Title: Two Letters for Lupin
Rating: K
Summary: Two letters mark the beginning and end of Remus Lupin's time as a student at Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter world, J. K. Rowling does.
One bright summer morning in 1971 (give or take a year) the Lupin family were eating breakfast. Mr Lupin was sorting the mail.
"One from Julius," he said, passing an envelope to his wife. "The Floo Network Maintenance bill for me, lucky me …… and one for you, Remus."
He put a thick yellowish envelope on the table beside his son's plate.
Remus glanced briefly at it. "It's a mistake. I don't get letters," he said.
"I think this one is for you," said his father. "It's got your name on it."
"It's still a mistake," Remus said, but obediently he opened and read it. Then he put it back down on the table and went on eating his breakfast.
"Well?" said his father.
"Like I said, it's a mistake. This letter is for some kid who's going to Hogwarts. They put it in the wrong envelope."
Mrs Lupin smiled. "No mistake," she said. "You are going to Hogwarts."
"Not funny," said Remus.
"I'm not trying to be funny," said his mother. "You really are going to Hogwarts."
Remus looked hard at her face. "You mean it? I'm going to learn magic? I'm going to be a real wizard, with a wand and everything?"
"That's right, son," said his father. "With a wand and everything."
Remus dropped his spoon into his porridge. "But how …… don't they know I'm …… I'm a ……"
"Yes, they know. Remember the old wizard who came to see us last year? That was Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts. He wanted to see you, to find out if you'd be suitable to go there. We didn't tell you, in case it didn't work out and he wasn't able to fix it. But it's all sorted, and if you do exactly what he tells you, you've got nothing to worry about."
Mr and Mrs Lupin exchanged a glance and a secret smile, as their son sat transfixed, gazing into a dazzling future.
Nearly seven years later, Remus Lupin was sitting at another breakfast table, for the very last time. This was the last meal he would eat at Hogwarts, at the Gryffindor table, with Sirius beside him, Peter opposite him, and James opposite Sirius, the four of them in a square as they had been since they were eleven. He ate slowly, to make it last. He remembered the previous night in the dormitory. He had finished packing, and was sitting on his bed, when James and Sirius came in.
How alike they were. Not just in appearance – the height, the black hair, the good looks. No, it was more their air of pureblood confidence. Both had been provisionally accepted for Auror training; provisionally, but it was really a certainty. A record number of NEWTs in the bag, the right personality, the right family background. They laughed and joked as they started on their packing.
Peter, clutching a letter, came over to Remus and sat on the bed beside him.
"I've been accepted by St Mungo's," he said.
"I didn't know you wanted to be a healer," said Remus.
"I don't. Haven't got enough NEWTs anyway." Peter showed Remus the letter.
"……offer you the post of Trainee Assistant Potions Dispenser …… conditional on your obtaining an Outstanding NEWT in Potions, and Exceeds Expectations in at least one other subject ……"
"I've definitely got O in Potions, and E in Herbology," Peter said happily. "And it's thanks to you and all that extra teaching you gave me."
"No, you did it yourself," said Remus.
Peter's face looked more sober, and he put his hand on Remus's shoulder.
"You'll be all right," he said quietly. "Something'll turn up for you."
Something, but what? At breakfast on their last morning, the future looked uncertain for Remus. He would be going home to his parents, and he would spend the summer looking for a job. If he hadn't found anything by September, he had two options. He could remain with his parents, and his father, through his Muggle connections, would find him some kind of work. Probably a casual labouring job, where nobody would notice or mind that he was unavailable for work one day a month. Or …… Sirius had promised he would always look after him. But wouldn't that be like admitting he couldn't look after himself?
Suddenly a large owl flew in, dropped an envelope on Remus's plate, and immediately flew away. Remus picked up the envelope and turned it over. It bore the seal of the Werewolf Registry.
His heart sank. Nothing good ever came out of the Werewolf Registry. What regulation had he inadvertently broken this time, and what penalty would they exact from him? Or – considering what day it was – it could be worse, much worse. It could be telling him that it had all been a mistake, he should never have been allowed into Hogwarts, he was to hand in his wand and present himself for memory modification. He wouldn't do it. He would run away and hide, in some jungle or desert where the Ministry would never find him.
James, Peter and Sirius were all looking curiously at him. He started to put the letter in his pocket. No. Refusing to read it wouldn't make it go away. He opened the envelope, and a huge grin spread over his face when he read the letter.
They were offering him a job as a clerical assistant in the Registry. No matter that they were only doing it so that he'd be where they could keep an eye on him. No matter even that the pay was a pittance. Remus didn't need much. At least he would be able to pay his way, and he would have a respectable job in the wizard world.
He raised his hand and waved the letter, to show that it was good news. James and Peter smiled back encouragingly. Sirius reached up and grabbed the letter and, without asking permission, read it.
"Well done, Moony," he said, beaming. "At least it's a start. When something better comes along you can tell them where to stick it."
"You bet," said Remus happily.
Dumbledore watched them from the High Table. He had had to call in a couple of favours to get the Registry to issue that letter. A fine state of affairs, that he should have to grovel to obtain a menial clerical post for one of the best students Hogwarts had ever turned out.
Well, I've done my best for the boy, he thought. It's up to him now.