Chapter Two

Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for the follows, favorites and reviews so far!

Lyall Lupin gaped in disbelief as his wife made her way over to his side, frowning in bemusement at the odd, old man.

"Dumbledore?" Lyall asked slowly, stepping back and gesturing for the man to step inside.

Remus felt rooted to the spot from where he stood in the sitting room. His eyes widened. Usually, when his father had guests over, he was to go to his room. It was safest that way. But the old man was looking right at him, smiling, and to Remus's absolute disbelief, he walked over to the sitting room next to him and glanced around quietly.

"Remus, go to your room," Lyall said abruptly.

"Mr. Lupin, if I may just request that Remus be present for our conversation as well?" the old wizard cut in politely as Remus turned toward the staircase, intent on finding one of his favorite books from one of the many boxes. Remus paused as the man's words began to register, and slowly turned around, looking a bit like a fish as he opened and closed his mouth.

"Please don't tell me you sent this letter Dumbledore," Mr. Lupin said slowly as he stepped into the sitting room, the envelope clasped tightly in his raised hand. "You had no right-"

"-I'm sorry?" Dumbledore asked with a slight frown at the man's enraged countenance. "I was under the impression that young Remus here expressed great magical talents."

Lyall shook his head in aversion as Remus gaped up at the man.

He felt his heart begin to beat faster, his palms beginning to sweat as he clenched a hand on to his book, his hazel eyes growing impossibly wide. The man was here for him. Dumbledore smiled down at him as if he could hear his thoughts, and it was then that Remus acknowledged that perhaps he could. He did his best to distract his mind with thoughts of his book as he avoided eye contact, tremors of excitement very subtly shaking his hands.

"You know Dumbledore, don't pain us by making me say it," Lyall balked. "Remus could never - he isn't like the rest of them," he insisted, sinking into one of his chairs in the sitting room with an exhausted, regretful expression.

Hope lingered by his side, her eyebrows drawn together in motherly concern. "What's this?" she demanded, flitting a protective look over to Remus, who was still standing half in between the sitting room and the staircase.

Dumbledore raised both eyebrows. "No, indeed he is not like the rest of us," he admitted in a grave tone. "Remus is far more talented than most wizards his age, I am led to believe. Would you care to demonstrate for me, Remus?" the wizard asked politely as he settled into a seat on the sofa himself.

Remus nodded in a jerky fashion, avoiding looking at his father as he trailed further into the sitting room. He lifted his hand slowly, his heart leaping into his throat. He snapped his fingers, and sparks flew. Then a small, flickering flame jumped to life in his palm. He smiled unconsciously at the little fire. It was like a heartbeat, pulsing up and then breathing out.

Hope gaped in wonder at her son as a small smile lit up her eyes. Remus's hazel gaze was locked onto the flame, which he extinguished by merely closing his hand into a fist.

Dumbledore was smiling, eyes twinkling more than ever when Remus looked up. The young wizard returned the smile very hesitantly, nerves making themselves known once again. What if he hadn't been good enough? What if he needed to be able to do more? He could do more. He could make things float.

"That was very impressive," Dumbledore said. He was cut off, however, as he opened his mouth to continue.

"Stop this, Albus. Tell us what you mean by all of this and leave," Lyall spat, clearly angered now by the false hope his son was being given on a silver platter.

Mrs. Lupin shook her head. "I don't understand, Mr. Dumbledore."

Albus Dumbledore glanced between the two parents in surprise. "I was under the impression that Mrs. Lupin was aware of Hogwarts. I apologize-"

"-Hogwarts? You mean - school? You want Remus to go to school?" Hope asked suddenly, eyes widening in shock. "Dumbledore, you must know of Remus's - condition. It wouldn't be safe for him."

"Or the other children. You risk their lives Dumbledore by doing what you're suggesting," Lyall cut in darkly, his eyes cold with rage. Remus did not miss the meaning of those words as his excitement plummeted like a rock into the pit of his stomach.

The eleven year old boy felt distinctly ill as he glanced down at his own hands, mind flicking back to the last full moon. The freshest scars on his sides from where he had bit at himself stung in memory, and his expression tightened in pain.

"And for what does he go? You know how they treat his kind. He could get O's across the board and no one would hire a-"

Dumbledore raised a hand for silence, his blue eyes having gone cold with clear anger. "On the contrary, Mr. Lupin. Times are changing. I would employ a man with Remus's condition who qualified just as soon as I would any other wizard; I am not alone in this mindset. There have been great advancements toward controlling and tempering the symptoms of lycanthropy in recent years. I believe even perhaps by the time Remus has left school, he should find the world not as cruel as you lead him to believe."

Remus watched him in quiet wonder as he finished speaking, inklings of hope arising inside. What if Dumbledore were right? If there were people like him, who could accept him, then he wanted to go. He needed to go.

