Chapter II
We await your owl.
James Potter opened his eyes and stretched luxuriously, before wondering what had woken him. A tawny owl was perched precariously on his windowsill, urgently knocking against the glass with its beak.
James stood up and crossed the room, sliding the pane of glass up, the owl immediately soared to the top of the door and let out a screech.
"Alright, alright." Muttered James. "We do have Muggle neighbours, y'know."
He noticed the scroll of aged-looking parchment tied to the owl's leg, and after an unsuccessful attempt to take it off, he realised that his unexpected visitor was having none of it. He spent the next half an hour chasing the owl round the room, before grumpily throwing himself onto his bed.
"Great." He said aloud. "I get the only anti-social owl at Hogwarts."
"James? Are you up yet?" his mother called from downstairs.
"I was, then I decided not to be."
"Well dear, I need you to degnome the garden for me, it's terrible. They've begun coming into the house."
James groaned and buried his head in his pillow. Phrases of what seemed to be a very long and graphic description of what he would like to do to all gnomes and owls could just be heard, most of which was very rude and involved spellotape.
Mrs Potter entered the room, heard some of what her son was mumbling and looked shocked.
"James!"
"Oh, er, hi mum."
"Are you up?"
Silence greeted this statement, but Mrs Potter carried on breezily, regardless of the very evil glower crossing her son's face.
"Good, get dressed and you can have some breakfast."
James sat up, looking hopeful.
"After you've degnomed the garden."
"Ah, no, you think I can't see you if you hide all the way down there, but actually, I can. So you could just come out. Because I'll get you in the end anyway. You'd be making things easier on yourself. I won't throw you as far if you come of your own free will. Promise. Okay, please will you come out? Please? I'll get you a potato. Anything you want. Fine then, I can't see you. Happy now? No. Don't do tha- OW!"
James reversed very swiftly from the rabbit hole that he had bee halfway down, he was shaking his hand around violently and swearing at the gnome clinging to his index finger by its teeth. Suddenly the gnome let go and flew fifty feet to the left, across a nearby stile, into the wood fringing the Potter house. Only it wasn't a house, it was an old castle, abandoned by Muggles when the staircases began to collapse. Actually though, the staircases hadn't collapsed, they were still intact, it was the Potters who had decided that they no longer wanted to share their ancestral home with a group of Muggles. Even if they did call themselves the National Trust.
James dusted his hands off; the last gnome was giving him the finger from a tree stump some way away.
He wandered in the kitchen in search of food, a large fruit salad stood in the middle of the table, James helped himself. He then proceeded to trek mud all down the hall.
Suddenly, a large, dark shape dived at him from a long way above; he quickly threw himself onto the threadbare rug (a priceless heirloom from his great, great grandmother, as it happened.) ducking the mysterious bomber. A loud screech told him that, yes, his friend the owl was back. With a vengeance.
James noticed his mother's wand propped in a vase of tulips on the hall table; he grabbed it and felt a rush of warmth in his fingers as he held the cool, slim stick of wood loosely in his hand.
***
"You freak. You disgust me. The very sight of you almost makes me physically ill."
Sirius replied coolly: "What part of it makes me a freak, mother? That I refuse to kill Muggles for fun? Or the fact that I loathe you and the rest of my family for doing so?"
His mother struck him full across the face; her long blonde hair swirled around her as she strode from the room, violet eyes glittering maliciously.
Sirius threw himself over to the door she had just walked through as the lock clicked into place.
He sank slowly onto his bed, closing his eyes, he felt the tears welling up behind his eyelids, he would not cry. He had not let them make him cry for three years.
Sirius felt around under his pillow, at last he drew out a crumpled photograph. There was a man wearing tattered robes and laughing, his face radiated true happiness. There was a look about his eyes that told Sirius that it was okay to be different, he had also been an outcast in his family. The Blacks were notoriously well known in the Wizarding world. But Alex Black had become an Auror, despite his family's repeated attempts to turn him into a Death Eater. He had grown up and married Apolla, and Sirius was their son. Sirius had been raised, though, without his father. Alex had been murdered in a raid; one of his brothers had put the wand to his head.
