This is technically a stand-alone piece, but I incorporate little Easter Eggs from my other story, Remus and the Marauders. I always thought Lupin sounded a bit French, and thought this would help explain a bit the etymology of Remus' name. Let me know what you think, and apologies for any typos in French, it's not my first language.
"Incroyable!" Remus sputtered. "T'es incroyable. Pour tout ma vie, J'ai pensé que…c'était pas ma faute mais toujours c'est toi—"
"Remus, je peux expliquer—"
"Non, papa. C'est fin—"
"Remus—"
"Dit Maman 'salut'," Remus said tersely. "Et je vous aime."
Remus was fuming. The fireplace in the Gryffindor common room returned to normal, and the face of Lyall Lupin was nowhere to be found.
The young werewolf had been doing research into werewolves of 20th century Britain (for his paper, of course) when he had found a bit of disturbing information in a French text of the same era.
Les Lupins étaient toujours contre les loups-garoux. In English? The Lupin family had always stood against werewolves. That is, in another words, they had been werewolf hunters in their native France. Remus hadn't believed it, so he contacted his father who rather than deny his son the truth, exposed everything. His words against Greyback, why Lyall was so trusted on his position at the time, why Remus was targeted especially—and why none of the Lupin side of the family had dared speak to Remus for his entire existence. For the entirety of their existence as a magical family, the Lupins of Bretagne had been hunters of his own kind. Remus Lupin, the boy thought darkly. A testament to an entire line of people dedicated to my own eradication. It was almost comical—name your son after the founder of a 'great line of saviors of Wizarding families' and he was bound to become the thing that the Remus Lupin of 15th century France had been so eager to despise.
"Moony?"
Lost in his own thought, Remus hadn't heard Sirius come into the common room.
"What," Remus said, seething, sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace. Sirius was taken aback—Remus was normally quite happy to see him.
"I…er…I heard shouting…Do you speak French?" The boy asked, walking over to Remus and sitting down next to him. Remus nodded.
"My father," He spat angrily, "He's French. All of les Lupins, were French." Sirius looked perplexed. Remus continued. "We had an argument, that's all."
"An argument?" Sirius asked, not quite believing it. "I've met your dad, mate. He's not much of a fighter—"
"I was arguing," Remus replied, eyes narrowing, unable to look his friend in the eyes. "It's fine, really—"
"It's not fine," Sirius responded. "Remus, look at me." The young werewolf refused. "Look at me," Sirius pressed on, and Remus spun around. His eyes were red and the boy looked on the verge of breaking down. But there was an anger there Sirius had never seen before. "If your dad made you this angry, it's not fine. Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Remus said curtly. "No, you wouldn't understand." Sirius scoffed.
"Me, not understand arguments with parents? Merlin, Remus, do you know me?" The boy asked incredulously. Remus shrank. He supposed Sirius did have a point. Looking around to make sure no one else was in the room, Remus began,
"It all started with my research for class—werewolves in 20th century Britain."
"Oh right," Sirius quipped. "The topic we determined wasn't cheating because you had some sort of monopoly—" The moppy-haired boy was cut off by Remus' glare. Sirius cleared his throat. "Right, then, go on."
"Anyway," Remus continued, "I came across something…bizarre. So I asked my dad and…" Remus sighed, unsure of how to continue. "Remember when you asked how? How I became…what I am?" Sirius nodded.
"You said your parents never rally told you—too painful."
"Exactly," Remus said. "And I always thought they were protecting me…but turns out they were saving their own skin." Sirius looked perplexed. "I'll go on," Remus began, "But you have to promise me…this stays between us. No Peter, no James—"
"But James—"
"No," Remus said, almost hoarsely. "Between us." Sirius nodded, looking at Remus to go on. "Do you know of Fenrir Greyback?"
Sirius froze. That name was familiar. He had heard his parents mention him rather distastefully.
"I know that my parents don't think highly of him," Sirius said, "But they don't think highly of me either." Remus almost laughed. Almost. The fact that Sirius could even compare himself to that monster…
"Your parents are right on this one, mate. Greyback is a werewolf—a terrible one. Purposefully attacks to turn people—children, especially," Remus said bitterly. Sirius guessed what his friend was about to say.
"And so he was the one…he was the one who attacked you," Sirius breathed. Remus nodded.
"But not unprovoked. My father said…" Remus gulped. "He said that werewolves were 'soulless, evil, deserving nothing but death.'"
Sirius gasped. "But your dad…He loves you Remus, he would never—"
"I wasn't a werewolf then, Sirius," Remus said calmly. "And I know he loves me—I was the one thing that changed his mind about werewolves forever. But there's a reason why he said what he said." Remus shuddered a bit, trying to hold back sobs. "Les Lupins were, and had been for some time, werewolf hunters in France. Centuries and centuries of Lyalls and Romulus' and even Remus' spent their livelihoods tracking down creatures like me, killing them, mounting their heads to the walls of their homes. It's why my dad was asked to join the ministry in the area of dark creatures, and it's why his words had the effect that they did on the community."
