It was a warm, sunny, Saturday morning in the summer of 1993 at the Widrum household where our story begins.

The house itself was a cozy cottage that sat under the bright blue sky, just next to a cliff overlooking the white sand beach and crystal blue sea. A golden glow danced merrily upon the ever-shifting waves as they lapped against the shore, like two inseparable friends twirling together in a well-practiced dance.

The cottage had two floors; two bedrooms upstairs and a kitchen and living room downstairs, complete with a small but colorful garden framing its light, baby blue walls. The interior of the house was just as pleasant; a fireplace crackled softly in the living room (though it exuded no heat), surrounded by plush, brightly patterned sofa seats. A round dining table of dark mahogany stood just outside the kitchen, in slight contrast to the white and pink striped wall paper. On the table, sat a record player, singing a soft hum of jazz music in perfect symphony with the frequent chirping of birds as they flew to and fro.

The only noise that could be heard above this peaceful tune was the occasional crash from the kitchen, where Ms Widrum was making her third attempt at baking chocolate chip cookies in what would be considered the "normal way" to us, which is to say: without magic. She claimed that doing things in "muggle fashion" helped her relax.

All in all, it was a rather picturesque scene.

Thirteen year old Altair Widrum sat by the open window, eagerly awaiting the warm, gooey cookies that were sure to soon come out the kitchen. He was sunk into one of the comfy sofa chairs (this one had a particularly fun design: an alternating pattern of cartoony blue and green dragons) with a large book open on his lap as he closed his eyes, sighing contentedly and letting the calm sea breeze ruffle his dark hair. This was one of the best parts about living next to the ocean, he decided. While the British summer heat would've been nigh unbearable by mid-July anywhere else, by the ocean it was still quite cool. Then, remembering his book, he heaved his head up with great effort from where it had been resting on the windowsill, and tried (without success) to engross himself once more with the passage staring back at him from where it lay on his lap.

The Engorging Charm originates from the twelfth century, where it was popularized among Scottish peasant farmers during a mass famine. Farmers learned to engorge their agricultural produce as a means of survival, as the harsh winter had left many with less than a third of the food they had expected. While this effort worked to help wizards survive while a large portion of the muggle population died to starvation, engorging produce led to an overall less nutritious—

Altair took his eyes off the book as he stared back out the window again, silently wishing for an excuse to escape Elwick Easel's Definitive Book on Useful Charmwork when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" He called to his mom, before quickly making his way across the living room, wondering who it could be. They weren't expecting anyone, and a cottage by the ocean was hardly the type of place door-to-door salesmen would knock on. It could be Tonks, she had said she'd visit before she went off to the Auror training program. Then again, he reasoned to himself, she was hardly the type to announce her arrival. The last time she'd visited, she'd tried to sneak up on him while he was making a potion and ended up tripping on some of the boomslang skin he'd left on the floor. The tears he'd cried laughing were more than worth losing the bit of boomslang.

Pushing open the front door, he found instead a man smiling down at him in a shabby brown muggle suit, his pants having split and been restitched at least a dozen times.

"Uncle Remus!" Exclaimed Altair, "come in."

Remus Lupin chuckled as he stepped in, clapping him on the shoulder before making his way over to the very sofa chair Altair had just risen from. Sinking into it in a manner rather like Altair and unlike his usual polite self, he picked up the book that had been left unceremoniously half-opened on the windowsill.

"Didn't I give this to you last Christmas?"

Altair, who was now leaning against the living room table, suddenly became very interested in the vase of tulips behind him. Trying not to sound too guilty, he muttered "I've been busy with other things," tapping the rim of the vase lightly.

Remus simply shook his head amusedly. He was thankfully saved by his mom, who was now making her way over, hands still half covered with flour. Ms Widrum was a tall woman, nearly Remus' height and had a cheerful gait, a kind face, and shared the same dark curly hair and chestnut eyes as Altair.

Stopping just next to Altair, she glanced down at Remus with a smile. "What's the occasion? It's been a while since we've had the honor of hosting the ever elusive Mr Lupin."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't quite call myself elusive anymore May… in fact, that's the very reason I came today. You see, I've been given the honor of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts!"

There was a short look that the two adults shared, before a puzzled Altair broke the silence. "Am I missing something? How does that make you any less elusive?"

"Well.." his mom responded after another pregnant pause, "I've decided that it's time for you to finally go to Hogwarts."

A long, uninterrupted silence followed.