Without him, Apolla had sunk into deep depression, emerging only when the 'guiding' hand of her late husband's family supported her. Sirius had watched his mother change, from a young woman, filled with hope, to a soul- less empty shell, working as a Death Eater.
The lock on the door clicked and Sirius hurriedly hid the picture and lay down nonchalantly on his bed.
Bellatrix Black walked in, she was wearing ordinary clothes, jeans and a plain black t-shirt, but there was an underlying hint of evil. Maybe it was the way her eyes glinted as she gazed at her cousin, or that she was holding her brother's wand in her left hand.
"Hi Sirius."
Silence greeted this; Bellatrix took this as invitation to seat herself on the floor.
"What you doing?"
Sirius replied, being sarcastic for once; "Is it any of your business what I do, Bella?"
"-trix." She added automatically. "No, I suppose not. Would you like me to go away?"
"Yes. Piss off then."
"Alright then. I won't give you this letter. I came up here with the best intentions, but now I'm not going to bother." She got up and turned as if to leave but Sirius was way ahead of her.
"Give me the letter, Bella."
"No. Why should I?" Then, primly: "You swore at me."
"Give. Me. The. Letter. Or else."
"Or else what? You'll shout at me? I'm terrified." Bellatrix had learned the art of sarcasm from Sirius and used it to her full advantage.
"No, Bella. I will take that wand off you and ram it down your throat."
"I'll tell Mother."
Sirius closed his eyes, took several deep breaths and counted to eleven-point-nine. Bellatrix sat cross-legged on the threadbare carpet.
"I know something you don't know, I know something you don't know." She sang softly under her breath.
"Yeah?" Was Sirius' rejoinder. "Well, I know many things you don't know. Like how to count past three, for example."
"Ha ha. You're so funny I forgot to laugh."
"Bellatrix, you either get out of my room, give me the letter or tell me what you know in the next ten seconds or I will.feed you to Kreacher."
Bellatrix sighed theatrically and handed him the letter before reseating herself.
"What are you doing?"
"You said 'or'."
Rolling his eyes, Sirius glanced down at the envelope. There was an insignia in the wax seal, depicting a lion, a badger a raven and a snake.
***
Remus tapped the number in and listened to the dial tone at the other end. It stopped abruptly and a man's voice spoke; "Hello?"
"Hi. It's Remus here. Is Mathew there please?"
"Yes, just hold on one minute."
Mathew picked up, "Hi Remus." He sounded awkward and embarrassed.
"Hi, um." Usually Remus did not need to talk much, Mathew usually carried the conversation for him, burbling away about any subject under the sun.
"So," mumbled Mathew. "Why are you calling?"
Remus was surprised, "Erm, just wondered if you were doing anything today?"
"Don't you have anyone else you could have called? I'm kind of busy right now.
"Oh." Said Remus, and, lacking better conversation topics, he asked "What're you doing?"
There came a sound of smothered laughter, during which Remus felt himself begin to go red.
"Some of my friends are over," answered Mathew.
"Oh." Said Remus again. He didn't bother mentioning that he thought they were his friends too.
"Remus?" Remus jumped, he had almost forgotten the receiver he was holding to his ear.
"We sort of.wanted to tell you something." This did not sound good. "We just...don't really want to hand around with you. We're still your friends," he added hurriedly. "You know, you're a bit.weird."
Remus decided that he might as well make the following silence even more uncomfortable.
"How so?"
"The time when you couldn't play football with us..." There was a very pregnant pause. Remus had not been allowed to play football with them. They had said he was referee. "And then the ball flew up in the air, and kept on flying."
Mathew was evidently on a roll now, "And the time when we all took the mick, in a friendly way, of your hair-" Remus did not remember it being particularly friendly. "-so you turned Nick's bright pink, and all those times when you've said the weirdest-"
Remus did not hear anymore; he had hung up. He moved over to the bookshelves over his bed and selected the dictionary. He looked up the word 'fascist'.
His father poked his head round the door, "Were you on the.on the.teflon Remus?"
"Yes."
"Why? You know very well that I don't approve."
"Sorry dad. You can have it now, if you want it."
