Remus was a bundle of nerves when he saw the owl arrive that morning. It was time, and he was so very excited, but terrified at the same time. Taking the letter from the barn owl, he placed it beneath Cyra's plate. She had a rough time sleeping after her transformations, so he tended to let her sleep in as she wanted. Though no matter how much sleep she got, she still managed to fall asleep at the most random of times. He knew by now that if she wasn't responding to his calls, she was probably curled up some place taking a nap.
Hearing the door to her room creak open, his heart began racing, deciding to keep himself busy by preparing her something to eat. As his hands fumbled to get the pan, he heard her sleepy greetings before she situated herself at her place at the table.
Snatching up the container of pumpkin juice from the fridge, he capped it open before pouring her a glass. Once it was placed before her, she managed to grasp it through her half-opened eyes. As her hand brushed the envelope, Remus held his breath in anticipation, waiting to see if she'd notice.
She didn't. Anything besides the juice she was chugging, it did not matter. Feeling disappointed, he went back to the kitchen, leaving the container on the table for her to refill her glass. Taking the eggs out the fridge, he began preparing some eggy bread for them both. The mornings were usually very silent for the first half, Cyra drowsy and connecting herself back to reality, Remus enjoying his morning tea. But today was not any other morning, and the wizard was dying for her to notice the letter.
As the eggs cooked, he spared a glance to his daughter, her curls nesting messily around her head. Her hair had definitely deepened with time, turning the shade of dark chocolate. At times, she looked exactly like Sirius, and those were the days it killed him. He's mocked himself on how ironic the situation must have been, a child that was in no way related, but looked like the product of them both.
Noticing her eyes were now fully open, he shot her a smile before turning back to the pan. Similar or not, she was not Sirius's child. No, she was his. And he adored her more than words could say. It was an honor to raise her, to watch her grow. And now he got to see her off on her next adventure of life. He had never been more grateful to Dumbledore than at that exact moment, if it weren't for his insisting he take her in, he would have never known such bliss.
"What's this?"
There it was. Hiding a smile, he spoke cryptically, "What is what? Perhaps you should open it. It is after all, addressed to you." There was a moment of silence before he heard the sound of crinkling paper. Plating the eggy bread, he turned around to face her, seeing the excitement enter her eyes.
"PAPA!" She exclaimed, her head shooting up to look at him, now wide awake. Feigning confusion, he placed the plate of food before her, "What is it? What could have you so hyper this morning?" Her response was to wave the letter before his face. Taking it, he placed his plate to the side so he could read over it. Once he was done, he jokingly raised a brow, "My, you actually got in. Before you were even 11, too. I was so sure they were going to hold you back a year." Cyra stuck her tongue out at him, not taking offense to him poking fun at her.
Pleased to see her so happy, Remus folded the letter back, motioning to her plate, "Eat, I'll go ahead and send our confirmation that you will be attending. After, we can begin to get your school supplies, and your owl." At that, she ate her breakfast quickly.
Even after years of the sight of Diagon Alley, never before had it seemed so entrancing. Cyra was in a state of awe as she witnessed others performing magic effortlessly in the streets. Remus did not complain when she lagged behind, waiting patiently ahead. The potion supplies they acquired were wrapped tightly up in parchment, charmed to be small enough to fit in his bag. Next was her robes and wand, though he supposed she would want to get her wand first.
Leading the way to Ollivander's, he didn't miss the skip in her step as the sign came into their view. Pushing open the door for her, Remus allowed Cyra to enter first, the bell ringing to announce their arrival. As she looked around, a loud thud came from the back, followed by a shout.
"Ah! J-Just a moment, please!" The posh accent came from behind the scattered shelves of wands. IN the blink of an eye, the owner appeared before them, a man with a head of wild white curls. Straightening his suit out, he motioned out to them with a thin hand, "Welcome to my shop, please excuse the mess. How may I assist?" Cyra stepped forward, taking his hand first and shaking it carefully, "Pleasure to meet you sir. May I have a wand?" Her polite tone took him by surprise, a smile forming on his worn skin.
"But of course!" He declared, whipping out his wand, "Let us begin! If you do not mind, Mr. Lupin, I'll need a bit of space for us to begin." Taking his cue, Remus sat at the comfortable seats in front of the shop's windows.
