11 February 1965

Four-year-old Remus swung his legs from his stool, as he leaned over the kitchen counter, his face screwed up in concentration. Picking up a black colored pencil, he began to neatly shade in the Hogwarts robes he had drawn on his self-portrait.

In the kitchen, his mother was busy cooking dinner and singing to herself—one of Remus's favorite tunes, an American folk song that he and Mummy had discovered while exploring a secondhand record store in London.

"…my only sunshine…You make me happy when skies are gray…"

Remus paused for a moment with his black pencil above the parchment, listening intently. Mummy had a very lovely voice. It was soft, but clear, and very, very warm.

Grinning to himself, Remus picked up his yellow colored pencil and began to draw the sun in the corner of the parchment. Remus loved the sun—it was bright and warm, just like his mother's voice. He loved the moon, too, but the sun was much nicer. Squinting down at the parchment, he applied the final strokes of yellow to the masterpiece. Then, satisfied at last, he sat back and beamed.

"Look, Mummy! All done!"

Mummy looked up from her saucepan, smiling. "What did you draw today, love?"

"Me," Remus said excitedly, waving the parchment at his mother. "In Hogwarts robes!"

Mummy turned the stove down and came over to the counter to take a closer look at his drawing. She gasped, putting a hand to her heart.

"Oh, Remus, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she beamed at him.

Remus blushed, feeling very pleased. "An' look—there's the sun, Mummy," he grinned, pointing to the bright yellow circle near the right corner of the parchment. He looked up and gazed seriously at his mother. "So no one can take your sunshine."

Mummy blinked, several times. Then, suddenly, her face burst into a smile, and she bent down and scooped Remus out of his stool, swinging him high into her arms and kissing him all over. Remus shrieked with laughter, squirming.

"Mummy, stop! That's icky!"

"No one can ever take my sunshine, Remus," she said warmly, hugging him tightly. "Do you know why?"

Remus frowned curiously at her. "Why?"

Mummy grinned, kissing his cheek again. "Because you're my little sunshine boy," she sang, spinning him around in a circle, much to Remus's delight. He let out another peal of laughter, squeezing his arms tightly around her neck.

Humming happily, Mummy carried him over to the dinner table and set him down in a chair. Then, she walked back to the kitchen counter and heaved the large tureen of stew up from the stove and back towards the table. Remus watched her with interest. A few months earlier, Daddy had taught Remus that Mummy couldn't make pots and pans move with magic, like he could. He had taught Remus that Mummy couldn't make light with a wand, or make gold sparks dance around the sitting room, or make food cook itself, or make laundry fold itself—and he had made Remus promise never to treat her badly for it.

But Remus couldn't imagine ever treating his mother badly. Why should his mother be treated badly just because she was different? Remus loved both of his parents equally, but they were very different—and Remus loved that even more. He loved talking about Boggarts, and poltergeists, and Hinkypunks with his father, while painting, and cooking, and exploring dusty old record stores with his mother. And his favorite time of the day was dinnertime—when Daddy came home from work, and the entire family sat down for dinner in their cozy cottage—and his parents' worlds collided.

"Where's Daddy?" Remus frowned at his mother, as she began arranging placemats on the table.

Mummy paused in the act of laying out spoons and glanced at her watch. "He's a little late, love," she said reassuringly. "But he'll join us when he comes home."

Mummy set a bowl of stew in front of Remus, and he picked up his spoon and began to ladle stew into his mouth, listening raptly to stories about princesses, knights, dragons, and unicorns. And every few minutes, he would chime in—because thanks to Daddy, he happened to know quite a lot about dragons and unicorns.

But then, all too soon, dinner was over, and the sky outside the cottage became a dark blue, and Daddy still wasn't home. Mummy picked up the dishes and placemats and walked to the sink, but Remus saw that she kept looking at the front door. Finally, when she had finished washing all of the plates, spoons, and forks, she came back to Remus's chair and kissed the top of his head.

"Bedtime," she announced, scooting his chair backwards and giving him a gentle pat on the back.

Remus frowned at her, as he clambered out of his chair and followed her up the nearby staircase. "Where's Daddy? He promised to read Babbitty Rabbity!"