His father eyed him suspiciously, then removed his head.
Remus rested his head in his hands, the people who he had thought were his friends had just told him he was too much of a freak to ever fit in with them. "Fantastic," he muttered to himself. "Next brilliant happening in the life of Remus Lupin, he gets sent to Durmstrang. Mother thinks Beauxbatons and I'd rather go to Hogwarts." He slammed his fist into the wall, the stripes on his blue wall paper now seemed more like bars; he was sick of trying to please everyone. He jumped off his bed, knowing full well that his father hated it when he did that and walked to his desk. There was some parchment and a quill lying on the surface, he began to write.
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
I am a eleven-year-old boy from Cornwall. My name is Remus Lupin. I really hoped that I might get into your school, but have so far received no letter. Maybe you could tell me what would make me eligible to go there,
so I can change more things about me to fit in.
Yours sincerely, Remus Lupin
Remus knew it was stupid, if he hadn't got a letter yet, the chances were he never would. But he was angry at the world and had found a way of letting it out. He was just about to tie it to his owl, Figgaro's leg when his mother called.
"Remus, your father and I have something very important to tell you."
"Coming, mum."
Remus walked down the stairs; his parents were in the living room, sitting side by side on the cream sofa. The long green curtains behind them were open and Remus could see his mother's painstakingly neat garden bathed in sunshine.
They both looked considerably disgruntled, and Remus speculated as to what could have annoyed them.
"You know you have to go to a new school in September," began his father. Remus nodded, wondering where this was going.
"We only received one letter, which we were disappointed at, as your mother wished you to go to Beaxbatons, in France, whereas I believe the Durmstrang would have been a much better choice. However, as chance would have it, neither of these schools have offered you an application. Instead, we have here a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Remus felt he couldn't restrain himself from jumping about.
Seeing his clenched fists, his mother hastened to reassure him, "You could always write, and tell us if you were unhappy there."
"No, mum. Thank you. I'd love to go to Hogwarts."
Thirty seconds later, Remus was screwing up his letter to Dumbledore. Whilst trampolining on his bed.
.
We await your owl.
James Potter opened his eyes and stretched luxuriously, before wondering what had woken him. A tawny owl was perched precariously on his windowsill, urgently knocking against the glass with its beak.
James stood up and crossed the room, sliding the pane of glass up, the owl immediately soared to the top of the door and let out a screech.
"Alright, alright." Muttered James. "We do have Muggle neighbours, y'know."
He noticed the scroll of aged-looking parchment tied to the owl's leg, and after an unsuccessful attempt to take it off, he realised that his unexpected visitor was having none of it. He spent the next half an hour chasing the owl round the room, before grumpily throwing himself onto his bed.
"Great." He said aloud. "I get the only anti-social owl at Hogwarts."
"James? Are you up yet?" his mother called from downstairs.
"I was, then I decided not to be."
"Well dear, I need you to degnome the garden for me, it's terrible. They've begun coming into the house."
James groaned and buried his head in his pillow. Phrases of what seemed to be a very long and graphic description of what he would like to do to all gnomes and owls could just be heard, most of which was very rude and involved spellotape.
Mrs Potter entered the room, heard some of what her son was mumbling and looked shocked.
"James!"
"Oh, er, hi mum."
"Are you up?"
Silence greeted this statement, but Mrs Potter carried on breezily, regardless of the very evil glower crossing her son's face.
"Good, get dressed and you can have some breakfast."
James sat up, looking hopeful.
"After you've degnomed the garden."
"Ah, no, you think I can't see you if you hide all the way down there, but actually, I can. So you could just come out. Because I'll get you in the end anyway. You'd be making things easier on yourself. I won't throw you as far if you come of your own free will. Promise. Okay, please will you come out? Please? I'll get you a potato. Anything you want. Fine then, I can't see you. Happy now? No. Don't do tha- OW!"