With a simple flick, a tape measure flew out from the back, before it began measuring around Cyra's arms. Mr. Ollivander took her hands in his, examining each palm before lifting her right arm out. "Right-handed, correct?" He questioned, though there was nothing but sureness in his tone. Cyra simply replied with a nod, watching him with curiosity.
Taking the tape measure from the air, he looked over it before tossing it behind the desk, "Pah! As I thought, the measuring is always off! Small you may be, but a wand that is only 9 inches will not suit your character!" Cyra had not a clue what the older wizard was about, watching him as he took her hand once again to look at it.
"What is the ultimate goal of life?" Ollivander whispered the question, looking at her with intense silver eyes. Thinking about it for a moment, she answered, "To love and to be loved." For a moment she feared she had given the wrong answer, if there even was a wrong answer.
"What stops you from achieving true happiness?"
He was causing her to feel very unsettled by his stare, as if her own expressions could give him the answer. Focusing on the question, she battled with herself to find the answer. Would it be revenge against that monster Fenrir? To never see another kid like her to suffer? Would it to be normal? The silence grew in the shop as she thought carefully over his words.
Ollivander was waiting patiently, his thumbs running over the lines of her palm as if they would unravel and spill her secrets. "What stops me.." She began slowly, her eyes meeting his, "Is me? I stop my happiness?" He seemed satisfied, no more questions as he stepped away to go over to the shelves.
As he skimmed though each tag, he explained, "I find that using a measuring tape is crude in practice. The idea that a wand's length should be based on the length of the witch or wizard's wand, is a child's logic. It fails to take into account many other, important considerations." His words hung in the air for a moment before he continued, "Like personality, values.. and the possibilities of their future."
Cyra felt very invaded, now coming to the realization that he seemed to have looked right through her. Turning around to look at Moony, she saw him lounging with one of her books in his lap, not a care in the world. She couldn't help but wonder if he had to go through this as well.
"Here we are!" She jumped at the intruding voice, turning back around to give her attention back to the wandmaker. Ollivander carried some boxes with him as he made his way back to her. Once they were placed on the table, he took the first wand out and placed it in her hand.
Cyra observed the wand, turning it over for a moment before going to give it a flick. Nothing happened. The wand was then snatched out of her hand replaced with a much lighter one, it felt like she was holding a leaf. She instantly didn't like it. Without even needing to give a flick, the wand was taken.
They were in the shop for some time, but Ollivander never gave up. As he shuffled through the wands, he seemed to muttering to himself, "Very difficult. Emotional, controlled, but needs reliability." She was a bit offended, feeling as though he was speaking of her. Remus at this point was watching the pair, curiosity peaked.
Deciding to break Ollivander's orders, she marched her way in, crouching down next to him to help. When the wandmaker turned to her, her explanation silenced him, "Maybe I can draw it to me." It was then he lit up, lurching from his place on the floor and racing over to a shelf.
"OF COURSE!" He exclaimed, "How could I have been so blind!" He snatched the box from the shelf, ushering Cyra back out from behind the desk. A bit thrown off, she moved back to her original place. Once the wand was placed in her hands, she felt goosebumps form on her skin, as if she was in ice cold water. This was it. Without hesitation, she flicked her wand at the book that laid on the shop desk. It was sent flying to the floor.
Mr. Ollivander was nearly dancing with glee, clapping his hands together, "Marvelous! I made that wand 20 years ago, I'm so happy it has found its home." She turned it over in her hands in admiration, taking in every detail. It was a dark wood, longer than she had imagined, going down into a silver handle that held some glass bulb at the bottom. Inside of the glass was yellow and white petals, suspended as if frozen in air.
"12 inches, Hazel Wood, with a Dragon Heartstring core." Ollivander said, sounding satisfied, "Hazel is a perfect fit for the owner in touch with their emotions, but also in controlling them. Be very careful losing your temper with this wand, as it will absorb the energy you give off, and may spark off unexpectedly. Hazel is a wood that is very devoted, even in death, it will expel all of it's magic and wilt. Never to perform again."
Cyra absorbed the information as it spewed from him, listening intently. Ollivander began to tidy up the boxes as he continued, "Dragon Heartstring is for very powerful magic. Suitable for witches and wizards who perhaps are a bit more temperamental." Cyra ignored the muffled laughter from behind her.
