1971
Remus first got suspicious when, one night, he overheard his Ma asking his father about when he was meant to go to London.
It was still March, just a few days after his eleventh birthday and the pit Remus got in his stomach everytime he thought about the letter he kept in his bedside table got bigger when he heard his father mention that Dumbledore himself was expecting to meet with him at the Ministry in May to discuss the possibilities.
Remus knew, realistically, that they could be meeting to discuss any number of subjects. After all, his father worked in the ministry still and Dumbledore was an invaluable member of wizard society. They could be set to discuss policy or politics or another one of those boring words his father sometimes mentioned at the dinner table when his Ma asked how his day had been.
But since his birthday, Remus could hardly think about anything else. He had never expected to receive a letter. After all, he was told since he was very young, in no uncertain terms, that his condition was to be kept a secret. That, for his own safety, he must be kept away from wizard society.
And so, his father had crafted a curriculum, and he often gave him lessons on the weekends. He had books about the History of Magical Britain that he was quizzed on and, every day, his mother sat with him and taught him maths, and science and let him read any number of books as a replacement for a normal education.
But tucked under his bed, his most priced possession: Hogwarts, a history . He was certain his father had no idea he had found the old book in his study. But since he came across it, Remus was obsessed. He read everything he could find about the castle and the magical experience that hundreds of wizards and witches had among its walls.
When he received his letter, just for a second, he dared to dream. He knew, based on the book, that every wizarding child got a letter on their eleventh birthday, formally accepting them into Hogwarts. But he was well aware, that he was not just a wizarding child. He was certain that there must have been a mistake. That, since his father hid his “affliction” and refused to register him when he first got it; deciding, instead, to move the family permanently to a remote town in the welsh countryside; there was no way for the authorities in Hogwarts to know that he was a monster. That he was, as much a beast as he was a wizard. In fact, half of each.
But, in his mind for a moment, he could almost see himself dressed in black robes. Sat underneath a magic hat and waiting, with bated breath, for it to shout out the name of a place where he belonged. Would he be a Ravenclaw like his father? He adored knowledge. Or perhaps a Hufflepuff. He had no way of knowing how loyal to his friends he could be, he didn’t have any around. He knew Slytherin might be a stretch. And he could not dare to think about what it would feel like to be as brave as to be placed in Gryffindor. He felt like he was afraid of himself, at least once a month.
His father had taken one look at the letter in his hands and had offered him a sympathetic smile.
“I’m sorry, son,” he had said. Though to Remus, he didn’t sound very sorry at all. “You know it would be impossible for you to attend. It must be some sort of mistake”.
However, later that night, while his parents thought he had gone to bed, Remus sat at the top of the stairs and heard as his mother, always his biggest champion, tried to reason with his father. He was at the edge of his seat hearing her argue for his right to dream. His father explained to her, always an outsider in his world, that Remus’ “condition” as he often called it, made it impossible for him to have a normal education. He tried to reason with her, to promise that he would make sure that he would know just as much as any other child. But his mother wouldn’t budge.
Years later, Remus would remember that conversation. And what he would remember most wasn’t his fathers’ lack of creativity, his resigned nature to a situation that he had put his son in. But rather, it would forever be a memory that spread nothing but warmth inside his chest. It would serve as a memory of how his mother, a woman that had known nothing about this world years before, refused to bow down to its principles. How, for her, above all, Remus’ happiness mattered.
As Remus heard her he understood that just as his parents made him walk between two worlds; just as his mother taught him math and his father explained the nature of charms. One foot on the muggle world, one foot wizard; they also presented him with two different ways to face his circumstances. He could live in fear, apologize for his existence. Or he could stand up tall, argue against all logic for a better life.
Hope Lupin had, ironically and unknowingly, given his son the gift of hope.
Since that moment, his mother and him could hardly talk about anything else while his Father was at work. His mother would try to come up with all sorts of strategies to convince his father to meet with anyone that could help in the matter. Never one for cautious hope, she started to take measurements of Remus and carefully sew black robes for him. She started to wake him up earlier and with a set schedule, to get him used to a regular school routine.
In the end, Remus didn’t get a chance to find out exactly why the headmaster was meeting his father or what his mother had told him to convince him to attend and, maybe, possibly, hopefully, make a case for Remus. But that hardly mattered.
The day before the meeting was set to take place, his mother fake-gasped at the dinner table and, with a worried look in her eyes, mentioned that she had promised one of the older women in the village that she would drive her to the doctor the next morning. With a secret wink in Remus’ direction, she asked, “Lyall, love, maybe you could take Remus with you to London so he doesn’t stay at home all by himself”
His father, for all his gruffness, had a hard time denying his mother which is how Remus found himself, for the first time, walking the halls of the Ministry of Magic.
It was dark. Darker than Remus had imagined and bigger still. People (wizards!) were walking around in all directions and his father had to grab him by the arm to pull him along while he gawked at the first wizarding building he could remember ever setting foot in.
He knew his father had important business to attend to. As part of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, he had been asked to present a report on centaurs in front of the Wizengamot. And, since his office was shared and, Remus suspected, not particularly friendly to children (specifically of the werewolf variety though he doubted his father had told anyone), he found himself standing by his dad, face to face with the door to the court.
Before heading inside, his father looked down at Remus and placed a stern hand on his shoulder. “Behave, okay?”, he said quietly, “Wait on one of the benches and I’ll come get you when I’m done.”
With that, he turned right around and went inside. Remus, looked as the door closed on his face and turned to find a seat but he was shocked to find another boy sitting down and staring back at him.