Mummy smiled, ruffling his hair—but Remus thought that something felt wrong. The smile didn't light up her face or crinkle her eyes the way that it normally did.

"He'll be home soon, Remus," she said, pushing open his bathroom door. "But it's time for you to brush your teeth and go to bed. Mummy will read you Babbitty Rabbity tonight, all right?"

Remus's face fell. He opened his mouth to complain—but then, he remembered what Daddy had told him about treating Mummy differently, and he closed his mouth again.

So, twenty minutes later, Mummy tucked Remus into bed with a story from Remus's leather-bound copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, a tight hug, and a kiss on the forehead. Closing his eyes and yawning contentedly, Remus curled into the warmth of his quilts. Then, Mummy blew out the gas lamp, and within minutes, Remus was sound asleep.

He had a very frightening dream that night. At first, it was very pleasant. He was skipping through the forest near his house in the late-afternoon sun, his parents strolling together a few feet behind him. But then, suddenly, it was nighttime, and his parents were gone, and Remus was alone. Moonlight was filtering palely through the branches. A twig snapped, and Remus jumped in fright and began scurrying through the thicket, heart pounding. A dark shadow was lurking somewhere in the trees behind him—he could hear breathing—low, ragged, and raspy—so he began to run faster, his heart leaping up to his throat, a chill gripping his neck, as he ran, faster and faster—

SLAM.

Remus let out a strangled cry of terror and sat bolt upright in bed, chest heaving and eyes burning with tears. For several moments, he simply sat there, wondering what had awoken him—but then, he heard muffled voices from downstairs, and his heart leapt. His father was finally home.

Stumbling out of bed, Remus hurried out of his bedroom and onto the second floor landing. The corridor was dark, but a lamp was lit downstairs, so Remus began to tiptoe down the staircase. He was only a few steps away from the foot of the stairs, when he heard his parents' hushed, frantic voices.

"…but how could this happen? How did he get away?"

"Because the rest of the committee was blind, Hope! Now, they've turned this monster—this soulless, evil monster—completely loose!"

"Lyall!" Mummy sounded terrified. Remus's insides turned to ice.

"Don't be scared—it serves them right, the blundering idiots! One of these days, that vile beast is going to come after one of them, and they're going to wish they listened to me!"

"But—Lyall—all of those things you said about him—what if he comes after you?"

"Ha!" Daddy let out a loud noise that made the hairs on the back of Remus's neck stand on end. "Let him! That foul, murderous animal deserves nothing but death!"

Remus's eyes filled with tears. He didn't understand what his parents were saying, but he had never heard his father speak with such cold, hateful anger. Nor had he ever heard his mother sound so frightened. Swallowing, Remus quickly padded back up the staircase and sprinted into his bedroom. With a hearty sniff, he leaped into his bed and burrowed under his bedclothes, wrapping his quilts around himself tightly and squeezing his eyes shut. It took several, fitful moments, but eventually, he drifted back to sleep.

After that, it was a silent night. Lyall and Hope locked the front door, latched the windows, blew out the gas lamps downstairs, and retreated to bed, as well. A heavy layer of melting sleet blanketed the ground, the drive, and the row of oak trees leading up to the Lupins' Welsh cottage, and a sharp wind whistled through the terrain, rustling blades of grass and rearranging leaves. All was calm.

But a dark shadow was was looming over the Lupins' front drive. A tall, large, grizzly man with matted gray hair was leaning against a nearby oak tree, gazing up at the house—at Remus Lupin's bedroom, which overlooked the yard. The man wore filthy clothing, rags that were ripped in several places, exposing his gnarly skin. Folding his arms across his chest, the man cocked his head to the side, and slowly, a broad grin began to spread across his face—exposing his pointed, yellowing teeth.

And then, in another instant, the man slipped back into the shadows of the trees and was gone.

Author's Note:

I hate you, Greyback.

I hope I captured the essence of Remus's personality. Writing children's perspectives is not my strong suit, but I think I managed all right here.

Hope you all enjoyed this! I'd love to hear what you think.

Ari