Thursday, 22 August, 1991
The older he is, the more likely there's something wrong with him.
It was all the advice Tonks was given when she browsed through the catalogue of available wizards. Pages upon pages of demographic information looked up at her, of eligible bachelors across the country who sought a wife. It wasn't supposed to come to this, Tonks thought glumly, as she leafed through the pages, but she had no choice. Seven years at Hogwarts hadn't helped her find a husband, so she was stuck at the Ministry, unable to begin her Auror training without selecting someone to marry.
It was terribly unfair that witches were ordered to marry before they turned 20, while wizards were allowed to remain single until they were 49. Unwed witches were automatically and forcibly matched to the oldest available bachelors; unwed wizards were castrated as punishment.
"Find anyone you like?"
The kind voice of Tonks's father was a sorely needed distraction.
"How am I supposed to pick one?"
"That's a question for your mother, darling." Ted lightly mussed Tonks's pink hair and sat down next to her at the kitchen table. "Although she never had to go through with her selection, thank God."
Tonks wrinkled her nose. Her mother, Andromeda, had also gone through seven years at Hogwarts without finding a husband. Her parents let her choose a bachelor, provided he was a pureblood, and the only candidate they accepted was more than twice Andromeda's age. She eloped with the true love of her life, Ted, and avoided an unsavory fate.
"Mum didn't even want to marry that creep," Tonks muttered. "She had you. The only bloke I fancied is off in Egypt with a stupid exemption until he's 30. I reckon he'll find some Egyptian goddess, marry her, and never have to worry about us English witches sending him a letter."
"Try to look at it from their perspective." Ted took the catalogue and ran his finger down the list. "Think about this one: he's 29, a father of three, he works at a shop in Hogsmeade, and was a Slytherin. Any witch who sends him a letter has got to be his kids' stepmother. If I'd lost your mum when you were small—" Ted shuddered at the thought. "I'd have to trust a stranger to be your stepmother, and with the changes they made to the law in '74, I'd have to have more children until I had a son."
Tonks frowned at her father. "Okay, I'll pick him, then," she said. "This 25 year old dad of three can be my husband. I'm normal and I won't do anything to the kids. If I'm lucky, one of the kids is a boy so I won't have to have kids if I don't want to." She grabbed a roll of parchment, but her father tugged it back.
"Dora, wait," Ted warned. "This is a big decision. Read his notes before you write anything down."
Tonks rolled her eyes and flipped the page over. She was aghast at the amount of notes this bachelor had.
"Married three times already . . . each kid with a different wife . . . all Muggle women who left him?" Tonks gaped at her father. "How is this man not in Azkaban?"
"If he married Muggle women, it's impossible to know." Ted flipped through more pages in the catalogue. "I'd think you want someone with some notes, just to know what's ahead, but nothing too concerning."
"Give it back—" Tonks took the catalogue from her father and grunted. There had to be someone within its pages she could spend the rest of her life with. "I'll just . . . I'll put a star next to the ones that aren't hopeless and work until I've got a shortlist."
"You're sure you want to keep your mother out of this?"
Tonks scoffed at her father. "Mum would pick the most boring sounding one. It's my life, not hers, and I don't care if we get disowned again. It's not like any of them really like you or me."
"She only wants what's best for you, sweetheart." Ted stood from the table, kissed the crown of her head, and put water on to boil. "You'll need lots of tea and patience, no matter what you decide."
"Where did you send Mum, by the way?" Tonks said, as she flipped past two of the oldest men in the catalogue. The two 47 year olds would not be part of her list.
Ted grinned and set down two steaming mugs on the table. "I might've suggested she take a girls' day with Hestia and Emmeline. They'll have a cracking time at afternoon tea in Mayfair."
"At one of those insufferably posh hotels?"
"Your mum will be in the best mood possible before you make your announcement, whoever you choose." Ted flicked his wand at one of the cupboard and a tin of Tonks's favorite biscuits landed in front of her. "I may not be your mum, but I still want you to find someone who will love you as much as we do."
Tonks seriously doubted that any man she chose out of a Ministry-organized catalogue would fall in love with her. If she was like the older Hufflepuff girls she knew, she'd be lucky if her catalogue-husband even wanted to be friends with her. One of her closest friends, Blythe Anderson, had gotten married a month ago to a man 13 years her senior. His first wife had died and left behind a six year old girl, and from the latest letter Tonks received, Blythe was unhappy, but resigned to her life as Mrs. Severus Snape.
As she flipped through the files of available men, Tonks said, "You know, Dad, I really should've said yes to Ralph Oliphant's last-minute offer. He's freakishly tall and he kind of looks like a naked mole rat, but he wouldn't have been half-bad."
Ted raised a brow at her as she starred another promising bachelor. "Do you want to write to him?" he asked. "See if he's still interested?"
