Author's Note: Happy New Year! To those of you who are new to my works, welcome! To those who are finding this story through Harry Potter and the Spiteful Sorting Hat, welcome back! I've been wanting to write a Marauders story for quite some time, and thought the start of a New Year was as good a time as any to get started. I am still working on completing my Slytherin Harry fic, but this has been a relaxing side project. Enjoy!

His father's voice was getting louder. Remus listened to his shouts from the hall. He closed his eyes, rocking his head back to rest against the wall as he drew his knees up to his chest. His father was usually a quiet man, but as he continued to harangue their visitor, Remus could make out every word that was said.

Though his father's anger was not directed at him, Remus couldn't help but feel guilty. He should have known something was wrong when he came down from his room to find the old man waiting patiently in the parlor, a game of gobstones before him, as though he had been waiting for a partner. His parents never entertained guests. And yet his father had placed so many wards and protective spells around their home, it seemed unlikely that anyone could enter without permission.

The old man had greeted Remus with the utmost politeness, addressed him by name, and introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore. Naturally, Remus had assumed that Mr. Dumbledore was an invited guest. That he was a wizard, like his father, was abundantly clear from his strange attire. Perhaps he was a colleague at the Ministry of Magic, though his satin, aquamarine-colored robes seemed out of place with a ministry official.

Remus didn't have any friends his own age. In fact, he didn't have any friends at all. For many years, his world had consisted entirely of his parents. They moved often, always careful to secure their new home from threats - both internal and external.

It wasn't as though his parents neglected him. His mother had quit her job at the insurance office in order to homeschool him. When he wasn't studying, she read to him from the books she had loved as a child, until he was old enough to read them himself. In the evenings, when his father returned from work, he would instruct Remus on magic, though only in theory. He reminded Remus often that he wouldn't be permitted his own wand until he was eleven, and even then, could only use it under the strictest supervision.

His eleventh birthday was quickly approaching, and it was this that brought Mr. Dumbledore to his home that day, though Remus had not realized it at first. Despite his parents' infinite affection for him, Remus could not help but feel lonely in quiet moments, when he played alone in his room or gazed out the window at other children playing in the neighborhood beyond the glass. And so when Mr. Dumbledore, old enough to be his grandfather, or even his great-great-grandfather, invited him to play a game of gobstones, Remus hadn't been able to resist.

Then his mother walked into the room and screamed. His father, having been curiously delayed at work, apparated home in an instant. Remus had been banished into the hall, and from there learned the true purpose of Albus Dumbledore's visit.

Dumbledore wanted Remus to attend school. It should have been a simple proposition, and it would have been for anyone else. But Remus was not like other children. He had never attended a public school. It was not that he was dull or stupid. On the contrary, he liked studying. It gave him something to think about. People and places and stories that did not involve himself or his own troubles. No, Remus had been kept home all these years for one reason. He was dangerous.

His father's voice was growing quieter now. Remus strained to hear the conversation that progressed in the other room. The calm, gentle voice must be Mr. Dumbledore. Remus could not make out what the old man said, but whatever it was, it seemed to have subdued his father. Remus wished he would just tell the man to go away.

The parlor door opened suddenly. Remus flinched, the movement in turn startling his mother, who had just noticed him sitting on the floor. For a moment she appeared alarmed, but the expression was gone in another instant. Instead, she directed a smile at her son. Softly shutting the door behind her she made her way to Remus's side, smoothing her long skirt before taking a seat next to him.

"You were listening," she sighed, her tone carrying neither question nor admonishment.

Remus nodded his head feebly before adding, "I can't go, right? It's not safe…"

A beat of silence followed his question, and Remus could sense his mother's hesitation as she replied, "What do you think, Remus? Would going to school really be that bad? You'd be able to meet other kids your own age…"

"No."

"Remus…"

"I don't want to go!" he insisted, "Why can't I stay here? Can't you teach me, like you always do?"

Hope Lupin smiled, causing the laugh lines around her mouth to deepen. But the lines etched between her brows and across her forehead, the ones caused by worry and stress, they stood out, as well.

"You know there are things I can't teach you… At Hogwarts, you'll be able to practice your magic. That's not something you can do here…"

Remus opened his mouth to argue, but swallowed his words. He had been thinking of his father's lessons. Since he had been very young, his father had taught him ways to control and direct his innate magic so that he didn't cause accidents. But his father had his work with the Ministry. He couldn't give Remus the formal education he needed, and spellbooks could only teach him magical theory. His mother would have helped if she could, but being a Muggle, there was little practical help she could provide.

