Altercations

By Neurotica

Four

In the center of a large forest in Kent stood a small white cottage with a very well tended garden, which was quite plainly the pride and joy of lady of the house. Inside the front window, one could see a small boy, just shy of his eleventh birthday, playing an old, battered, secondhand piano. He'd never really liked the instrument; he preferred spending his days in his father's study reading one of the many books on the shelves, even though he'd read most of them twice. He only practiced piano because his mother wanted him to. She was amazing on the instrument, and the boy held many fond memories of listening to her playing lovely music throughout his young life.

The boy had a permanently sick look about him. Some days were worse than others —today was one of his good days. His sandy brown hair hung slightly over his blue eyes as he looked down to watch his fingers move across the ivory keys. There was a pale scar running from the top of his shoulder to his elbow. He'd only received the injury a week before, but his body healed much more quickly than a person's normally would.

When the boy had been only four years old, his life had been changed dramatically. Despite his parents' constant warnings about leaving the house at night, he had gone out into the yard for a toy truck his dad had brought home for him earlier that day. He'd found the toy right where he left it, by the big shade tree where his mum read to him. The full moon was shining brightly on his yellow dump truck, and he moved quickly across the damp grass in his bare feet to get to it. It was the middle of summer, and quite warm that night, so he had gone out in only his blue pajama bottoms.

When he finally got to his truck, he heard a low growling noise from inside the bushes. He looked up and saw a pair of yellow eyes glaring at him. He could smell putrid breath of rotten flesh and blood. Before he had a chance to run, what he thought to be a large dog pinned him to the ground. The silvery-colored animal began to bite and scratch at the boy's bare chest. He screamed and cried for his mummy and daddy to come as the dog continued to tear him apart.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to the young boy, he heard his dad burst from the backdoor. There was a bright flash of light, and the weight of the dog disappeared. The child woke days later in the hospital with his mother crying beside his bed. He asked her what was wrong, but she only cried harder and hugged him tightly. A few weeks later, his parents were allowed to take him home. He still didn't know why they looked so tired. Eventually they told him. The boy had never seen his dad cry before that day. He hadn't been bitten by a dog, as he had thought, but a werewolf. And now he would become a werewolf too. His parents tried to explain to him what would happen on the full moons, but neither of them could get close enough to explaining the pain he would experience. They told him that no matter what happened, no matter what the full moon would do to him, they would always love him, and they would do everything they could to find a cure for him.

But there was no cure for his curse. His father worked night and day at his small bookshop in Diagon Alley, searching every book he could get his hands on for something, anything that could possibly help his son. As the years went on, all the family could do was go on with life as normally as possible. The boy's parents didn't treat him any differently because of his condition —when he played tricks on his mum during the day, he was still punished; his dad still held him in his lap and read to him at night.

The only thing that seemed to have changed about John and Rebecca Lupin's plans for their son was the hope of sending him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Surely, no headmaster would admit a werewolf into the school. And even if by some miracle he did get in, the Ministry would highly oppose the decision.

The young boy resigned himself to a life of homeschooling by his mother and a promise from his father to teach him magic after his eleventh birthday. He was sad that he'd never get the chance to see the Hogwarts corridors, or learn from the teachers his father had told him so much about, but he went on with his life, playing his mother's piano until she called him for lunch.

That day, the boy's life changed again. Just as he played the last note on his mum's sheet music, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it, honey, you just keep playing," his mum called as she walked to the front door.

He rolled his eyes discreetly and picked up another book of music. His father brought home one of the Muggle books his shop had just gotten in, Treasure Island, and he was eager to get back to it. He heard his mother greet someone happily as he selected his next piece. He cracked his knuckles, hoping his mum didn't hear —she always told him not to crack his knuckles —and placed his fingers over the keys.

But before he could start playing, his mother entered the living room followed by a tall man with long silver hair and a beard to match. He wore purple robes and half moon spectacles on his crooked nose that made his twinkling blue eyes brighter. The boy knew this man well, by his picture, that is; he'd never had the chance to meet the wizard before.

"Remus," his mother said smiling. "This is Albus Dumbledore, your father's old professor."

