7 March 1971
Ten-year-old Remus rubbed his nose as he turned a page of the book he was reading. Yawning and stretching out on the hearth, Remus rolled over onto his back and propped his book up against his knees.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the front door.
Remus looked up from his book, frowning. But he had barely closed the book and sat upright before there was a clatter of footsteps from the kitchen; both of his parents flew into the sitting room, their faces set and white.
For several, long moments, everyone stood completely still, listening intently.
Then, there was a second knock—slightly louder this time and completely unmistakable.
Dad raised his hand and pressed his index finger to his lips, eyes wide with warning as he glanced from Mum to Remus. Silently, he padded toward the sitting room window and carefully drew back the curtains, peering through the glass. Then, he gasped.
"Merlin's beard," Dad whispered, looking dumbfounded.
Remus set his book aside and climbed to his feet. "Who is it, Dad?" he asked curiously.
Dad whirled around. "Remus, go to your bedroom," he said in a strangled voice. "And lock the door, please."
Remus swallowed heavily and nodded, picking up his book and retreating to the staircase. Just as he began to ascend the first step, he heard his father call, "Close all of the windows, Hope! And don't forget to double-latch the back door!"
Closing his eyes and releasing a sigh, Remus made his way up to the second floor landing and slipped into his bedroom, which was filled with approximately half a dozen unopened cardboard boxes. This was the third house that he and his parents had moved into this year, and it was only yet March. Dropping his book unceremoniously onto his desk, Remus crossed the room and halfheartedly tugged one of the boxes open, staring down into it.
There didn't seem to be any point in unpacking, now—not if Mum and Dad were already trying to conceal his existence from a nosy neighbor—or worse, a member of the Ministry's Werewolf Registry. At this rate, they would be packed up and on the road again by the following weekend.
Kicking moodily at a dust bunny that was hovering near the edge of his rug, Remus took several steps away from the pile of boxes and collapsed backwards onto his bed, gazing up at the ceiling. Dimly, he could hear the sounds of his parents rushing about downstairs, closing windows and sealing doors. Or were they packing up the sitting room? Remus thought dully. Perhaps they wouldn't make it to the following weekend, after all…
It was a shame, really. Remus had actually begun to like their new house. For one thing, it had a spare bedroom, which meant that his father wouldn't have to move all of Remus's possessions out of his bedroom before every full moon. And for another thing, it was in a very peaceful, soothing part of Yorkshire. It reminded Remus of the house where he and his parents had lived before Remus had been bitten, a cozy Welsh cottage on the outskirts of Cardiff, the first—the only—place Remus could truly remember calling home.
Rolling over onto his side, Remus stared out of his bedroom window and down at the gorgeous view of the countryside. It seemed as though, with each move his family made, the distance between their house and their neighbors' increased dramatically. Remus could just barely see the tip of his nearest neighbor's roof over the rolling green hills and unseasonably misty air. He wondered if they had kids his age—not that he would ever find out. But it was harmless to wonder…
Exhaling slowly and turning his back on his window, Remus listened again for the distant sounds of his parents securing the the house.
"…you cast the sealing charm on the fireplace, Lyall?" Mum's muffled, agitated voice asked.
"I'm doing it now!" Dad responded, equally tense.
Suddenly, there was a soft knock on Remus's bedroom door.
Remus stiffened, raising his head from his pillow. There was no way either of his parents could possibly have climbed the stairs so quickly. Besides, he could still hear their frantic footsteps downstairs. Holding his breath, Remus strained his ears and listened carefully for movement outside the door—but he heard nothing. Deciding that he had simply imagined the sound, Remus lowered his head again. But then—
"Remus Lupin?" asked an unfamiliar, but gentle voice. "May I come inside, please?"
Remus sat bolt upright in bed, staring at the door in shock. And before he could quite stop himself, he called apprehensively, "Who…who is it?"
"My name is Albus Dumbledore," replied the stranger in the same kindly tone.
Remus gaped at the door in disbelief. Albus Dumbledore? The Albus Dumbledore? Instinctively, Remus turned and looked at the cardboard box at the top of the large pile, in which his collection of Chocolate Frog cards was stored. It was impossible—completely impossible—that the Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of modern times, the defeater of the Dark wizard Grindelwald, could be standing outside his bedroom.
