Writings
/Sounds/
Lines – "lalalalalalalala"
lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
10100 1,000,000 things I hate about my family:
Everything
Sirius Black nibbled at the end of his quill, reading over his list and wondering how you could get any more expansive than 'everything'. His somewhat greasy black hair fell down the sides of his face like a stringy curtain and he grimaced at the feel of it as he pushed it back behind his ears. He hated the way his hair felt when it was full of dirt – hated the way he felt, which was akin to looking like Snape – but he didn't really want to chance the bathroom, either. He had already come to realize that his living area had been downsized extensively, including the hot water which was no longer piped to any of the bathes, sinks, or showers except in the kitchen and in his parents' and brother's private quarters. He knew he could easily reverse the effect with a simple spell or two, but he wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school. So instead he lay there on his bed, biting furiously at the end of an unoffending quill, and puzzled over how to get any more descriptive than 'everything'.
That's how the owl found him when it pecked at his window a half hour later. Sirius looked up quickly to see what was aggravating his window and was surprised to find a tawny barn owl perched on his ledge with a rather large envelope tied to its leg. Summer break had hardly even begun, so he doubted very much it was his school letter; but who else would be owling him such a large package? Or any package at all for that matter. Full of questions, he slid off the bed and headed toward the large window withholding the bird. He had quite forgotten his list by now, more interested in what this bird was doing here. Besides, one just couldn't get any more extensive than 'everything'.
Sirius opened the window and quickly removed the letter from the owl's foot, petting it idly before dismissing it from his attention. The envelope was stuffed to bursting and from the feel, not all of it was paper. He flipped it over to view the name and stared in confusion for a moment at the address. There was only his name scrawled on the paper, no return name. He couldn't imagine his family being as distant as to owl him instead of screaming through his door, and there was no one else he feared hearing from so he decided to just open it and be damned. This proved to be the wrong decision, for as soon as the seal was broken a flood of pictures, papers, and other tidbits flew out; tired of being forced in to a too-small space.
As he stooped to pick up the wayward articles he noticed many of the pictures had people he'd never seen before in them. And even more surprising, none of them moved. Confused and slightly worried as to why he was suddenly being barraged by these unfamiliar things, Sirius picked up the final escapee, a rather small piece of parchment, and sat down on his bed again, throwing his previous list as well as his quill to the floor with one fell swoop of his leg. Thankfully, for both the carpet and any future endeavors in writing he might have, the inkwell was on his night stand. With little more care than he had shown his own possessions he put the articles on the bed and decided to figure out which parchment he was meant to read first.
It proved to be much easier than he expected when he saw that each sheaf was clearly labeled with a date, starting on the last day of school. Quickly putting them all in an orderly stack he opened the first of the pile and read.
Dear Sirius,
It took him a second to recognize Remus' handwriting and laughed to himself as he realized why none of the pictures had moved; Remus' family was muggle.
It's been maybe an hour and I'm missing the three of you already. You would not believe how boring a normal car drive from London to our house in the country is. It was bad before, but now that I've gotten into this whole magic thing it's even worse! I wish I could just broom it home or something; would be so much more fun.
That probably sounds really weird to you since you've ALWAYS had magic around, but to a normal little muggle brat like me it's completely new. Well, as new as learning it for a year can be.
Sirius snorted a laugh to himself as he thought about this. He could remember Remus ogling something as ordinary as the house elves like they were Martians at the beginning of the year. He hadn't missed the teasing note in the way Remus had called himself a 'muggle brat', either. Around him the world where Sirius' parents and relatives cast him into some sort of eternal hell disappeared and he was swept away to Remus' parents' car, bumping down a country road; the golden blonde in the back seat trying to keep his quill steady as he wrote.
Which reminds me; mum and dad were full of questions about the three of you. I guess they saw how close we were when we got off the train. Not that it bothers me, but I remember you saying something about your parents being upset with your choice of friends. Hope they didn't get on you too much if they saw.
