Hi, just realised that I did begin this idea-so will continue.

Remus Lambert did not have many memories of his childhood, for a long time he lived his life as in a dream; breathing without consciousness, living daily without the concept of time. It was as if he did not truly understand his identity as a child or an individual, perhaps that was why he never questioned himself or what was happening. For him life was what it was ,not what it could or should have been. Some days he would sit down, and just stare at his hands, bruises old and new, fresh cuts or healing, his fingernails grudged in dirt, the prints of circles around his wrists and absently wondered, what they would look without them, would they still be his hands if it weren't, would he recognise them without the marks.

On those days ,he would just sit silently for hours by the kitchen -table, watching the sun set through the grimed window and casts light and shadows into the bare motionless room, the dust catching the light, dancing enchantingly for him. Usually it was those days when his father was asleep, and Remus had little to do but wait for his mama, mind numbingly but patiently waiting for the small hand to reach one and the long hand to point languidly to nine. Oh, but there was two times that occurred, mama always came when it was very dark, when the cold seeped through the window and chilled the table surface. Remus would light a candle than, carefully striking a match and blowing it out gently in a teasing puff. If mama had not arrived by then, Remus would climb the reaky stairs and clamber into his fathers bed -demanding a story. Cos that was when father was most liable be awake especially for mama; and he didn't like the sort of heaviness in his chest- that sort that didn't hurt physically but a sort of ache. Oh, but father could stop it, and he would hear such enrapting stories of ghosts and moving stairs and enchanted rooms and magical beasts and a name his father would always say- Hogwords. Remus loved the way his father would talk endlessly, moving his hands to describe and punctuate his stories, eyes glassy as if he was recalling the scene and Remus would curl in his arms and listen to the unbelievable tales, but mostly because he wanted to hear the comforting rumble of his voice. His father was soft and warm, with a hint of soap in his clothes, the smell of comfort, familiarity- something he had identified earlier as father. There was nothing tight or restrained in his touch, neither the veiled look in his eyes, not like mama's. But all too soon, his father's eyes would drop, his breathe deepen and his chest would quiver , and Remus knew it was time to go to bed.

He would close the door gently and blow out the candle, because he didn't really need it .Then the numbness would return, and he would glide down the hollow corridor to his room. He wasn't an unhappy boy, but he couldn't say he was happy, rather he had the feeling that he was content, sort of settled within these walls. It was all he knew of the world after all. And there was nothing that he would have want, more than he had.

When had it changed? Why had change? When did he wake and find the world crash into his life- like a train collusion with the smoke, the casualties, the broken pieces of ruined bliss in the grim reality of life. 26th of April 1998 ...funny how he remembered that date but not his birthday.

Remus opened his eyes and blinked the sleepiness away .Time? 7:27, he mentally predicted and rolled away from the sunlight, to his back and stretched lazily. Why couldn't he sleep the day away, oh yes those villainous morning birds, chirping a migration in his head. Remus slipped a foot from the covers and shivered as the chilly air licked his ankle, where did his socks go, he wondered. Remerging under the desirously warm covers he pulled out a pair of worn, stretched grey socks and pulled them over his cold feet. Childishly Remus glanced victoriously to the cracked window, bared against a weathered hard book that was braced against it. 'I think that just made my day' he thought placidly. Looking around his room, it was surprisingly clean if not aged or threadbare, the floorboards had been swept and there was a pile of neatly stacked books near the far corner, a jar of water by his tattered bed and a wooden chair by the window that overlooked the street. But he hardly saw anyone, maybe an old man or perhaps a cat. It was hardly a big room but it suited Remus to the last inch, he shifted off the bed gingerly ,as to avoid it creaking and nimbly straightened his pillow and smoothed his quilt. Mama must have left 2 hours ago, which left him with breakfast duty and he had a number of chores to complete ,a little routine he had worked for himself, Remus pulled on a woollen sweater. But he always started the day to check on his father.

He left his room and closed the door, shutting any sunlight from the corridor not that it bothered him, he could see in anything but in pitch black. To the inexperienced eye Remus walked outrageously odd, with a particular pace and half prowl which was quite graceful in an painfully lanky way, but it's purpose was simply to avoid the unnecessary creaking floorboards, he also had a habit of closing doors quietly which started out abrupt but softened to a slow dawdling crawl, not that Remus noticed his little quirks, but he had a way of going about things that were rather efficient and controlled, yet in a rather uncultivated approach. So when he reached his parents room, he kind of swung it yet paced it to a full stop in such a way that Andrew Lambert always woke at the exact moment, his son stilled the door.