"Hunters?" Sirius couldn't believe it. "You mean to tell me…that killing humans was a sport to these people?"
"Not humans," Remus spat. "Werewolves."
"Remus," Sirius said, raising his voice slightly. "You're human as I am, and don't you forget it. Don't you ever, ever forget it."
"Not to my own family I wasn't," Remus whispered. "If the generations before me saw what I was…well, even my grandparents don't talk to us anymore. I never put together why I hadn't seen them since I was four—until now."
"Then they're gits. Bigots. Not worthy of getting to know their grandson," Sirius said intently.
"And what would you know, huh?" Remus asked Sirius, somewhat angrily. "How do you know that we're right about me and they're wrong?"
"You're really asking me that?" Sirius asked darkly. "Me, the first Black in centuries to be in Gryffindor, the blood-traitor, the muggle-lover, the disgrace of the very ancient and noble house of dingbats. You're asking me if I think the inbred Slytherin blood purists who came before me are right?" Sirius scoffed. "No, you wouldn't. Because you know what my answer would be."
Remus fell silent. He hadn't thought about it that way. Sirius was, in some regards, like him. Descended from a noble line of purebred wizards whom he had come to 'disgrace' in their eyes. Remus wouldn't ever claim that the Blacks were right. So why would Sirius say that the Lupins of yore were? It wasn't the exact same—Remus would never not be a werewolf, whereas the Blacks could at least hold on hope that their son would see the 'error of his ways'—something Remus at least knew would never happen.
"Your father overcame centuries of bigotry because he loved you. He changed the trajectory of your family forever—no Lupin from this point on will ever hunt…what is it that you are called in French?"
"Loup-garou," Remus whispered.
"Loo-garoo?" Sirius asked. "Really? That's…" Sirius bit his lip. "That's the name the French gave werewolves, really?" Remus narrowed his eyes. Sirius pressed on, funny name or not.
"Right, then, no Lupin will ever hunt a loogaroo—"
"Loup-garou," Remus corrected.
"That's what I said! Loogaroo!" Sirius sputtered.
"No, you said 'loogaroo'—I'm saying loup-garou, it's different."
"Is not—"
"Is too—" Remus cut himself off. "What were we talking about?" The boys paused for a moment. Sirius' eyes lit up.
"Right, I was saying, no one in your family is going to hunt…those bloody Frenchy things ever again. You are so loved, so kind, so utterly brilliant that you turned your family away from centuries of being right prats. I, on the other hand," Sirius said a bit morosely, "Don't seem to be enough to get my parents to change their minds."
"Well, you've changed my parents' minds about the Black family," Remus suggested softly. "And the Potters. And likely Peter's folks as well—you've changed our perspectives. And Merlin knows your kids will all be Gryffindors, and so one day they'll go to school and people will be shocked there was ever a Black not in Gryffindor."
"Really?" Sirius pondered. "You think so?"
"I know so," Remus insisted. Then he paused. "Thank you," he added.
"For what?" Sirius asked.
"For talking some sense into me. I need to talk to my dad…" Remus trailed off. "You wanna stick around? He'd love to hear from you too."
"I'd be honored," Sirius replied.
Moments later, the fireplace shone a brilliant green.
"Hallo, Herr Lupin!" Sirius beamed. Remus rolled his eyes.
"Sirius, that's German…Hi Papa," Remus said, clearing his throat as Lyall appeared. "Look, I wanted to say—"
"I'm sorry, Remus," Lyall began. "Und hallo, Sirius," Mr. Lupin said with a soft smile. "I assume he heard?"
"Yes, Papa, and he talked some sense into me. I'm sorry too—I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. It's not our fault, where we're born, and what biases come with that—it's who we make of ourselves." Lyall beamed.
"Indeed it is, Remus, indeed it is. I wouldn't be lying if I was confused when you became friends with Sirius—I thought, well, no offense dear boy…"
"Oh none taken," Sirius quickly finished. "I'm truly one of a kind." Lyall chuckled.
"Yes, you really are. Bringing a good bit of honor to your family name."
"Oi, Sirius," Remus said, nudging his friend, "Say it."
"Say what?"
"Say werewolf, for my dad," Remus explained.
"Werewolf?" Sirius asked, confused. "Oh!" He exclaimed. "In French, yes, dear Moony here has been teaching me the language of love. Loogaroo!" He exclaimed. Lyall chuckled.
"I see there's some room for improvement…it's loup-garou."
"Loogaroo!" Sirius chirped back. Lyall looked confused, and Sirius couldn't help but think Remus looked so much like his father.
"Almost, dear boy. Loup-garou—"
"Loogaroo! We are saying the same thing!" Sirius insisted. "Loogaroo loogaroo loogaroo!"
The three laughed, and after a moment the conversation ended and once again the flames returned to normal. The two boys never spoke of Remus' familial past again, and Remus himself soon forgot its significance, but for the rest of their time as friends Remus would almost never call his friend by his family name, and Sirius did the same for the young werewolf.