ONE
Wizarding England was a place that knew the dangers of dark magic and the conflict that follows rather intimately and rather painfully. It had been less than a year since the defeat of Voldemort in an unexpected, failed ambush on the dark wizards part. A sudden and brutal raid by the man himself on Hogwarts in an attempt to kill Dumbledore, the wizard who posed the greatest threat to the success of his ideal world, that should have ended in the school's demise instead brought victory and a boatload of trauma to those who survived it.
The months that followed were a mix of disbelief and panicked officials rushing to round up as many death eaters as possible to avoid another uprising in the sudden power vacuum that Voldemort had left behind. People either tried their best to overcome the events of the previous years and move on or downright ignored that they had gone through what was essentially a war and did their darnedest to live their life as normally as possible.
Remus Lupin, as much as he would deny it, fell into the second catagory.
Remus Lupin was the eldest of three children. Barely, but the fact still reigned true. It had been drilled into his head from a young age that your place in the family determined your fate. To be the eldest of three is a great misfortune, as everyone knows that if you are the eldest, you will be the first to seek your fortune and therefore, the first to fail. He had hoped to be spared of this fate when, as the years passed, he remained an only child, but when his father returned from the ministry one day, spine stiff with more than the usual amount of tension, two boys at his heel, Remus knew that at the tender age of 11, his wishes had been futile.
Remus, James and Peter had quickly grown close despite their obvious differences in personality, and everyone seemed happy to attribute it to their closeness in age, although Remus suspected it was most likely due to their united front against his parents and their obvious dislike for a certain son's condition. They spent their years running around Hogwarts terrorising students and teachers alike, continuing their chaos when they were returned to London for holidays and becoming known to both their peers and their muggle neighbours as 'The Marauders'. They remained proud of that name despite their parents' protests.
Whilst Lyall and Hope Lupin were both generally mild-mannered and obviously loved their children, the subject of their son's lycanthropy was one best avoided. His father may have saved him as a child, but he did not seem to be able to reconcile his long-held opinions with the image of his own son. It was therefore an odd mix of sadness and relief when, at the age of 18, his father passed from, as the ministry called it 'a violent attack upon a well-respected member of the ministry' and what The Marauders called the consequences of his actions.
Although the death of their father was mourned, it was not for long. Greater issues presented themselves in the form of their mother and their living situation. It quickly became apparent that, whilst Lyall had been proud of his status at the ministry, he had also been proud of his ability to show off that status in the form of monetary spending.
"Your father has left us in quite the situation here, but fear not, I have managed to come up with a solution."
Remus glanced to his right where James and Peter sat shifting in their seats across from their mother. Hope Lupin looked them each in the eye, face tense but hopeful.
"You will each be taking on apprenticeships to help support the household. You've finished your education, and I need you to start helping me fix this mess your father has left us." James looked like he wanted to laugh at that statement and the quick eye contact he made with Remus evidently didn't help his case.
"Peter," The boy straightened slightly as he looked towards Hope, "You will be helping a local Potions Master your father went to school with run his business, you may have met him at the funeral, Mr Crestpike I believe."
Peter's eyes quickly lost any faith he may have previously had in their mother and Remus and James were left trying to muffle laughter again at his deadpan "Great, we all know how much I love potions".
Whilst he did have a good enough proficiency for potion making and received decent marks in all his exams for the subjects, it was with great reluctance that he learned the subject, not enjoying even a moment of time spent hunched over a cauldron. The most interest he had showed in the subject was when he and James had decided to brew the Animagus potion in an effort to help Remus with his transformations. Though once that venture was complete, he swore that if he would "never brew that fucking nightmare again if given the choice, who's bright idea was it to make this bloody thing". He hadn't seemed amused when it had been pointed out to him that he had been the one to offer his assistance to James (who much preferred the subject) in the first place.
Hope didn't seem to notice the total lack of enthusiasm and smiled slightly.
"Good. James," James' face quickly sobered once he realised his fate was also likely to be less than ideal. "I've been in contact with one of the local store owners along Diagon Alley and they have kindly offered to take you on as an assistant in their bakery."
James stared for a moment before seeming to remember that he had to respond, "Ah yes, a bakery. How exciting."
Remus would have been more amused, Peter definitely was, had his mother not turned to him with a smile. Hope Lupin may have been born a muggle, but she had managed to settle into the wizarding world with little difficulty and when she had expressed interest in opening a store to Lyall, they had worked together to obtain a lot in Hogsmeade and had given life to a rather successful clothing store that, mixed with Hope's experience with muggle fashion and her interest in wizarding garments, was rather popular amongst the youth. His mother had made it well known that she would prefer it to remain a family business, so it was therefore of little surprise to him when his mother told him of his fate.
