Note: Posted the evening before I begin my final term at University!
Thank you to my kind reviewers, it was very nice to hear from you and I am glad to hear that you enjoyed the first chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
2: The Marked Child
"Lupin, you say?"
"That's right."
"Goodness me." Minerva McGonnogal took a sip of her tea before setting her cup and saucer down upon the table before her, reaching to spoon a couple of boiled eggs onto her plate as she recalled: "I knew a Lupin, back when I was at school. Probably the boy's father. James...J-something or other..."
"John?" Dumbledore offered through a mouthful of scrambled egg, and the witch beside him agreed:
"John Lupin, precisely! He was a Ravenclaw muggle-born boy with an obsession with ancient history! Bookish...liked a good argument every once in a while! His young lady friend used to get terribly embarrassed when he'd launch into a debate about something utterly insignificant...she was a very quiet girl...also a Ravenclaw...her name escapes me but when he wasn't arguing with other students the two of them seemed very keen on one another."
"Remus' mother, perhaps?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if the two had married."
"Hm."
"Nice family, I imagine."
"I see."
"What's wrong with the boy, do you suppose?"
"I can scarcely imagine, Minerva. The quill resumed its usual activities late last night."
"And is the name still there?"
"Oh yes."
"Fascinating."
"Isn't it?" Dumbledore reached to take a sip of his tea, watching absent-mindedly as a handful of Slytherin students rose from their seats along their table further down the Great Hall, slinging bags onto their backs before heading for the Entrance Hall. "It seems to me," he theorised as beside him McGonnogal set about eating her boiled egg, "that the quill had become...confused. As if it were not sure whether or not young Remus is magical at all..."
"Perhaps he's a borderline Squib."
"Perhaps..."
"But that would not explain the timing. Why now, Albus? Why would the quill wait until now to become confused?"
"My thoughts precisely."
"How old is the boy?"
"Seven."
"Could his age be in some way significant?"
Dumbledore gave a cheerful chuckle as he replaced his cup atop his saucer.
"So many questions, Minerva!" he observed, pushing back his chair so that he could rise to his feet. Eyes twinkling as he reached to straighten his robes of peacock blue, the Headmaster suggested: "I think perhaps there is only one thing to be done about it."
His colleague offered him a questioningly raised eyebrow and he informed her:
"I shall have to pay our young Mr. Lupin a visit."
Dumbledore discovered the Lupins' house that morning marked by a bouquet of flowers.
As the Headmaster walked slowly down the ramshackle lane, having apparated to the outskirts of the village recorded by the magical quill in his office, he spied a young woman leading a small boy by the hand up to the house at the edge of the woods, before she leant down to lay a bunch of vivid yellow daffodils up against the garden wall.
"What a delightful colour." the wizard observed as he reached the wall himself, and both mother and child turned to look round at him.
"Oh it's just terrible!" the young woman half-whispered, looking distinctly watery eyed. "I thought his mother might like these...or at least she'll know we're thinking of them!"
"Dear me, whatever has happened?" Dumbledore wondered as the woman reached to scoop the little boy up into her arms, hugging him tightly.
"Everybody's talking about it!" she said, eyes widening in horror at the thought. "That awful creature came out of nowhere, quick as a flash!"
"Which creature would that be?"
At this question the woman glanced around as if she were frightened to be overheard, before taking a step forward and hissing:
"A werewolf! Their little boy Remus is dead, everybody's saying it! Got torn limb for limb, didn't stand a chance!"
"A werewolf, you say?" Dumbledore said, sounding interested more than anything else, and the woman shook her head vigorously and wondered:
"What on earth is the world coming to?! I won't let my children out alone at night, I simply couldn't, it isn't safe!"
"Dear, dear me..." Dumbledore murmured, turning to eye the cottage before them, the curtains drawn firmly across the windows and the whole place dark. Reaching to straighten his cloak a little, the Headmaster decided: "I must go and offer my condolences to the poor boy's parents."
"They won't answer the door." the woman called after him as he pushed open the creaking garden gate and made his way up to the front door. "We've been knocking for them all morning, we've all but given up!"