Remus stepped into the room and smiled softly 'Good morning' he greeted the bronze-tousled head, a half groan and murmur greeted him. 'Would you like anything?' he questioned the curled figure, slightly peeking out from the thick covers that swamped his figure 'Just a sleeping potion from Madam Teusde' he croaked. Remus shook his head slightly with a fond smile, trying to look regrettable, 'Sorry father, Madam Teusde came this morning saying she's out of clover herbs ,she wasn't able to brew it' the figure sighed 'Well then, how about you stupefy all those nauseating pigeons and serve them up for me' Remus chuckled softly and drew the curtain and opened the window, letting the chilly but fresh breeze sweep into the room in a flourish ,where he heard a grumble under the covers. The birds did not seem as offending now he was wide awake, and he could now appreciate the soft tune it hummed, making his day a bit more alive. His father's window overlooked their small garden ,where neatly trimmed fruits and vegetables were tended carefully by Remus and a washing line fluttered with the breeze. He needed to get them in, he noted to himself, it smelt like the atmosphere. Rain.

'In that case, I'll have to do with toast on butter with squashed orange ,if you please Remus.' his father requested 'And if you happen across a pigeon on the way, slap some butter on it and bring it up will you.' A pale face finally emerged from the blankets and gave him a dazzling smile 'I don't mind if it's dead or not' he added with a tilt of his head, strands of hair falling into his face. Remus raised his eyes brows but nodded his agreement 'If I happen across a pigeon that is, father' the two shared the silent amusement and irritation for morning birds before Remus poured a glass of water and picked up the small plastic bottle and handed it to his father 'Two pills ,okay,' with a practised tilt of his wrist, before turning to leave in two strides ,his mind already preoccupied little tasks he had sat-

'As if I would forget' Remus faltered and glanced at his father.

There was something off about the light tone, but his father had that quiet amusement in his eyes. Remus watched him take the two pills and gulp them with a swig of water, the moisture that smoothed his perched lips and the easy grin on his face as light-brown eyes turned to his questioningly. 'Are you feeling well, father' he didn't know where that question fell from but it seemed to press against him insistently, now. As if he should know something but just couldn't remember what ...

'Fine, Remus. Fine as ever that is' there it was, a kind of bell that rung in his tone, but he seemed fine, Remus discretely sniffed the air, tasting it, nothing had changed from yesterday from today. Why did he feel so unsteady, as if lost his footing somewhere and was just about to fall, his father chuckled ,probably at the worried frown on his brow. 'Remus, have you a question from that book yet, it is quite advanced for you' His father knelled uprights from the mountain of covers and huffed lightly, motioning Remus to come closer. Remus stepped a few feet closer

'No, I understand the theory quite well, it's fascinating and well thought-out' Remus perched on the bed 'I'm just amazed people actually put so much effort into something that would only be a fantasy' he smiled slightly at his father's mock dismay and bit his lip 'I guess people just have too much time' he concluded

'Or maybe it's a lot better than reality' his father added 'Those books kept me sane, you know, I had the largest collection when I was younger, but somehow I dropped them over the years' his voice hummed into a muse, through it was a well trodden through. Remus shook his head in exasperation, his father had always been this gullible, he would believe anything as long as it was written down. A book and the written letters, in his eyes, the gospel truth and nothing less. 'Tell me, what do you think of Nathilium ,isn't it an contradiction to it's formula, the components should react violently yet they harmonious practically, what did Harrison say, yes, the' He also had a love for debate, he would argue passionately on one point, then flip it and destroy his very own arguments . And Remus knew, through he loved moments like this, that once his father got started into his flow, he wouldn't be able to leave for hours.

'-the spark that would have resulted to non-reaction channelled into the actual powerbase and enabled the energy to be controlled but give it a extra boast, I know father. I did read it myself, and no I think Beether's theory made more sense and it would explain why the colour changes mid-flow.' his father glowered at him with a teasing smile 'You better not disrespect Harrison , that man changed my life'

'How so, father? Did he explain why the rain dropped down rather than up?'

'See, disrespect .Stop disrespecting him, I demand it.'

'I read respect had to be earned rather than demanded, I'm afraid'

'Harrison deserves respect, his spell work is stuff of legends'

'Exactly father, nothing but legends'

'Remus, how could you say that, after you read his master piece'

'Simple, nothing in it is grounded on reality or the actual physic's of our world, it's all 'magical''

'I love magic! There's nothing wrong with magic! And he makes perfect sense, his theory goblin natural magic it mind blowing-'

'I know father, the theory is logically if you take it step but step but the foundations on which they're based is slightly questionable'

'Oh Remus, just pretend there is magic in the world then what?'