Remus smiled at the wizard. "Hello, sir," he said quietly, shaking the hand offered to him. "It's wonderful to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Remus," Dumbledore said. "I've heard nothing but great things of you from your father. Is it true, Remus, that you once rigged your mother's kitchen cupboards to shoot flour at her when she opened them?" Remus' eyes widened slightly and he looked at his mother, whose lips were twitching, though her eyebrows were raised. He looked back to Dumbledore, whose blue eyes twinkled in an almost hypnotic way. "It's quite all right, Remus," the old wizard said. "We've all had our moments of fun. Why, I happen to recall your father and his friends charming the Hogwarts suits of armor to shoot water balloons at passersby when he was in school."

Remus grinned. "My dad did that?" he whispered in awe. Dumbledore nodded. "Wicked..."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "But I have another reason for visiting you today other than reliving old, fond memories. I wonder, Rebecca, if we may move into the kitchen. John tells me you have made a wonderful chocolate cake..."

Remus' mum laughed. "Yes, John would brag about cake. Of course, please, come in and make yourself at home, sir. Come along, Remus, it's time for lunch anyway."

Remus gratefully pushed himself away form the piano with a sigh of relief. His mother hadn't seen his face, but Dumbledore had; Remus blushed a bit, but Dumbledore winked at him and went to the kitchen. His mum was busy preparing tea, sandwiches, and slicing cake for the old professor. The wizard sat beside Remus at the table, and tossed his long beard over his shoulder as Mrs. Lupin set a plate of cake and a cup of tea before him.

"This looks delicious, Rebecca, thank you," Dumbledore said, picking up a fork and cutting into his cake.

"Enjoy, sir," Mrs. Lupin said, handing Remus his lunch and sitting on her son's other side. "So to what do we owe this pleasure, Professor Dumbledore?"

"Please, Rebecca, call me Albus, as I've asked before." Dumbledore smiled. "I've just come from John's bookshop, and I must say it's grown magnificently in the last few months. You must be proud of your husband, my dear."

Rebecca nodded and smiled. "I am, Albus. Quite proud."

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. "John and I were discussing your son this afternoon."

Remus looked up from his lunch. "Me? Why were you discussing me? Sorry," he added for his interruption.

"Not to worry, Remus. As I was saying, Rebecca, John informed me that Remus' eleventh birthday is fast approaching. I, of course, knew this before our meeting today, but that is another matter entirely. Now, Remus, do you know what happens on a witch's or wizard's eleventh birthday?"

Remus nodded. "Yes, sir, they receive their Hogwarts letter. My dad told me. He told me everything about Hogwarts, since I won't be able to go."

Dumbledore raised a white eyebrow. "Why would you think that you would not be able to attend Hogwarts?"

Remus bit his lip and looked to his mum. He'd never told anyone about his Lycanthropy. His parents had told select family members, but after they'd been informed, they'd never again visited the Lupins' cottage. What would Dumbledore say when he found out what Remus was? His dad told him he was no less human because of what had happened, but he'd also told Remus that there were others in the world who would persecute Remus for what he became once a month, and they would call him names. Would Dumbledore do that too?

Mrs. Lupin opened her mouth and began to explain, but Dumbledore silenced her, still watching Remus closely. "It's okay, my boy, you can tell me," he said kindly with a knowing look in his eyes.

Remus sighed and gulped, unable to look away from Dumbledore's eyes. "I-I won't be able to go to Hogwarts because..." He took a deep breath. "Because I'm a w-werewolf." The last word was spoken as a whisper. Remus waited for the look of disgust he'd gotten from his father's brother five years before, but it never came.

Dumbledore continued to smile gently at him. "I still do not understand why you believe you will not be able to attend Hogwarts, Remus," he said.

Remus furrowed his brow. "Well, my dad said the Ministry of Magic wouldn't allow it, even if Headmaster Dippet would. He said the Ministry would think I was too dangerous to be with other kids."

"And what do you think?"

The boy shrugged. "I suppose my dad's right," he said quietly, almost shamefully. "I could hurt another student, or kill somebody." Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw his mother wipe a tear from her eye.

