A/N: Hello, and welcome to the very first chapter of Butterflies and Hurricanes, a Marauder Fan Fiction. I hope you like it as much as I do so far :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it—but if I did, I doubt I would be writing this. I would be working on an eighth book.
Many, many thanks to my two wonderful betas, Whiteferrets and shyansworld! You guys are the best. Extra thanks to Whiteferrets, who marvelously edited the second half of this chapter for me :)
Butterflies and Hurricanes Chapter One: Year One- Days of Summer
Sirius Black:
Number 12, Grimmauld Place had been in the Black Family's possession for centuries. It was buried in Dark Magic and littered with Dark Artifacts, so it didn't seem like an ideal place for children to grow up. But nevertheless two brothers did grow up there—two brothers who, though similar in looks, were as different as night and day. Who was night and who was day, however, had yet to be determined.
When they were younger these brothers had been inseparable. But now, Sirius, the eldest by two years, would be heading off to Hogwarts like all wizarding children, and Regulus would be left all alone in that big, Dark house.
o.0.o
"Do you have to go, Siri? Can't you stay?"
Nine-year-old Regulus Black was perched on the end of his brother's four-poster bed, watching the house-elves pack Sirius' trunk. Sirius was sitting cross-legged on the floor, flicking absentmindedly through Hogwarts, A History.
"'Course I do, Reg. But I'll come back for the holidays, and you'll get to go when you're eleven, too."
"But that's not for two years! That's forever! What'll I do till then?"
"You can write to me. I bet Vulcan needs to stretch his wings, anyway."
The boys fell silent for a moment, watching the house-elves bustling back and forth. Then Regulus spoke.
"D'you think you'll be in Slytherin, Siri?"
"Probably. Every Black has been in Slytherin."
"Do you want to be in Slytherin?"
Silence. Sirius stared at a drawing of the Grand Staircase of Hogwarts, deliberately avoiding looking at his brother. And then he sighed, puffing out his cheeks in frustration.
"I don't have much choice, do I? Every single person in the Black family has been in Slytherin, why should I be any different? But…."
"But what?" Regulus asked, staring in wonder at his brother, who tossed his shoulder-length hair back and sat up straighter, defiantly.
"But… Reg, I don't feel like a Slytherin. I don't like the Dark Arts, and I hate most of our family, 'cept for you, Uncle Alphard, and Cousin Andie. I don't think I'm right for Slytherin. I don't really want to be, anyway."
"But… but what'll Mum and Dad say?"
"I guess we'll never know, because I'm certainly not telling them anything. And you'd better not, or I won't ever write to you. Besides, what'd be the point? I'm leaving tomorrow, and then I'll be at Hogwarts and sorted into Slytherin, and none of this will matter anyway. So just don't say anything."
"Okay, Siri. I won't tell."
"Thanks, Reg."
Sirius smiled at his brother and snapped his book shut, threw it down next to his trunk (one of the elves hastily picked it up and packed it away), and bounded to his feet.
"C'mon, Reg, let's go see if the library has any books on hexes."
The two boys raced down the stairs, laughing, all previous turmoil forgotten in a whirl of camaraderie. But one house-elf lurking in the room grumbled to himself: "Young master is unworthy of the Noble House of Slytherin, speaking such words… he will break poor Mistress' heart…"
o.0.o
Remus Lupin:
It was a new moon today. This was the phase that Remus liked best, because during this time he felt the most normal, the most human. Most of his injuries had healed or were nearly healed; his head was clearer, the wolf's presence not nearly so strong. But he hadn't really been looking forward to today, nor any of the days leading closer to September.
Sure, there would be his mum's homemade vanilla ice cream (his very favorite dessert) and sure, his Dad wasn't working today so he got to spend time with him, but he wouldn't get something every wizarding child gets during his eleventh summer: his acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
His parents acted like everything was normal. His Mum had kissed him, his Dad had nodded in his direction and opened the Prophet, just as they'd done every morning for as long as he could remember. But Remus kept glancing towards the kitchen window, a seed of hope still lodged in his heart, no matter how much he'd tried to beat it down. The entire summer, he'd been on edge, fighting back common sense and hoping an owl would fly into the room, envelope in its beak for one Remus J. Lupin.
'Maybe, just maybe, they'll forget and send me a letter…'
'Don't be stupid. Like they could forget you're a monster?'
Remus' rational side was going to battle with his dreamy, wistful side, and his rational side was winning.
'But maybe they don't care. Maybe I will get a letter…"
'Just shut up. You're not helping anything.'
'But…'
This inner dialogue continued the rest of the day, though Remus said nothing to his parents. He passed the hours quietly, as always, reading A History of Magic and some of his mum's Muggle classics. He was buried in one of C.S. Lewis' Narnia novels, marveling at the fact that this man was a Muggle, when suddenly there was a knock at the door.
Mr. and Mrs. Lupin looked up, he from his Evening Prophet and she from her knitting, and glanced at each other in bewilderment.
"Who in the world could be calling at nine o'clock at night?" Mrs. Lupin murmured, dropping her knitting and heading towards the door. Remus set his book down and scrambled after his mother, rounding the corner of the entryway just as she exclaimed, "Why, Professor Dumbledore!"
