Y1, C3: Pulchritudinous

Even though Remus' father had been hesitant at first, he grew to be even more excited than Remus just a few short hours after Dumbledore's departure.

"Remus, the Great Hall is enchanted so that the ceiling looks like the sky. There are floating candles, too!"

"Will they fall on my head and catch my clothes on fire?"

"No, silly. You could play Quidditch if you wanted to! It was never my thing, but my friend Rose played Keeper for Ravenclaw."

"Oh, shut up about Rose," Remus' mum groaned. Remus grinned. His father had had a bit of a crush on Rose back when he was in school, and his mum often pretended to be jealous.

"Rose was so cool. She wore her baseball cap backwards and pretended to smoke."

"You only liked her because she was pretty."

"Spot-on," said Remus' father. "And popular, and interesting, and SO cool."

"I'm pretty," sniffed Remus' mum. "And interesting. And cool. Aren't I?"

"You're not pretty at all." Remus knew what was coming next and covered his ears. "You're gorgeous," his father finished.

Remus gagged. Living alone with only his parents for company was not all that it was cracked up to be.

They decided to go to Diagon Alley as soon as possible so that Remus could get a head-start on his studies. "You," said Remus' father, "are going to be the brightest wizard of your age. Just you watch. You'll be Prefect, Head Boy, and top of the form every year, hm?"

Remus laughed and shook his head. "No."

"I think you will. You only just turned eleven and you're already reading Latin at a proficient level—"

"I spent hours getting to that point."

"Hardworking, then. Perhaps you'll be a Hufflepuff." He ruffled Remus' hair. "I'm holding out for Ravenclaw, myself."

Remus' father continued to ramble about Hogwarts until the time came to get Remus' books. Remus learned quite a bit about the layout, the dormitories, the teachers, Professor Dumbledore, and the Great Hall. He was starting to get a bit excited, himself (almost), even though the prospect still scared him slightly. "How many people will there be?" he asked his father in the car as they drove to London.

"Hm... probably more than you're used to. But you'll be okay. Find a small group of friends and just spend time with them, all right? Hogwarts is only as big as you make it." Remus' father swiveled in his front seat to face Remus. "You've been terribly sheltered, you know."

"Sheltered?" asked Remus, knowing full well that sheltered often meant innocent. He wasn't sure that being a creature of the Dark counted as innocent.

"Yes; of course. You haven't met anyone your age since you were four. I'm not sure how much of a shock attending boarding school is going to be, Remus. If you need to go home, then you need only tell Professor Dumbledore—he and I have been in close correspondence since he visited last week, and he wants to make it very clear that you may go home whenever you so desire."

Of course Remus wouldn't go home. If he set foot in Hogwarts, then he was staying. He was far too stubborn to leave early simply because there were too many people. "Okay," Remus said, but only to assuage his father's worries. "I think I'll be all right, Dad." Remus considered asking his father if Dumbledore had said anything about the "security measures", but ultimately decided against it. Talking about that sort of thing only made his father guilty... his mother cry... and Remus very uncomfortable. Remus made a conscious decision then and there to pretend that he was a normal eleven-year-old wizard for as long as he could, even in front of his parents.

As they sat in the car, Remus' father passed the time by telling stories of his Hogwarts years… and Remus was all too happy to listen passively as he stared out the window and thought about "security measures".

Diagon Alley was large and crowded; Remus ended up holding tightly to his mother's sleeve the whole time for fear of getting swept into the crowd and never resurfacing. "I thought that we were going to beat the crowds by coming early," said Remus' mum, frowning.

Remus' father laughed. "The crowds? No, no. Diagon Alley is always crowded."

"It's really loud," said Remus. "And..." Suddenly, someone brushed up against his left arm. Remus jumped about a foot into the air and clung to his mother's sleeve. "There's too much going on," he said. "I want to go home."

"Right now?"

"Yeah. I changed my mind. I'm not going to Hogwarts. You can homeschool me, right?"

Remus' parents looked at each other. "Remus, this is a really, really good opportunity," said Remus' father gently. "Give it a moment. You'll get used to it."

"But..." The noise seemed to drill into Remus' skull like a jackhammer. The scents were everywhere. People were shouting. Remus didn't know who to listen to. Everything was deafening to the point of being physically painful.

Remus had lived in a lot of places, yes, but they all had one thing in common: they were quiet. His parents had made it a point to move to sleepy towns just on the edge of civilization; places where nobody would look for a werewolf—places with fresh air that was good for Remus' lungs, plenty of space in case the cellar didn't hold (but it always did; Remus' father made sure of that), and minimal nosy neighbors. Remus couldn't remember a time before the silence. He didn't have any memory of peers his age. He didn't have memories of school. He only knew of quiet afternoons and reading and boredom and family.

New normal, he told himself.