"I see," Dumbledore said quietly. "Well, I can tell you, Remus, that your admittance to Hogwarts will not be Headmaster Dippet's decision; he passed away just after Christmas this year, and has since been replaced with the school's deputy Headmaster." When the Lupins met him with questioning glances, he smiled again. "I would like to introduce you to Hogwarts' new Headmaster... Me."

"Congratulations, Albus!" Mrs. Lupin said with a wide smile. "John didn't tell us."

"Well, I've only just informed John on this very day, so that would be why you were not informed. But we are off the subject. Remus, it is my decision on whether or not you will attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Rebecca shook her head. "But what about the Ministry? John says their views on..." she stole a quick glance at her son, who quickly looked down to his shoes. "Well, on werewolves are horrendous. From what he's told me, Remus has no rights in the wizarding world."

"While that was true in the past, laws have been changed since the appointment of Minister Finely two years ago. I do not know if you are aware of this, but the Minister's youngest brother was bitten by a werewolf when he was a child. Finely entered the Ministry just after Hogwarts in the hopes of changing the laws regarding werewolves. He's very sympathetic towards children like Remus, Rebecca. Your son is one of many innocents who have been affected and robbed of a normal life. I have had many discussions with the Minister concerning Remus, and both of us are convinced that if the proper precautions are taken, there should be no reason he couldn't attend Hogwarts."

Remus' eyes widened; surely it couldn't be possible...

"You have a lot of potential, Remus," Dumbledore said, turning to the boy. "Your father has told me about how you spend most of your days reading things for fun that most grown wizards don't care enough about to study. He's told me there have been nights when he or your mother had to pry a book from your hands because you fell asleep reading. Your father has further told me that one of your dreams is to attend Hogwarts, to take part in the lessons, and to one day become a fully qualified wizard. Is this all true, Remus?"

Remus nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Well then," Dumbledore said happily. "I have heard all I need." He stood. "Thank you again, Rebecca, for the cake. I apologize that I did not have the chance to enjoy it further." Remus raised his eyebrows, feeling disappointment fill his insides—maybe he wouldn't be going to Hogwarts, after all. But why would Dumbledore get his hopes up and then let him down like this?

The new Headmaster began to leave the cottage. His mother stood to follow him out the door, but there was no need; Dumbledore stopped halfway down the hall and turned back. He chuckled and reentered the kitchen, reaching into his robes. "I must be losing my memory as the years go on. I almost forgot to give you this, Remus."

Remus took the aged parchment envelope and looked at the back, where he saw the familiar red wax Hogwarts seal—his father had shown him his old letters from school. Remus' heart began beating wildly, threatening to jump right out of his chest, as he turned the letter over and saw his name and address written in emerald green script.

"I expect to see you in the Great Hall with your Hogwarts robes on the first of September, Remus," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Until then, I bid you a good day, and look forward to our next meeting."

Neither Remus nor his mother could say much. Remus tried to thank the Headmaster, but his mother had pulled him into a hug so tight he had to struggle to breathe. In less than six months, he would be just like every other kid in the wizarding world; he would be going to Hogwarts... just like his dad.

It was the last day of July and the backyard of the cottage was full, as most of the Order of the Phoenix was dropping by to wish Harry Potter a happy sixteenth birthday. The birthday boy was currently sitting with his friends as they talked about... something. Remus watched them from his spot on the back steps, idly wondering what they were discussing. It didn't seem to be anything terribly amusing—Hermione and Ginny were looking grave, while Ron looked pale. Fred and George didn't seem to know what to do—cracking a joke didn't seem to be an option at the moment.

He's probably told them about what happened the other night, Remus thought. And of course, he just can't wait until it's not his birthday. He's got to tell them right away. He sighed. Well, at least they're not running away screaming...

Harry's friends knew that he was a magnet for trouble, and Harry kept no secrets from them unless otherwise directed by his guardians. Remus was happy Harry had the kind of friends he did—good friends could get a person through the darkest of times. Without his own friends, Remus wouldn't be anything he was now. For Harry to one day defeat Lord Voldemort, it was important for him to have his friends at his side to help him, whether it be for moral support or actual fighting.

"Would you care for some company or are you too stuck in your deep thoughts?" Emmeline asked, sitting beside him on the steps. She slipped an arm through his, and intertwined their fingers.

