found the article, he finally understood why his mother barely spoke of his father. She'd probably felt it was too ghastly to discuss with a young child, and that he'd be frightened.

Indeed it was a ghastly discovery, and Peter was frightened to think that a killer once targeted his father and might still be out there. But he knew he must be strong for his mother, and be the man of the house that she had lost. So he'd resolved not to ask her about it, and instead to look for hints about his father when he made it to Hogwarts next year. Perhaps he was on the Quidditch team once, or won some award, or maybe some of the older teachers remembered him. He hoped to make some kind of discovery once he was at school.

But for now he was just excited to be going. He fell asleep that night with his Hogwarts letter on his chest.

/

"Sirius Orion!" The boy groaned when he heard his mother call for him. He'd been enjoying a bit of a lie-in on a rainy July morning, but it seemed that was over now.

He dragged himself mournfully from his bed and down three flights of stairs to the parlor, catching flack for his rumpled appearance from the family portraits as he walked.

"Yes, mother?" he mumbled, still groggy with sleep.

"Stand up and speak clearly, you disgraceful child," she chastised him. He chose to just glare at her from under his messy hair.

"I said, stand up!" She reached around and smacked him rather roughly on the back. Sirius grunted and straightened.

"Yes, mother," he said again, louder.

"Get dressed in something decent," she told him. "Your olive green robes with a black leather belt will do. We're going to Diagon Alley for your school things."

Sirius perked up immediately. "The Hogwarts letter came? Let me see!" He'd been dreaming of Hogwarts for years - ever since his cousin Bellatrix went and began regaling him with tales of the castle and her magical exploits. When he was younger, she used to sneak out her wand and show him all manner of fun spells - doing things like sending colorful smoke rings up in the air, turning slippers into rabbits, and making water appear out of thin air. But as she'd gotten older she'd lost interest in entertaining her cousin and when they came to visit she would ignore his begging for fun magic. Her sister Andromeda sometimes humored him, but as Sirius grew older he was restless to do the magic himself, not watch someone else perform it. It was finally his turn.

"May I see," she corrected him. But she handed the letter to him all the same. "You'll need new robes of course - the uniform says black, but I don't see why we can't have them embroidered with a bit of silver - I can't have my eldest running around looking like a commoner. Maybe with onyx buttons on the pockets. We'll get you a green Slytherin scarf and gloves for winter, of course."

"And a wand, right mum? I mean - mother," he corrected himself quickly, not wanting to poke the bear on a day so full of promise.

"Of course, from Ollivander's - they are of the highest quality, even if they do let all manner of riff-raff shop there," she said. "I suppose as a business you must make allowances...but to sell to filthy Mudbloods and allow their Muggle families inside the store..such disgrace…."

Sirius wasn't listening to his mother any longer. He was reading through the supply list, nearly quivering with excitement. This was it - the ticket away from home, the ticket to brilliant magic and a massive castle to explore without his mother's watchful eyes or sneaky house-elf keeping watch on him at every moment.

Life stuck in the Black home was terribly boring for Sirius, and boredom often led him to mischief which led him to great trouble. His mother was entirely uninterested in providing entertainment for young boys - she was too busy socializing with the wizarding world's elite, hoping to strike a good marriage arrangement for her heir. Sirius despised being dragged along to stuffy social gatherings full of old men and women bemoaning the lost heyday of wizarding culture. Sirius hated being forced to hang out with the Malfoys and Averys and Mulcibers - he had little in common with those children and if his cousins weren't around as the younger of the group he was often picked as the guinea pig for experiments with weird and unpleasant hexes and jinxs. He always volunteered to protect Regulus, the youngest, not that the adults ever noticed. They were always talking politics and saying hateful things and they all just loved his mother, though in her advancing years she'd lost much of her beauty. They thought her sweet in the way she spoke in fake sugary tones about her youngest son, and laughed when she bemoaned the endless patience it takes to raise a rambunctious child like her oldest.

Sirius knew it was all an act - Walburga Black was anything but patient and getting caught in the act of misbehavior usually meant a slap or a kick - or the worst - getting locked in the cellar with the house elf, who said all manner of cruel things and refused to share his blankets no matter how cold it got.

But Hogwarts would be an escape from all that.

Of course, the other children would also attend. His cousins Narcissa and Andromeda would be there, but the girls were a few years older and he couldn't imagine they'd bother him all that much. Perhaps in the common room in the evenings - but he could live with that. Besides, Andromeda was a nice enough sort, and Narcissa was all right, even if she did still treat him like he was five and try to squeeze his cheeks.

And there would be magic to be learned - charms and jinxes and so much potential for mischief, laughter and fun - there was little laughter in the Black household, except when his mother decided to allow Regulus in his presence. It was clear who the favorite child was - and it wasn't the eldest, who his mother generally kept away from her youngest, blasting him for being a bad influence on his younger brother.

To her credit, that was not entirely untrue - Sirius did love corrupting his kid brother. Regulus may bend over backwards to please his parents, but every so often he could be convinced to toe the line with Sirius, such as the time the older boy decided they should go exploring across the rooftops.