"I brought you a spare letter, Remus. Would you like to read it?" Dumbledore offered gently when Lyall Lupin made no retort - only offering a look of defeat.

Remus nodded excitedly, extending a hand politely to accept the proffered envelope.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Lupin,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 30 August.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Remus gasped in wonder from where he stood in the busy street of Diagon Alley later that week.

"Mum, Mum look!" he whispered urgently, eyes lit with excitement unparalleled the past six years. He motioned to a joke shop when he finally garnered his mother's attention, his heart beating wildly.

It was the day of the full moon, and he felt admittedly very sick, but his mother had decided upon cheering him up by bringing him out for the first time in a very long time.

He'd met a couple other kids at the broom shop, but had realized belatedly he didn't exactly remember how he was to introduce himself. He'd ended up shyly maneuvering off toward the bookshop after that, but his mother had managed to coerce him outside with promises of ice cream.

Remus darted off toward the shop without waiting for a response, his mother following after with an amused expression as he wandered inside, drawing in a sharp breath of awe as he looked around.

The ceilings were unrealistically tall, and everywhere he looked there was something more amazing than the last.

Invisibility Caps - Make your friends think you've really lost your head!

Savannah Candies - Transform your vocals into that of a roaring lion! Or a grumbling honey badger.

Fart Potions - I think you know what these do.

A boy with a crow's nest of black hair and large, round glasses - who looked to be about Remus's age - ran up to him suddenly, eyes wide with glee.

"Oi, mate, tell him these are safe!" he said very quickly, wrapping an arm around Remus's shoulder as if he had known him his entire life. "You're my best friend, you'd vouch for me, wouldn't you?" He extended in front of Remus's eyes a bubbly pink potion that was very clearly one of the Nose-Hair Growing Draughts with the label torn off.

A younger-looking blond wizard - he was perhaps nine or ten - followed the bespectacled boy over looking very suspicious. He had a mean look about him, with pinched features and an air of arrogance.

"They're love potions, I told him, but he won't believe me. Imagine!" the bespectacled wizard who was still hanging off of Remus cried. "Go on, mate, tell him I'm honest if I'm anything. James Potter: Honest. That's what they say."

Remus hesitated slightly, trying not to give the boy who was now giving his shoulder a slight squeeze a weird look. "Uh, yeah, definitely looks like a love potion to me," he said in a rushed voice, trying to hide the amusement he felt at imagining the boy slipping it to a girl and watching her nose hairs grow to her toes.

The pinched-looking boy hesitated at this but nodded slowly as he observed Remus, accepting the potion from James and inspecting it closely. "You really think this will work?" he asked, looking up.

Potter nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely, she won't be able to stay away from you," he insisted.

The boy nodded eagerly, and to Remus's shock took a swig of the potion himself, spinning around and beginning to make his way over to a pretty girl at the back of the shop. The girl had long red hair, and vibrant green eyes. She tilted her head back and laughed as she played with one of the talking yo-yos, and the pinched-looking boy continued to stride toward her, completely unaware that his nose hairs were getting longer with every step. By the time he reached her, they were at his chin.

James burst into a fit of laughter, muffling them against Remus's shoulder before letting his arm fall off and standing back with a beam. He extended a hand. "James Potter. Well met," he said warmly.

Remus hesitantly clasped his hand, offering a smile in response. "Why did he drink-?"

"I convinced him they've both got to drink it if it's going to work," James explained. "What's your name?" he asked eagerly, tilting his head and fixing his glasses, which had begun to slip down his nose.

"Remus John Lupin," Remus said in one breath, cheeks reddening slightly as James gave him a slightly peculiar look.

Then the Potter boy laughed, tilting his head back and nodding. "All right, then, James Charlus Potter. I'll call you… Johnny."

"And I'll call you Charlie," Remus returned, arching both eyebrows unthinkingly. He froze after that, realizing he'd probably just ruined any sort of friendship he'd started with the other boy. He frowned, looking at the floor as heat crawled up his neck from embarrassment.

James, to his shock, laughed cheerfully at this. "You do and I'll hex your eyebrows off," he called over his shoulder as he took off down the hallway without preamble. Remus watched him go in slight bemusement, unsure if that had went well or very poorly, and left the store a few minutes later feeling a bit unsettled but overall amused.

His mother was waiting outside when he returned, holding his list in her hands. Remus darted over to her, beaming.

"Next is a wand," she said, glancing away from the list to offer him a smile before looking back. "Where do you suppose we get one of those?" she mused.

Remus paused, looking around them before his eyes lit upon a shabby-looking shop at the southern end of the street. In peeling gold letters, read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

"There," Remus declared, his mother trailing after him as he started down the sidewalk, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest with excitement and nervousness.