Trembling from head to toe, Remus slipped out of his bed and crept across the room. Then, very carefully, he unlocked his door and opened it a crack. A very tall, thin man with a crooked nose, extremely long silver hair, and an equally long silver beard was smiling down at him.
"Good afternoon, Remus," Professor Dumbledore said warmly, his bright blue eyes twinkling. "Do you know who I am?"
"Yes," Remus said hoarsely, stumbling backwards and allowing the man to stride into the room. "You…you're the headmaster of Hogwarts. You taught my dad Transfiguration."
"Indeed," Professor Dumbledore beamed. "He was an excellent student of mine, your father."
Remus nodded fervently. "He's always said he loved your class."
Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, as I understand it, Remus, you possess some magical aptitude of your own."
Remus swallowed, averting his eyes. "I'm learning how to control it," he whispered. "My dad's been teaching me, since I'm…since I won't be able to go to Hogwarts."
Professor Dumbledore raised his silvery eyebrows. "You can do magic already?"
"Not really," Remus said quickly, suddenly terrified, as he remembered that underage magic was illegal. "It's…nothing."
Professor Dumbledore frowned—but not unkindly. Rather, Remus thought he looked thoughtful. "I don't believe that it's nothing," he said gently. "I would love to see what you can do."
Remus hesitated, biting his lip. But then, taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and cupped his hands together, extending them outward. After a few moments of intense concentration, he felt a flourishing, comfortable warmth spread to his fingertips and he opened his eyes to find a familiar red-gold flame crackling merrily on his outstretched palms. Then, a few seconds later, without meeting Professor Dumbledore's eye, Remus pulled his hands apart and the little flame went out with a soft whoosh.
Folding his arms across his chest, Remus stared down at his feet.
"That is very advanced magic, Remus," Professor Dumbledore said softly. "There are wizards older and far more experienced than you who would be incapable of casting such a spell nonverbally, even with a wand."
Remus looked up, surprised. The headmaster was smiling broadly, his blue eyes sparkling. Remus felt his cheeks grow hot, so he hastily looked down at his knees again.
There was a brief pause.
Then— "I know that you are a werewolf, Remus," Professor Dumbledore continued gently, and Remus's entire body went rigid. "And I don't think that your condition should prevent you from attending Hogwarts with all of the other witches and wizards your age."
Blank shock filled every nerve in Remus's body. Openmouthed, he looked up at Professor Dumbledore. "What?" he whispered.
Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Why don't we go downstairs and discuss the situation with your parents?"
Remus gave a tremulous nod, still furiously trying to process what he had just heard. Then, numbly, he turned and led the way out of his bedroom, down the staircase, and toward the sitting room.
Humming to himself, Professor Dumbledore wandered into the sitting room and took a seat on the floor next to the fireplace, flicking his wand at the grate. With a low rumble, it sprung to life, the flames crackling and dancing gaily. The new warmth filled Remus with an unexpected sense of comfort. Feeling completely at ease for the first time, Remus followed Professor Dumbledore into the room and took a seat opposite him on the hearthrug.
With another flick of his wand, Professor Dumbledore summoned a silver tray of crumpets from the kitchen counter and set them down on the floor between himself and Remus. Just then, there was a resounding thud from somewhere above them. Professor Dumbledore glanced up at the ceiling, smiling bemusedly. Remus looked up, too, worried.
"Shall we play a game until your parents join us?" Professor Dumbledore suggested cheerfully. "What games do you enjoy, Remus?"
Remus swallowed a mouthful of crumpet and smiled shyly. "Er…I like Gobstones."
Professor Dumbledore beamed. "Gobstones, it is, then," he said happily. He waved his wand at the floor, and a Gobstones set appeared out of thin air. "Now, I must confess, it has been a few decades since I last played this game. Luckily, I have no qualms about losing to a very talented young wizard like yourself."
Remus grinned bashfully, pouring the Gobstones onto the rug.
Suddenly, there was a loud shriek from above. "LYALL! LYALL, HE'S GONE!"
"What? What do you mean, he's gone? He can't have left the house!"
Remus jumped, looking at Professor Dumbledore nervously. But the headmaster gave him a reassuring smile. "It appears your parents will be downstairs shortly."