"Remus, you've been a great help in the past and as the oldest I do believe it to be appropriate for you to inherit the family business one day. As such I have decided that you shall remain here and learn more of the business and help me run it. What do you think?"
Feeling the stares of his brother boring into the side of his skull he smiled lightly at his mother and resigned himself to his fate.
"Excellent. In that case I shall make haste and contact the necessary people immediately." And with that she swept out of the room, leaving the boys to stare after her in mild disbelief and despair.
"Well," James spoke slowly, "that was…something."
"Dreadful! It was dreadful! I mean potions, seriously?" Peter burst out, waving his hands dramatically through the air causing Remus to duck, lest he get hit by a wayward limb, "Has she ever even spoken to me before?"
It was quite obvious that, despite her care for her children, Hope had no idea who they really were. Perhaps all the time she spent in her workroom at the shop, staying away from the house in a bid to avoid having to confront the obvious was finally starting to catch up to her.
"You really did manage to draw the short end of the stick though Moony," Peter spoke again, "I'm actually kind of surprised that she wanted you to stay here instead of shipping you as far away as possible."
"Thanks for your bluntness as always," Remus rolled his eyes, slouching back in his seat now that it was just the three of them, "She knows I'm not exactly keen on anything to do with fashion, but you know how she is about her shop and wanting it to stay within the family."
"Yeah," James grimaced slightly and scratched at the back of his neck, "Can't have it going to anyone outside of the bloodline."
A moment of silence passed at his words, broken only by the occasional car passing by the house, the soft splash of rainwater being thrown into the air sounding as it went. Despite the care she felt for the two boys that had come to them after tragedy struck their own family, Hope never quite managed to see herself as anything more than a guardian and failed on every occasion to summon even an ounce of motherly love for them.
"Well, we chose each other as family, that means more to me than any stupid bloodline does." Remus stated, looking between his two brothers sternly and they nodded firmly.
"I do wonder what possessed her to send me off to a bakery though." James ran a hand through his curls and shook his head in confusion. "I swear I've never even expressed an interest in the subject."
"You could just not go?" Remus suggested, choosing to play along with the very obvious attempt at changing the subject and his brothers immediately grimaced.
"And throw 7 years of hospitality back in her face? No thanks." Peter nodded his head in agreement and Remus sighed. They made a good point; it was the same reason that Remus wasn't resisting his fate of being locked in a shop for the rest of his life. Their parents may have their prejudices, but they had taken care of them and never interfered with any of their lives much, beyond the odd scolding when a prank got a bit too out of hand and left them mostly to their own chaotic devices. Helping their mother out of a possible financial struggle was the least they could do.
"Well," Remus tipped his head in the direction of the door she had left through, "Mother is always banging on about fate and such, maybe she sees some merit in deciding to place us where she had."
James groaned and threw his head back violently, tipping the chair precariously enough that Peter reached a hand back to right it even as he rolled his own eyes.
"Not this bullshit again Moony, oh my god."
Remus smirked slightly at James' rather dramatic annoyance and folded his arms over the table, resting his chin on them as he listened to his brothers begin their usual rant that he now considered tradition whenever the subject of fate arose.
Although his mother was a strong believer in fate and destiny, no one else in the household really held the same beliefs. Perhaps it was due to differences in her muggle upbringing and their magical ones that she was so invested in the idea, but she was adamant on the subject.
Whilst Remus had been told from a childhood that the second he was born, his fate had been laid out for him, James and Peter tended to call complete and utter bullshit. He didn't necessarily fully believe in the idea that his life was already laid out in front of him with no way of changing it, but with luck so rarely on his side, it was easier for him to believe that there was some higher power out there dictating his life than it was for him to accept that perhaps, had he made different choices, he would have been more normal and less of an outlier.
He had often wondered whether these would apply to the three of them, unconventional and not at all actually related as they were, and though he would ask he didn't believe it prudent to question the beliefs of his mother. At least not in front of her.
Plus, he loved winding people up with his so-called crazy talk.
It was midway through listening to the usual passionate rant, accompanied as usual by flying limbs, dramatic eye rolling and pacing, that he realised something. Whether on purpose or not, their mother had somehow managed to align their new professions with their predetermined fates as assigned by her long-proclaimed destinies for them.