James reversed very swiftly from the rabbit hole that he had bee halfway down, he was shaking his hand around violently and swearing at the gnome clinging to his index finger by its teeth. Suddenly the gnome let go and flew fifty feet to the left, across a nearby stile, into the wood fringing the Potter house. Only it wasn't a house, it was an old castle, abandoned by Muggles when the staircases began to collapse. Actually though, the staircases hadn't collapsed, they were still intact, it was the Potters who had decided that they no longer wanted to share their ancestral home with a group of Muggles. Even if they did call themselves the National Trust.
James dusted his hands off; the last gnome was giving him the finger from a tree stump some way away.
He wandered in the kitchen in search of food, a large fruit salad stood in the middle of the table, James helped himself. He then proceeded to trek mud all down the hall.
Suddenly, a large, dark shape dived at him from a long way above; he quickly threw himself onto the threadbare rug (a priceless heirloom from his great, great grandmother, as it happened.) ducking the mysterious bomber. A loud screech told him that, yes, his friend the owl was back. With a vengeance.
James noticed his mother's wand propped in a vase of tulips on the hall table; he grabbed it and felt a rush of warmth in his fingers as he held the cool, slim stick of wood loosely in his hand.
***
"You freak. You disgust me. The very sight of you almost makes me physically ill."
Sirius replied coolly: "What part of it makes me a freak, mother? That I refuse to kill Muggles for fun? Or the fact that I loathe you and the rest of my family for doing so?"
His mother struck him full across the face; her long blonde hair swirled around her as she strode from the room, violet eyes glittering maliciously.
Sirius threw himself over to the door she had just walked through as the lock clicked into place.
He sank slowly onto his bed, closing his eyes, he felt the tears welling up behind his eyelids, he would not cry. He had not let them make him cry for three years.
Sirius felt around under his pillow, at last he drew out a crumpled photograph. There was a man wearing tattered robes and laughing, his face radiated true happiness. There was a look about his eyes that told Sirius that it was okay to be different, he had also been an outcast in his family. The Blacks were notoriously well known in the Wizarding world. But Alex Black had become an Auror, despite his family's repeated attempts to turn him into a Death Eater. He had grown up and married Apolla, and Sirius was their son. Sirius had been raised, though, without his father. Alex had been murdered in a raid; one of his brothers had put the wand to his head.
Without him, Apolla had sunk into deep depression, emerging only when the 'guiding' hand of her late husband's family supported her. Sirius had watched his mother change, from a young woman, filled with hope, to a soul- less empty shell, working as a Death Eater.
The lock on the door clicked and Sirius hurriedly hid the picture and lay down nonchalantly on his bed.
Bellatrix Black walked in, she was wearing ordinary clothes, jeans and a plain black t-shirt, but there was an underlying hint of evil. Maybe it was the way her eyes glinted as she gazed at her cousin, or that she was holding her brother's wand in her left hand.
"Hi Sirius."
Silence greeted this; Bellatrix took this as invitation to seat herself on the floor.
"What you doing?"
Sirius replied, being sarcastic for once; "Is it any of your business what I do, Bella?"
"-trix." She added automatically. "No, I suppose not. Would you like me to go away?"
"Yes. Piss off then."
"Alright then. I won't give you this letter. I came up here with the best intentions, but now I'm not going to bother." She got up and turned as if to leave but Sirius was way ahead of her.
"Give me the letter, Bella."
"No. Why should I?" Then, primly: "You swore at me."
"Give. Me. The. Letter. Or else."
"Or else what? You'll shout at me? I'm terrified." Bellatrix had learned the art of sarcasm from Sirius and used it to her full advantage.
"No, Bella. I will take that wand off you and ram it down your throat."
"I'll tell Mother."
Sirius closed his eyes, took several deep breaths and counted to eleven-point-nine. Bellatrix sat cross-legged on the threadbare carpet.
"I know something you don't know, I know something you don't know." She sang softly under her breath.
"Yeah?" Was Sirius' rejoinder. "Well, I know many things you don't know. Like how to count past three, for example."
"Ha ha. You're so funny I forgot to laugh."
"Bellatrix, you either get out of my room, give me the letter or tell me what you know in the next ten seconds or I will.feed you to Kreacher."
Bellatrix sighed theatrically and handed him the letter before reseating herself.
"What are you doing?"
"You said 'or'."