"What does dad say?" Remus finally asked.

He felt sure his father would take his side. It was he who had insisted on secrecy, for Remus's safety and the safety of others. But to his shock, his mother replied, "I think he's coming around. Albus has put a lot of care into how the school would… support you."

Already feeling like he'd lost, Remus slowly lowered his head and muttered, "Do you think I should go?"

Again that silence, that beat of hesitation. She was weighing her words. Treating him gently. Afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"Why don't you come join us?" she asked at last, "I think you should hear what the headmaster has to say for himself."

Remus raised his head. He hadn't been aware that Mr. Dumbledore was the headmaster of the school. He had assumed the old man was merely a teacher, or even a school governor. The significance of a visit from the headmaster himself was not lost on him, and Remus climbed quickly to his feet. Though every fiber of his being wanted to run from the house, not to return until Dumbledore was long gone, his polite habits would not allow him to dawdle any longer in the hall when his presence was requested.

He followed his mother back to the parlor door. She paused to adjust the collar of his shirt and smooth his light brown hair, the exact shade of her own. He submitted to these fussy gestures with patience. They were unnecessary, but he knew this was only her way of showing concern. When she was at last satisfied with his appearance, she opened the door, and ushered him inside.

The game of gobstones was still laid out on the coffee table. Professor Dumbledore was seated, enjoying tea in a saucer he had no doubt conjured for himself. His father was standing, arms crossed defensively across his chest, but he wasn't shouting anymore. Instead, he turned his attention to Remus and offered him the same soft smile his mother had given him moments before.

"Remus," Lyall Lupin began with a nod toward their guest, "I believe you've already been introduced to Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes, sir," Remus said, addressing both his father and the headmaster with a nod.

"And you understand why he's here?"

Remus shifted from one foot to another. He didn't want to answer. There was something in his father's expression that told him it was already decided. Despite Lyall's loud protests, he seemed to have already made up his mind.

"Do I have to go?" Remus asked.

Dumbledore gestured to the seat next to him. When Remus merely shook his head, too nervous to sit down, Dumbledore replied in a pleasant tone, "I understand your reservations, Remus. I have just been explaining to your father that the purpose of my coming here in person was to explain what precautions we have taken to ensure your safety while at Hogwarts…"

"It isn't my safety you have to worry about," Remus interrupted. He blushed after he spoke, stunned at his own audacity for speaking out of turn. He darted a look at his father, relieved to see that he didn't appear disappointed in him for this outburst. His attention was still directed at Dumbledore, interested to see what he would say next.

Dumbledore's expression was kind. Remus wanted to like him, but he didn't trust him.

"Perhaps you're right. As headmaster, I have to keep the safety of all my students in mind. But that doesn't mean your comfort shouldn't be considered, Remus. I do not want to see your education neglected from fear that you might hurt others. You do not strike me as a violent person."

"What about a violent wolf?"

"Remus…" his mother chastised gently.

Remus glanced down at his feet and apologized.

"Lyall, I am sure you and Hope have done the best you could for your son," Dumbledore continued, choosing not to acknowledge Remus's comment, "No one would accuse you of being negligent parents. But he will soon be eleven years old. He should be given the same opportunities as any child. You cannot keep him under lock and key forever."

His father sighed and ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. Remus's gaze traced the faint scars along the backs of his hands and down the sides of his heavily lined face. He seemed tired. Remus averted his eyes, pained by the memories that those marks brought to mind. Instead, he found himself looking at his mother, seeing her return his gaze as she smiled in a reassuring way.

"What do you think, Hope?" asked his father heavily.

"I agree with Albus," his mother replied, "Remus has been alone for too long. He should be at school."

"Alright," his father said with another heavy sigh, "If you think you can watch out for him. But it has to be kept secret, Albus. I'm serious. No one can know…"

"Of course," Dumbledore said, "It would not be my place to let others know of Remus's… condition. The faculty will have to be advised, of course…"

"But the students… their parents?"

Dumbledore gestured to show his understanding. There was only one thing left to do.

"Well, Remus," his mother asked, "Do you want to go to school?"

Remus stared into her face, so full of joy and excitement for him. Then he glanced at his father, noting again his scars and fatigue. Remus was not yet eleven years old, and yet he was already a burden to his parents. He was only going to get bigger, more difficult to control. If this man… if Dumbledore could guarantee he wouldn't harm anyone… Didn't his parents deserve a break?

"Alright," he said at last. "I'll go to Hogwarts."