Remus skidded to a halt in the middle of the entryway. There in the doorway stood Professor Dumbledore in all his silver-haired, purple-robed glory, a pleasant smile on his face and a happy twinkling in his ice-blue eyes.
"Ah, Accalia, it is lovely to see you. I apologize for the late hour; the Minister insisted on keeping me much later than I originally planned. May I come in?"
Mrs. Lupin jumped as though coming out of a trance. "Oh! Oh, yes, of course, Professor."
"Thank you."
Dumbledore stepped through the doorway, looking oddly out of place next to the coat rack and umbrella stand. Mrs. Lupin bit her lip and glanced at Remus. Then she said, "Er — would you like to move to the sitting room, Professor? We'd be more comfortable there."
"Ah, yes, of course. Lead the way," said Dumbledore cheerfully. Remus hastily stepped aside as his mother and the aged professor passed by, and then hurried after them to the sitting room, where Mr. Lupin sat staring at their guest in astonishment.
Mrs. Lupin hurried forward, waving her wand in a single sweeping movement; a stack of books that had been piled on a dining chair rose into the air and flew back to the bookshelf. Remus quickly took this seat, leaving the easy chair open for the professor, who gracefully motioned for Mrs. Lupin to sit down before he did. Only when the whole of the party was seated did Mr. Lupin burst out, "Er, I don't mean to be rude, but what's going on? Why are you here, Professor?"
Dumbledore smiled benignly and motioned towards Remus.
"Why, to give this young man something I'm sure he's been wishing for, of course," as if it was the most natural response in the world.
He reached into the folds of his robes and withdrew an envelope made of yellowish parchment, on which a name and address shone in emerald ink.
Remus heard his mother's gasp as if it came from the end of a long tunnel. His head was ringing, his gaze locked on the letter. It couldn't be…. It wasn't…. But it looked so much like it was….
Dumbledore held the letter out. Slowly, acutely aware that his hands were shaking, Remus took it, feeling the stares of every eye in the room on him.
There it was, in his hands, solid proof. The one thing he'd dreamed about for the past six years, the only thing he wished for every birthday of his since he was five. He was going to Hogwarts.
Remus read the letter inside out loud to the silent room, his voice shaking as much as his hands. He was so absorbed in his own shock that once the letter had been read, he was astonished to hear his father's suddenly harsh voice say, "Is this some kind of joke?"
Remus' head snapped up. He stared at his father's livid, stormy face in bemusement. Mr. Lupin was glaring between the letter and Professor Dumbledore, the latter of whom had an unreadable expression on his face as he answered, "No, John, this is not a joke. Hogwarts would be very lucky to have Remus as a student."
Mr. Lupin jumped to his feet.
"Lucky?" he stormed, ignoring his wife's pleas to sit down, "How would having a monster at your school be lucky? He's not normal, he can't ever be normal again, and that's why he's not going!"
"John!" Mrs. Lupin cried, reaching up and grasping his forearm, "How can you say that about your own son?"
"HE IS NOT MY SON!" Mr. Lupin roared, tearing his arm from his wife's grasp, his eyes wild and furious. "He ceased to be my son six years ago! He's not normal, Accalia, and you had better stop treating him like he is! Nothing good will come of it!"
Remus sat frozen, staring at his father, an icy pang of hurt shooting through his insides. He had long suspected that his father's view of him had changed once he'd been bitten, but he hadn't expected the truth to hurt so badly; apparently, neither had Mrs. Lupin.
"John!" she shouted, jumping to her feet as well to face her husband, anger blazing in her eyes, "How dare you! How dare you say that about our boy! Every sort of good can come out of treating him like he's normal, because except for one night a month, he is normal! You-"
Dumbledore finally interceded, setting off a firecracker from the end of his wand. He stood up calmly, not angry, but with a hint of sadness in his eyes.
"Now, John, Accalia, I must ask you to calm down for just a moment. This is not about whether Remus is normal or not—because in my eyes, in Hogwarts' eyes, he is. He deserves an education just like the rest of the wizarding world. We will have to make accommodations, it is true, but it is well worth it if he gets to learn the way he should. There is a separate paper in that envelope that will tell you about our plan for Remus. Please send your reply by July 31st. And Remus, I hope I will see you at the Welcoming Feast. Good night, all of you."
Dumbledore, power radiating from every inch of him, tipped his hat gracefully to Mrs. Lupin, nodded to Remus, and swept from the room. They heard the front door open and close, and the distant pop of apparation. The sitting room was silent for several more seconds before Mrs. Lupin finally said, "Well, er, Remus, you'd better get up to bed. Your father and I need to talk. Take some books up with you."
Remus, seeing that this was not the time to argue, quickly gathered his books and his letter and, avoiding his father's gaze, wished his parents good night and dashed up the stairs. He was just closing the door when he heard his mother's frosty voice say, "I don't know what's gotten into you, John, but you had better stop it. I will not stand for you talking about our son that way."
Remus closed the door before he could hear any more. The thought of his parents fighting made his stomach hurt, and it was made even worse by the fact that it was his fault. His only consolation was the letter he clutched in his hands. Throughout the night Remus read and re-read it, nurturing the bloom of hope inside his chest.