Remus reached hesitantly for the wand laid out in front of him, closing his fingers around the dark wood and wincing as it stung suddenly, a burst of ice jetting from the tip. He quickly dropped it back into its box, eyes wide with horror as he clutched his hand.

"Oh, oh no, no, no, no," Ollivander murmured, sweeping up the wand and shaking his head. "Should have known, yes, but of course, didn't imagine, no, peculiar. Very peculiar," he spoke almost to himself as he flitted in between the rows of boxes, eyes narrowed slightly as he murmured under his breath.

Remus felt anxiety curling up inside of him like a sort of monster. What if none of the wands could choose him because they knew what he was? Wands chose wizards, but Remus maybe didn't quite qualify.

"So light, so powerful, but tinged by darkness, yes," Ollivander murmured as he brought out an older-looking box, slowly setting it on the front desk and motioning Remus toward it. The young werewolf couldn't quite determine if the wandmaker was talking about the wand, or him, but he decided it didn't really matter either way.

With an air of exhaustion - this was easily the twentieth wand he'd tried - Remus pulled off the top of the box and removed the light cypress wand from its casing.

Warmth flooded up his limb, his eyes brightening minutely as his core buzzed with contentment. He gave the wand a wave, and sparks shot out, forming into a sort of bird made of light which then spun around Remus's hair with a flutter of its twinkling wings.

"Ten and one fourth inches, cypress, core of unicorn tail hair. Very pliable; naturally. Well met, Mr. Lupin," Mr. Ollivander said with a glow of respect in his eyes.

"What does it mean?" Remus asked quietly as he turned the wand over once in his hand.

Ollivander smiled. "I am always honored to pair a cypress wand, Mr. Lupin. For a cypress wand chooses only a wizard with a great willingness for bravery and self-sacrifice for heroic notions. Dark times are upon us," he said in a low voice, his tone darkening, "this wand has chosen you because it sees a destiny in which you play a part in stopping this darkness. And the pliancy of course; changing and yielding when needed.

"Pliable wands are particularly good for Transfiguration," he added, nodding to Remus, who was looking at him with distinct confusion. "And unicorn hair protects its owner most fiercely. It is good for those who are going to see many hardships, and need a sense of confidence within themselves."

Remus slowly absorbed the fact that he would see hardships, and apparently sacrifice himself for something heroic, all because he picked up a specific piece of wood. The more rational part of him immediately dismissed these notions as false, and he brushed off the anxiety he felt, offering Mr. Ollivander a polite smile of thanks as he paid for his wand and left the shop.

His mother had gone to the pet shop while he had been inside, and he exited to find her holding a cage that contained a young barn owl that tilted its head as it looked up at him.

Remus extended a hand toward the bars of the bird's cage hesitantly, blinking several times in an attempt to show that he wasn't threatening. Animals were always fine with him, until they smelled him. Then they ran off in terror.

The barn owl extended its beak toward him, closing it gently around the tip of his index finger.

Remus quirked a smile at the bird and Hope beamed. "The clerk said he was particularly brave," she said quietly, a quivering smile settling on her features as she watched her son, wand held loftily by his side, leaning in toward the bird.

"I'll name him Romulus," Remus said quietly, mind flicking back as he stroke the silky feathers on the young owl's chest.

"I think that's a beautiful name," Hope replied in a gentle tone. Remus looked up at her with a cheeky grin and she laughed in response.

"Can we get fudge?" he asked suddenly, eyes alighting upon a fudge cart that a wizard in an orange and blue polka-dotted tophat was setting up across the street.

"Of course," Hope replied quietly, her gaze flicking up discreetly to the sun that was now beginning to hang lower in the sky, checking when they would need to leave.

Remus didn't miss the look and his expression morphed with sadness as he felt a painful twinge in his neck, shoulders, back, and legs.

He'd nearly forgotten.

He swallowed hard, his breathing beginning to pick up as panic nearly took his mind. He edged away from his mother, a shudder rocking his entire form. The fear of the impending agony was something he hadn't learned to control. He was afraid. Afraid of himself and afraid of the moon, which was already in the sky alongside the sun, waiting until it could fill the blackened night.

He thought of his book, and shook his head as his mother extended a hand toward his shoulder. He stepped away. "Let's go home." He heard his own voice as if from a distance, his head spinning as his surroundings fizzled away and terror shook him.

He thought of the girl's fear as the dogs approached her, stalking through the undergrowth. She had known her doom was coming, had begun to resign herself to the agony. He understood that feeling well.

Except there was no sorceror to teach the dogs to be kind, in his story.

His mother guided him toward the floo networks that would take them home, and he managed to get his lips to form the name of his address as he stepped into green flames.

Two days passed. It was August 31st.

Remus smiled to himself from where he sat, propped up in bed with an outrageous amount of pillows, his socked toes peeking out the edge of the blanket. His wooden flute - a gift from mother's side of the family when he had first gotten 'sick' - was enchanted by his dad to play a quiet song, somewhere off to his left.