Paying no attention to her at all, the professor went to knock firmly upon the door and, once he had glanced round to see the woman walking back up the road, murmuring soothingly to her oblivious child, Dumbledore leant down to push open the letterbox, calling:
"Mr and Mrs. Lupin? Albus Dumbledore, might I have a word?"
There was a long pause before he heard shuffling footsteps inside and after another brief pause a woman's voice called:
"Professor Dumbledore...?"
"Yes, Mrs. Lupin. Would you be so kind as to open the door?"
Again, there was silence, before the woman inquired:
"Are...are you alone, Professor?"
"Entirely, I can assure you." Dumbledore said, glancing over his shoulder a moment later to check his assumptions were entirely correct, and with that he heard a number of locks sliding and clicking until the door was pulled open just a fraction.
Remus' mother, the Headmaster saw, was a tall, willowy woman with a pale yet motherly face and mousy brown hair tied in a messy knot at the back of her head. She eyed Dumbledore rather suspiciously for a long moment before straightening up and pulling the door further open.
"Thank you." Dumbledore told her pleasantly as he stepped across the threshold into the small hallway, which appeared to be stacked high on both sides with an abundance of trunks and boxes.
Mrs. Lupin closed the door hurriedly behind him and set about relocking the door with a wave of her wand as Dumbledore eyed the bare walls dotted with empty picture hooks thoughtfully before he inquired:
"Is your husband at home, Mrs. Lupin?"
"Y...yes." the witch said, pausing to twitch a curtain sideways to glance out into the front garden before turning around to face him.
"And your son? Remus?"
At the mention of her son, Mrs. Lupin visibly flinched.
"Your neighbours seem to be under the impression that the poor boy is dead." Dumbledore explained softly, "But I believe they are mistaken, are they not?"
Reaching to clasp her hands together in a distinctly nervous fashion, Mrs. Lupin murmured:
"John told the...the couple next door...he told them Remus died...it's...it's better that way..."
"But he didn't, did he?"
"N...no he...it's not safe here for him, we're...we're moving. We're moving tonight when it gets dark. Don't...don't tell them he survived...d...don't tell them he...that he's...he's a...they'll...if they found out he's...that he's a..." she trailed off reaching to clamp a hand down over her mouth, sucking in a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, only to crumple back against the trunks behind her when Dumbledore suggested:
"A werewolf, Mrs. Lupin?"
Teeth gritted to keep her composure, Remus' mother tugged at her skirt to flatten a few invisible creases before inquiring:
"Can I...help you with something, Professor?"
"I think that perhaps you just did, Mrs. Lupin." Dumbledore admitted, and when she only seemed to look more agitated he explained: "I have observed some very strange behaviour yesterday evening. The magical quill that records the births of future Hogwarts students seemed to be having some sort of crisis of sorts..."
"Oh...oh Merlin!" the witch whimpered, reaching to run a despairing hand across her face. "It's...it's Remus, isn't it? It's...he..."
"It would seem to me, Mrs. Lupin," Dumbledore explained calmly, "that the alterations being made to your son's genetic make-up when he was attacked had our quill quite baffled as to whether he was a wizard or indeed something different entirely."
"My little boy c...can't go to...to Hogwarts...we...we hadn't even thought a...about that..." the werewolf's mother observed dejectedly, tears beginning to stream silently down her cheeks, and Dumbledore reached into the deep pocket of his robes to extract a lacy pink handkerchief to press into her hand.
"On the contrary, Mrs. Lupin! Remus' name is still on the list..." he began to assure her brightly as she accepted the offering.
"Who's...who's going to...to let a...a werewolf go to...to school?!" she asked dismally, dabbing somewhat unsuccessfully at her cheeks that were growing steadily pink.
"Might I meet him?" Dumbledore asked her as she paused to blow her nose.
"Meet him?"
"Yes, might I meet Remus? I should be delighted to do so."
"Oh...I...well I suppose..." Still dabbing at her eyes, the witch turned to lead the way further into the house, explaining: "He's j...just here...p...perhaps you might like a...a cup of tea...?"