"Fine," said Remus. "I'll stay. But do let's go into a shop or something—being out in the open is..." He eyed the crowds and then moved closer to his mother. "Please? What's first on the list?"

Remus' father's eyes brightened considerably. "Robes first. They're expensive, though, so I need you to make a final decision. You are going to Hogwarts, yes?"

Remus didn't let himself think it over for fear of changing his mind. "Yes," he said. "I am. I already told Dumbledore, remember?"

"Professor Dumbledore," Remus' father corrected happily. "Come on, then. Plain black robes and a hat."

Remus only owned two sets of robes (one for Ministry visits, and one for transformations), and they were getting shabbier by the year. They still fit him, miraculously, but he definitely couldn't wear them every day.

A small bell rang as they walked into Madam Malkin's, and Remus covered his ears at the high-pitched noise. Fortunately (or unfortunately; Remus couldn't decide which), Madam Malkin was ready for him right away. He wasn't very comfortable being poked and prodded, but he supposed that there was really no other way to go about things.

Madam Malkin asked Remus to do something, but he wasn't paying attention—he was too busy listening to the chaos outside. "Pardon?" he asked, rather timidly.

Madam Malkin rolled her eyes. "I said, take off your jumper. It's very ill-fitting—much too large—and your robes will fit better if I take your measurements without it."

"Er, no, thank you," said Remus.

"What?"

"No, thank you." He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt underneath, so he really had nothing to worry about... but all the same, he knew that it was all over the second that Madam Malkin saw the scars lining his arms and torso and sides and chest and legs and hands and... well, really everything but his face. Thankfully, Remus tended to stay away from his face and upper neck on full moons. "I'd rather keep it on," he clarified. "If they're too large, then I can grow into them."

Madam Malkin cast an exasperated glance towards Remus' parents, but they only nodded. "Very well, then," she said. "Suppose you don't like robes that actually fit, then."

"Well, they are a lot less interesting," Remus quipped.

She gave him a look. "Do you think you're being cute or something?"

"No," he said. "Not cute. Stunning. Handsome."

The other boy who was being fitted let out an undignified snort and then added, "Gorgeous."

"Beautiful."

"Attractive."

"Striking."

"Pulchritudinous."

Remus laughed and looked at his parents, who looked warily amused. "Careful, Remus," his mother chided. "Please be nice to Madam Malkin."

"Right," said Remus. "Sorry."

"Hogwarts, too?" said the other boy. "First year?"

"Yes."

"I'm James. James Potter." James puffed up a bit at his last name, but Remus didn't know why. Were the family wealthy, perhaps? Or famous? A long moment passed as Remus ruminated on that, and then James spoke up again. "So? Are you going to tell me yours?"

"Oh. Oh, right." Remus was suddenly very flustered. He hoped that he remembered his name. "Er... Remus. Lupin."

"Oh, okay. What House are you going to be in? I'm gonna be a Gryffindor—all my family are Gryffindors, so it's pretty certain at this point. I like you; you're funny. You should try for Gryffindor, too. Mum told me that the Sorting Hat talks. When she was being Sorted, she argued with it for a second before it decided on Gryffindor. Maybe you can make it do whatever you want."

Remus, who had read a bit about the Sorting Hat upon learning of his Hogwarts acceptance, shook his head. "I don't think that's how that works."

"Me, neither. They can't give Gryffindor to just anyone. But you never know with Hogwarts. I'm going to play Quidditch. Are you?"

"No." Remus couldn't imagine ever being healthy enough to play a sport, even one that only required riding a broomstick.

"Aw, shame. Well, you can watch me play. It'll be phenomenal. I'm great, Dad, aren't I?"

"Sure are," said a man whom Remus assumed to be Mr. Potter.

Remus listened to James chatter for a bit. The other boy was clearly very excited about Hogwarts; Remus, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't seem to muster up the same excitement. Were there crowds all the time? Was everybody his age this talkative? What if the teachers didn't like him? Well, he supposed that they wouldn't—after all, they all knew about his condition—but what if they failed him? What if he wasn't bright enough to get good marks? What if they sent him home? Remus' mind drifted once again to the "security system", but he refused to dwell on it more than he already had. There were so many awful things that could happen to him.

"You're all finished," Madam Malkin told Remus, and Remus moved towards his parents as quickly as possible.

"Thank you, ma'am."

She sighed. "You're very welcome, Mr. Pulchritudinous."

Remus grinned, but then the grin faded as he tugged on his mother's sleeve. "May we...?"

"Don't you want to stay and chat with your new friend a little bit more?" asked Remus' mother excitedly. Remus hadn't had a friend in more than six years. "Perhaps the six of us could finish our shopping together!"

"No," Remus whispered. He glanced at James, who was chattering to Mr. and Mrs. Potter and twirling around a wand that Remus supposed he'd already bought. "It looks like he's almost done."

"I'm sure he has at least one thing that he still needs to get. Why don't you ask him?"

