TW: Small Implications of Neglect
...
The rest of school, and then summer, flew by, yet seemed to move at an agonizing pace. Remus' father never mentioned the boy's birthday, but the next two full moons he hugged Remus before ushering him into the dark dilapidated shed. More shocking still was that both times, when Remus woke up in St. Mungo's, his father was in the room, which somehow made the brisk and cold treatment that always followed his stays more bearable.
But best of all was that his father took him to Diagon Alley, which Remus had only been to once before, back when his uncle didn't know what he was and still liked him. He didn't dare hold his father's hand, not wanting to make him uncomfortable or risk his disapproval when everything had been going so well between them lately. But his resolve not to hold his hand nearly broke as they reached the crowded alley.
"Here are some coins; I'll meet you right here at the Quidditch Cup Monument. Only go to these two shops." His father scrawled down the names on a slip of paper and pointed to two shops across the way. But which ones they were, Remus couldn't tell, due to the constant stream of witches and wizards. He nodded in agreement and slipped through the crowd feeling odd in his new wizard robe gifted to him by the headmaster of Hogwarts himself! He found that he kept tugging at his long sleeves self-consciously, which he did whenever there were a lot of people around.
Of course, he was more self-conscious than usual, as the last full moon, though it had been weeks ago, had left him with a nasty scar on his upper arm, stretching as far as his wrist. However, even this couldn't dampen his excitement at being here. The whole place was alive with magic and people. Everywhere he looked there were witches and wizards dressed in colorful robes talking about magic things he couldn't understand...not yet at least.
He grinned ear to ear, gazing up at the small but brilliant little stores half hidden by the constant flow of the crowd. He heard owls hooting over the racket of hundreds of conversations piling on one another and distinctly heard a few peddlers bellowing out whatever they wanted to sell. It was hard to tell where one shop ended and the other began, they all looked so pleasant and homely. A jumbled collection of little stone buildings with strange colored smoke rising from chimneys despite the heat of the day, which created a rather picturesque scene.
Finally squeezing his way to the other side of the street, he saw steaming cauldrons and large leather-bound books propped up for display. The unmistakably magical sight along with the hanging cages holding bats and any owl imaginable meant that it was a wonder Remus wasn't giggling like a little boy. He couldn't get caught up in his excitement though—his father had given him a mission and he had to carry it out correctly.
His father had circled what he needed to buy, and he knew he'd be getting most of his books from his father's old collection. His father had said he would take care of getting Remus' beginner's potions kit from a different apothecary, as the ones here were overpriced. This left a rather short list of things for Remus to obtain on his own, and he certainly wasn't going to get away with dawdling as much as he wanted to.
So inside Belby's Book and Quill Emporium he was physically pained by the fact he couldn't browse the tall shelves of books. He inhaled the smell of the shop deeply, the quiet atmosphere helping him to relax from the excitement and anxiety the outside caused. He walked to the M's and picked up the most used copy of Murky Murphy's Beginner's Potions he could find. Appalled to find they were all pretty new, but seeing no other more used editions, he walked to the counter and paid for the book and a handful of quills, following his father's instructions to a T.
"Thank you for your purchase," the young witch called after him, but he was already running out of the shop, tearing his gaze away from the spectacular collection of books that took up the whole multi-floored shop. It was only when he was back outside that Remus realized the shop he was in couldn't have possibly been that big. It took him a second to realize it was obviously magicked to be bigger on the inside and, feeling stupid he didn't realize that sooner, he stepped into the jostling crowd again.
"Oi, watch it!" some witch shouted, plowing into the small boy and sending him falling. He braced himself but a hand grabbed him, saving him from falling to the ground. He blinked up at an older, clearcut-looking boy whose hair matched the color of his sunburned skin. He had a soft-looking, round face that housed a smile of amused friendliness.
"Nearly got yourself run over, you did. New to Diagon Alley?" He nodded, unable to find his voice, but luckily the young man didn't seem to mind, his grin broadening as his baby-blue eyes filled with childlike excitement.
"Blimey, then you've been living in the Muggle world, haven't ya!" Remus was caught off guard by the man's earnest joy, as he couldn't find anything remotely remarkable about living in the Muggle world. "Oh, where are my manners. My name's Arthur Weasley. I've recently been employed at the Ministry of Magic!" he announced proudly, his eyes widening even more as he did so as if he couldn't quite believe it.
"I graduated Hogwarts two years ago. It goes by so fast, lad, it really does. Anyways, what's your name?" Remus opened his mouth to say something but still, nothing came out. However, the young man didn't call him a freak for this, nor did he seem particularly stunned by Remus' speechlessness.
"Don't worry, it's not uncommon for Muggle-borns to be overwhelmed. Are you lost?" Finally, the young man had stopped beaming at him, his eyebrows creasing in concern.