"But, it will become very attached to it's owner, bending to their will. It will not fight you." She was satisfied with that, lifting the wand up to the light to watch the petals float around in their crystallized ball, "What are the flowers for?"
That seemed to perk the wandmakers curiosity. He came over to check it, attempting to access the memory of when he had crafted this wand, "I believe a muggle flower, daffodils. A young girl came in here with them, she was muggleborn and wished for me to have one as a thank you. I didn't know what to do with it, so I decided to use the kindness she imbued in the flower to place into the wand."
Cyra hugged the wand to her chest with a smile, satisfied with the answer.
"You got it right?"
"We got ours earlier-"
"Came before breakfast-"
"But mum wouldn't let us open them-"
"Until we ate-"
Cyra raised her letter to silence them. Fred and George ran to embrace her, trapping her in the middle where she couldn't escape.
"It's not fair!"
The trio turned to look at the twin's little brother, Ronald. He was sitting on the ground, his arms crossed over his chest as he pouted. She could only spare him a pitying smile before the twins launched into their usual teasing, only further irritating the poor boy.
"Awww, it's okay Ronny-poo!"
"You'll be able to join us soon, just need about.."
"Two years?"
"Unless your letter gets lost."
"Or they find out you're afraid of spiders."
Letting out a sigh, she pushed them both away, "That's enough, he's going to cry." Ron rubbed furiously at his wet eyes, "Am not!" She gave a nod, pretending to believe, "Right, my mistake." Leaning in to give him a hug, she whispered so the twins could not hear, "Don't listen to them. They were terrified your mum told the school not to let them in. Since they're such troublemakers. Almost cried, the both of them." That was a lie, but it made him smile. Which was enough for her.
"Right, stop hogging her!"
With that, they hoisted her up away from Ron.
"Yeah, Ronny-kins! Don't be getting a crush on her, she's ours!"
Cyra watched tiredly as Ron's smile disappeared, the tips of his ears turning red. She wondered for how long they would continue this possession of her, like she was a prized trophy no one could touch. A part of her feared it would end once they arrived at Hogwarts, the two getting distracted by new friends to talk to. For now, she would allow herself to be selfish and enjoy it.
"Do you think they'd let me bring my Bon Jovi poster?"
Remus spared a glance at said poster, raising a brow at the smolder and leather jacket, "What do you see in him? He's much older than you, you know." He supposed a crush on a muggle rocker was better than a crush on the boys around her.
"His hair, it's pretty."
He resisted the urge to laugh, placing the folded socks in her luggage, "You're not wrong, but I think we should leave it here." He heard her sigh of defeat before she went back to packing. Glancing up once again to the poster, his lips quirks up in appreciation. His hair was very pretty.
"Right, got everything?"
Cyra gave a nod, raising her luggage and cage for him to see. Inside the cage was a sleeping cinnamon screech owl, a soft pink blanket covering it so the train station's lights wouldn't disturb him. Remus was a bit thrown off when she appeared with the auburn owl on her arm, it was a bit smaller than the other screech owls, its pure black eyes staring blankly at him. It was a bit creepy, he had to admit. But Cyra adored him, said he was precious and even named him before he was paid for.
Biscuit, that was his name. Because apparently to Cyra, he looked like a little biscuit. Her names really hadn't improved, but he wouldn't dare tell her. His name was Biscuit, and that was final.
Looking back at her, he managed a shaky smile, "Well.. this is it then, huh?" He had feared this day, having to let her go. Seeing through his attempts to seem fine, she quickly wrapped her arms around his midsection, "It's not it. I'll be back." He felt the tears form as he held her closely, "Yes. You're right."
This was good. She had to grow up someday. He would see her again, for Christmas, and then after the school year. Running his fingers through her curls, he allowed himself a moment to just cling to her. He knew once he got home, she wouldn't be there waiting for him. He would be alone again.
"Promise you'll write me the moment you get to your dorms. I want to know how your sorting went, and how you're doing."
She understood what he meant by that last bit, and it was something that did frighten her. She would no longer be at the cabin where she could openly snap and transform. She would have to be careful, concealing herself from whoever her housemates were.
