WEREWOLF
FAIRYFLY
CHAPTER TWO
I knew I was going to come to Hogwarts even when my mother was screaming the opposite. It's the kind of thing where you feel you've just made it too far to give up or not succeed. When it came to that, I wonder why I even wrote down that part, where she said I couldn't go, because it really didn't make any difference. But it just went to show you something about Mother, I guess.
From that day until the beginning of the term, our house became an inn for a great number of owls. They swooped in and out the windows—from the headmaster of Hogwarts (someone told me his name was Albus Dumbledor. He even wrote a letter to me himself saying he was glad I was going to come to his school), the deputy headmistress, my very distant relatives (who, for some reason, didn't know I existed until I was accepted into the best magic school in Europe), as well as some people from Dad's work. Once or twice two of the Ministry Agents stopped by (the dangerous creatures department) to check on me and make sure I wasn't running wild or something. With all this commotion, I was surprised when Mother didn't have another nervous breakdown. She had them often now-a-days.
But, despite the fact the I was allowed to come to school, Mother made sure she got her way at least once. They sat me down with Dad and lectured me on and on and on. All the time I was sitting there, on the edge of my seat, biting my lip, expecting them to commend me to do (or not to do) something unbelievable or terrifying. But they didn't. Mother decided (these were all her ideas, I knew, even though Dad said "we". He felt kind of guilty throwing her out of the whole decision thing, I suppose) that I was to keep a low profile. Never strike up a conversation with the pupils for no reason, don't voice my opinion, don't get into arguments, don't answer all the questions in class. Be all average. Fade into the scenery
They needn't have worried, though. I had that exact same plan. I'll more then gladly stay in the back round. All I wanted is to learn all I can, and get out. I didn't want to attract attention to myself. People had always made me nervous, I guess because I always expected them all to gang up on me, or start throwing stones, because of what I was. It had happened before, and even though it never got violent, there were a few close calls when the crowd around me suddenly hushed and edged away. I was more uncomfortable around people than people were around werewolves.
At last, that faithful day arrived.
I had not slept the night before, full of nerves, apprehension, excitement, wonder, and at times plain dead fear. This was probably the biggest thing that ever happened to me in my life (well, the biggest thing that could be considered positive), and calling it that was no over-exaggeration. Everything was going to be just right. I wasn't going to mess up. And the best part was that nobody would know about…about that. Professor Dumbledore said no one would tell any of the students. Everything had been worked out. And yet I lay, tossing and turning, my head pounding and my heart beating fast, until, with the first rays of sun, I shot out of bed to get ready.
It was one of the grayer mornings when I sat down for breakfast and I wondered if it was some sort of a bad omen. Mother certainly seemed to think so. She was rocking back in forth in her chair, mumbling something about trees. But then again, she was always like that. I reached across the table for the toast and was chewing it (without really tasting it) when Dad walked though the door. He looked unnaturally somber.
"Good morning, Natalie, Remus." He said, nodding at us. If mother heard him, she didn't make a sign to show it.
"Mornin, Dad." I answered, trying to relieve the tension by acting as normal as possible.
I don't know, but for some reason we were all on pins and needles that morning. Well, Mother was Mother, never changing. But Dad? He usually can't spend thirty seconds in a room with another breathing thing without cracking a joke or bursting into hysterical laugher. Now he acted as though someone had died. I was no better, although I'd like to think I was. In my mind, I saw all the things that can possibly go wrong come true, and even though some were quite creative (a HUGE dragon flew to Hogwarts, told me I soiled the school by being there, and burned it down) all seemed extremely likely to happen. I never wanted to leave so dearly as I did now, and yet I never wanted to not go anywhere like at that moment..
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Dad got up, pecked Mother on the cheek, and we were off.
Floo Powder had never been one of my favorite forms of travel. I always felt sick afterwards. There was a period of time when I was still human when I'd try to convince my parents that I was allergic to it, but it hadn't worked out so I had given up. Today, however, I was grateful for the mad spinning and blurry fireplaces shooting past and even for the slight smell of rotten eggs. It distracted me a bit from the world, as I had to concentrate hard on not getting sick.
I stumbled out of the fireplace into the Leaky Cauldron and shook my head vigorously to get the green spots out of my eyes. I looked around as I waited for Dad to arrive with my trunk—he was taking a much longer time that usual. The pub was especially busy today, I noticed, and it was a mess, too. Two boys were being yelled at by the inn keeper for conjuring up ugly yellow slime and tossing it all over. I thought it was kind of funny how they looked at the man as though he was crazy, and then Dad stumbled out.