And mum and dad say hi. They want to know if you three can come visit this summer. I suppose James and Peter could, but I don't know what to tell her about you. I mean, from what you've said of your parents it doesn't seem likely they'd let you come visit (or even out of the house, really), but I'm not sure what to tell my mum. Ha! I can just see what she'd do if I told her your parents were oppressive wankers who kept you locked in the house and sometimes your room. She'd call child services for sure! Probably even march over there herself and drag you from the house while telling your mum off for being a bad parent!!
Sirius let out a short bark of laughter as he imagined Remus' mother, whatever she was like, giving his mother, the matron of 'Most Honorable and Ancient Blacks' and 'good breeding', a talking down before whisking him away. He wasn't sure if he should be glad or exasperated that Remus sounded like he only believed about half of what Sirius had told him of his family. He also wondered what would happen if either the golden haired boy or his mother found out that he was more often locked in his room than in the house at large, or even about his severance from anything warmer than ice water. But it would probably sound like exaggerated whining, and he really didn't like whinging to his friends anyways.
I'm sure your mother would be elated. Probably invite us in for tea, eh?
Oh. It seems we're going to a family reunion in Heathrow, so I guess you won't be getting this for a few more days. Well, when you do get it, write back.
Have a good summer!
Remus
Sirius brushed off the fact that 'a few days' was actually almost two weeks without much thought. Things happen, he knew, and the epistles had probably just been forgotten. Turning to the next letter he saw it was dated for the day directly after the first. It was on some odd white paper with little blue lines across it periodically. And it was very thin.
Hello, all!
Sorry I don't have time to write you all individual letters like I did yesterday; been a little busy. I really wish you guys could be here! Oh my gosh, my cousin Gordon just tried to eat a banana and Sprite at the same time! I'm going to die laughing!! He looks like You'd have to be here.
Sirius' interest was piqued. He didn't have the first clue what Sprite was, or what one looked like when one ate it wile eating a banana (though obviously it was something funny). But why did Remus suddenly get so mad about it? He'd been pushing far too hard with his writing utensil (which Sirius could tell was not a quill) and the crossed out sentence looked more like something massacred than merely a discarded thought. After that there was only a curt 'must go, talk later' and it ended.
All of the other letters were the same; describing things random family members did or said. One of them said he would send pictures of the occasion; apparently that was the mound of still photos he had. He had stopped and leafed through them, taking in the unusual scenes depicted in them. In the margins around the image were names of people in the photo, and Sirius soon came to one of Remus mum and dad. He noted with some interest that there were none of Remus himself.
Remus mother was a slender woman with almost shoulder length brown hair and inviting brown eyes that danced with mirth. Every picture she was in she was smiling warmly at the camera. Remus father never seemed to be openly smiling, but he had a kind look to him all the same. His dark brown hair was cut choppy and in some pictures it would cover his left eye like a patch. The muddy brown orbs were the only thing that really let on to the happiness inside, being as they sparkled as much as his wife's. Sirius found himself wishing his parents were that nice looking.
Finally Sirius came to the last of the letters. He looked at the date and let out a little noise of curiosity. There was almost a week between it and the one before it. He didn't think it too suspicious, though. Maybe he had missed some, or maybe it was just an apology for the package being late. His minimal interest in the time lapse soon vanished as he noted just how shaky the handwriting was. Handwriting did not go from so perfect it was aggravating to barely legible with out good reason.
Sorry it took me so long to send this,
Not even a greeting, Sirius noted. Maybe something had happened? He checked the date again; yesterday.
I guess things just got in the way. Hope to hear from you soon.
Remus
P.S. Sirius, I forgot to say, don't try the Sprite and banana thing.
Sirius flipped it over, but it was still blank. It was curt and shaky and utterly not Remus. He was thoroughly convinced something had happened, but being in his current state of room arrest he was helpless. And then it hit him; James could check for him. After all, they had all become rather close chums during school, hadn't they? Surely if James' letters had been anything like his he would be just as worried. Besides, James had the opportunity to visit and spy on their friend to suss the problem. Reaching down to the floor where he had knocked his quill and parchment he pulled them back up on the bed with him; ripping off the bit he'd written on and filling his quill again before settling in to write.