"That would be splendid, Mrs. Lupin." Dumbledore assured her as they stepped through the doorway into the main room of the house, where a large squashy sofa had been set before the fireplace, a small round dining table beside it in the corner and a kitchen running across the back wall, a spiral staircase squeezed into another corner that led to the bedrooms upstairs.
And there, lying back against a mound of cushions and swathed in blankets upon the sofa, was a young boy of seven, his face pale and his sandy hair ruffled and sticking up at odd angles. He was dressed in a pair of stripy blue and white pyjamas, the sleeves of which were rolled up to his elbows and as he watched the two adults walk into the room, his mother asked:
"Remus Sweetheart, where's Daddy?"
The boy eyed Dumbledore for a long moment before shifting further down under the blankets, cocking his head sideways towards the stairs whilst remaining entirely mute.
"I said where's your father, love?" his mother asked again, apparently not content with this as a response. "Tell me with words, won't you Sweetheart? Is he upstairs?"
In response the boy gave his head a single nod before sinking so far down upon the chair that the bottom half of his face became obscured by blankets.
"We can't get a single word out of him. Not since he woke up this morning." the child's mother informed the Headmaster miserably, rather as if she might burst into fresh tears, but instead she went to crouch down before the sofa, reaching to sweep the hair soothingly back from the boy's forehead.
"We've got a visitor, Sweetheart." she informed her son quietly, still stroking his hair. "This is Professor Dumbledore. He's...he's just popped in for a cup of tea and...and a biscuit. Would you like a biscuit, Remus?"
The boy gave another short nod, barely more than a slight jerk of the head and his mother instructed:
"Sit up straight then, so you don't choke, alright? Nice and slowly so it won't hurt..."
Dumbledore watched rather solemnly as she eased the wounded boy up into a sitting position, smoothing his hair again as she told him:
"That's it, that's better. Now let's get rid of these blankets, Sweetheart, you're getting yourself all hot and sweaty..."
No sooner had she reached to gently tug the blankets down into his lap, the child let out an ear piercing scream that very nearly made Dumbledore jump, grasping hold of the blankets in his fists and holding on with all his might. The more his mother attempted to reason with him the more Remus shrieked at the top of his lungs until there came rushing footsteps upon the stairs and John Lupin appeared, dropping a large boxful of belongings down upon the kitchen counter before hurrying over to the commotion, apparently not noticing Dumbledore in the slightest.
"Shhhh!" the boy's father demanded, half-pushing his wife out of the way before wrestling the flailing boy down until he was lying flat upon the sofa, kicking his legs wildly up into the air. "That's enough! Enough, Remus, be quiet!" To his wife he snapped: "I told you, Cate! It's...it's too soon just...just let him...let him just...Remus settle down! You'll loosen your bandages!"
"Those bandages need changing!" Cate snapped back, forgetting that they had an audience. "They've needed changing since last night! If you can't persuade him to let go of the blankets how in Merlin's name do you suppose we'll clean him up?! The wound will get infected..."
"It can't get any bloody worse." her husband grunted miserably as at last their son went limp and silent upon the sofa. The wizard reached to pick something up from by the boy's feet, reaching to press it into the boy's hands, asking:
"Have you been looking at this whilst I've been upstairs? What do you think, hm? Rather cool, isn't it? If you're a good boy, maybe we'll take it upstairs after dinner and have a look out the window with it, eh? Would you like that?"
Remus gave a distinctly subdued nod as he dropped the object down into his lap. As his father reached to slide him carefully back up into a sitting position, tucking the blankets firmly under his armpits, he suggested:
"Tell me with words, Remus, won't you? I said would you like that?"
The boy simply nodded.
His father sighed heavily, but reached to ruffle his hair before rising back to his feet. As both parents turned round to spot Dumbledore still stood observing them by the door, they both jumped a little and Cate exclaimed:
"Oh yes! Tea, Professor?"
"That would be lovely." Dumbledore agreed offering them both a smile and John hurried forward to shake him by the hand, expression distinctly embarrassed.
"Professor Dumbledore..."
"Good morning, Mr. Lupin."
"To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Dumbledore gestured past the wizard to the boy upon the sofa, who had picked up the object, a lunarscope the professor noted, and was turning it curiously around in his hands.