"I don't want to," said Remus. "Please, can't it just be the three of us?"

His parents looked at each other and then nodded. "Yes, of course," his father said. "Books next, then?"

Remus smiled and pulled out his supply list. "Yes, please."

Remus saw the prices of the textbooks and immediately offered to use his father's cheap spare wand instead of getting one of his own. Remus' father did not take him up on the offer. "Absolutely not, Remus. If you're going to be Prefect, Head Boy, and top of the form, then you're going to need your own wand. It works much better; I promise. And if you treat it well, then you could use it for decades."

That was why, ten minutes later, Remus found himself standing in a cozy shop with a man who was staring at him rather closely. "Hogwarts, I assume," the man said.

Remus squirmed. "Yeah."

The man lifted his head to smile at Remus' father. "I remember you, Lyall Lupin. Eleven inches, dragon heartstring, cedar."

"Yes, sir."

"And this is your son?"

"Yes, sir. Remus Lupin."

"Hmm." The man started staring at Remus again, and then turned away to rummage in the back of the store. "Right, then. Cypress, unicorn hair, 10-and-a-fourth inches. Try that."

Remus took the wand in his hands and willed himself not to drop it. What would happen if he did? Would it break? It felt so fragile in his hands—even though he'd used his father's wand for simple magic in the past and knew that wands were sturdier than they looked. The wood was polished, clean, and a soothing light brown in color. Could this actually be his? Was he actually going to be a wizard?

"Give it a wave, then," prompted Ollivander, and Remus did. Red sparks appeared at the tip, and Remus jumped and dropped the wand.

Ollivander wasn't angry, thankfully; he only laughed and picked up the wand. "That's it, then. Enjoy Hogwarts, Mr. Lupin." With that, Ollivander handed Remus a sleek box that contained his wand—Remus' wand—an actual magic wand.

Remus smiled. "Thanks; I think I will," he said, and he wasn't lying one bit.

All of a sudden, Remus Lupin found himself inordinately excited to attend Hogwarts. His father had filled the silence on the way to Diagon Alley, but Remus did so easily on the way back home. "Oh, and the supplies list says that I can bring Bufo if I want to! May I bring Bufo, please?"

"Of course you may bring Bufo," Remus' dad said. "But Garrison stays here with us."

Remus giggled. "Dad, I would never bring Garrison. I don't think he would be very easy to transport."

Remus talked about James, about Madam Malkin, about classes, and even started flipping through his textbooks. They were second-hand, but they still felt new. He couldn't wait to read them, but right now, he was far too busy chattering about how interesting Diagon Alley was and how much fun it was going to be to attend classes and how amazing his very own wand felt in his hands.

About half an hour later, the conversation died down and Remus' father suddenly grew serious. "Remus, I want you to be very careful at Hogwarts," he said. "Don't underestimate the importance of making sure that no one finds out about you."

"Dad, I know." Why, oh why, did they have to talk about this? "Believe me, I know."

"Not everybody is going to be as kind as Professor Dumbledore, and I'm afraid that the staff might be very prejudiced. You may very well have to go home before the seven years are up. I don't want to scare you, but I do want you to be prepared for..."

"Dad! I know! Trust me, I know better than anyone."

Remus' father sighed. "Yes, I suppose you do, unfortunately. Please feel free to come home whenever you so desire. Despite what I said earlier—the cost of the supplies was well worth it, even if you don't decide to go long-term. You'll need that wand regardless of what happens."

"I know, Dad. Please don't worry about me. I'll be okay. Besides, Dumbledore's there, and he's one of the most powerful wizards in the world, isn't he? Nothing bad is going to happen to me..."

Remus' father nodded, jaw set. "Sorry, I just... you'll write, won't you? And you'll be careful?"

"Of course I'll write. I'll be careful. Don't worry too much."

"I can't help but worry, myself," said Remus' mum. "Lyall, are you sure that Dumbledore's security measures are..."

"Albus Dumbledore is a fair sight better at magic than I am," said Remus' dad. "If anyone can do it, he can."

Remus shut his eyes tightly and tried to think of anything but werewolves. He tried to think about Bufo. He could bring Bufo to Hogwarts! He wondered if Bufo would meet any other toads and become best friends or something...

"But does he really understand...?"

Bufo, Remus thought. Bufo's warty skin and the way he hops and the croaks that he makes when he's angry. Not werewolves, not claw marks an inch deep embedded in the basement's walls, not fur and teeth and claws and fangs and...

"I trust him. Remus, if it looks to be unsafe, then you come home right away. You hear me?"

"Yes." Bufo! Don't think about transforming in a little old shack that Dumbledore thinks will contain you but it doesn't and you escape and you hurt people and...

Finally, the car pulled in to the Lupin's driveway, and Remus ran up to his room to begin reading his textbooks and think of anything but werewolves.