Rolling his eyes, Sirius glanced down at the envelope. There was an insignia in the wax seal, depicting a lion, a badger a raven and a snake.
***
Remus tapped the number in and listened to the dial tone at the other end. It stopped abruptly and a man's voice spoke; "Hello?"
"Hi. It's Remus here. Is Mathew there please?"
"Yes, just hold on one minute."
Mathew picked up, "Hi Remus." He sounded awkward and embarrassed.
"Hi, um." Usually Remus did not need to talk much, Mathew usually carried the conversation for him, burbling away about any subject under the sun.
"So," mumbled Mathew. "Why are you calling?"
Remus was surprised, "Erm, just wondered if you were doing anything today?"
"Don't you have anyone else you could have called? I'm kind of busy right now.
"Oh." Said Remus, and, lacking better conversation topics, he asked "What're you doing?"
There came a sound of smothered laughter, during which Remus felt himself begin to go red.
"Some of my friends are over," answered Mathew.
"Oh." Said Remus again. He didn't bother mentioning that he thought they were his friends too.
"Remus?" Remus jumped, he had almost forgotten the receiver he was holding to his ear.
"We sort of.wanted to tell you something." This did not sound good. "We just...don't really want to hand around with you. We're still your friends," he added hurriedly. "You know, you're a bit.weird."
Remus decided that he might as well make the following silence even more uncomfortable.
"How so?"
"The time when you couldn't play football with us..." There was a very pregnant pause. Remus had not been allowed to play football with them. They had said he was referee. "And then the ball flew up in the air, and kept on flying."
Mathew was evidently on a roll now, "And the time when we all took the mick, in a friendly way, of your hair-" Remus did not remember it being particularly friendly. "-so you turned Nick's bright pink, and all those times when you've said the weirdest-"
Remus did not hear anymore; he had hung up. He moved over to the bookshelves over his bed and selected the dictionary. He looked up the word 'fascist'.
His father poked his head round the door, "Were you on the.on the.teflon Remus?"
"Yes."
"Why? You know very well that I don't approve."
"Sorry dad. You can have it now, if you want it."
His father eyed him suspiciously, then removed his head.
Remus rested his head in his hands, the people who he had thought were his friends had just told him he was too much of a freak to ever fit in with them. "Fantastic," he muttered to himself. "Next brilliant happening in the life of Remus Lupin, he gets sent to Durmstrang. Mother thinks Beauxbatons and I'd rather go to Hogwarts." He slammed his fist into the wall, the stripes on his blue wall paper now seemed more like bars; he was sick of trying to please everyone. He jumped off his bed, knowing full well that his father hated it when he did that and walked to his desk. There was some parchment and a quill lying on the surface, he began to write.
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
I am a eleven-year-old boy from Cornwall. My name is Remus Lupin. I really hoped that I might get into your school, but have so far received no letter. Maybe you could tell me what would make me eligible to go there,
so I can change more things about me to fit in.
Yours sincerely, Remus Lupin
Remus knew it was stupid, if he hadn't got a letter yet, the chances were he never would. But he was angry at the world and had found a way of letting it out. He was just about to tie it to his owl, Figgaro's leg when his mother called.
"Remus, your father and I have something very important to tell you."
"Coming, mum."
Remus walked down the stairs; his parents were in the living room, sitting side by side on the cream sofa. The long green curtains behind them were open and Remus could see his mother's painstakingly neat garden bathed in sunshine.
They both looked considerably disgruntled, and Remus speculated as to what could have annoyed them.
"You know you have to go to a new school in September," began his father. Remus nodded, wondering where this was going.
"We only received one letter, which we were disappointed at, as your mother wished you to go to Beaxbatons, in France, whereas I believe the Durmstrang would have been a much better choice. However, as chance would have it, neither of these schools have offered you an application. Instead, we have here a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Remus felt he couldn't restrain himself from jumping about.
Seeing his clenched fists, his mother hastened to reassure him, "You could always write, and tell us if you were unhappy there."
"No, mum. Thank you. I'd love to go to Hogwarts."
Thirty seconds later, Remus was screwing up his letter to Dumbledore. Whilst trampolining on his bed.
.