The first born was set to fail should they seek out their fortune, so Remus was stuck at the clothes shop with an already successful business so that even he couldn't mess up.
James, whilst talented, as the second born was unlikely to come to much (a harsh fate in his opinion and it was this that made his belief in his mother's words falter most), so he had been sent somewhere, popular, somewhere he would likely be able to meet someone with a well standing family and thrive.
Peter, who was the youngest would strike out and make a great fortune with a position of power and friends to help. Truly the best fate of the three and Remus couldn't help but be slightly jealous.
He voiced these thoughts aloud, leaving out the bit about jealousy as he was not about to make himself seem resentful towards his brother, and Peter stopped mid pace while James facepalmed.
"Thanks for that piece of morbid information Moony, just what we needed mate."
"Why you're ever so welcome Prongs." Remus stood and bowed slightly, sending Peter into a fit of the giggles.
"Where would we be without your ever ridiculous ramblings?" James smiled at him, before his face fell slightly as he processed his words and looked between them.
Peter's laughter fell short as they descended back into silence.
Despite the joking and playful arguments, there was an obvious sombre tone to their interactions.
The truth was that for the first time in 7 years, they were going to be separated for extended periods of time with little time to see one another. Since their meeting at 11 they had spent almost every waking, possibly even sleeping, second in each other's presence, mainly separating for classes and hospital visits (though only for those first few years in which Remus had the wolf hidden from them, after which they accompanied him during the night and made sure to stay by his side as long as Madam Pomfrey would allow them) which were dreaded by them all.
"The next full moon isn't for another month so is it?" Peter spoke quietly and Remus shook his head. The last transformation had been only a week ago and the aches had only just dulled down enough to be barely noticeable outside of the random, ever-present twinges deep in his bones that would follow him for the rest of his life.
"So, we find a way to stay in contact." James says firmly, tone leaving no room for argument, not that anyone would have objected. "I mean we have our patronuses, but they're not exactly made for conversation, especially not one between three people."
It was true that, whilst a patronus could carry a message in a time of need, they weren't a substitute for a proper conversation.
Peter frowned but nodded along. "We'll figure something out. The Marauders always figure something out."
They did in fact, not figure something out. At least not in time for their departures and so goodbyes were filled with teary eyes and promises to keep looking into ways to keep in better contact.
By the time a week had passed, Remus had been moved almost entirely from their house in London to the small flat over the shop that his mother used to use to hide away from her family's problems and was already bogged down with more responsibilities than he thought possible. He often found himself wondering what on earth the few other workers his mother had hired were even employed to do.
Remus glanced up from the maroon dress shirt he was sewing the loose ends into and towards the doorway through which he could hear the sounds of two employees gossiping filtering through to his workroom on the shop floor.
"Have you heard? Lord Andrews has been having an affair." One of them whispered, rather loudly in Remus' opinion, to their friend who gasped.
"What? For how long?"
"Three years last I heard. The poor lady must be devastated" Their voices faded as they moved on to a different section of the shop and Remus shook his head.
"Don't worry," he told the shirt, feeling as though he may have gone mad if he was now talking to inanimate objects, "I'm sure you'll be bought by someone far kinder and faithful than that."
The shirt, of course didn't respond and Remus considered the fact that he may be losing it entirely. Maybe he should visit James over the weekend, the bakery wasn't that far after all.
The next day, Remus was mildly shocked when the maroon shirt he'd only finished the day prior, sold almost instantly to a young man accompanied by his fiancée. He watched as they browsed the store together, their soft tones and casual affection making him wonder if he'd ever be able to find a love like that before he hurriedly dismissed the thought and plastered on a smile as they approached the counter.
The week continued on in a similar manner, Remus talking to the clothes he was working on, Remus selling those items of clothing to people with oddly familiar traits, Remus talking to the clothing he was organising around the shop, Remus wondering if he was a tad too codependent on his brothers.
It was late Friday when Remus overheard a couple of customers whispering to each other about the, now unofficially dubbed, 'moving castle' along the hills surrounding Hogsmeade. He was honestly surprised that the subject hadn't come up sooner in the never-ending gossip his customers seems to enjoy partaking in so much.
"Have you seen the moving castle recently?" They whispered as they headed towards the door with their purchases and Remus pretended as though he wasn't listening, fiddling with the till to appear busy.
"It looks like it's been moving closer lately, my mother has been fretting about whether or not we should move." Their voices faded as the door clicked shut behind them and Remus was left stood awkwardly behind the till, frozen as he processed their words, part in fear, part in intrigue. If the castle was now suddenly moving closer to the village after months of nothing, then surely it couldn't be for anything good.