"I will. I promise Papa."
She would be okay. She had to be. Dumbledore wouldn't let anything happen to her, or to his students.
As she boarded the train, she let Fred and George lead the way to a compartment, her heart beginning to beat frantically. This was it. She was going to Hogwarts. Her throat closed up as she heard the twin's scream, racing to the compartment they had entered, trying to scent any blood in the air. What greeted her panicked state was them soaked to the bone, a bucket laying on the ground beneath their feet, and a dark-skinned boy laughing at them.
"Sorry about that!" He pushed the locks that had fallen over his eyes, "I had seen some Slytherins roaming around, thought I'd get in a little prank."
That won the twins almost instantly, taking his hand with identical grins.
"Nice to meet you-"
"No worries about it-"
"We needed a lil wake up call-"
"Slytherins you say?"
Cyra watched as his eyes darted between the boys, his brows furrowing in confusion as he tried to keep up. Attempting to calm herself, she let out a shaky greeting, "I-I'm Cyra. Cyra Lupin. This is Fred and George Weasley." The boy looked at her next, as if just noticing she was there, "Oh, hi! I'm Lee Jordan!" She gave a nod before turning away, going over to retrieve her abandoned luggage as they all talked among themselves.
As she picked up Biscuit's cage from the floor, she whispered an apology to the disgruntled owl. She really needed to be careful. Her instincts had taken over, and she had allowed it. As if she actually had control over it. Gripping the handle of her luggage, she felt her shoulders begin to tremble.
Could she actually do this? What was she going to do about showering? She was going to share a bathroom with others, they would see her scars, or worse, her bite. She'd be feared. They would look at her like a monster. She didn't know how Moony handled this, the covering up, the fear. She could hurt someone. She could hurt Fred and George.
"Cyra?"
She flinched as her shoulders felt a weight, spinning around quickly to face them. There they stood, staring at her worried. Fred was the first to come forward, rubbing her arm comfortingly, "You alright?" She couldn't speak, her lips pressed tightly with fear. Next was George, wrapping his arm around her back to pull her into his embrace, "It's going to be okay. I know you're scared."
They couldn't possibly understand. They just saw her as a girl scared to go to school, not the one that was keeping the monster at bay. Still, she couldn't help melting into their touch. Fred came behind her, pressing himself so she was trapped between them. He whispered into her ear, his voice softer, "We're not going to leave you, Cyra. You're our best friend. We love you." There it was, the sob that broke her silence. Burying her face into George's shoulder, she began to shake in their arms.
They didn't know the true reason behind her tears, but they held her and whispered to her like they did. That was enough for her. She was selfish, and she would enjoy this for as long as it lasted.
Sorting was downright terrifying, she clung to the boys, her hands grasped in each of theirs. Lee was already sorted, Gryffindor, much to the other's joy. She was next. As she went through the crowd, she caught Charlie waving at her from his place at the table. She shot him a weak smile before hurrying up the steps to the stool where Professor McGonagall waited.
The older witch looked down at her, her stern face forming a small smile, "Nice to see you again, Ms. Lupin." The girl responded by ducking her head in embarrassment, "Hello, Professor." She climbed on the stool, taking a quick glance at the crowd before blinded by darkness.
'Ahhh, hello..'
The sorting hat, it was speaking to her, but it was all inside her head. Did that mean it could read her mind?
'Yes child, I see everything. No worries, I will not divulge your secret. Just as I did not divulge your adopted father's.'
She let out the breath she didn't know she was holding, feeling much more relieved.
'Now, let us see. You have a very bright mind, very clever. But you are much too sensitive to be placed in the snake's den.'
She scrunched her nose at that, why was everyone insinuating she was emotional? She had a very good grasp of her emotions.
'Ah, a temper too. A well-known trait among Gryffindors, they tend to go forward very brazenly. But you do not seem the type to jump into danger without thinking..not unless..yes..'
What? What was he thinking? Also, she did not have a temper!
'Not unless your friends are in danger, yes? You would not dare to harm a fly, unless it was someone who threatened those you care for. You would go farther than a Gryffindor, perhaps even maim.'
Before she could speak, he cut her off.
