Fast Cars and St. Mungos
August 31, 1971
Break another little bit of my heart now, darling. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Remus hummed along to the words of the song, head resting on the window of the car. The music was faint as his parents were discussing “adult stuff, as his mother would call it when he asked. He mainly tuned it out, as most of the time it regarded him, but it wasn’t anything positive.
The trip to St Mungo's was always long and always held anticipation in the air. Remus liked to pretend that different animals were running with him as he drove through the green fields and to the city. Sometimes it was a large toad hopping across, leaving large footprints in the ground. Other times it was a fast cheetah keeping its pace along the road and sometimes even outrunning the car itself.
Remus blinked, and it was gone, fun over. He turned to face the front seat where his father was now discussing business. Lyall Lupin, he worked for the ministry. With the magic folk, or that’s how his mother referred to them. Hope didn’t work; since Lyall travelled more, he was paid in greater numbers. He didn’t need to, but he wanted to keep Hope home more to take care of Remus.
Like most children, he didn’t mind his mother being home all the time. Though he wasn’t like most children. Remus had a special…condition. He didn’t like saying the real name for it; it made it real. Hope didn’t either; she saw it as fictional. But then again, when you marry a wizard, not much is fictional.
When the letter came, so did the worry and panic. Almost since it happened – the attack, Remus was four. He had told his mother about a strange man standing outside their window, but she attributed it to his imagination. The thought went out the window quickly. Remus had awoken to an unsettling feeling; his eyes settled on a specific corner of his room. Glistening eyes in the dark that were followed by a low and rumbling growl. Remus let out a blood-wretched scream, and before he knew it, the figure flew past the white curtains and over to his bed. He never liked talking about that night; the answer changes over time. One moment he can’t remember, and the next just won’t answer. Hope and Lyall almost never let Remus out of their sight. Doors stay locked, windows remain bolted except for a few, no friends sleep over, and no sleepovers at friends houses.
Remus found it unfair, but it’s not like it mattered anyway. He didn’t have many friends, and those who were nice enough to even talk to him never hung out with him. He wasn’t exactly a social kid either.
“You’re going to love it there. You know I went there myself.” Lyall rambled and beamed at Remus.
Remus didn’t respond.
“I was a Gryffindor. I believe I was roommates with Fleamont Potter! I hear he has a sound your age; it’s that wonderful!” Lyall is still looking back and forth at the road and Remus in the rearview mirror.
“Yeah, just amazing…” Remus said sarcastically.
He didn’t look forward to going to the school, at least not in front of his parent. Inside he was extremely excited. He had never been by himself like this.
They’ll see that I’m responsible, even with this…disease. Remus thought to himself; he didn’t think that it was a disease. At one of his visits to St Mungo's, he had read in a pamphlet a quote from a wizard researcher.
“Lycanthropy can have deleterious and injurious effects on a wizard's or witch's life. The effects are more severe depending on the trauma response from the victim. Levels one through ten are used to determine how far a victim may be, and the higher the level, the more careful the precaution.”
Professor Sanare, 1942
It may not have scared Remus, but it did scare his mother, as she was not exposed to the wizarding world as much as Lyall.
Remus's eyes began to grow heavy as the clouds blanketed the sunlight in the sky. Rain gently hit the windscreen. The sounds of the squeak from the unused windscreen wipers and the sound of the taps were enough for Remus’s head to cave in and lay resting against the window.
No dreams.
“Remus!” Hope’s voice squealed as she gently shook him.
“Don’t yell at him! He’s just sleeping.” Lyall called from the driver's seat.
Remus sat up and inhaled sharply; the car had stopped, and the sound of cars and trains and…people had filled his ears at once. More enhanced, but it didn’t bother him once the smell of fresh rain filled right into his nose and into his lungs.
“Well, he wasn’t waking up.” Hope reached over to unbuckle his seatbelt, but Remus moved her hand to do it himself. “Suit yourself. Mr Independent.” Hope smiled at Remus and kissed his cheek.
Returning the smile, Remus climbed out of the car and onto the street. The area was lively; the sounds of cars and people filled the air. The sounds of the morning rush more of.
Remus followed his mother nearly at her heels; his father locked the car and stepped onto the pavement to join them.
“Right this way.” Lyall said, looking around suspiciously. He did that often, which worried Remus.
Passing through Purge & Dowse, Ltd, Remus caught a glimpse of himself in one of the office windows. Pale scar lashes on his face, sun-bleached hair that lay fairly on his head. His mother cut it for him, which was pleasant, as she cut it a bit too short around the sides. He hated it.
Passing mindlessly through the door and into the hospital. It looked the same every time he came, nurses rushing back and forth, but it never was this full. Hope didn’t like waiting; she didn’t like being in the hospital.
“Lupin, Remus.” Lyall said to the clerk. Tapping his fingers on the counter, she pointed down the hall.
“Third door on the right.” She said with a warming smile.
Remus remembered her; she had to restrain him before a full moon before. She scratched him on his forearm. He still had the scar and could still feel it sometimes.
Maybe it was the wolf thing, but he just couldn’t see her as delightful or kind. He followed behind his mother once again.
Peeking wasn’t allowed here, as the hospital had a privacy policy, but Remus did it anyway. Looking into room A, there was a lady with pale skin and bloodshot eyes. Remus peeked at the note on the wall – all the patients had paperwork on their doors to remind the staff on the case what they were there for – and read that she was there for dental work, a chipped tooth. He didn’t understand why that was such a big deal till she opened her mouth and he saw the fangs.
