The walk between the Grigsby marketplace and the Lupins' trailer was very long and empty, but Remus enjoyed the scenery and the solitude, so he didn't mind. He liked the Lake District, where they had been living for three weeks now. It was far better than Liverpool, and Remus felt a lot safer here too.

The dusty dirt path took him alongside a stream, which he eyed longingly as he bore the milk bottles and grocery bags home. The sun was pounding down overhead, and he was sweating buckets. After another mile, he gave in. It won't take too long for a little splash, he reasoned. He carefully walked sideways down the slop of the bank, and set the groceries down at the base of a tree. After a hesitant pause, he grinned and ran unabashed into the water. The brook was only two feet deep, but the freezing cool water felt wonderful. He dunked himself, and then pretended to have a splashing fight with a nearby frog, which croaked squawkily and hopped away. Remus considered chasing it, but then resigned himself to the task of bringing home the groceries.

As he climbed back up the slope, he noticed a strange old man standing on the path watching him. Remus froze, mortified. He hadn't seen him on the path before, and he hadn't heard him approach. Remus didn't quite know what he was expecting from the stranger, but it certainly wasn't an offer of help. But the old man (who had the most wonderful long white beard Remus had ever seen) asked in a kind voice, "Would you like a hand?" His instincts were very clear about the man: you can trust him, Remus, you can always trust him. He gulped, and then with a shy, embarrassed face, he replied that that would be lovely, thank you.

The old man took the milk, but Remus refused to let him take the groceries. He slung the bag over his shoulder and climbed up the slope. "Thank you, sir," he repeated, a bit apologetically. The old man beamed and answered,

"You are very welcome, Mr. Lupin."

Remus stopped. "How...how do you know my name?"

The old man's eyes gleamed. "I know a great many things, some of which I should like to discuss with you on the way back to your home. Might I accompany you?"

Dumbfounded, Remus stuttered and then supposed he could. They walked in silence for a while, Remus staring at his bare feet, and the old man admiring the scenery. "It is lovely country up here, I must say!" he commented. "The Muggle poets certainly knew what they were talking about, lauding this place." Remus frowned. Had he really just heard the word "Muggle"? Surely not. It wasn't real. It must have been "Romantic" and he just misheard.

"Mr. Lupin -- do you mind if I call you Remus?"

Remus looked at the man. "I... I don't, but sir, I don't know your name."

"I am Albus Dumbledore," he said gently, "Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Remus stopped walking. He stared at Dumbledore. What sort of preposterous claim was this? A wizarding school? He's playing with me, Remus thought angrily. Perhaps he isn't, his instincts fired back.

"Remus, would you like to sit down? You look pale," Dumbledore asked.

"I'm fine, thank you."

They continued, and neither of them spoke for a good while. Remus secretly hoped the old man might tire and leave, but then he remember that there wasn't really anywhere to go that was close by. And Dumbledore's stride had not flagged one bit.

They reached the trailer in silence. It had been barely secondhand when Owen Lupin had bought it six years ago, and to their credit the Lupins kept it up very well. Roberta was out back hanging up clothes, but Owen was inside, and so the door was unlocked. Remus solemnly opened it, then turned to Dumbledore. "Won't you come in?" Dumbledore bowed slightly and entered the trailer, the young boy trailing him a few feet.

Owen Lupin was hunched over a mortar and pestle, mixing up a Sleeping Solution. He was so absorbed in his work, he only noticed the two people in the trailer when Remus announced, "Da, this is Mr. Dumbledore. He wants to talk to us about something." His head jerked up, and he then stood up so quickly his chair fell over.

"Professor Dumbledore..." he repeated in an awed voice. His jaw bobbed up and down, until he found something to say. "Remus, go and get your Mum."

"Yes, sir," said the boy obediently, and excused himself past Dumbledore into the sunlight.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lupin."

Owen extended a hand and stumbled toward the wizard. "Please, sit down!"

Remus followed his mother back inside. Both wizards stood again as she entered. She smiled and said "Good day," and then the four of them took their seats around the table. The Lupins watched Dumbledore quizzically. Roberta asked if anyone would like a cup of tea, and Dumbledore answered he was quite partial to the thought. "You stay where you are," she clucked. "You fellows talk while I get this ready."

Dumbledore then turned his intense blue gaze on Remus. "Well then, Remus, I think there is something I should give you before we continue any further." He removed a letter from his robes, a letter with a wax seal and shining green ink written on parchment. Owen Lupin drew a breath, and his wide eyes followed the letter as it passed hands between Dumbledore and Remus.

Remus furrowed his brow and opened the letter delicately, knowing that he would want to save it later, whatever it was. He unfolded it and read it to himself.

"Dear Mr. Lupin,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..." His hands fell. He looked at his father. "Da, what's this mean?"

His father gulped. "If it says what I think it does, it means you have the greatest opportunity of your life in your hands, son."

A pained look came across Remus's face, but he said nothing. Roberta had turned around, watching, unsure of what her reaction should be. Dumbledore leaned forward.

"Remus, you know what this means, I assume? That you are magical?"

The boy's shoulders sagged. Of course I'm magical, he thought bitterly. What do you think I am? But he curbed his resentment and answered, allowing his hope to speak for him. "Am I a...a wizard as well?"

Dumbledore nodded. Remus sighed. He looked around for answers, but he only saw three pairs of earnest eyes on him. "It.. it sounds wonderful, Mr. Dumbledore," he said slowly. "But I'm afraid I can't go."

"Oh?" Dumbledore said softly. His eyebrows had shot up and there was something in his eyes that Remus didn't know how to read. "And why is that?"

He said it very quietly.

Dumbledore looked at Owen. "Is he on the Werewolf Registry?"

Owen seemed to break out of a trance. "The-the what? Oh, um, er, no."

Dumbledore nodded. "Good. Newt Scamander had good intentions for the legislation, but it has become a list of people for the Ministry to torment. Now." He turned his gaze back to Remus. "I think that as long we take certain reasonable precautions, I see no reason why you should not be able to attend Hogwarts."

Remus just stared. "What, you mean... go to school and live with other kids and... be normal?" Dumbledore smiled. The boy looked at his father. "Da, d'you think it could happen? I mean, do you?"

Owen looked staggered. "Hogwarts is the best there is, anywhere. I think if the Professor believes it can be done, why..." He seemed to remember something. "But, Professor Dumbledore, we've.. we've no money! Hardly any wizard money, less even than Muggle money..."

The wizard shook his white head. "I have a vault at Gringott's for precisely this purpose. I have little enough use for it, and I believe I am making a very good judgment when I say that Remus has the potential to become an extremely exceptional wizard."

Remus sat shaking in his seat. He had memories of his life before he was bitten -- of running out whenever he wanted and playing with other children and being careless and very free. It was not something he ever dwelled on -- it was so painful he wasn't even sure if it had ever been real. But the thought of tasting something like that...

He turned his eyes on his father, who was watching him very closely. "Da?" he said finally. "Can I go?"

* * *