James,
I have just received some rather curious letters from Remus, and he doesn't sound like himself. He said he'd written you too. Did you notice anything off? Especially with that last letter. I could barely read it! He said he was inviting you and Peter over for the summer, or part of it, so maybe you can try and figure it out if you go. Mum's being a delight and holing me up in the house indefinitely. Tell me what you find.
Sirius
Sparing only a moment to let the ink dry he headed for the window and called his personal owl over from one of the nearby trees. He hated being pinned up and he refused to inflict the same on his pets, much to his family's distaste. He petted her crest tenderly and cooed sweet nothings for a moment before tying the note on her leg and instructing her to stay for a reply instead of leaving after dropping it off. With one last pat he sent her off, and just in time. No sooner had he turned away from the window when Kreecher appeared just inside his door, a snide look on its face.
"I would think the door a more suitable way to leave, sir," it quipped. Sirius barely even looked at it as he headed past it towards the dining hall.
"I'm sick of the musty smell around here," he said flippantly. "Leave it open to air out."
Kreecher stopped mid step and glared at his back, but did as he was told.
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
Dinner passed unobtrusively and Sirius headed back to his room, knowing full well if he didn't he'd wish he had. Sighing he flopped down on his bed. The room was chilly, verging on frigid from the breeze entering through his window, which was odd for the summer, but he had to admit the room did smell much better. And he really couldn't stand being filthy anymore, either. With one final noise of disdain he closed the window, leaving it open just enough for his owl to enter if she returned, and headed for his private bathroom.
The bathroom was no warmer than the rest of his chambers and he shuddered through his clothes at the thought of something colder. But he knew he needed this bath desperately and so he steeled himself for the agony to come. Undoing the buttons on his shirt he quickly shouldered it off and threw it to the side. Not two seconds later his pants and briefs followed. He gave them a short look of detest before ignoring them completely and stepping into the shower stall. Dreading the next part he stepped up under the soon to be spray of water and turned the nozzle, centering it a lukewarm for his peace of mind. It didn't take him long to realize that the water wasn't much worse than lukewarm and experimentally he turned it to hot. Unfortunately his luck wasn't that strong and an icy jet of water hit him, making him reflexively jump back before turning the nozzle to warm again. Well, tepid was better than frigid.
It took three runs with the shampoo to get all the built up grease out and one generous helping of conditioner to bring back the shine. Clean once again he felt much better and was ready to face just about anything Kreecher could dish out at his parents' command when he entered the main bedroom again. But there was no Kreecher present when he stepped into his room; only his owl standing on the bed side table and tittering from foot to foot, hooting softly every once in a while.
"Back already?" he asked her softly as he sat down on his bed. She ruffled her feathers a little and trilled in reply. Sirius rewarded her with a smile and a gentle scratch on the side of her neck. Diverting his attentions he pulled the note off her leg and settled back on his pillows to read it. The bird took the opportunity to flit off through the window once more and Sirius watched it for a second before once again attending to the note in his hands. Flipping it on its back he quickly popped the seal and pulled out the parchment inside.
Sirius
I did notice that our friend seemed to be a little off kilter, but I thought it was just me. Peter sent me an owl asking the same thing and that leaves us with little room to shrug it off, doesn't it? My mum already Okayed a visit for a little while, and Peter said he would ask his mum, too. We'll see what we come up with.
Oh, and what kind of prankster are you if you can't figure out to steal some floo powder? You can't honestly tell me that the most honorable and ancient house of Black isn't connected.
James
Sirius was floored. Why hadn't he thought of that? He could skive off to James house whenever he wanted if he nicked some floo powder. James was right, not only was the house of black on the floo network, every fireplace had its own connection. He had always thought it stupid that even his and Regulus' rooms were connected, but he also thought a lot of other things about his family were stupid. Up to, but not limited within, everything. Now how was he to sneak out for some floo powder? He stopped in mid thought on the matter and shook his head. No, what he needed to do first was reply to Remus' letter.