Natural enemy…moving on.
Walking further down and entering his room. The room next to him was vacant, unfortunately, so nothing special.
The room smelt sterile, eerily sterile. He sat on the bed that sat in the middle of the room against the wall. Waiting for the doctor to clear him for the trip to school.
Hope and Lyall took pamphlets from the wall to read together. Lyall knew most of the information in them, as it was his job, but Hope found it intriguing.
Hope was what the wizards would call a muggle, or non-magic folk. When Remus started showing signs of magic, Hope was thrilled. She always liked that side of Lyall’s life more than Lyall did.
It wasn’t for no reason; Lyall was aware of how dangerous the wizarding world had become in the last decade or so. The rise of dark magic and the battle of power that was unspoken of.
He didn’t think his son would be exposed to that world and wanted to keep it away from him, but when he was…attacked, all those hopes were gone. That was before the propaganda started and the ministry’s agenda was being pushed.
Magical creatures belong in cages.
That's theatre, the newspaper said at least. Remus cringed at the title. Reading more, you could see the biased stance of the author. Hope said it was barbaric and unsophisticated to have such loud opinions and be wrong.
Lyall didn’t say anything.
JAMES POV
September 1, 1971
The duplex had three bedrooms and housed three people. One room stayed untouched and unopened; it wasn’t looked at. James woke up alone, as his parents were still sleeping.
Opening his eyes to a blurry view before he grabbed his glasses and placed them on his face. He was welcome to grey light through his window and a mess on his floor. He had woken up in such a sweat, and his shirt stuck to him like glue.
The broom had fallen in front of the room and rolled under James’s step, causing him to stumble. The loud noise was uncared for, and James walked out of his room. No smell of food reached his nose, but he was too demented to care.
It was an unusual sight for him to be awake before his parents, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t sleep the night before, thinking about his start of life at his new school.
Before he went to a boarding school in Spain, expensive, prestigious. His parents thought he should be around culture rather than going to a school in London like most of his other friends.
His closest friend, Peter, went to a school in London. His mother wanted him to stay close in case of an emergency. Really, she just wanted him to stay home for the holidays more often.
Euphemia and Fleamont both attended Hogwarts. That’s where they met, and eventually that led to marriage and so on. James loved his parents more than anything; he hated being away from them. That thought didn’t wash over him once during shopping at Diagon Alley, or in Ollivanders, or when he got his owl.
Merlin was a barn owl; his name was rather odd to Fleamont’s liking, but he didn’t say anything to not hurt James’s feelings.
His reasoning for the owl’s name was that he looked smart and that he was missing all colour from his back, making him all white. A lot like Merlin’s beard.
Waking up to James in the kitchen was a horrific sight. Though this time he was only eating toast with butter on one side and jam on the other.
Euphemia waved her wand, and the kitchen became filled with life. It wasn’t uncommon to see things flying around the house or music playing on its own in the Potter house.
The smell of coffee beans caught James’s attention. He liked the smell but wasn’t fond of the taste.
“You better have all your things packed, James Potter. The minute your father is ready, we are leaving for the station.” Euphemia said, walking over to her son.
James hummed musically and looked up at her. She sighed at seeing his mouth covered in jam as if he were a toddler.
“Use a napkin, please.” She flicked her wand, and a wet towel appeared in her hand. Wiping his mouth, she tapped him to get up.
Jumping to his feet, he walked towards the doorway, “Do I really have to go?” He sighed.
“You were so excited yesterday; what happened?” She said cleaning up his plate and glass of milk.
“What if I don’t like it there? What if the other kids think I’m weird?” James mumbled.
Euphemia didn’t answer. She was always hurt when James put himself down.
“You are not weird; you are special.” Effie held his shoulders. “You are extraordinary.”
James smiled, exposing his dimple, which, thanks to his father, he had gotten from. James was the spitting image of Euphemia, but he had his father’s traits.
He wasn’t meant to be an only child, but they waited too long on having James, and by the time they were ready for another, it was too late. Three miscarriages later and the Potters gave up.
James was enough; he was a handful already, so imagine if there were two of him. That’s how they kept their energy high. Appreciate what you have because you could have none.
Fleamont came down the stairs some time later. Kissing Effie’s cheek and grabbing a piece of toast.
“We need to be out the door. There is going to be traffic and rain. Neither of which I am looking forward to.” He bit into toast and rubbed James’s shoulder.
James ran upstairs to quickly pack the rest of his stuff and lugged the heavy luggage to the stairs, nearly tipping it over and going down with it. Fleamont grabbed it from him and moved to the car.
James’s mother grabbed his scarf and hat and placed them both on him. James didn’t mind when she coddled him; he loved the attention.
With a slam of the door, they were all out of the house.
Monty was right; the traffic jam was not light. Between the morning rush and other students trying to rush to the platform.
James looked out the window with a smile on his face. They were passing by a dog daycare on the main street in the city; he always loved dogs. Particularly black dogs; they were so mysterious.
Euphemia sighed in disbelief at the traffic not moving even an inch.
“Do they have dogs at Hogwarts?” James asked.
“Dogs aren’t allowed on the school grounds, at least for students.” Fleamont replied, no excitement in his voice.
James hummed nicely to the song that played on the radio. Not pleased to upset his parents more than they already were.
Oh, baby, all I need is one more chance (to show you that I love you).
Won't you please let me back in your heart?