'Then life would be quite different'

Andrew twitched, Remus raised his eyes to his father in curiosity, noted the shoulders sagged a little heavier onto the bed and the lines were cut a little deeper in his face. Andrew smiled 'I guess it would, wouldn't it' there was a slight pause, 'Somehow life never goes how you wish it' Remus nodded, not knowing how to respond through he suspected the words were not as causal as his fathers tone. His father fiddled with the white chain that hand round his neck, twisting it around the emerald jewel, a habit he had when he was thoughtful, Remus remembered playing with it when he was younger, barely able to say the alphabet. Andrew had let him wear it as a reward for working hard in his studies, and he had fiddled with it endlessly. White-gold, so like silver.

'Ask me any question Remus, anything you want?' Remus studied his father, he looked almost weary ,tired and worn out. He needed rest, Remus would need to leave soon.

'About what?' Remus questioned humouring him yet slightly curious.

'Anything. An intelligent child that read's advanced potions has no questions' So, his father was teasing him.

'Alright, why don't you ask me one and show me how's it done.' Remus poked the covers as if daring him to poke him back. His father mock growled at him but sat up straighter, reached out to fiddle with a bronze curl that fall from Remus's cheek. The exact colour as his fathers, the only similarity they shared. His father was taller than him when he sat up- wider too, but he had a sort of filled out look despite his obvious unhealth , his light brown eyes still sparkled with humour. His own he had inherited form his mother, dark misty grey.

'How about, hmmm-do you hate me' Remus frowned with a soft bemused smile

'Why would I hate you, father?

'There are plenty of reasons, for being too lazy to get out of bed, for making me breakfast every morning, oh and how about never taking you outside or being the reason why your mother works so hard? See, that's plenty ' Andrew drew the curl and released it, it sprung back on Remus's cheek 'For never cutting your hair, that's another' Remus contemplated this for a few minutes, not sure what his father was trying to say, but dismissed his lack of understanding when he caught the look in his father's eye.

'Yes, that's a plenty of reason, strange but hate just doesn't sum the whole emotional torment you cause me' Remus teased mischievously 'So no, I believe the term is vexation' his father laughed softly.

'Alright, how about...do you wish things are different?'

'How so?'

'Different as in life changing different'

'Father, you have to be more specify, what are you trying to say'

'I just wondered if your happy or not'

'Why wouldn't I be happy'

'Lots of reasons

'What reasons'

'The kind of reasons that wouldn't be around if things were different'

'…..Is this a riddle'

'No it's a question , just answer the question'

'The one where I'm happy or not, or the one where 'if things were different''

'ummm, the first, no both. What was the question again?'

'It was your question, and I didn't understand it anyhow'

'Alright, why don't you ask a question then, see how easy that is then?'

'Okay. Why are we asking questions?' Andrew paused, Remus smirked at him sensing victory.

'Pass-'

'What's so difficult about that question, I wonder' Andrew shifted, turning his eyes to the quilt 'It's quiet suspicious you know, I'm going to keep pondering until I come up with some dreadful conclusions,'

'Ask any question you like Remus, but I never said I'll answer them all'

'Oh, that's not game' Remus groaned mockingly.

'Your mother and I eloped,' Remus stilled and looked at his father, his father looked at him with solemn eyes, his bronze hair brushed away, gazing at him steadily. The sunlight had fallen on the blanket and touched his hand, warming it.

'….what?'

'Her parents didn't like me, apparently my blood wasn't pure enough, unworthy. They would never had allowed us to marry'

'Mama eloped with you?' Remus processed slowly, his strict, austere mama actually did something as dramatic and roguish as run away from home, did this mean she came from some sort of prosperous background. That was difficult to turn, mama had always, always been that severe women that came exhausted from work late at night and mystically disappeared by light. As a child he had read something of the similar- vampires, but insisted that they weren't real. And he had always waited in the kitchen for her to return anyway, when he was younger. Staring at the flaking front door as if it held some promise that he had yet to discover. He had stopped after a few years, having not found what he had subconsciously wanted as a child. And he had accepted that.

'Yes, she was absolutely bold and decidedly half-mad. She had quite a way with her tongue as I recall, even now - she could whip me in three words, I swear, it was a brave man who dared to cross her wrath. It was her who schemed the wild escape, I just followed as I vowed I would' His father knelt his head against the wall, and blow his hair from his face.

'Vowed?- So you didn't elope with her'

'In truth no, she had a strong disagreement with someone or another and somehow I tagged along. '

'So why did you marry, how did I -?'

'Simple, really this is a matter of physical- no, it was a jest. Sorry. I loved her and she loved me. You were the born of a love and cherished beyond hope, never doubt that Remus.'