Swallowing heavily, Remus nodded and flicked a Gobstone forward. Professor Dumbledore cocked his head to the side, scratching his beard and frowning thoughtfully as he examined his own stones. But at that very moment, there was a thundering of footsteps from the nearby stairwell and Remus's mother appeared at the foot of the stairs, her blond hair disheveled and sweaty.
"Remus," she said breathlessly, clutching a hand to her chest. "We told you to stay up—" she broke off, spotting Professor Dumbledore. Her jaw dropped.
"Hello, Mrs. Lupin," Professor Dumbledore greeted her merrily. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland."
Mum opened and closed her mouth soundlessly, her brown eyes wide with shock. "Remus," she whispered, without tearing her eyes away from Professor Dumbledore's. "Remus, come here."
"No, Mum, it's okay," Remus said earnestly. "Professor Dumbledore just wants to talk to us."
Mum raised a trembling hand and covered her mouth, shaking her head slowly. Then, she turned and bellowed up the stairs, "Lyall, come down here now!"
There was a second thundering of footsteps from the staircase, and then, Dad appeared at Mum's shoulder, his expression terrified.
"Professor," he gasped, his eyes widening. "How did you—what are you doing here?"
Professor Dumbledore smiled. "I am here to discuss your son."
"What about him?" Dad demanded in a strangled voice. "He isn't eleven for another four days, and his Hogwarts letter isn't expected until—"
"Ah, but I believe I am correct in assuming that any number of Hogwarts letters delivered to your household would have gone unanswered," Professor Dumbledore said shrewdly, his blue eyes twinkling again.
Dad clamped his mouth shut and swallowed heavily. "Professor, you don't understand—"
"On the contrary, Mr. Lupin, I understand completely," Professor Dumbledore said gravely, climbing to his feet and sweeping toward Remus's parents, his resplendent blue robes rippling behind him. "I have a number of spies among the werewolves, and I became aware, very early on, of your son's condition. However, as Remus already demonstrates an extraordinary level of magical talent for his age—" Dad turned and shot Remus an inquisitive frown, causing Remus to blush and stare at his knees, "—I, for one, would feel utterly disheartened if he did not receive the proper education he deserves."
Dad sighed loudly, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Professor, it's not—I agree, of course, but—there's no way—"
"Special preparations have been made," Professor Dumbledore continued calmly. "My new deputy headmistress has already secured a comfortable house in the village of Hogsmeade, where Remus will be able transform in peace, guarded by many powerful spells and reachable only by an underground passage—"
"So she knows?" Mum spoke up, her tone frightened. "Your deputy—she knows?"
"As she is the one who oversees the registry of all magical children born in the United Kingdom and Ireland, I thought it wise to confide in her," Professor Dumbledore nodded seriously. "But I would trust Minerva with my life. I promise you that she will keep Remus's secret to herself."
Dad rubbed his eyes again. "But what of the rest of the staff—and the students? How can you be sure that—?"
"I do not intend to advertise Remus's condition," Professor Dumbledore interrupted evenly. "Only the heads of houses will be told, as well as our matron and our groundskeeper. But I trust each and every single one of them unconditionally. With their assistance, I can guarantee you that no one else in the school will have reason to believe that Remus is anything other than slightly ill."
Dad stared at Professor Dumbledore with a half-disbelieving, half-amazed expression on his face. Remus crossed his fingers tightly in the pocket of his jumper.
Suddenly— "Lyall, I…I think we should let him go," Mum whispered, her warm, brown eyes on Remus. Everybody turned and looked at her. "This is his chance, Lyall. This is his chance to live a normal life. We can't possibly be the ones to stand in his way. This is exactly what…what we've always wanted."
Remus grinned broadly at his mother, who gave him a small smile in return. Then, Remus turned and looked at his father again. He was biting his lip, his dark eyes darting between Professor Dumbledore and Remus.
Finally, after several tense moments, he closed his eyes, released a deep breath, and nodded. "I agree," he said quietly.
A thrill of mingled astonishment and exhilaration shot down Remus's spine as Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands together, beaming around at everyone.
"Excellent," Professor Dumbledore announced cheerfully, looking at Remus. "Well, then, it is ultimately your choice, Remus. Would you you like to attend Hogwarts?"
A thousand different fears, a thousand different doubts raced each other through Remus's mind—but they were quickly overpowered by an unfamiliar feeling of overwhelming, overwhelming joy that was spreading through his entire body, from his fingers to his toes, warming every inch of him.
"Yes."