"I've come to see young Remus here, Mr. Lupin, and your wife has very kindly offered me a cup of tea and a biscuit."
"You've come to see Remus?"
"That's right."
"I see...I see, do take a seat..." Glancing over at his wife who appeared to be on the verge of tears again over by the sink, John mumbled an apology under his breath before hurrying over to help her with the tea. As he slowly approached the child upon the sofa he heard the parents begin to talk in murmurs, the mother's voice growing a little too high as she complained a little too loudly:
"...can't go to...to school, John!"
Dumbledore went to perch upon the sofa at Remus' feet and the boy paused in his examination of the lunarscope to look up at him with wide, sombre eyes.
"Hello Remus." the Headmaster greeted warmly, offering him a smile. "My name is Professor Dumbledore."
Remus merely shifted a little further down under the blankets until they were just below his chin.
"What's this you've got here?" Dumbledore asked, holding out a hand to the boy whose gaze darted down to the lunarscope for a brief moment before darting back up again. "May I see? It looks rather like a lunarscope to me."
After a deliberating pause, the young werewolf held out the lunarscope for the professor's inspection and as he retrieved it Dumbledore's face brightened as he observed:
"Ah yes, how delightful! Do you know, Remus, I do believe I owned a very similar one to this when I was your age!"
Remus stared mutely at him as he reached to raise the contraption up to his eye, peering squinting through it at nothing in particular before settling it upon his knees.
"I know a trick or two with lunarscopes, you know." Dumbledore said, reaching to tap a finger to his crooked nose with a wink. "And do you know what else I know, Remus?"
The boy shook his head rather unenthusiastically, and the wizard leant forward to inform him in a whisper:
"I happen to know, young man, that you were born on the tenth of March, 1960." Dumbledore revealed, his blue eyes twinkling as the boy continued to stare at him blankly, shifting stiffly under his blankets.
The Headmaster reached carefully into the pocket of his robes to withdraw his wand, before inquiring:
"How should you like to see what was in the night sky back then when you were born? I daresay you missed it on the day in question!"
At such a suggestion the boy shifted to sit a little straighter under his blankets, giving a more definite nod, and the professor picked up the lunarscope again and gave it a few sharp taps with his wand, held it up to one ear before giving it a good shake, before giving it another sharp tap, nodding approvingly.
"There!" he concluded, holding the object out for the child to take. "Have a look and see what you can see!"
Remus slowly reached to take the lunarscope before raising it somewhat gingerly up to his eye. A broad grin promptly spread across his face as he sat bolt upright, the blankets around him forgotten as at long last he let them fall down into his lap. The buttons of his pyjamas had been left undone to reveal tight bandages wrapped around his middle, the thick bundle of linen heavily stained a grimy yellowing colour, seeping blood staining a patch on the child's side.
"What do you see?" Dumbledore asked, eying the grotesque injury grimly, not entirely expecting a response, only for the boy to tell him:
"Stars."
"And the moon? What does it look like?"
"There isn't a moon." Remus informed him quietly as over in the kitchen his parents halted their hushed discussion to turn to stare at him. "Just stars."
"A new moon!" Dumbledore observed brightly. "Now that is interesting!"
"Where has it gone?" the child asked, pressing the lunarscope firmly against his eye as if he might see more clearly. "The moon?"
"Oh it hasn't gone anywhere, Remus." the Headmaster explained, causing the werewolf to lower the instrument to gaze at him curiously. "Just because we cannot see something, that does not mean that it is not there." Nodding to the bandages around the boy's middle, the wizard ventured: "Take those bandages you've got yourself there..." At mention of his injury, Remus hastily dropped the lunarscope in favour of yanking the blankets back up towards his chin. Dumbledore smiled reassuringly as he admitted: "Just because you cover them with blankets, that does not mean that they are not there." Meeting the child's wide-eyed and abruptly watery gaze, the Headmaster leant forward a little, voice dropping to little more than a whisper. "There's magic in the moon, Remus." he told the boy whose breaths had grown short, nervous, jumpy. "More magic than first meets the eye. More magic than we can see. But it is there, whether we can see it or not. Just like the new moon. And it marked you long before yesterday, I can tell you that."