'That's not a thing to be ashamed of. You are protective of the ones you hold dear. The kind of love you would kill for. You are a companion many would want on their side. There is only one place I can put you. Your loyalty knows no bounds, so it better be..'
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
The table of yellow and black erupted in applause, the hat being lifted from her head so she could take them in. Her heart was pounding, head reeling from the sorting hat's words. How could he see so deeply into her? Willing to kill?
As she reached them, she was pulled into a familiar embrace. The smell of bubblegum overtaking her senses and calming her, hugging the figure back, "Hello Tonks."
"This is so wicked! I knew you were Hufflepuff material!"
They pulled apart, the older witch smiling proudly down at her, "I missed you so much, gal!" Cyra watched as her eyes unknowingly changed to the amber color of Cyra's, "Thank you, I missed you too." Tugged over to sit next to the sixth year, feeling the weight leave her shoulders as she felt safer having someone she knew there.
She felt her heart-break, watching both Fred and George heading over to the Gryffindor table. She knew this was likely going to happen, but it still hurt. She was grateful they sat next to Charlie, so they were still within her view.
As the food appeared, she waited for others to fill their plates, not wanting to be rude. Startled when a pile of potatoes was smacked on her plate, she looked up at Tonks who was holding the spoon. The witch simply smiled back, going to grab some food for herself. She supposed that was a nudge to get some food.
As she piled her plate with meat, she made sure to place some sides so she didn't look suspicious. She was very ravenous. Moony had said she had an endless pit of a stomach, though he was just as bad. The man could devour a whole chocolate cake in one sitting. It was the high metabolism, one of the only benefits of being a werewolf.
She tried to limit herself, not wanting to seem suspicious. Though, after she got her second plate, she realized that no one was actually going to say anything. They didn't seem to even notice the abnormal appetite. For the first time that day, she completely relaxed.
He shouldn't enter, it would only hurt more. He had already eaten the cake she had left him, the entire thing. He probably should have paced himself, but he was depressed, and that was a good enough excuse.
Using that as an excuse again, he pushed open her bedroom door, scent of lavender surrounding him. His pup. That was his pup's scent. Tearing up, he rushed over to her bed, grabbing a pillow so he could hug it to his chest and pretend she was still there.
He didn't realize how much he needed her. How cold the house would be, without her warm laughter. Or how much he would cry. This was miserable, letting your child go. She was his little sunshine. If James were still here, he was sure he would be mocked now. Though James would be doing the same thing once Harry left.
Sirius would be there with him, comforting him and understanding, because he would know how much of a joy their daughter was. His throat bobbed uncomfortably, gripping the pillow as he realized where his thoughts just led him.
No. Cyra was not Sirius's daughter. They did not raise her together. He lost that chance when he betrayed the Potter's. Sniffling, he raised his sleeve to wipe at his eyes, he would rather be alone. He could only hope that Cyra would never know that pain, of being abandoned and betrayed by the person she was supposed to trust. Her own mate.
Looking around the room with red-rimmed eyes, he managed a weak smile, looking over all the pictures on the walls. She had grown up so fast. Something was missing, however. A space empty, the imprint still there.
"I thought I told her not to take it."
"Who's that?"
Cyra's head swiveled around to her housemate, Sarah French, a muggle born first year. How did she not know of a muggle rocker? Hopping down from her bed, she admired Bon Jovi in his glory, pinned above her nightstand, "This is Jon Bon Jovi, or Bon Jovi for short. He's a muggle rock star."
The girl admired him, her cheeks turning a bit flushed, "Oh.. my parents never let me listen to rock music. Said it was the work of the devil." Cyra turned to her with wide eyes, "How did they take you being a witch then?" Her response was a sad smile, "Not very well. They're Christian, you see." Cyra nodded in understanding, her father was one of those. He wasn't as extreme, but he did have difficulty understanding her mom's world.
Sighing to herself, she went over to Biscuit's cage, unlatching it so he could roam free while she wrote her letter to Moony. She described her train ride, the sorting, and how Tonks had made her feel very comfortable in her new house. Which, she really did. It definitely was not as bad as she had expected. She was still waiting for the others to sleep before she could go for her bath, but no one questioned her on it.
Once the letter sent, she looked at Bon Jovi once again, admiring him in his handsomeness.
"His hair is too pretty to be the work of the devil."