A New Beginning
The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the Hogwarts infirmary, casting warm, golden patches of light across the neatly made beds. Poppy Pomfrey bustled about, straightening the sheets, organizing potions, and humming softly under her breath. Despite the peaceful hum of the castle at this early hour, she couldn't shake the anticipation brewing in her chest. Today marked an important day.
Remus Lupin, now a small boy of barely five, sat perched on one of the infirmary beds, swinging his legs. His sandy brown hair fell into his eyes as he clutched a stuffed wolf tightly to his chest. Poppy glanced over and smiled softly at the sight.
"Minerva should be here soon," she said, her voice warm as she approached him. "Are you excited to meet her?"
Remus looked up at her with wide, cautious eyes. He nodded shyly but said nothing. Poppy's heart ached for the boy. She had met him a month ago after Dumbledore brought him to Hogwarts. His parents, though loving, had struggled to care for him after the werewolf attack that left him afflicted with lycanthropy. When the headmaster asked Poppy if she could help raise the child alongside Minerva McGonagall, she hadn't hesitated.
The doors to the infirmary creaked open, and Minerva entered, her emerald robes swishing softly against the stone floor. Her stern expression softened as her gaze landed on the young boy.
"Good morning, Poppy," she greeted before kneeling to Remus's level. "And good morning to you, Remus. I'm Professor McGonagall, but you can call me Minerva."
Remus hugged his stuffed wolf tighter, his eyes darting between the two women. After a moment, he managed a quiet, "Hello."
Minerva smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "It’s very nice to meet you. I hope we can be good friends."
Over the following weeks, life at Hogwarts took on a new rhythm for the trio. Poppy became the nurturing presence Remus relied on, tending to his scrapes and bruises with gentle hands and a soothing voice. Minerva, meanwhile, balanced warmth with structure, teaching Remus basic reading, writing, and the importance of responsibility.
One crisp autumn evening, Remus sat at a small desk in Minerva’s quarters, his tongue poking out in concentration as he traced letters onto parchment. Minerva sat nearby, grading essays, while Poppy prepared tea.
"Minerva," Remus asked suddenly, "do you think I'm bad?"
Minerva's quill paused mid-stroke. She looked at him sharply, her heart twisting at the vulnerability in his voice. "Why would you think that, my dear?"
He fidgeted with his quill, not meeting her gaze. "Because I'm a werewolf. Other people think werewolves are bad."
Poppy set down the teapot with a clatter, crossing the room to kneel beside him. "Listen to me, Remus," she said firmly, taking his small hands in hers. "You are not bad. What happened to you—it doesn’t define who you are. You’re kind, smart, and brave."
Minerva nodded, her voice gentle but resolute. "Poppy is right. Being a werewolf is just one part of you, and it doesn’t make you any less deserving of love or respect."
Remus’s lip trembled, and he threw his arms around Poppy’s neck. She hugged him tightly, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. Over his shoulder, she met Minerva’s gaze. The two women shared a silent vow: no matter the challenges, they would ensure Remus grew up knowing he was cherished.
A few weeks later
The dim light of a late autumn afternoon bathed the Hogwarts grounds in hues of amber and gold. Inside the castle, deep within the cozy confines of the hospital wing, Poppy Pomfrey stood by the window, watching the leaves scatter in the wind. Beside her, Minerva McGonagall, dressed in her usual emerald robes, held a steaming cup of tea.
“I’m worried about him, Minerva,” Poppy admitted quietly, her voice just above a whisper. Her eyes drifted toward the far corner of the room, where a small boy sat cross-legged on a bed, his head bent over a book. His mousy brown hair fell into his eyes, and though he seemed engrossed in his reading, there was a tension to him—a quiet unease that neither woman could ignore.
Minerva sighed and set her cup down on the windowsill. “So am I,” she admitted. “It’s not easy for a child to grow up feeling… different. Especially when that difference is something he’s been taught to fear.”
Poppy nodded. She had been in the room when Albus Dumbledore first explained Remus Lupin’s condition to her and Minerva. A werewolf—a child, no less—attending Hogwarts. At first, Poppy had been hesitant. Not because she feared the boy himself, but because she feared the prejudice he would face. She had spent her career healing wounds, but some wounds weren’t physical.
“I’ve done my best to make him feel safe here,” Poppy said. “But it’s not enough. He needs more than potions and charm work. He needs… a home.”
Minerva tilted her head, studying her friend. “And you think we could give him that?”
Poppy turned to Minerva with a small smile. “Don’t you? You’ve already been like a mentor to him, Minerva. And I… Well, I’ve patched him up enough times that I’m practically his nursemaid.”
Minerva chuckled softly at that, though her expression grew serious again as she looked at the boy. “Raising a child like Remus… It won’t be easy.”
“It won’t,” Poppy agreed. “But I’ve thought about it, Minerva. He has no one else. His parents love him, of course, but they’re afraid for him. They keep him at arm’s length, afraid of getting too close. But he’s just a boy. A sweet, clever, kind-hearted boy. And if there’s one place he should feel safe, it’s Hogwarts.”
Minerva was silent for a long moment, her sharp eyes never leaving Remus. Finally, she sighed and said, “We’ll need to talk to Albus.”
It didn’t take much convincing. Dumbledore, as always, seemed to know what they were going to ask before they even said it. He had looked at them over his half-moon glasses, his blue eyes twinkling, and said, “I think young Mr. Lupin would be very fortunate to have the two of you in his corner.”
And so, it was decided. Poppy and Minerva became more than just his teachers and caretakers—they became his family. Their dynamic was as unique as it was effective. Minerva, with her strict but fair demeanor, became the one to guide Remus academically and instill discipline when needed. She helped him with his studies, encouraged him to embrace his talents, and taught him to stand tall in the face of adversity. Poppy, on the other hand, was the nurturer. She was there for every scrape, every fever, every full moon. She was the one who held him when the nightmares came, who brewed his Wolfsbane Potion with meticulous care, and who made sure he never felt alone during his most vulnerable moments. Despite the challenges, there was joy, too. There were evenings spent by the fire in Minerva’s quarters, with Poppy knitting while Minerva read aloud from her favorite books. There were trips to Hogsmeade, where Poppy insisted on buying him too many sweets from Honeydukes, and Minerva pretended to disapprove. There were quiet moments, too, like when Remus would sit with them in the hospital wing, helping Poppy sort potions or asking Minerva about her days as a student.
Over time, Remus began to flourish. He still had his moments of doubt, his days when he felt like the monster the world told him he was. But with Poppy and Minerva by his side, he learned to see himself as more than that. He was a boy with a sharp mind, a kind heart, and a strength that few his age possessed.
One evening, after a particularly rough full moon, Remus sat curled up on the sofa in Minerva’s office. Poppy had just brought him a cup of hot chocolate, and Minerva was sitting beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. Though Remus had flourished and was no longer as shy or soft spoken as he once had been, fear was still his greatest enemy.
“Why do you do it?” he asked suddenly, his voice small. “Why do you take care of me? I’m… I’m not like other kids.”
Poppy crouched in front of him, her hands resting on his knees. “No, you’re not,” she said softly. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love and care, Remus. It doesn’t mean you’re not worth fighting for.”
Minerva nodded. “You’re not a monster, Remus. You’re a child—a brilliant, brave, wonderful child. And you are as much a part of this world as anyone else. Don’t ever forget that.”
For the first time in a long while, Remus smiled. It was small, but it was real. And for Poppy and Minerva, that was more than enough.