Altair, despite having been studying magic for two years now had never gone to Hogwarts, the most prestigious magical school in all of Europe (though perhaps the French may disagree). Instead, he'd been homeschooled by his mother since he was eleven. She claimed it was to provide him with a better Defense Against the Dark Arts education, as the Hogwarts position was rumored to be cursed, and most qualified witches and wizards avoided it like dragon-pox. However, Altair knew this wasn't the real reason. For one, his Defense ability was still absolutely atrocious. Once or twice, his mom had gotten Remus to come tutor him, which was somewhat helpful, but all of her own efforts slid off him like oil from water.

And more importantly, he knew it was because his mom would miss him. It had always been just the two of them growing up. They were friendly with the Tonkses and Remus visited every now and then, but there was hardly ever anybody in the house apart from them.

He didn't remember his father. His mom had always said that he'd gone missing during the war right after he'd been born, and while he'd never known his father, he knew just how much his mom missed him. As much as she tried to pretend like it didn't bother her, he knew it did. Every year on November 1st, the day after Halloween and the day after the war had ended, she would sit facing the fireplace wordlessly with an unknown expression. Sometimes it seemed like she was grieving, and at others like she was holding onto barely contained fury. It was an odd thing really, since his mom was almost always very cheerful otherwise. He never interrupted her on those days.

He desperately wanted to know more about his dad. Whenever he'd tried to ask about it though, his mom would shut down completely for the day. From what little information his mom had told him however, Altair knew that his dad had been a reckless yet loving and loyal man with a golden heart; alongside a few other bits of information, he'd pieced together that his father was a war hero who had died fighting the Dark Lord and his followers.

While he wish he knew more about his dad, it was his mom that was here now, and he supposed it wasn't worth it to upset her. She had always done her best to take care of him by herself and he knew it must've been difficult. Even though it was such a shame not to get to go to Hogwarts, he had never argued. His mom had always supported him, and this was his own little way to support her too.

Now however, upon hearing the news, he could feel a massive smile blooming on his face, so huge that it threatened to crack his face right up in half.

He could hardly believe it! "..Really?"

"Yes," his mom smiled back. "I've kept you home long enough haven't I?"

As if on queue, Remus reached into his suit pocket and with a flourish, pulled out an expensive looking letter. It showed four animals on it, which Altair knew to be the four Hogwarts mascots, and big red "H" wax seal stamped in the very middle. With trembling hands, he ripped the envelope open, slowly pulling out the letter hidden inside. Slowly, as if he was scared the letter would vanish under his eyes, he took in the words.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCH CRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Dear Mr Widrum,

Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.

Third-years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade at certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Please also inform us of your choice in electives by owl no later than August 13th, and buy equipment as necessary.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Altair glanced back up to see both his mom and Remus smiling back at him. His head was swimming with shock and excitement, and buzzing with questions. After a brief pause, he landed on "When will we go to get all this?"

"Today," Remus replied, in a matter of fact tone with a glance towards his mom, "if your mother agrees of course."

"Sure!" His mom replied cheerfully, "have a few cookies before you go though, they're almost ready.

No one objected to that.

After a short conversation about the safety of flying carpets (his mom was very passionate about magical transportation, and Remus was just generally well-read on Ministry policies) over delicious chocolate chip cookies and some tea, they left for Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies. Altair side-along apparated with Remus, and successfully — but barely — managed to keep his cookies down as they arrived outside the Leaky Cauldron. His mom had stayed behind to finish up on a few charms she was designing for work

Heading into Diagon Alley, Altair was surprised by the sheer amount of people there. While his mom and him had come many times before, they had never gone in the summer, which Altair now supposed was to avoid the exact situation he was experiencing now. While the Alley was decently full during the year, it was now positively teeming with people. Children dragged their parents around from store to store and loud laughs could be heard as students were reunited with their friends after the long summer break. Throngs of people were crowded outside each shop, and he saw a small sea of kids and teens his age staring into the window at Quality Quidditch Supplies, admiring the brand new Firebolt broom.

He fully understood the fuss over it. It was by far the favorite broomstick for the World Cup next year, and it was supposed to (if Which Broomstick? was to be believed) render the previously favored Nimbus series obsolete. He seriously hoped that wasn't the case; Altair had a Nimbus 2001, courtesy of the charms his mom had invented for it. He did always love her job.

He briefly considered asking for the price before realizing how ridiculous he sounded. No one at Hogwarts was going to have a Firebolt, the Nimbus 2001 was more than enough!