Sighing heavily he sat up and grabbed his inkwell and quill. This letter had to be written proper and without any hints to his and James' deeper motives to pry into the mystery of Remus' uncharacteristic note. Placing the pot of ink and his feather quill on the desk across the room from his bed, he idly reached down and slid open a drawer filled with parchment. Taking out a good foot worth of the yellowy paper he sat in the red leather chair in front of him and leaned in to write.
Dear Remus
Absently he stared at the salutation, trying to decide how to sound nonchalant and still milk information without his new found friend realizing it. After all, what did you say to some one you were trying to inconspicuously spy on?
I got your letters.
Again he stopped. That just sounded stupid. Remus would know he was up to something if he wrote that. But he couldn't think of anything better. Huffing he continued.
I've never seen pictures that didn't move before. Took me a minute to figure out what they were. Your parents look really nice.
With a grunt of disgust he laved his thumb in spit and used it to erase the last sentence; removing the wet spot with a tissue afterwards. Let's try that again.
Your parents look like really nice people.
Good!
And why shouldn't I try the thing with the banana? Oh, and what is Sprite?
Wish I could come over for a bit this summer, but I doubt it's possible. Are you on the floo network? Maybe I could pop in for a bit if you are. Couldn't stay too long, of course; mum would have a fit if she knew I was having fun. Heavens forbid!
Well I really must be going. Write back and attach it to Ireland. That bird of yours was lucky to get through my dad's hunting urges once, shouldn't chance it again if you don't have to.
Sirius
Sirius eyed the letter quickly, then nodded and covered it in a piece of blotting paper; gently dabbing at the heavier spots to be sure they dried thoroughly before he rolled it up. When he was sure it wouldn't smear, he went to the window and called his owl to him. She quickly came, hooting merrily as he stroked her again, and she obediently proffered her leg when he lifted it. Tying the parchment to her scaly ankle he told her the name of the recipient and let her go, watching as she flew off for some time, and went to bed. As he drifted off his mind raced with ideas for getting some floo powder.
lalalalalalalalalalala
Remus woke up earlier than normal that morning. The sun shone brightly through his window and he could feel the sleep settled into his bones so deep he couldn't seem to move. Not that he wanted to, but the thought still came to him regardless. He sighed a little, debating whether he wanted to spare the lulled energy to rub his eyes or just roll over and sleep again, but was soon brought back to wakefulness by the sound of his door opening.
"You're awake," a soft feminine voice exclaimed with relief. The tone was subdued, as if speaking to one with a hangover, and Remus was glad for it. He turned his head reluctantly to see his mother walking towards him, radiant smile firmly in place, but eyes filled with worry. It didn't take her long to reach his bed and soon she was sitting beside him, soft fingers brushing over his face and down the protruding part of his arm. "How are you feeling?" she asked sweetly.
"Better," he whispered, not trusting his voice just yet. However, he had to ask and one couldn't ask without speaking. "Did the owls get sent?" His mother looked confused for a second then let out a small laugh as comprehension dawned on her.
"You mean the letters to your friends?" she clarified. "Yes, I sent them yesterday morning as soon as you finished them." He smiled and nodded, beginning to drift off again but for the panic he sensed growing in his mother. "Remus?" she called, slightly frightened. He vaguely wondered why. "Remus! Don't go to sleep, honey. Just stay awake a bit longer." Remus struggled against the veil of unconsciousness that was so tempting as he felt his mother hurriedly leave his bed and cross to his door.
"Harris!" She called down the hallway. The sound of feet thudding down the hallway brought Remus to full attention and his eyes snapped open. His father never ran, not even when called in for emergencies. The fact he was running now meant something was seriously wrong. The footsteps stopped abruptly and he heard his mother telling him of their son's wakefulness before they both returned to the bed. His mother stood pensively at the foot of his bed, wringing her hands while attempting to look as if nothing was wrong, as his father knelt by the side of the bed with his medical bag. Remus watched him dig through it for a moment; idly admitting having a doctor for a father, even a muggle doctor, was a very useful thing.