At that moment Remus' mother appeared at the Headmaster's elbow with a cup and saucer and an almost timid smile and Remus watched in silence as Dumbledore accepted the steaming beverage with enthusiasm. Once Cate had gone to retrieve her own cup and saucer the professor turned to ask her son:
"I wonder, Remus, if you might be so kind as to ask your mother if she happens to have any custard creams in that biscuit barrel over there? I have a sudden craving for one!"
The child shook his head vigorously, sinking further down under his blankets.
"I see. And why not?"
There was a long pause before the boy consented to whispering:
"She'll cry."
"Over a custard cream? Goodness me, what a thing!"
"Over me." Remus whispered, ducking his head a little and hugging the blankets tightly around him. "I make her cry. When I...when I speak...it makes her cry..."
Dumbledore turned to see both of the werewolf's parents watching the scene intently, before he turned back to fix the boy with a smile.
"I should imagine," he said warmly, "that nothing would make your mother happier, Remus, than if you were to speak to her."
"She'll cry." the child insisted, hunching his shoulders.
"Perhaps she will. But she is your mother. Would it not be grand to chance making her happy?"
"But she might cry again."
"But she might smile. She might be relieved, don't you think? She is desperately worried about you, after all. Why not see if you might be awfully brave and take a chance?"
"I don't...I don't want Mummy to cry. It makes me sad and she cries and cries..."
"You think she shall cry forever? You think there is no hope? You cannot see it?" Dumbledore leant forward again until the half-moon spectacles slid a little down his long, crooked nose. "Just because you cannot see it, Remus," he reminded the boy softly, "doesn't mean it isn't there."
There was a long pause as Remus turned to stare over at his parents for a long, considering moment, before wetting his lips a little nervously, drawing a deep breath to call:
"Mummy? Professor Dumbledore would very much like a custard cream biscuit if you have one."
His mother positively beamed, reaching to snatch up the biscuit barrel as she announced:
"We bought a fresh packet just yesterday morning, didn't we Sweetheart? You went with me to the shop, remember?" She strode briskly over, pulling the biscuit barrel open before offering it to the Headmaster with a smile, and as he reached to select a biscuit with thanks, she blinked back a tear or two to murmur: "Such a brave boy!"
Dumbledore took a small bite out of his biscuit, agreeing:
"He certainly is." Piercing blue eyes back upon the young werewolf he said: "You will remember, won't you Remus? Remember that new moon, won't you?"
"Yes, Professor." the boy murmured, jumping a little when the wizard reached to grasp him firmly by the arm.
"Remember the things you can't see, Remus."
"Y..yes..."
"Do you know what that is called? Knowing something is there when you cannot see it?"
"No..."
"Faith, Remus. It's the act of having faith. If you have faith, Remus, you can be so very brave. You can do that, can't you? You can be brave, can't you?"
"Y...yes..." the child mumbled rather uncertainly, and with that Dumbledore took a rather satisfied bite out of his custard cream, turning to Cate as John came to stand at her side.
"I too have faith, Mr and Mrs. Lupin." the Headmaster told them cheerily as Remus leant to pluck a biscuit from the open barrel his mother was still clutching. "I have faith in your son, here. And in answer to your earlier question regarding who shall let a werewolf go to school: I can assure you with utter confidence that the answer is simple. I shall." And with that he drained his teacup and popped the last of his biscuit into his mouth, dusting crumbs from his lap before getting to his feet. Reaching to shake a distinctly stunned John Lupin by the hand before turning to do the same to the somewhat oblivious child lying upon the sofa, he informed Remus' parents: "Your son is a good boy, Mr and Mrs. Lupin. He has survived a terribly ordeal and has not lost the ability to have faith in human nature, even when he cannot immediately see it. He is a good boy and I have no doubt that he shall grow to be a great wizard. Perhaps he won't see it, perhaps he won't think himself remarkable in the slightest! But just because he won't see it, that does't mean that he won't be great! And that, Mr. and Mrs. Lupin, shall be his greatest strength of all."