A large silhouette of a building had appeared on the hills a few miles from the outskirts of Hogsmeade four months ago and there had been much gossip surrounding its sudden appearance. Whilst a building appearing overnight was weird, even by wizarding standards, the most curious part was that it seemed to move, constantly roaming around the rural landscape, not once nearing the village but not moving much further away either.
People speculated who could live there for weeks, but no one dared to approach the mysterious building, afraid of what they might find, some fearing the surfacing of a dark wizard in the gap left behind by Voldemort. It became a commonplace test of courage amongst children who dared their friends to get as close to the moving castle as possible without turning back. No one ever made it all the way.
It was a rainy day when two children came running frantically through Hogsmeade, mud splattered up to their knees and white as a sheet, terror struck into their expressions.
"The Blacks," they cried, tripping over themselves in their haste, shouting at anyone who would listen, "they're back. We saw them, they're back."
The Black family had been a prominent and prestigious family amongst the wizarding world, and to an extent still was, known for their old-fashioned ideologies and exceptionally high affinity for dark magic. It was unsuprising when they publicly sided with Voldemort almost immediately upon his first appearance. When the family had all but disappeared from the public eye a few years ago, it had caused a huge stir. They had been the topic of conversation for anyone and everyone for months on end, especially when a search was eventually carried out and it was discovered that, although appearing as menacing as ever from the outside, the inside of their ancestral home had been thoroughly wrecked.
Walls were left barely standing and a few ceilings had holes blasted clean through, whatever was left of them clinging onto the remains for dear life. Antiques were shattered carelessly across floors and furniture had been blasted to pieces, tables and cabinets barely recognisable and chairs turned over or smashed against walls. Any and all portraits were burned to ash or torn to shreds, no way of telling who had inhabited them when they once hung throughout the manor.
Perhaps the most gruesome part of the destruction was the sight of corpses scattered through rooms, bodies trapped in time with looks of shock and fear etched onto their faces, expressions eternally at the mercy of their killers. It was then that a large majority of the family were declared desceased.
The area with by far the most damage though, was the room that had once proudly housed the family's family tree. Generations upon generations of Black's could be seen recorded along the walls that were angrily smashed though. Deep dents in the concrete could be seen no matter where you turned, and some spots had been knocked clean through. Angry scorch marks reminiscent of Lichtenberg figures stretched across the room, burning through plaster, decoration and furniture alike.
Despite the attackers best attempts however, none of the names and figures etched into the walls had been damaged aside from those intentionally struck from the tree as an act of purposeful disownment. None except two.
At the lowest point of the tree, two figures sat. One had already been scorched from the wall, an obvious disowning, whilst the other had evidently once been in pristine condition before the attackers had laid their sights on them. The pair were now thoroughly scratched through with long angry strokes, and whilst no magic seemed to have been used this time a sharp piece of rubble clearly once belonging to one of the walls was embedded in the blackened scorch mark where a figurehead had once sat. Whilst significantly more damage had managed to be done to this part of the tree, it seemed that even the obviously violent attempts at removing the writing weren't enough and two names remained just readable on the wall.
Sirius and Regulus Black.
The destruction was extensive and thorough, no part of the house saved and no survivors in sight. Any living member of the family had clearly fled with no intentions of being found.
It had been decided then, that the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was no more.
Until that rainy day in March, three years later.
Although they understood the terror of the Black family through cautionary tales and bedtime stories meant to scare children into behaving, the two who brought the news of their return would most likely never fully understand the panic they brought that day to older residents who knew full well of the darkness that followed anyone of the name Black.
Contrary to everyone's expectations, however, no one came to terrorise the village in the name of Black and the castle remained quietly roaming the hills, disturbing no one but continuing to be an ominous presence lingering at the back of everyone's mind.
And then the rumours began.
It started out with discussions of the Black family's old traditions, their old ways and how the family had indulged in dark magic and practices for decades and even sided with Voldemort before their sudden and swift demise. People didn't want to believe that they had returned, but everyone loved gossip so the discussions continued, spiralling into outlandish claims such as those of souls being stolen and hoarded by the two wizards, until one memorable occasion in which Sirius Black himself had been seen talking to and harming no one, instead just casually retreating from the village, back towards the hills by no less than 30 gobsmacked onlookers.
After that no one could deny it. The two youngest blacks were alive and had, for some reason, settled their home on the hills surrounding Hogsmeade.