Finally Harris Lupin sat up holding a stethoscope, wrapped in a thick handkerchief with a hole ripped in it so it wouldn't hinder the sounds, and several other items. He placed the other items on the bed stand before turning to his son with apologetic eyes. "This will hurt a little," he warned, his deep voice laced with checked emotions.
Remus attempted to nod but wasn't quite able to, though he wasn't sure why. His father only watched him with an indescribable look somewhere between pity and apathy, then turned his attention to his chest and pressed the stethoscope to his left breast. The cloth dulled the effect to a painful sting, but Remus could still feel the ring of metal on the outer edges of the contraption pressed to his skin. He would have hissed in pain, if the act wouldn't have hurt more than the pain he already endured. At the end of the bed his mother looked ready to rush to his side and rock away his pain, but she stayed where she was; knowing full well that she would only impair her husbands work.
When the ordeal with the stethoscope was over, Remus felt his father begin to expertly move his hands over his ribcage. He cringed when the fingers pressed on one particularly painful spot, and he was sure his father caught note of the reaction when he began to move up the rib in question. Cracking his eyes open a little from their tightly shut position of pain he saw the dire look in his father's features soften a little. Then the hand was gone, although it quickly came to rest on his temple. Again there was a soft pressure, though it didn't feel very soft, and Remus somehow managed a verbal protest.
"It hurts?" his father inquired raptly. Remus knew better than to be cocky and made a small noise of acquiescence.
"Like needles," he grated. He hadn't realized just how parched he was, but his mother seemed to have noticed. She quickly ran out of the room and returned in a moment with a large glass of water and some salt. Mr. Lupin moved away from the bed and put everything except a small flashlight away, allowing his wife to move forward with the cup.
"Here," she said, putting down the water and pouring some salt into her hand. "I know it tastes vulgar, but it will help with your throat until I can find the lozenges." She brought her salt filled hand to his mouth and poured the brackish powder between his lips. Quickly she took the glass of water and helped him drink the warm fluid, knitting her brow a little tighter when she saw him grimace. Her expression gave way to a smile, though, as she turned to her husband, Remus father. "At least his humor is still intact," she chuckled. Again she moved away, taking the repugnant water with her as she left the room. Remus patiently lay on his bed, knowing full well his father wasn't done examining him; though he rather wished he was.
Slowly his father sat on the edge of his bed, fingering the small torch idly. It didn't take very long before he turned it on though, and as soon as he did he leaned over Remus' face. Gently he lifted one of the boy's eyelids and shown the light in his eye. It was rather unpleasant to have a bright light pointed directly at your retina, but not as unpleasant as having a stethoscope stuck to your chest by any means. Having examined the one eye, the light was quickly moved to the other and the process repeated. His father was almost finished when his mother returned with a glass of amber liquid swirling around several large pieces of ice. She set the glass down on his night stand and waited for her husband to finish, though she didn't have to wait long. He turned to her, a barely visible smile on his lips, and shook his head. Remus was confused at this, but his mother looked about ready to cry she was so happy.
"It's just a few bruised ribs," his father diagnosed. "One has a hairline fracture, but it will heal in a day or two."
"But at least it wasn't a concussion," his mother beamed. Remus hoped his puzzled expression would cue them in to his lack of understanding, but it didn't seem to work.
"Uh," he tried to verbalize, but it didn't work to well. 'Uh' may get the point across, but it wasn't the articulate 'What's going on?' he was hoping for. All the same, his parents understood.
"After you wrote those letters to your friends you went back to bed," his mother explained. He didn't see how that was relevant, but he wasn't going to be rude and say so. "When you woke up again you tried to come downstairs," she continued. She looked rather upset by this point.
"So?" Remus queried, not seeing the harm in that.
"So!" His mother squawked. "You fell over the banister and cracked your head! We thought for sure you'd incurred some sort of head trauma." Slightly abashed, Remus tried to sit up, but his father pushed him down firmly.