Remus smiled, still watching Harry with his friends. Whatever they'd been talking about, the discussion seemed to have ceased as either Fred or George ruffled Harry's hair and said something to make the boy laugh. "Just thinking about Harry," Remus said. "And how much he reminds me of myself at his age..."

"How so?" Emmeline asked, cocking her head and squinting in the sunlight.

"How, once I got over my insecurities and trusted my friends, I knew I could tell them just about anything, good or bad, and they'd never leave me. How I needed, and still need, their assurances that I can get past anything the world throws at me," he explained. "I never would have made it through life if it hadn't been for Sirius, James, and even Peter. I know that if they hadn't done what they did by becoming Animagi, I would have killed myself long ago. They are the reason I'm alive. They are the reason I got over my fears, and even began to date. They are the reasons I believed enough in myself to pursue a teaching career, even though it didn't last."

"Have you ever thought about teaching at a Muggle school?"

"Lily suggested that once, actually. She was the one who really pushed me into being a teacher. Her, Naomi, and Julia. Julia worked in Wizard/Muggle Relations before she died, and she'd been working on a bill to allow wizards to get Muggle jobs without having to go through all the Ministry red tape. Without that bill, I would have had to register at the Ministry, stating that I wanted a Muggle job, and they'd place me somewhere—I'd have no choice of jobs. And being a werewolf... well, let's just say it's damn near impossible for me to get a job outside of the wizarding world."

Emmeline kissed his shoulder. "Well, you don't have to worry about that now, do you? Bones loves you as Head of the Magical Creatures, and she's been trying for years to rewrite all the werewolf legislations Fudge and Umbridge came up with."

Remus smiled. "You know, it doesn't really matter anymore. I used to be so upset that my friends had all the advantages they did, knowing I'd never be able to do more than dream. But I've got a great job, a wonderful family, and a beautiful woman by my side. What more could I ask for?"

Emmeline's response was a silent one.

Sirius smiled as he watched Remus and Emmeline. The last time he'd had something like they had was with Julia. His relationship with Hestia Jones had been more physical than anything, no matter what he told himself after her death. He had loved Hestia, just not as he'd loved Julia. He hoped to find love sometime in the future, but it wasn't one of his top priorities. If it happened, it happened; if not, well, maybe he just wasn't meant to fall in love again. Remus was, though. He was meant to fall in love with Emmeline Vance, marry her, and have all sorts of children with her. Sirius had known that before they had, and he hoped it wouldn't be long before Remus got up the nerve to make it official.

Something over his head caught his eye. He looked up and spotted the familiar brown owl swoop over the trees. Glancing back to make sure Remus was still occupied, he ducked away from Molly's conversation with Elphias Doge about magical means of getting stains out of carpets. He and the owl met up on the side of the cottage. The bird landed on Sirius' outstretched arm and the wizard retrieved the letter it carried. His brow furrowed as the owl squeezed his talons against Sirius' bare arm briefly before taking flight, going back to his owner.

Must be in a hurry today, he thought vaguely, unfolding the letter. His jaw clenched tightly as he read; this hadn't been the news he'd expected to hear. But there was nothing he could do until Harry's party was over. Remus would murder him if he even suggested leaving, and Harry deserved to have his godfather stay at his party at least once—the last two years, circumstances had forced Sirius to leave early.

Growling in both anger and frustration, Sirius balled up the letter in his fist and went to the front yard, entering the cottage that way. He moved swiftly to his own bedroom where he scribbled a note and folded it before taking it to Harry's room. Hedwig was asleep in her cage, her head hidden under her white wing. Sirius tiptoed across the floor, cursing under his breath at all the stuff littering Harry's floor. He gently took the owl from her cage, walked her to the open window, and carefully tied his note to her leg.

"All right, girl," he said quietly before letting her fly off. "Don't let Harry or Remus see you; they'll have my hide for this." Hedwig gave a disapproving hoot, as though she too was against him corresponding with this particular person. "Safe flight, then." Hedwig's talons dug into his arm a little harder than was necessary, and he watched her soar off into the sun.

"Padfoot?" Remus called from the kitchen. "Sirius, where are you? Harry's about to open his gifts!"