Dammit, he had to get a hold of himself.
"My name is Remus Lupin, sir, and my dad is nearby sir," he finally managed to choke out, though he sounded quite overwhelmed despite himself.
"Jolly good to meet you! Always such fun to see fresh, new, soon-to-be firsties," he said pleasantly, followed by a firm shout of "Arthur!" which finally drew his attention off Remus.
"That's my lovely wife, Molly! Well, good luck!" He waved and then the friendly young man was gone, leaving Remus standing in the midst of the crowd, still rather dazed.
Careful not to be pushed, or run into anyone else, Remus squeezed into the second store. Thankfully he recognized the name of the shop from his father's small, scrawled note. He quietly purchased the cauldron he needed. When he got back to his father, he was starting to feel tired. But he perked up immediately, not wanting his father to think he was ungrateful.
He gave the change back to his father, who counted it quickly. It hurt Remus that his father instinctively didn't trust him, that he often saw the werewolf, rather than his son. He swallowed down his disappointment and waited as his father went through the list.
Remus had used a great deal of self-control since he didn't dawdle and only used the exact amount of money his father had allowed him to. Didn't that count for something?
"We still need some more robes for you and your wand." His father sounded as tired as he felt.
"I can go myself, Dad. You don't need to worry about it." His father's dull charcoal eyes met his earnest ones. He worked desperately to hold his father's gaze and finally, the older man relented.
"Very well." He handed him more coins, looking as if parting with them pained him. He hesitated, his eyes softening some.
"Buy yourself something...for...uh, for your birthday. I never...got you anything." He seemed honestly embarrassed by this, and that alone was enough for Remus. He dared a nervous smile and was thrilled when his father mirrored it.
"It's alright Dad, all of this is my present." He gestured at the list sheepishly.
"Yes, I guess it is...but still get something for yourself, alright? It will make me feel better." Remus nodded, stunned, and took the small money pouch, walking off before his father changed his mind.
...
He was secretly very proud of himself because he used his father's offer to buy a pack of quills, which were both nice and useful. For a second he had thought about getting a shiny book of children's stories that his mum used to read to him, but he didn't want to make his father upset. Besides, he'd use the quills more. He knew he should go to Ollivander's next, but he was more than a little afraid he'd go through all the wands and then Ollivander would realize there had been some sort of mistake.
So instead he went to get two more robes, three being the bare minimum he'd need for life at Hogwarts. When he reached the tailor's shop he stopped at the door, took a deep steadying breath, and then entered Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. A little bell announced his presence and immediately he heard an elderly witch shout that she'd be right with him.
He looked around the store which was made up of racks of robes, indeed for every occasion. He ducked around the floating robes with needles magically working by themselves and headed to the back of the store where a shabby rack was labeled 'used''. He knew he couldn't afford to get anything new or even tailored. Instead, he busied himself by looking through the discount rack where used robes were hung in varying degrees of wear and tear.
He reached for one that looked almost new, hardly believing his luck. But out of nowhere a slender pale hand shot out and grabbed it, practically yanking it out of Remus' grip as his hand had just been closing in on the smooth material.
Startled he turned and saw cold coal-colored eyes narrowed in irritation at him, as if daring him to fight back. He was a boy about his age and height, and he stood less than a foot away from him, greasy black hair falling limply to his shoulders. The boy looked rather gaunt and disheveled but somehow managed to stare haughtily down a big nose at Remus, as if he was the one wearing a tattered robe.
"H...hello," Remus said nervously, offering the boy a friendly hand to shake. Instead, the boy shot him one more irritated look with those cold eyes of his, then walked away with the robe Remus had been about to buy.
"Hurry up, Severus." A strict-looking woman dressed in a velvet emerald robe had watched the whole thing through narrow eyes. She ushered the boy away from Remus, chiding him loudly for taking too long.
Remus pushed the instance away from his mind and picked out two used robes, not looking nearly as nice as the one he had almost gotten. He tried not to mind it, and politely excused himself from the elderly witch coming at him with a measuring tape. She seemed understandably disappointed but curtly checked him out, regardless.
Carrying two squishy bags of robes, he hurried back to his father, only having Ollivander's left. He knew it was silly, but he wanted his father to go with him. But he couldn't find it in himself to ask and when he returned, his father didn't take the hint, so he left the bags and went off by himself, nervous and sad despite the excitement of the day.
His shoulders felt really heavy as he walked to the wand shop and he was reminded once more by how soon it would be the full moon. He shuddered, almost bumping into someone again, and forced himself to focus on the present, rather than the terrifying future.
He reached and then entered the small shop, stopping dead in his tracks as he felt a tingle run down his spine, the air in the wooden shop crackling with magic. Behind the counter were large shelves filled with thousands of thin boxes, each holding a different wand. Though Remus didn't understand the organizing system behind them, he felt an almost reverence for the awe-inspiring collection.