"You're not to move until I've bandaged that rib," he instructed in a monotonous tone. Looking to his wife he continued: "Would you bring me the dressing kit?" She nodded and left, knowing as well as the two men that it was a chance for her to collect herself as well as for the two to talk.
Remus watched his father settle more comfortably on the bed. He knew that something was bothering the older man, but he wasn't sure what it could be. Finally the man spoke.
"You've been out for almost 24 hours," he said. Remus balked a little in surprise, but his father continued. "Some letters came for you while you were unconscious; from your friends – the ones you talked about." Remus had a feeling he should know where this was going, but for some reason he couldn't form the idea in his head. His father sighed minutely and continued. "Remus, have you told them yet?"
Remus felt the color leave his face and the cold hand of fear grip him. He hadn't heard that last little bit through the throws of his fear, unfortunately; the part about 'yet'. So, frightened as a trapped animal, he made a small noise in the negative and waited for his father to go into lecture mode. It didn't happen. Instead his father closed his eyes passively, which Remus knew meant he was restraining himself to stay in check.
"When you're ready then," he said. His mother entered at that moment, arms laden with ace bandages and a small package of bronze butterfly clips dangling from her hand. The conversation turned away from him at that point and on to more pleasant things, such as the possible visit of his friends and where they would stay. Remus still didn't have the heart to tell him mum, who was so looking forward to meeting the three boys Remus spoke so highly of, that at best she could hope for two. He didn't believe half of what Sirius said about his family, but he still knew the boy wouldn't be allowed to come. After what seemed a very short time, and probably was, his father finished off the bandages and allowed him to sit up, refusing his request to leave the bed. His mother handed him the glass she'd brought earlier and smiled.
"It's sun tea," she assured him. "A little sugar, too." He smiled and took a sip, the cool fluid doing wonders for his throat.
"Mmm," he sighed, grinning indulgently and laying back on the propped up pillows a little. After a few seconds he opened his eyes again and looked to his mother expectantly. "Um," he rasped. Now that it was being used and hydrated again his throat felt much better, even if it didn't sound like it. His mother smiled at him, pushing a strand of auburn hair out of her face as she did so.
"Yes, sweetheart?" she asked merrily. Her mood had quite improved with his diagnostic and apparent return to normalcy.
"You said I had letters," he replied, to which she made a soft 'oh' sound. "May I read them now?"
"Of course you may," his father replied. "Kana, where did you put them? I'll go fetch them if you'll tell me."
"They're in the coffee table drawer," his mother replied. "And while you're downstairs, would you bring me a cup of sun tea?" Harris nodded and left the room, leaving them in comfortable silence. It didn't last long before his mother spoke, though.
"I noticed you kept shying away from talking about your friends," she said with a bit too much chipper. Remus always wondered how she could be so happy about everything. "Do you not want them to come?" Remus shook his head.
"It's not that, mum," he assured her. He sighed, not sure how to continue. The voice of his parents, which doubled as his conscience, prompted him not to think and to merely speak. Whatever needed to be said would come out of its own volition. "Mum, James and Peter and Sirius are all really good people, and they're a lot of fun to be around. It's just…" he trailed off, words eluding him in his time of need. His mother smiled knowingly and turned her gaze to the floor.
"They don't know, do they?" It was more a statement then a question, but in either context it was obvious she was exasperated with the answer. Remus was a bit taken aback by this. He hadn't ever expected his parents to be displeased that he chose to keep it a secret. His mother seemed to read his mind and she returned her gaze to him, smiling reassuringly. "Remus, it is entirely up to you whom you tell about your life," she said. "But it's just as important that you do tell the people who matter. I don't know if these new friends of your qualify; that's up to you to decide. Just know that your father and I stand behind you, whatever your decision."
Remus was floored. This was not what he had thought she would do. We? Did that mean his father had been trying to tell him the same thing in his talk earlier? He didn't have long to muse as his father made his appearance just then; sun tea in one hand and several letters in the other. His apprehension both heightened and diminished at the sight of them. This was definitely a dilemma he never thought he'd be faced with.
