A/N: So, here it is... A Marauder's Era story. It seems to me that there are alot of blanks when it comes to their school years. JKR doesn't reveal much in the books, and I don't use material disclosed in interviews to write. So, this will be a wild shot in the dark.

The year is 1969, and this is the summer before first year. This story will focus on Remus, and eventually will be R/S (slash) , J/L, and P/Ofc. You've been warned. In other news, I'd like a co-author for this story. It's quite a bit for me to attempt on my own! If you're intrested, PM me, and we'll go from there.

It always had to come to this, Remus Lupin thought. It was either being rejected from Hogwarts, or not at all trying to attend. Sure, Dippet had tol his mum, when she asked him just after Remus had been bitten, that Hogwarts would be unable to take him, but perphaps Dumbledore, with 6 years of Headmastership under his belt, would consider letting Remus come.

The tension was killing him, but of couse it should have been. An eleven year old boy was bound to rip open the post at first touch, but Remus was no ordinary boy. His Lycanthropy, a word Remus had learned along with many medical terms no child his age could attempt to pronounce, let alone use, made Remus a very patient child, wether it be from waiting for medical attention after his painful and damaging transformations, or from controlling his composure so colse to the Full Moon.

He awaited the descent of the tawny, ruffle-feathered owl, but it didn't fly away as so many owls had at the sight of him before. Instead, it glared in Remus's general direction, sniffing the air and willing Remus to open the letter so that it could get away from him as soon as possible. Why was this owl so persistant, whereas other animals avoided him like the Black Plague?

He looked up from the letter in his hands, sealed with the Hogwarts Crest in wax, to his mum, whom stood in front of the cookstove in the Lupin's kitchen. A perfect O of suprise was on her face, wrinkled beyond her years from stress. She was burning the Birthday Bacon, a rare delicasy reserved for special occasions.

That is too bad, he noted, as he liked his meat rather... raw. Ignoring the longing for food and bracing himself for dissappointment, he cautiously opened the letter.

Dear , it began.

I am pleased... pleased? Oh, this had to be good!

I am pleased to inform you that you will, as opposed to the decision of my predecessor, Mr. Dippet... Oh, Merlin, this couldn't be happening! A wide smile flitted across Remus's face, seeming distorted by his haggard appearence. Many scars and bruises marred Remus's face.

... be able to attend Hogwarts School or Witchcraft and Wizardry this upcoming term. One term being 18 weeks, Remus's smile dimmed. Four full Moons, in and around school students... he'd miss lessons the day before and the day after the Full moon, and of course on the day of the moon. How would this work out, then?

I daresay we'll find a way to fit you in to the curriculum, despite your Lycanthropy.

Of course, attendance to Hogwarts is not compulsory, but our school would be delighted to pay you homage for the next seven years.

Seven years at Hogwarts. Friends, roomates, lessons. Learning. Remus wanted with every fiber of his being to be able to attend.

I'd like to request an appointment today, after you've finished your affairs for the morning.

Happy Birthday, and warmest regards.

Albus Dumbledore

He stared down at the letter in disbelief. To confirm that he was correct, and had not misread the letter, he had his mother read it aloud. He pinched himself. Surely, this must be a dream. But, yes! He felt the pain, and was extatic.

This is so much better than bacon!

Mrs. Lupin scribbled a breif reply, and said, "Come on, Remus, love. Let's get you dressed and fed," she said, barely concealing her skepticism.

An hour later, Remus and his mum stood outside of Headmaster Dumbledore's office. The doors creaked open, and Dumbledore stepped out, in eccentric robes of purple.

"Hello, Madam and . I trust you had no trouble finding the school?"

In all honesty, they had almost been unable to get to the school. Remus's mum, a muggle, had had utmost difficulty working Floo Powder. It had almost vaused them to be late.

"No, sir, we've managed. I'm Rhea Lupin, and you taught my husband, John. This is Remus."

Remus stepped forward, shook the old man's hand, and stepped back.

"Ah, Mr. Lupin, Madam. I'm Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, and I am about to teach you how to get into my office. I do believe I may be seeing you here, my boy." Amusement twinkled behind his blue eyes. Remus nodded.

"To enter my office, and the common rooms for your house, a password is required. Without a proper password, you'll be unable to get by in our school. Go on, lad, give it a try." He smiled.

"Er... chocolate frog?" Remus tried, thinking of the sweets his father brought home for him every now and then. The gargoyles did not stir.

"Try again," Dumbledore urged.

"Broomstick? Cleansweep? Bludger?"

The gargoyle gave a grunt of disassent. there was a pregnant pause, during which Remus looked to his mum. She shrugged. Out of nowhere, there was a click, and the gargoyles descended. A look of bewilderment fleeted across the Lupins' face.

"The password was a shrug?" They said simultaneously.

Dumbledore chuckled. 'Much too easy. Image, students randomly opening my office at all times! No, 'twas not the shrug, but my assen to let you in. All I have you do is nod. Isn't magic grand?"

Dumbledore chuckled again. Is he a bit... mad? Remus mused.

Dumbledore and the Lupins walked into the office. It seemed a bit odd to the young Lupin. It was circular, giving off the feel of being in a bubble. portraits littered the walls, whispering and glancing at Remus. Dippet's likeness was closest to Dumbledore's desk, eyeing Remus with intrest and a hint of disgust. Dumbledore seemed to have created his own personal library insode, a place that Remus could have spent hours in. There was a table with an assortment of silver tools that looked like you could break them with your touch. And old, frayed and patched hat sat in the center of the table.

A/N: As you can tell, this chapter is NOT done. At all. I'm posting it now to give someone the oppurtunity to contact me, for a partnership. Intrested? Have constructive criticism? PM me, or review. ~OMDWG