Remus cringed at the declaration of love; he just couldn't help but get over the squelching of it. But most annoyingly was his father's superior look that said, I know what you're thinking and yes I am enjoying your discomfort with the word love -aren't I more mature than you. Remus snorted but quickly rearranged his features not to betray his mirth; father was as childish as he was, if not more.

'Who are mama's parents and what about your parents, father?' he asked pleasantly, it wasn't something that interested him but it would be useful to know.

'My parents are died. I don't know much about your mother's, except that they are an old name and very well respected family in Russia. Apparently they dissent from the monarch-

Remus blinked slowly, before the log of data processed 'Mama's Russian?'

'Yes, actually she and I met in Russia.' What, not only was Mama Russian, but father had been to Russia. That was oceans away, miles away, very, very far away.

'Did you travel a lot' Remus asked slowly

'I travelled quite a bit in my time'

'Why didn't you ever speck of them' Andrew sighed and combed his shrivelled hair with his fingers 'They brought up memories and any way, after I met you mother, there just wasn't a place for something as frivolous as travelling. But she was worth it, worth it and more…'

'Why?' he demanded.

'Pass-''Remus narrowed his eyes sensing more, half the story moulded into one. But accepted it for the many more question that rose like bubbles.

'Tell me about your parents then, father' Remus asked, Andrew smiled softly

'My mother was a gardener and my father owned a small business in Hampshire, they liked the evening walks, Charles Dickens and black coffee in the morning, that however was all they had in common, except for me that is-only child, spoilt rotten I was. But they loved each other dearly, not that it was an open affair but you sort of sensed that they were happy. Mother was the one who introduced to the Jane Astern and it was my father who showed me how to drive a hard bargain in life. I think they wanted me to take over the business. Newspapers, aye' Andrew rising his eyebrow as if in exclamation, could you see it? Remus's eyes were wide, no he couldn't and that, saddened him 'They had a unique view of the world but obviously totally ordinary , nothing magical if you know what I mean. They would have adored you, I probably saved you from a lot of pain. I never said goodbye, I don't even know where they're buried in fact. What an awful son I was, to think they had such faith in me'

Andrew paused, his mouth pressed to a grim line, the left corner lifted into a cheerless half smile. 'But do know what they're favourite saying in life was; love freely and love true and happiness will find you. I wrote that on they're graves. They liked poetry, so I guess-.' Remus bit his lip hesitantly, he had never thought his father as a son or even a child, let alone someone who read Jane Astern in his own childhood. He just didn't know how to react in the face of this information. He had grandparents, well he had dimly guessed but he never actually acknowledged the fact upfront like this.

'My, this is quite a depressing subject.' His father lamented, with a quirky grin 'Why don't you see to that garden of yours. I can see the tomatoes have ripen every day now, think we could have a bite yet?'Remus nodding reluctantly, he knew his father was tiring fast, that it was specifically this spirited conversation, drudging up the past when he lived in nothing but the present, that tired him spiritually if not physically. Remus could ask later, perhaps tomorrow evening, now that he knew of his father's gallivant travels and mama's mysterious past. He knew how to wheedle his information from his father's heart.

'Yes father,' he murmured, absently smoothing the quilt as he stood. His father gifted him a warm smile, that kind that brightened his day, with lulling brown eyes and piecing white smile. The kind that had mischief dancing in on the edge of his grin and sincerity blossoming in his face, Remus smiled softly in return. He did resemble a dandelion, all tufted hair amongst wraps of blanket.

Remus glanced at the window, he did have his chores and his father had taken his medication. Why had he lingered? A shadowed reflection that Remus's young mind could not recall. Maybe apples, his father always had adored those rosy red fruit- 'Wait' Remus paused; his father's two fingers gripped his own halted him, reminiscent of when he could hardly curl his own hand around his father's reassuring hands. His father reached for his neck from under the mould of shelter 'Why don't you hold on to this for me.' The delicate tinkle as emerald dropped weightlessly upon his chest, silver chained and extrinsically woven. Remus automatically gripped it, harmless and cool against his palm. 'It becomes you, I think.' His questioning eyes probed warm brown, as his father ruffled his hair with a glimmer of pride and sincerity 'Now off with you. Leave this old man to rest.' Remus giggled before his hand could detain it, and he smiled wickedly as his father gently jostled him into motion. A light bounce in his step as he hastened to fetch his father his breakfast, perhaps an apple with that bread, the emerald bounced on his chest. 'And don't forget that damn pigeon' the door did not muffled his voice and Remus nodded absently with a smile. That day was April the 26th , and he didn't forget it.

To people who may not understand my writing-Remus does not grow in the magical world. There is a reason why his second name is wrong. And don't you just want to know what happened on April 26th.