Lalalalalalalalalala
Sirius had found it surprisingly easy to nick an urn full of floo powder from the kitchen. The day after James' proposal he found his parents and brother to be still fast asleep at breakfast time, and he took the opportunity for all it was worth. The giant vase had been heavy, even more so with it full of floo powder, and he had had quite a time of getting it up the stairs to his room without suspicion. One house elf had looked at him curiously, but he had informed it that he wanted to decorate his room, and not to inform any other being; be it portrait, elf, or person.
Other than that little encounter he met no one and soon he had a very full pot of floo powder sitting next to his fireplace. He knew some one would notice if they saw it there, though, and so he began to look for a place to stash the powder unobtrusively. After a few minutes he found a tube, probably for holding umbrellas, in his closet. It was about the right size, and soon he was pouring floo powder into it. It worked perfectly. Now he had to tell his friends what his connection was.
Lalalalalalalalalala
James Potter hated not knowing things. He especially hated not knowing things when they had to do with him, and in his eyes, his friends had everything to do with him. So naturally, when his new friend, Remus, had written him in a way that was completely out of character for the boy James had worried. When both of his other new-found friends had owled him with the same voiced opinion he became very worried. And now he was waiting for Remus to write him back. If there was one thing James hated more than not knowing, it was waiting.
Lalalalalalalalala
Remus sat with four letters neatly stacked beside him. There were two each from Peter and James, but, he noted with disappointment, none form Sirius. His parents had left the room to let him read in peace, and he could hear his mother singing in the kitchen as she prepared lunch. He hadn't a clue what his father was doing. Relaxing as best he could while still sitting upright and not agitating his side he picked up the first letter from Peter.
Dear Remus
It read.
The family reunion sounds fun. Your cousin Gordon sounds like a bit of a git, though. Who on earth would be stupid enough to willingly do that?
My mum's not home right now, so I can't ask her yet, but as soon as she comes back from where ever she is I'll ask if I can stay over at your house for a while.
Talk soon!
Peter
Remus flipped it over, just incase something was written on the back, then put it down and reached for the second of Peter's letters.
Dear Remus,
Mum said I could come over for a week or two. Do you have a floo system? If not I'll be at my dad's on Saturday. Call me there so we can set up a time, okay?
Peter
There was a number scribbled down in the corner and Remus looked at it for a moment, trying to memorize it. What was a floo system? He brushed the thought away as he turned to James' letters. Opening the first one he read:
Remus
What's a banana?
Remus didn't read any farther, just staring at the page with an incredulous expression. How could some one not know what a banana was!? However, he soon realized James had, thankfully, been joking as the laughter was almost audible in the next words.
The look on your face when you read that must have been priceless! Wish I could have had a picture of that, really I do. Too bad that sort of thing only comes once, eh?
Anyways, my mum and dad say it's okay if I come spend some time with you, provided they figure out where you are. I don't think they realize your parents are muggles yet.
See you soon
James
Remus once again flipped the paper over and finding nothing turned to the last of the letters.
Remus
Have you talked to Sirius yet? Probably not. I doubt he'll be able to come, but he and I are working on that. Do you have a floo connection? If not, you might want to ask your parents about getting one. Very useful things to have.
Anyways, ta ta!
James
Remus was quite intrigued now. Apparently floo systems were common place among wizarding households. Pushing himself up more in bed he groaned. It really didn't hurt as bad as he would have thought, but his joints were stiff from the lack of movement and his legs felt very feeble. Walking around his room a bit to work his muscles he prepared to go downstairs and sit with his family at the table. He had a little bit of trouble coming down the stairs, but he did alright.