"Ready to go?" He asked.
I nodded, the action seemed to take a lot more effort than usual.
The King's Cross was filled, as always, with Muggles. That was one of the reasons Mother hadn't come to see me off. She didn't like Muggles that much. Personally, I don't see what's really so bad about them (they can't be much different from Squibs, can they?), but I've never met one, so I can't talk. They were rushing every which way, some of them looking very lost. But I did see a few of wizards, too. Most of them were Hogwarts students with their families.
We leaned casually against the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. On the other side, there was the scarlet train with big, bold letters spelling out HOGWARTS EXPRESS written across it. This was even a greater chaos than the Muggle world. A girl with dark red hair almost knocked Dad over to the ground as she shot past screaming,
"PETUNIA! You little maggot! You will so die for this!!!"
Dad said that I should go drop off my trunk and come back out, since there were some twenty minuets left before the train departed. I did that, abandoning my trunk in an empty compartment towards the end of the train. I hoped it would stay empty except for me. I came back outside.
"Well, son, I guess this is it!" He said, trying to grin. I hoped dearly he wouldn't start crying. That should really burst my mood up a couple of notches! He put a hand on my shoulder and held me an arm's length away, looking at me as though this was the last time he'd ever see me. Parents have a tendency to get a tiny bit over emotional on occasions like this.
"Remus, I just want you to know, that your Mother and I are very proud of you, no matter what happens. And that if things start to get—er—out of control, you get on a train and come straight home, understand?"
"Ok."
"And if you don't like it at that school, you can come right back, and we'll get Sam to tutor you again, ok?"
"Alright."
"And—" here he drew in a shaky breath, "—you'll write, won't you?"
"I will."
I wanted to get away from him as fast as possible. I felt that if I didn't, I'd suddenly change my mind and start running away, away. And never stop, just keep running. Away from this school, away from Dad, away from full moons… There was an odd feeling in my stomach as though it was tied into knots, and there was a heavy weight on my chest that made breathing difficult. I didn't know what t say, so I just looked at my watch (for some reason it took me a long time to figure out the time) and said,
"I better go, Dad. Don't worry. I'll be ok."
He was positively on the verge of tears now. I think he was a bit hurt that I was so eager to desert him. There were still fifteen minuets before the train left.
"Yes, alright. Goodbye, son."
"Bye." I said, and headed for the train.
The train ride was pretty much OK. I didn't have the compartment to myself, unfortunately, but the three sixth-years that were there didn't seem very interested in me beyond to learn my name, so they left me alone. I was happy enough with that amount of attention. I sat, leaning my head against the window, watching the countryside flash by. It started to drizzle after awhile, but there wasn't any heart in it, so it stopped soon after.
I don't know how I ever survived those minuets before the Sorting. Sam had told me how they sort into houses, and he told me about the houses, too. But I still couldn't believe how nervous I was. What if the Sorting hat will refuse to sort me because of what I am (I haven't heard of it ever happening before, but then again I am the first werewolf to come to the school, aren't I?). Or maybe she'll decide just based on that… I was pretty sure that's what was going to happen.
I felt so—so—so dirty compared to the kids standing besides me. None of them were half-human trying to pass themselves up as someone worthy of Hogwarts. None of them had this ugly black spot on my life. Hey, even the deepest, darkest Slytherins were probably truer than me. I suddenly felt a prang in my stomach. I felt sick.
"Hey! Are you ok?"
A boy with dark hair and eyes was standing in front of me, looking slightly concerned. I didn't realize that I was muttering my thoughts out loud to myself. For a moment a rush of shivers ran down my spine, how much have I muttered out?!
"You know, there's really nothing to be afraid of. Nobody's ever died from a sorting."
I guess my muttering was to quiet for anyone to hear. Now I reeled from the shock of being spoken to. I wasn't supposed to speak to anyone. I was supposed to blend into the scenery. And here I was, attracting attention before school even started. I cleared my throat, but before I could find my voice, the door opened and Professor McGonagall entered.
"We are ready for you. Please follow me."
I couldn't feel my legs as I dragged them out into the Great Hall (where the ceiling was enchanted to look like the sky outside, Sam said). The dark haired boy disappeared.
Author's Note: Well, how was it? Sorry it took such a long time to get up. I was really busy with a different story I'm working on (nothing fan-fic-y). TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!!!! The reviews are mother's milk to me. I need something to keep me going, or else I get side tracked. Review, and I'll love you forever!!!
Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to the great and might JKR, except for the people that don't. Those are mine. MINE!