"On my way!" Sirius called back. Feeling slightly guilty, he returned to the backyard.

"Everything all right?" Remus asked as Harry and his friends examined the table of gifts awaiting the birthday boy.

Sirius nodded, avoiding eye contact with his best friend. "Yeah, everything's fine." Remus didn't seem convinced, and Sirius was sure to hear more about this later, but for the moment the subject was dropped. "Are we giving him our gift now?"

Remus shook his head. "I think that should be more of a private thing between the three of us, you know?"

"Good call. After the party, then?"

Remus nodded and the two friends moved forward to see Harry unwrap a new Quidditch jersey from Hermione. The presents he received varied from things like sweets from Hagrid and Dumbledore to books and clothes from Emmeline. Harry seemed a bit confused as he reached to bottom of the pile, not finding anything from his guardians. Sirius and Remus only smiled mysteriously at him and called the guests into the kitchen for cake.

"They're up to something," Harry muttered, watching his guardians converse with Bill and his girlfriend Fleur Delacour—Sirius seemed to be somewhat smitten with her...

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course they're up to something, Harry," she said. "They're Marauders—they're always up to something."

"Yeah, but—" Harry began.

"Harry, shut up and eat your cake," Fred said, sitting beside him on the kitchen counter. "Stop being so paranoid, mate. They won't do anything too horrible to you; it's your birthday, after all."

"Don't be so sure," Harry muttered darkly.

"Well, look at it this way, Harry," Hermione said. "Nothing's happened to make Sirius leave early this year."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "No, everything happened the other night, didn't it?"

None of his friends tried to argue this. They just continued to enjoy their chocolate and peanut butter cake, letting an awkward silence fall between them. Harry had told them what had happened three nights before, and their reactions had been somewhat predictable: Ron had gone chalk-white, and he'd dropped his butterbeer; Hermione, though horrified at first, began to spout off everything she'd ever read about possession; Fred and George had just kind of stared at him for a few moments. Ginny, though, was perhaps the only person Harry knew that had any idea what he'd been through. During her first year at Hogwarts, she'd been possessed by Tom Riddle by way of a magical diary.

"So, er, any idea who Dumbledore's going to get for Defense this year?" George asked. Harry was thankful for the change of subject.

"Could be anyone," Ron said. "Didn't you say Mad-Eye's going back to the Ministry, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "According to Sirius, yeah, but I don't know if that's official yet."

"Well, Dumbledore's bound to make a decision soon. We've only got four weeks until the new school term," Hermione said, watching Ron stuff cake into his mouth. "Honestly, Ron, you act like you're never going to eat again..."

"And what's really sad," Ginny said, "is that he's always done that."

Ron mumbled something through his cake, and though his friends and siblings couldn't make out the words, his mother began berating him from across the kitchen about the use of such foul language.

The party went on until nearly midnight, and not one Firecall or owl had come through for any of the guests that would require them to leave. Molly had taken it upon herself to clean up the mess in the backyard, even though Remus told her over and over again he could handle it. Finally, he rolled his eyes, smiled, and went back into the living room where Sirius was telling everyone stories about the Marauders' Hogwarts days.

And every single person in this room has probably heard every single one of these stories, but they still let him go on as if it was something new, Remus thought. It's good, though. It makes him feel normal. Not that Sirius Black could ever be considered normal, of course...

Hermione falling asleep on Ron's shoulder was the signal that it was time to call it a night. Everyone wished Harry a happy birthday one last time before Flooing to their respective destinations. Once the living room was empty, save Harry, his guardians, and Emmeline, the birthday boy collapsed with a happy sigh in Sirius' armchair. The wizard only had to raise an eyebrow at his godson before he relocated to the sofa.

"Did you have a good day, Harry?" Emmeline asked, sitting beside him.

Harry smiled and nodded. "Yeah, definitely one of the best birthdays I've had in a long time."

Remus was just happy it'd been a semi-normal day, regardless of how the last few months had gone. "Well, we've got one more thing to give you, and you can either have it tonight or wait until morning."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why would I wait until morning?"

"Because we're old and we may not have the energy to deal with your young soul tonight," Sirius said easily.