"Nah, he got married to Debbie Ketzler a week after we got back from Hogwarts. She said no to him too, but I heard she got spooked by the catalogue and went back for him."
"And you're not . . . spooked? As you put it?"
Tonks dog-eared a page in the catalogue and shrugged. "Less scared, more . . . unwilling? Blythe's just got back from her honeymoon. She says her stepdaughter is scared of her and her husband's weird, but not a good weird. You know what I mean?"
Ted hmmed and leaned back. "He may grow on her. It must be hard for all of them. You said he was a widower?"
"Yeah. She thought he'd be more normal since he said he'd be the new Potions professor at Hogwarts, but I reckon he's more interested in his books than in her."
"You might have a point," Ted said, shrugging, "but time will tell. Speaking of which, you don't have all day, so get back to the catalogue if you don't want your mum involved."
Tonks scowled but continued her work. She knew she had waited too long to go through the catalogue; she should have been like Blythe and chosen her husband in the first week of July, when exemptions for wizards expired. Any wizard who had been granted an exemption from the catalogue would show up in it, unless their exemption was extended, and girls had to fight their way to the Ministry to turn in their applications in person, if only to beat applications arriving by owl.
Tonks decided against the madness, but at the price of possibly losing out on good options that her classmates and friends had taken.
After two strong cups of tea, she had six pages marked with the best options. There was one that stood out above the rest. He was perfect, if a little old for her taste, but a twelve and a half year age gap wasn't a dealbreaker. He had a good job, no children, no previous marriages, and other than the highly questionable circumstances listed in his notes, he was the best one in the catalogue.
Eligible Wizard #60-W31-029X was a risky choice. There was no denying that.
There was also no denying that if she chose anyone else, she would have an equal chance of happiness with a stranger. This stranger, the one whose record she held in her hands, seemed like the right choice.
Tonks made her decision.
"This one." Tonks shoved the catalogue back at her father. "This one will be my husband."
"31, half-blood, never married, and no children," Ted read aloud. "He works at a shop in Diagon Alley, makes good money, was a Gryffindor, above average O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s—" Ted was about to flip the page for the mystery bachelor's notes when he paused and looked up at Tonks. "Did you read the notes? This one seems . . ."
"Too normal, right?" Tonks put her hand down on the catalogue to prevent her father from reading the notes. "He's got one of the best profiles in this book. I would've picked him right away but there's a catch with him, and it's a big one. It's probably why he's still single. I reckon if I can be an Auror, I can handle what's going on with him."
Ted rubbed his palms together. "All right . . . what's wrong with him?"
Tonks flipped the page over.
"He's a werewolf."
Saturday, 24 August, 1991
The Marauders' Market bustled with frenetic activity. Remus was in the storeroom, his domain, while the others hurried about, collecting customers' orders ahead of the new term at Hogwarts.
"Oi, Moony! Tell me we've got more of the two-way mirrors!" James shouted, poking his head into the storeroom.
"Eight sets left!" Remus called in return. "I'm working on another batch!"
James flashed him a smile, flicked his wand at the spot where the mirrors were kept, and vanished with all eight sets. Remus returned to his workstation, where thirty handheld mirrors were laid out in pairs. It would take at least four hours to perfect the charms on all the mirrors, but as they were one of the Marauders' best-selling and priciest products, it would be well worth the effort.
The door to the storeroom burst open, but this time it was Sirius coming in.
"How many more charmed calendars do we have?"
"Loads," Remus replied, waving his wand over a set of mirrors. "I spent all day yesterday on them."
"We'll have to make more tonight! Amelia's sister got the idea to get one for all the writers and editors at the Prophet! " Sirius grinned, took the entire stack of charmed calendars, and rushed out of the storeroom.
Remus groaned. It would be another late night at the shop. He knew he shouldn't complain—he and his friends' inventions had spawned into one of the most successful businesses in Diagon Alley, thus affording him with a good salary, better than anything he could've dreamt for himself—but as he was the only one among his friends who had no family, he was expected to do most of the overtime. The 'Wed the Witches' Act had worked for almost everyone he knew, and no matter how many times his friends tried to convince him that someone would choose him eventually, it was clear that after almost 13 years of bachelorhood, he wouldn't be getting married. Like other werewolves before him, he would be castrated on his 50th birthday as punishment for being unable to wed.
It wasn't as if he wanted this life, or to be alone while everyone got to have a family, but he was doomed from the moment he was infected with lycanthropy. Any sensible witch who looked over his profile would see "WEREWOLF" emblazoned in his notes. There was no one who would want him. His friends, on the other hand, were luckier.