With that in mind, they squeezed through the crowds, heading for their first destination: Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. They then headed down to Flourish and Blotts to pick up his school books (where he witnessed the shopkeeper have a rather unfortunate mishap with the Monster Book of Monsters; he hoped he would never have to open the biting book), and then the Apothecary for a new cauldron. He had the basic pewter cauldron at home, but his mom had given him fifteen galleons for a new cauldron, as a special treat for his first year at Hogwarts. Potions was by far his best subject, and he spent nearly an hour there, delightfully browsing through the many models available. Altair found self-stirring cauldrons, shrinking cauldrons (that could fit in his pocket with his wand), and even one made of pure gold. He ended up choosing a professional grade brass cauldron with enchanted silver markings, complete with full temperature control charms and able to withstand all levels of toxic material.

Having finally finished shopping, they sat down at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor for two medium chocolate sundaes where Altair finally had the chance to unleash the storm of questions that had been brewing in his head for hours.

He started with the biggest one. "What's it like at Hogwarts?"

"Well..." Remus drummed the table thoughtfully, "it was probably the best time of my life. You'll be sorted into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Slytherin, and your housemates will be like your family. I'm sure you'll find amazing friends there."

"Slytherin for the cunning, Hufflepuff for the loyal, Ravenclaw for the wise and Gryffindor for the brave right?"

"It isn't as clear cut as you may think Altair. While most people will have those traits, there are also those who fit somewhere in the middle. I certainly know Gryffindors who weren't brave." Altair thought Remus' eyes might have darkened for a second, but they returned to their usual gleam so quickly he wondered if he'd imagined it.

"What's the castle like?" He had of course read Hogwarts a History (it was a personal favorite), but he wanted to hear it from someone who'd actually gone.

"It's absolutely beautiful, the Astronomy Tower stretches into the clouds and the dungeons go all the way beneath the lake. You've read about the lake of course?" Altair nodded. "The castle is quite literally endless, and many people think it is the very manifestation of magic itself. Apart from the more common areas, there are plenty of secret rooms and passages too."

"And do you know any of the secrets?"

"Of course," Altair could swear he was smirking, "but you'll have to find them for yourself." Remus added at Altair's expectant look, "What's the fun if you don't discover them yourself?"

"I guess…," Altair responded slowly, though secretly making a commitment to himself to find as many as he could in his first term. "What about the teachers?"

"Well, I can't be speaking ill of my new colleagues before I even step inside the castle now can I?"

Altair nodded resignedly.

Remus pulled out his wand and with a swish revealed that it was 12:23. "Come on then Altair," he said pleasantly, making to stand up, "I promised your mom that she'd have you back for lunch."

They made their way towards the exit, once again squeezing through the crowds as Altair continued to bombard Remus with his questions. As they neared the exit, Altair suddenly froze. He'd come face to face with a giant black and white poster plastered to a pillar.

WANTED, SIRIUS BLACK

Below, staring back at him, was a gaunt faced man dressed in tattered robes; there was an almost waxy feature to his skin, and it was sunk in, almost like it was wrapped directly over his skull. He laughing maniacally, shaking uncontrollably and held a crazed look in his eyes.

"Who is that?" Altair asked, unable to tear his eyes off the eerie sight.

Now turning around, he realized the poster was all over Diagon Alley, there must've been at least one for every other shop. He didn't even know how he'd nearly gone through their whole trip without seeing one.

Remus turned slowly, as if caught off guard.

"You don't know?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "That's the most wanted man in magical Britain right now, they even put him on the muggle news. He's the first person to ever break out of Azkaban."

"I haven't heard.." Altair muttered, still transfixed. "I never read the Prophet. What did he do?"

There was a pause, and when he spoke again, Remus' voice was very grave. "He killed thirteen muggles," his voice softened considerably, "and a wizard with a single curse. All they found left of the wizard was a finger."

Glancing back down again, he felt almost as if the man was staring directly into his soul from behind the shaggy mane of hair that clung to his scalp. He shuddered. While the rest of his body looked weak and sickly, his eyes were very much alive, and there was a sort of wild hunger deep within them. Even just by looking a the poster, Altair knew something for certain. There was something deeply wrong with this man.

Welcome to the story! As you can probably tell, this will be a true OC story because honestly I think we're sorely lacking these and most OC stories are really just SI stories where the OC has no real character. The story will be canon divergent as it befits Altair, though I will be maintaining canon as long as it makes sense. Updates should be weekly since there's already been a few chapters pre written. Thanks! :)