"Hello there." Remus jumped as a middle-aged man rushed to the counter. He seemed stern but pleasant, despite the air of mystery around him, as tangible as the thick air of magic in the shop.
"Hello, sir," Remus responded reflexively, as wide smokey eyes peered at the boy through large spectacles, assessing him seriously.
Remus resisted the urge to squirm, feeling as if Mr. Ollivander and Professor Dumbledore could both, somehow, see his very soul. It was a sensation he couldn't believe he would have to be getting used to.
"Hmmm... yes, yes, I know just where to start. So many talented wizards coming in here today," he muttered, more to himself it seemed. Remus turned behind him, sure that this man did not mean to imply he was a talented wizard.
He laughed inwardly at the thought and waited patiently for the man to come back—with a thin box. Remus felt his heart rate speed up and he took a shaky breath, trying not to show the fear that was threatening to overtake him.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Remus Lupin, sir."
"Well go on, Remus. That one is a real beauty. 12" long made of beech with a unicorn hair core. Go on then, give her a whirl." He took the lid off and with a surprisingly steady hand Remus picked up the wand. He held the slender oddly flexible wand carefully, worried he'd break it. Stealing himself he gave a short flicking motion with the tan-colored wand pleased to find it did not break. There were a few seconds of nothing happening and Remus wanted to cry out in frustration, but then lots of boxes flew off the shelf.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he cried, immediately placing the wand back in the box, his heart plummeting. He knew he wouldn't be a wizard and here was his proof. He was honestly about to turn to leave when Mr. Ollivander inadvertently filled him with hope again.
"Don't worry about it. Truly it happens all the time. Hmmm perhaps yes 10" long made of hazel with a phoenix feather center." He gave him a toothy grin then disappeared and came back with a different wand. This one; 8" long made of elm with dragon heartstring, was a disaster, simply doing nothing. Then the next one which was another unicorn hair center caused the chandelier to explode, and the next one after that, which Remus didn't even pay attention to the details, again did nothing. Remus was beginning to feel very disheartened when he was faced with what must have been his tenth wand.
Mr. Ollivander didn't seem to mind and was even chuckling happily at the challenge. He set another box on the counter and Remus could feel, even before the box opened, that this time it would be different. Mr. Ollivander removed the lid, watching him. But Remus only had eyes for the plain-looking, dark wood, dull but smooth.
There were slight variations in the shade of browns as if the wand couldn't decide what sort of tree it was made from. Remus instantly liked it, feeling a connection before he even picked it up.
"How fascinating," he heard Mr. Ollivander say, but he didn't register the words, in an almost trance-like state as he hesitantly picked up the wand. This time when he picked it up he felt a wave of warmth roll over him, and a light shined from the tip of the wand. He smiled. It was official now. He was a wizard.
"Good wand, that one. Cypress, 10 and a quarter inches, made from unicorn hair. Hmm heroic death then, what a pleasure! Seems you two already share a strong bond. How curious, I haven't seen quite an intense connection like that in some time," Ollivander mused, and Remus grew very uncomfortable, his grip tightening on the wand. What had the older wizard said about death? But even more distressing to Remus was the later comment. He didn't want to stand out any more than he already did. He could feel Mr. Ollivander scrutinizing him, his gaze lingering on the scar now visible on Remus' wrist. He quickly lowered the wand and his hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander." He rushed to pay him and left quickly before the man could say anything, terrified of what accusations might be flung at him.
By now the sun was setting, bathing the winding down alley in vibrant hues of orange and gold. Normally Remus would appreciate the beauty and tranquility of the sunset, but he was much too wound up, and soon the moon would be up, almost full, taunting him from the safety of the sky.
"Remus! Remus!" Lyall was rushing towards him, catching up quickly to his son, who was moving as if his every step was a burden.
"Can we go home now?"
"Did you get your wand?" In response, Remus held it up. He felt his father's large hand rest on his hair ruffling it with the ever rare demonstrations of affection. He hated that he couldn't appreciate it at the moment—he suddenly felt much too out of place here and his body was beginning to ache how it always did the night before the full moon.
Luckily, his father didn't ask why he didn't seem happier, nor did he seem offended by Remus' melancholy mood. He simply ushered him into a nearby public fireplace and a few seconds later he was stumbling into their living room, feeling dizzy and a little nauseous.
"Remus, why don't you go lay down? You look rather green. I knew I shouldn't have taken you with me." He did indeed feel sick but he swallowed it down and forced a smile, unaware of just how pitiful it looked.
"I really had a good time, Dad. Thank you for taking me." His father grunted in acknowledgment and Remus swore it looked like he was going to say more. But then something in his eyes shifted and darkened and instead he left his son swaying in the living room like almost always, to fend for himself.