This particular September morning that James Potter woke up to the sound of his alarm clock ringing and banging of his mother making breakfast, he was in an especially bad mood. Knowing this would be his first day at Hogwarts, the school his entire family had gone to, didn't make him feel excited, or safe, or happy- all this boy, a boy at the ripe young age of eleven, wanted to do was go back to sleep. What James Potter certainly didn't want to do was get a speech from his parents about "upholding the family honor" and consequently ruin his appetite. Okay, he could admit it- James considered himself a little mischievous. But he wasn't necessarily a troublemaker. It's not like he was a bad kid, or anything. He didn't steal things, or light things on fire, or make things explode on his teachers- except maybe that one time, now that he thought about it. As he tumbled out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans, he knew he didn't want to get up. He nearly fell down the stairs just as his mother, Anna, called at him to wake up.
"I am up, Mum," he mumbled out as he sat at his family's big butcher block table for breakfast. His father, Edward, was up as well, unusual on a weekend before nine.
"Good morning, son! Did you rest up for your big first day at school?" his father practically shouted in a too perky, too loud, too chipper tone. James shot his father an "I'm tired, and I don't care" look as he sat down at the far side of the table. That was one of the perks of being an only child with a massive breakfast table- you could sit as far away from your parents as you liked. His mother set a plate of eggs and bacon down in front of him as his father began to speak.
"You know, son, your time at school will be the best time of your life. You'll have a huge portion of your fond memories created at that castle. You'll meet your friends, your enemies, your mentors, maybe even your future spouse." He gave Mrs. Potter an admiring look. James continued to stare at his breakfast. "So take things seriously. Don't screw things up. Don't dishonor all seven generations of Potters who went to Hogwarts before you-" and the rest James didn't bother paying attention to. Blah, blah, blah. Who really cared about their parents' opinions?
Remus Lupin sat at his kitchen table as well, not too too far away from James's, and listened intently to his own father's speech about Hogwarts. "We want you to know, Remy, that we are so proud of you and couldn't be happier about your attending Hogwarts. With your condition, your mother and I thought you'd never make it. Bless Professor Dumbledore for making those arrangements. He's a good man. Stay out of trouble with him, you hear?" His father gave him a stern, slightly threatening look. But Remus wasn't worried. His dear old dad was the kindest man to ever walk the earth. His mother was a bit more uptight than his father was today. Well, more like a lot more uptight, and on most days, really. Ever since the accident. Remus hated how his parents called it "the accident". Ever since the accident, she'd been uptight. Remus could hardly remember his mother before then, but his father swore she was never this paranoid.
"Have you got everything packed, sweetie? All of your books and things? Do you have enough socks? You still have your wand, right?" Elisabeth Lupin asked from the foyer, where she was triple-checking to make sure her only son had packed nearly everything he owned.
"Mum, you made a list. I'm positive I didn't forget to pack anything. I've got about a million pairs of socks packed up. It'll be fine. I'll be fine. Relax. We don't have to even leave the house for ten minutes," Remus said to his mother in a calming voice as his mum walked back into her immaculately clean kitchen. "And," he added as an afterthought, "there isn't a chance in hell that I would forget my wand. Relax." His father winked at him.
"Yes, you're right. I should just sit and relax. Sit and relax." Elisabeth poured herself a cup of Earl Grey tea and sat across from the two most important people in her world. They all breathed a sigh of relief and silently swam in their own thoughts. Had someone taken a picture of the three of them sitting there on that Sunday morning, it would have looked perfect. But the Lupins were far from perfect.