"Up already?" his mother asked as she walked out of the kitchen, three place settings worth of dishes and silverware in her hands. "Good. Can you set the table?" She left the things in the center of the oak surface and left again, leaving Remus to spread out the plates, cups, forks and knives appropriately. Afterwards he entered the kitchen to wash his hands for the meal and help his mum bring out the food. He smiled to himself as the savory smell of lamb chops and fresh bread wafted around him and his mother batted at him playfully. 'Those are for dinner," she reprimanded, and he realized he had been moving towards the stove where they were warming. He smiled sheepishly and helped her carry out the salad instead, placing it in the center of the table where the dishes had been earlier. His father entered the dining room a few minutes later and his mum smiled.
"Lunch is ready," she stated, though there was no need to as they could all see it on the table. Remus' father only kissed her cheek and held her seat for her.
"It looks wonderful, Kana," he assured her. He seated himself at the head of the table, Kana to his left and Remus taking his seat on the right. The three bowed there heads and waited as Harris Lupin said grace. "Thank you for this food and the lovely hands that prepared it," he prayed and Remus knew his mother was blushing just as he was smiling. "Thank you also that Remus isn't as badly injured as we had feared. In Jesus' name, amen."
Remus was a little startled that he had made it into the mealtime prayer. His parents had obviously been far more worried than they normally were over his bumps and tumbles, he wasn't sure why though. He began to dig into his salad hungrily as he thought on this, but wasn't spared much time before table conversation took him.
"What did your friends have to say?" his mother inquired. He looked up and quickly swallowed what was in his mouth before answering.
"James and Peter said they could come, but they need to set up a time," he informed her. "James said Sirius probably wouldn't make it, though." He noted that his mother looked a little sad at this.
"That's too bad," she replied. "Did your other friends leave you numbers to call them at?" Remus chewed his lip instead of his food.
"Peter did," he said reluctantly. "Both of them said something about 'floo'ing, though. I'll have to ask them what it is." Both his parents nodded and lunch continued with more talk of his friends and life at school; a topic that had been pushed aside because of the family reunion.
"So what's a wizarding school like?" his mother asked attentively. "Is it much like normal schools or is it very different? I mean apart from the magic part." Remus smiled at her unique way of looking at it and answered.
"It's like normal school," he replied, "except all the classes are about different types of magic and stuff. And everyone is divided into four houses, which is sort of like a fraternity, except it's determined by your personality at the beginning of you first year and you're in that class for as long as you're at school." His mother was watching him with rapt interest as he spoke and his father, though he looked for all the world as if he were tuning him out, was just as enthralled.
"What about your friends?" Kana asked after he had finished. "Are they in the same class – I mean, house as you?"
"Yeah," Remus nodded, taking a bite of his salad and chewing before answering again. "All three of them are first years, too. Well, second now. And we're all in Gryffindor."
"And?" his father prompted in his softly monotone voice. Suppressing a sigh he readied himself for a long talk.
"Can I finish eating first?" he asked hopefully, and a little jokingly.
"Of course," his father assured him. He hurriedly began to eat the remainder of his lunch, seeing the expression much akin to a four-year-old who ate a bag of pixie stix in order to wait up for Santa on Christmas written on his mother's face. He was the only one who hadn't finished yet and so he had to endure one openly penetrating and another almost mistakable stare.
When he had finished they moved to the living room, leaving the dishes to be attended to later. Remus didn't catch the fact that he was to be put on the pedestal until he realized his parents had occupied the couch facing a large rocker arm chair. Wearily accepting his fate he snuggled down into its soft folds and curled his feet underneath of him before meeting his parents' expectant gaze. Taking a deep breath he readied to weave his vocal rendition of a child's descriptive mind, but was halted by his mother.
"Wait!" she exclaimed. "Remus, start from when we left you at that train station." She smiled and scrunched her nose at his slightly confused expression. "I gave birth to you and raised you for nearly 12 years. I know full well you would cheat us out of the details and leave us with nothing but highly exaggerated mental images of what your friends look like and nothing more. You get it from your father." She said the last as she shot a pointed look at the man beside her; he didn't even react. Remus closed his eyes and smiled a little. His mother was psychic, he could swear it. Maybe she was a closet witch? He'd have to ask one of his friends if there was such a thing.
"Okay," he began, opening his eyes again, "from the beginning."