He set aside his book - a feather from Romulus now serving as his temporary bookmark - and reached for his wand. He beamed at the warmth that spread from his fingertips at the simple action, soothing the residual ache in his side where new injuries now marred his skin.

Humming, he set it back down and summoned over a brick of fudge with a wave of his hand. The monotony of laying in bed all day was anxiety-inducing, but he did his best to distract from it with chocolate; his mother claimed it was the illusive cure to all ills.

He shifted back, wincing at the pain the action caused. He glanced around the cramped space that made up his room and listened to the sound of sirens going off down the street outside his window.

He hated the city life.

Pinching his eyes closed in obvious exhaustion, the werewolf rolled over and buried his face into his pillow, sighing.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow you start school, he reminded himself, letting the warmth bud in his chest and force a smile on to his tired lips. His mother was getting a bit jumpier about it, but she was incredibly calm in comparison to his father.

Remus's dad had shut himself in his office all hours of the day when he wasn't at work, now. Remus didn't even hear him leave to go to sleep. Perhaps he slept in there.

A swell of guilt filled the young wizard and his smile fell from his face as he rolled back over, staring up at the ceiling and feeling ill.

Last transformation had been a terrible one. Werewolf howls couldn't be dulled by silencing charms - they had some sort of magical quality. The police had been called last night because of the disturbance, but Lyall had promptly obliviated them and sent them away.

Remus felt some of the stress in his core ebb away as he realized that because he'd be at school, his parents might finally not have to move in a few month's time. They could finally regain some of the normalcy they'd had in their lives before the incident.

And his mother wouldn't have sleepless nights when howls shook the house from the basement up. She wouldn't cry.

He smiled sadly to himself, nodding and reaching over for the dreamless sleep potion set on his bedside table. He downed the necessary amount and rolled over to a slightly more comfortable position, before the magic in the potion pulled him into a state of easy unconsciousness.

"Remus? Oh! You're still sleeping, oh no - that's all right. I asked your father to wake you up - but - oh, Remus, get up," Hope Lupin called in a tone of clear anxiety, startling her son into sitting bolt upright, his hazel eyes still half-lidded with sleep.

Remus looked blearily around the room, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and wincing as his temples pulsed with a headache.

Excitement gripped his stomach as he noted the sunlight filtering in the windows.

He jumped out of bed.

"What time is it?" he asked his mother as he began fumbling through his wardrobe for clean clothes, picking out an outfit for the train while she shoved things into an unfamiliar trunk. "What's that?" he asked as he pulled his shirt off, ignoring the residual sting as he rubbed against the cursed scars and snatched up one of his favorite white polos.

"Oh, it's something I found for you the other day," Hope said quietly, a frown turning down her light features as she continued to pack, never looking up. "Students are required trunks, I was going to have it restored, and your name put on it - no time to explain now, I was hoping to surprise you with it," she said with a wave of her hand as she began packing in what she knew where his favorite books. "We'll have to get it redone over Christmas, remind me."

Remus paused in his dressing to admire the trunk in awe. It was admittedly very old and worn, but it looked incredibly story-book. It definitely fit with the air of magic he was used to in stories - inheriting some old, dingy relic that was secretly very cool. And he was going to a school to learn magic and the trunk was-

"It's perfect, Mum, thank you," Remus murmured, his heart humming with excitement as he spun back around and continued getting ready.

Hope laughed slightly. "Remus, come here," she said as she straightened up, Haroun and the Sea of Stories held in her left hand. Remus turned around to face her, hazel eyes wide as he walked across the room hesitantly. His mother pulled him into a quick embrace, which he leaned into despite the impulse to move away from the pressure against his scars that were still so new.

She smiled at him thankfully, looking motherishly overcome with emotion and Remus smiled slightly, averting eye-contact to admire his new, old trunk.

"It was your grandfather's," she explained lightly as she noticed his line of vision. "I figured you'd like it. You two have a lot in common."

Remus nodded. "I remember," he said.

"We'll go visit this summer," she promised quietly as she noticed his mood dwindling.

Remus nodded, a brightened smile forcing its way on to his features as he was once again overcome with excitement about where he was going. "Am I going to miss the train?"

"Not if we hurry," Hope replied with a smile.

Remus needed no further encouragement. He snatched up a copy of Grimm's Complete Fairy Tales and The Tales of Beedle and the Bard, tossing them into his new trunk and quickly latching it closed. He paused, feeling as if he were forgetting something. His eyes lit with remembrance.

Spinning around, he snatched up his wand in its case from where it laid in his bed. He promptly tugged it from its container, tucking it away in his jacket pocket as he'd seen his father do a thousand times and turning to face his mother with a wide grin.

"Let's go," he said breezily, waving his hand once to propel the trunk into the air, and started out the door.