"Go get washed and put on your robes, now," his mother said. "Your father will be back from his business soon and he won't want to be kept waiting for you." She pinned it on her husband, but the message was clear. Don't make her wait - Walburga Black expected orders to be followed promptly.

For once, Sirius didn't try to irritate his mother, who was in an unusually calm and almost pleasant mood. He supposed she was imagining all the ways she could use him to show off to other families now that he would be of school age and highly visible in the wizarding world - he hoped the robes she ordered wouldn't be too ostentatious.

He placed the letter on the side table next to her chair and rushed back up the steep stairs to the washroom. He was finally getting a wand. Things were finally looking up.

/

"Mum! Dad! The Hogwarts letter is here!" James Potter called down the hall. "Can we go shopping for everything now that we have the list?!"

James had been waiting for the last month. His family knew the letter was coming of course, but his father had refused to take him for a wand until the list with the rest of the necessary supplies came. James, who was not used to being told no, had been begging Fleamont Potter for a fortnight to go shopping, but his father had held his ground.

His father stepped into the kitchen and gently took the letter from his son's hands.

"Let's see here - new robes, of course, and a new hat. A pair of protective gloves - those will be useful in Herbology and Potions - and a winter cloak. Same as when I went to school." His father continued to scan the list. "Lots of new titles on the book list - I see Fantastic Beasts is on here - I met Newt Scamander once or twice - bit of an awkward fellow, but very passionate about his work. "A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration - they began using that a few years after your mother and I graduated - let's see what else…"

"Dad, you're an old man - of course they've updated the list - and besides, who cares about the books?" James whined. "Look here - it says first years require one wand - ohhh it also says we can bring an owl, cat or toad - can I have a kitten? Please?"

"Do you really think you'll remember to feed a kitten, dear?" His mother asked as she came into the kitchen.

James frowned. "Well, I suppose not…"

"Perhaps an owl in a year or two," his father allowed. "They're right useful and very smart."

"Sounds reasonable," James said amicably. "So can we go today? Can we?"

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter looked at each other then smiled down at their son. "Let me just get my traveling cloak, dear," his mother said. "It's a bit rainy for July."

"YES!" He jumped up and pumped a fist in the air. Every young witch and wizard dreamed of the day they would pick out their first wand, didn't they? It was finally happening for James.

"I can't wait to get to Hogwarts," he told his parents excitedly as they walked the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley later that day. "It's a shame they don't let first years play Quidditch - but there will still be matches to watch of course. One of the McLaggens is the captain - maybe he'll let me watch practices sometimes. And aren't there ghosts in the castle? And a huge lake?"

"That reminds me - when you get to Hogwarts give Sir Nicholas my regards," his father told him. "He's the Gryffindor ghost - pleasant bloke. Shame about the way he died."

"The way he died?" James asked. He was a curious child and ready to absorb every detail he could before he reached Hogwarts on September 1.

"He was meant to be beheaded, but the executioner made a bit of a wreck out of the whole thing," Fleamont said. "If you ask him to tell the story he'll be happy to tell it - just be polite."

"Right," James said, making a mental note to do so. "Hey, Mum, what about the Ravenclaw ghost?"

"The Grey Lady wasn't much for conversation," his mother told him.

James nodded seriously. One more check in the Gryffindor column. He knew his parents would be proud no matter what house he was sorted into, but he'd been weighing the pros and cons of both of his parents' school houses for the last few months, considering his options. Though Ravenclaw seemed respectable, Gryffindor seemed more the place for him.

The boy wanted very badly to go to Hogwarts, not only for the adventure but also to make his parents proud. He knew Fleamont and Euphemia were quite a bit older than the average parents of an 11-year-old boy, and while they were both the picture of good health he had it in his head that going to school was the first step in making lifelong friends and finding the love of his life. He wanted his parents to see him happy and surrounded by love so that they never had to worry, even when they were gone. He planned to live his life to its absolute fullest from the very beginning, to make sure his parents knew he would always be okay. It was a little bit of a mad notion, but it was one he had grabbed hold of and was unwilling to let go.

"Can we get my wand first?" He asked. "Please?"

His mother smiled at him indulgently. "I suppose there's no harm in that," she told him. "We'll head to Ollivander's for that. Their wands are the best."

"Yes!" James jumped up and down and rushed ahead, fully aware of the location of the store, which he'd walked by many times before, awaiting his turn to walk inside and test the instruments out.

But when he reached the door he paused, enchanted by what he saw through the windows. Another boy his age, skinny with sandy-colored hair, was already being helped by a willowy old man with grey hair. The boy's arm moved in a graceful arc, and a stream of silver, glowing almost like moonlight, shot out of the wand. The display lit up the boy's face, and his eyes were sparkling with a look of wonder.

It was an absolutely beautiful moment - but also a private one James suddenly felt he shouldn't interrupt. Showing great restraint, which was out of character for him, he took his hand off the door handle.

He supposed he could wait another minute or two for his moment, if it meant letting the other boy have his.