Such a tragedy, everyone said.
Remus Lupin, barely eight years old and already condemned to a life of hardship. Doomed in the space of a minute, a life ruined in a fraction of a second. One bite, one drop of poisonous toxin, and the future was changed. It had been a sunny afternoon in the village of Calderwell, in the heart of Southern England, when a werewolf by the name of Fenir Greyback snuck into the back garden of the Lupin family, caught sight of his prey, and sunk his huge teeth into the soft flesh of his victims arm. He wasn't intending to kill. He was intending to cause pain and suffering. Such a tragedy, everyone said. That this little boy, who was so sweet and intelligent, and his parents who had spoken out against the muggle hate crimes that were being committed in the county, had to be hurt so much. Such a tragedy.
The boys mother, Eleanor Lupin, of whom a more esteemable witch there never was, at first was relieved that her son still lived. She was ecstatic that he hadn't been taken from her. She was sure, so sure, that her little Remus wouldn't suffer too badly with his affliction. He was such a perfect child, so wholesome, so clean. How could anything mar this perfect complexion, how could any anger come from her sweet son? No, Eleanor Lupin was sure that Remus would find a way to fight his condition, to not be destroyed by a second. And then she saw his first transformation. After a month of believing, a month of consoling, a month of thinking the whole village were being too dramatic in their assumptions that Remus' life was ruined, she changed her mind when her own son ran at her with his teeth bared and his eyes red. As she sat by herself down stairs that night, accompanied by a bottle of the strongest fire whisky, she laughed hollowly. It was a tragedy, as everyone had said.
Such a tragedy, everyone said, as the once happy family deteriorated into a mess of screaming fights and whispered words, desperate faces and unhappy facades. Mrs Lupin had drunk herself into a stupor again, and Mr Lupin had run off with the shop assistant from down the road. Such a tragedy, such a shame, that one little bite had ended something else apart from Remus' future. It had ended his parents (whom, when they'd arrived in Calderwell, had been heard to say that they loved one another more than the earth and the stars and the moon) marriage. Such a tragedy, everyone said.
School was deemed an impossibility for Remus. How could any boy attend Hogwarts when he could not be trusted not to brutally maim his fellow students at every full moon? His school-teachers in the village sighed out their sadness that he could not be in school enough to fulfill his full potential. When his mother, hair unwashed, face mucky, came into parents evening, the headmaster himself had a word, asking for the nature of Remus' mysterious illness. He never did find out why the woman had sworn quite so loudly, or left quite so suddenly, or why Remus had never come back to school after that. He was such an intelligent little boy, the staff of Calderwall primary said as they sat in the staff room. Such a tragedy, they all agreed.
And then came the glorious years. An excellent headmaster was appointed at the Wizarding school, a man whom understood the needs of those whose lives had been affected through no fault of their own, and he made exceptions so Remus could study in Hogwarts hallowed hallways. Remus made an excellent group of splendid friends, he studied hard and reaped the rewards, and his seven years at school were the happiest of his life. He watched his nearest and dearest get married, was blessed enough to see the child of true love, and enjoyed countless hours in the presence of those he loved the best.
Then James and Lily were murdered, leaving only their son. Such a tragedy, everyone said. That a little boy, one so extraordinary, one who defeated the dark lord, should be left without his parents. That those two, so in love, so handsome, so clever, so kind, should have to die for their son. Such a tragedy, everyone said. Only those who had known the four boys, only those who had seen them in the presence of each other, only those who had witnessed James and Lily's beautiful wedding dance could register the full horror of the situation. Such a tragedy, everyone said.
Remus' life from that moment on was unsteady. His friends were lost, either dead or incarcerated, and he drifted meaninglessly from job to job, his transformations made all the worse now he knew how the burden could be eased, but with no-one there to ease it. He spent his days with what ifs, and with perhaps, and with maybes. Anyone who saw the once dashing young man, whom had seen his happiness when surrounded with his friends, was saddened at his worn and weary facade. Such a tragedy, everyone said. In everyone's life, there is turning points, gifts seemingly sent from the heavens that send people back on their way. For Remus, it was an advert in the Daily Prophet asking for a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. At his interview with Albus Dumbledore, he tried to disguise his desperation for the position, but the twinkle in the great wizard's eyes showed Remus that the headmaster knew of his anxiousness for the job. When he once more stepped on the Hogwarts Express on the 1st of September, it was the first time he had glimpsed peace in years. Meeting Harry, the last link to his greatest friends, poured balm on Lupin's soul, let him rest easy for the first time in twelve years. And though his time at Hogwarts was short, it provided him once more with friendship and with love, and returned him to his friend, the once feared Sirius Black. It wasn't quite the golden days that he had once cherished, but the days he spent with Harry and Sirius and the old Order were silver.
And then he met her, the confusing, bumbling witch who so clumsily bumped into him in the hallway in Grimmauld Place. She took his life and turned it upside down, shook out the boring, staid parts of him and reinvigorated his soul with a desire to change the world once more. She whisked up his world and added her sweetness, and the result was something beautiful. And then Sirius died. In a split second he was gone, slipping beneath the veil as Harry screamed in utter desperation, a sound he hadn't heard since he'd walked into Godrics Hollow fifteen years before. No-one said it was a tragedy, and that was a tragedy in itself. To the rest of the world, Sirius Black was a murderer and a traitor, and those who knew him to be good and true were burdened with the knowledge that everyday, someone somewhere in the Wizarding world spoke his name with a sneer, and that they could do nothing to change it.
He withdrew from Tonks then. Left her in her beauty and naivety as he tried to find the balance in his life. He was the last Marauder, the last friend, the last molecule of gold to be dripped from the past. He struggled with his future, living as he had always done in the past. Such a tragedy, the Order said, as he spoke little in meetings and vanished into the shadows. Such a tragedy that someone so promising (his mother returned with her whispers of wholesome and good) had become a shell. Voldemort didn't destroy people just by killing them.
Somehow, he found his way back to her, found his happiness. Found, for a short time at least, his salvation and happiness in Nymphadora Tonks. Found his pure joy in his son, his beautiful, precious, fragile son, whom he would have given the earth and heaven then, just like that, it was over. Such a tragedy, everyone said. That someone who had his whole life before him, someone just gifted with the joys of love and family, should be taken away. Such a tragedy, everyone said.
Remus, looking down from the heavens where he sat with his friends and his wife and his family, didn't agree. But that was life, and that was people, and when people are determined to have things a certain way they will have it and so there it was. Such a tragedy, everyone said.