The boy was wearing the fanciest robes Remus had ever seen. However, they couldn’t be very comfortable based on the fact that he kept fiddling with the neckline. He had his black hair neatly pulled back from his face and eyes that were grey which Remus had never seen before. He looked at Remus up and down, and then, nodded to himself as if he had come to a decision.
“You can come sit down if you want”, he said in an accent that Remus had never heard before and, he imagined the posh princes in his stories must sound like, “They always take forever”
Remus approached slowly, he had never spoken to another wizard child. He sat down at the other end of the bench. He could feel the curious look the other boy was throwing his way. While other people tried to hide their staring, opting for furtive glances, this boy seemed to favor outright constant staring.
“Have you been here long?”, he asked. It was stupid question, surely. But he didn’t really know how to start.
The boy nodded and rolled his eyes, “My father has been in there for at least an hour, I’ll probably die of boredom soon.”
Remus smiled at the dramatics. The silence that stretched afterwards could have lasted for a few seconds or a few minutes, Remus was too busy thinking about the possibility that his father was talking to Dumbledore himself to care about much else.
“I’m Sirius, by the way”, the way said stretching out his hand. Remus shook it and frowned.
“I didn’t think you were lying”, he clarified, scared that he had somehow offended the boy. But he barked out a laugh. The loudest sound that had come out of him since he sat down and a definite departure from his fancy accent. Maybe the loudest laugh he had ever heard.
“No, I mean my name is Sirius. Like the star,” Remus blushed and tried to stammer an apology, but Sirius stopped him, “Don’t worry. It’s a stupid name.”
“I’m Remus”, he offered.
“Well, that’s not much better,” Sirius smiled in a way that made Remus instantly trust him. There was so much confidence behind it, so much warmth. His nerves seemed to vanish if only for a second.
“Do you know if Dumbledore is inside?”, he jerked his head back to signal to the door his father had walked into.
“He is,” Sirius nodded enthusiastically, “I think my father is making me introduce myself properly when they come out.”.
“Is that why you are here?”, Remus hadn’t given it much thought to why another child would be outside the Wizengamot’s sessions and he doubted he was there to be tried for a crime, “You don’t look like a criminal.”
Sirius smirked at him and, before Remus knew what was happening, he flicked his hand at one of the lamplights, instantly making it shatter, causing a loud noise and countless sparks. “We look just like anyone else.”
Remus kept staring at the shattered glass now laying on the marbled floor. He whipped his head around to look at the door, making sure that no one had heard the commotion. His father would surely ground him for being anywhere near trouble, drawing attention to himself, and causing a ruckus. He could kiss his dream of attending Hogwarts goodbye.
He didn’t know how long he spent shellshocked. Or how crazy his face must look but Sirius looked, if only for a second, almost sorry. “Are you okay?”
“You could get in serious trouble for that”, he whispered.
To his surprise, Sirius laughed once again. “I AM Sirius trouble”, he joked. Remus could not find it in himself to laugh and, seeing his worry continue, Sirius seemed to turn, well, serious, “I am already in trouble. S’why I’m here”
“Why?”
“I may have accidentally set my governess’ dress on fire,” he didn’t look like it had been particularly accidental. “My mother looked about ready to kill me so she sent me away to accompany my father to work so I would ‘ get out of her sight’ ”.
He said the last part in a voice so shrill and annoying that Remus had to fight the urge to cover his ears and look back at the door, just in case. He was sure the impression couldn’t be accurate, nobody could sound like that.
Either way, Remus could not imagine being sent away by his mother for misbehaving. She hardly ever grounded him. To be fair, he could not imagine setting anyone on fire either. But Sirius, for all his dramatics, did not look particularly bothered by his mother’s dismissal.
“You are starting at Hogwarts, then?”, he tried to change the subject.
“Yes, this September,” he looked down at his shoes and Remus was faced with a sudden sadness. A guilt. Of course he could only think about what a joy it would be to attend the school. But for any other boy, it was probably hard to leave home behind.
“Are you scared to leave home?”, he didn’t know what came over him. Why he felt like it was okay to ask these questions. “It’s okay if you are”
Sirius frowned but then looked up at Remus. For a second, it looked like he might argue, pretend to be nothing but excited at the prospect of starting school. But, something in Remus’ face must have convinced him because he sighed and looked back down at his shoes.
“I’m scared to leave my brother, Regulus”, he started, “He is starting next year.”
“I’m sure your parents will take good care of him,” Remus tried to amend. “And he’ll be lucky to have you near when he starts and you’ll already know the place. Maybe you’ll even be in the same house.”
“We better be,” Sirius was staring at the door now. But his gaze wasn’t there, it was as if he was looking beyond, to what or who was inside. “My parents will sooner kill me than have me be anywhere other than Slytherin.”
“Oh”, Remus didn’t know what to say. Luckily he didn’t have to because, before he could get a word out, the door behind him opened and people started to filter out.
Sirius got up, tightened his neckline again and stood up straight, with one more glance at the door, almost as if he was making sure that no one was around yet, he asked, “Will l see you at Hogwarts, then? I’ll feel better if I’ve already made a friend.”
Remus found himself speechless once again. But there was something in the other boy, something in his eyes that made Remus not want to disappoint. This boy before him, had known him for all of twenty minutes. He had confessed to setting a person on fire, had shattered a light and called him a friend. Remus could do nothing but nod.
“Yeah, I’ll see you there.”
Sirius smiled and sent him a quick wave before walking amongst the adults who seemed to make way for him as he passed.
A few feet away, Remus saw his father speaking passionately with Albus Dumbledore. And contrary to what he first thought, he felt calm. No matter what happened. He knew he was going to Hogwarts. He had to now.
He’d already made a friend.