James married Lily right out of school. Neither of them had to bother with the catalogue. They had five children with a sixth on the way. Harry would start at Hogwarts in a few weeks' time. Daisy was nine, Charlus was seven, Monty was four, Ralston was almost two, and a surprise sixth would arrive by Christmas.
Sirius got married almost as quickly. He didn't want to be in the catalogue, and as he easily captured so many hearts at Hogwarts, it gave him a large selection. It surprised Remus, James, and Peter when he chose the quiet and sensible Amelia Bones among all of them. She hadn't even been one of the many girls chasing after Sirius in those days, but Sirius was firm in his decision.
Sirius and Amelia were the proud parents of four children, with two more on the way. Carina was ten, Lyra was eight, Ursula was four, Cassie was two, and any day now, there would be two more Blacks joining their brood. Sirius hoped for more girls, while Amelia hoped for at least one boy, although they had no need for a son. Sirius's brother Regulus had two sons and a daughter, thus ensuring the family name wouldn't die out, so Sirius and Amelia were waived from the requirement of having a boy.
Peter had to go into the catalogue. He hadn't found anyone to marry while at Hogwarts, giving him a sense of camaraderie with Remus, but it was short-lived. It only took a year for someone to choose Peter. An uninformed Muggleborn girl, Laura, expected a taller and handsomer man than Peter Pettigrew, but the catalogue listed no physical features and she had not accepted enough guidance before choosing him. The letter was sent to Peter, he and Laura married, and the marriage that resulted was anything but romantic.
Peter and Laura slept in different bedrooms and worked opposite hours. They managed to conceive a single child, thus fulfilling Ministry requirements, and they wouldn't have more. Only Remus, James, and Sirius knew that their son, a six-year-old called Walter, had been conceived without Peter and Laura having to touch each other. Remus knew it had involved a few Muggle kitchen tools, and beyond this, he wanted to know nothing more about Walter's origins. Peter had an unhappy marriage, but he was devoted to his son, and he was adamant about coming home early enough to spend time with Walter.
Remus had no one waiting for him at home. He had attempted to date Muggle women, as he longed to have a family, but the Ministry caught wind of it and sent him a nasty letter. Lycanthropes weren't permitted to marry Muggles.
"Moony!" James was back in the storeroom with his lopsided grin. "You've got a letter! Owl wouldn't wait and tried to bite my hand off!" He waved his bloodied fingers around, sent the letter zooming across the storeroom, and dashed back out.
Remus frowned as he picked up the letter. It was thick, with a purple Ministry seal on the back of it, and some bloody smears from James's fingers. It was hard to read which office it was sent from, but Remus doubted it could be from anywhere but the Beast Division. He hadn't been contacted about his registration status in years. Remus wouldn't put it past the Ministry to invent a new set of rules to make werewolves even more miserable. He began to slide his finger along the wax seal. To his right, the charmed mirrors caught his reflection.
The Ministry letter, and whatever miserable news it contained, could wait until the end of the day. The two-way mirrors, multi-charmed pocketknives, and self-sharpening quills were his priority. If he had to abide by new Ministry restrictions, he thought, the least he could do was leave his friends' shop well-stocked while he sorted it out.
It was well past closing time when Remus remembered he had a letter waiting for him. The boisterous sounds of customers' conversations had disappeared. Peter had already gone home, claiming his wife would need to get to her shift at St. Mungo's as a Mediwitch, and Walter needed his father home in time for dinner.
Sirius and James cleaned and restocked the shop while Remus broke the seal on the letter. Delighted laughter echoed in the storeroom as Remus's mind caught up with the words he was reading.
Dear Mr. Remus J. Lupin,
Your presence is required at the Ministry on Friday, the 30 th of August, 1991, at 10 o'clock in the morning. You will be joined in marriage to an eligible witch, whose basic demographic information can be found within this notice.
Respond to this letter within 48 hours to confirm receipt. Failure to arrive at the required appointment will result in immediate castration.
Your immediate family may attend the wedding. All others are prohibited.
Wishing you well,
Mafalda Hopkirk, on behalf of the Records Office at the Ministry of Magic.
The room started spinning. Remus scrambled to find something to hold, to keep him steady as his vision narrowed and his breathing hitched.
Married. He was getting married. Someone had chosen him. Some poor, unfortunate soul had chosen him.
"MOONY!"
Remus shook his head, surprised when he found himself on the floor with the Ministry notice against his chest.
"Remus, what's the matter?" James asked, tilting his head in confusion.
"I got a letter from the Ministry," Remus said hoarsely, as his eyes adjusted from the tunnel vision he'd become suddenly afflicted with. His heart was in his throat and the parchment shook in his hands.
"It's not another werewolf thing, is it?" Sirius asked, frowning.
"No, no it's not." Remus set the letter down and met his friends' eyes. "It's from the Records Office. I'm getting married."