"Speak for yourself, Black," Emmeline said loftily. "I'm twenty-nine and holding strong, thankyouverymuch." She winked and smiled at Harry's chuckling before sipping at her Butterbeer

"And I don't recommend arguing that, Padfoot," Remus said with a grin.

"Do I look stupid?" Sirius asked. "Don't answer that," he added hastily as Harry and Remus opened their mouths in unison.

Emmeline laughed and shook her head. "You three go ahead and have your time together. I'm going to bed. Happy birthday, Harry," she said, kissing Harry's cheek. "Goodnight, boys."

The wizards said good night and watched her walk down the hall.

"You've got yourself a good woman, Moony," Sirius said, standing from his chair. "Don't let her go."

Remus only smiled and winked at Harry as Sirius went to his bedroom.

"What's he doing?" Harry asked.

"Getting your gift," Remus responded as if it should have been obvious. "Don't worry; you're going to love it."

Sirius returned a minute later carrying a box with no markings on it whatsoever. He sat it on the floor and signaled for Remus and Harry to sit around it with him. "Moony, if you would do the honors," he said.

Remus inclined his head slightly and waved his wand to turn all of the lights in the cottage off, leaving them in darkness. Before Harry could say anything, Remus muttered, "Incendio," and the fireplace filled with orange flames. "Okay, Harry," the werewolf said. "This is something that has been a Potter family heirloom for centuries, like your Invisibility Cloak. I don't think it's ever been used in quite this way, but your mum and dad wanted to give you something that would ensure you knew them."

"They didn't think they would make it out of the war," Sirius said quietly. "Neither of them ever said it out loud, but everything they did in their last few months told us they knew something was going to happen. But somehow, they were convinced you would make it through, and thankfully, you did."

"The contents of this box, Harry," Remus continued, "is something you'll have for the rest of your life. What is in this box is probably the most personal thing a parent can give their child. And Lily and James wanted us to contribute as well—by us, I mean all of the Marauders, Julia before her death, and Naomi. Your parents knew that some of us wouldn't make it, and they wanted you to know about the people they loved."

By now, Harry looked both eager and nervous as he eyed the box and his guardians in turn. Sirius and Remus exchanged a glance—Remus nodded—and Sirius opened the box finally. He very carefully pulled out a gray stone basin with ancient markings and colored stones circling it. Remus moved the box aside so Sirius could place the item on the carpet and Harry leaned over it for a better look. The basin was filled with a silvery liquid that swirled around in all different colors—red, blue, green, black—mixing in with it occasionally. Harry furrowed his brow.

"It's a pensieve," Remus said unnecessarily. "James wasn't ever sure what the runes and markings meant, but if you're interested, you and I can look them up some time."

The look on Harry's face was nothing short of awestruck. "My parents' memories are in there?" he whispered, tracing a finger around the Pensieve's rim.

"Yes," Sirius said, smiling. "Well, copies of the memories. Everything the rest of us contributed was related to your parents in someway, or your grandparents. I'm sure I threw in a few of those memories in there. I know someone put in their view of Lily's and James' wedding day..."

Harry looked to be in absolute heaven over his gift. His face was full of a joy and a slight reluctance his guardians had only seen when he received his very first broomstick at age five. Sirius and Remus smiled at each other over Harry's scruffy head of hair, knowing Harry felt as though he'd found the holy grail as far as his parents were concerned. They both knew this would mean Harry wouldn't routinely ask them for stories of his family, but there were still many to tell, and anything the pensieve didn't cover, they'd pick up the slack on.

"Well," Sirius said, scooting forward on the carpet a bit, his face almost as eager as Harry's. "Are you going to try it out?"

Harry smiled widely, looking away from the pensieve for the first time in nearly half an hour. "Right now?" he asked as though Sirius and Remus would suddenly rip his new possession from him. "I can try it out now?"

Remus smiled gently and scooted closer just as Sirius had done. "Of course you can," he said. "It's yours to use whenever you want." If possible, Harry's smile widened. The two wizards on either side of him placed a hand on each of his shoulders, pushing him forward into the pensieve. Harry took a deep breath just before his face hit the cool, swirling liquid, and a moment later, he was gone.