Morning Anticipation
September 1st, 1971
Morning arrived like an unwelcome guest, dragging with it the weight of the day ahead. The sunlight crept through the thin curtains of Remus’s bedroom, casting soft golden streaks across the floor. He lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, his chest tight with nerves. Today was the day.
“Remus, breakfast is ready!” his mother called from downstairs, her voice cutting through the stillness.
With a deep breath, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. The air felt different today—electric with anticipation. Pulling on his patched robes, he glanced around the small room one last time before heading down.
In the kitchen, the table was set with a modest breakfast: toast, eggs, and a small dish of marmalade. His father stood by the window, his arms crossed, while his mother fussed over a steaming teapot.
“Sit, love,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her. “You’ve got a long day ahead, and you’ll need your strength.”
Remus obeyed, though his stomach churned too much to feel hungry. He reached for a slice of toast, nibbling at the edges while his parents exchanged a glance.
“You’ve got everything packed, right?” his father asked, breaking the silence.
“Yes, Dad,” Remus replied, glancing toward the door, where a small pile of second-hand school supplies sat neatly stacked. The sight made his cheeks burn. Everything was old and scuffed, from his trunk to the faded edges of his robes. He could already imagine the other students whispering behind his back.
“Good,” Lyall said with a curt nod. “You don’t need much, anyway. It’s about what you learn, not what you bring.”
His mother smiled softly, pouring him a cup of tea. “Don’t listen to your father, Remus. You’ll do just fine. You’ve always been a quick learner.”
Remus tried to smile back, but the knot in his chest wouldn’t loosen.
The drive to King’s Cross was short, but it felt endless to Remus. He sat in the passenger seat, bouncing his leg nervously as the city blurred past the window. His mother sat in the back, her hands twisting together in her lap. His father kept his eyes on the road, though every now and then he glanced sideways at Remus.
“You don’t need to worry, you know,” Lyall said after a while, his voice calm but firm. “Dumbledore made all the arrangements. You’ll be fine.”
“I know,” Remus murmured, though the words felt hollow.
“You’re going to learn so much,” Hope chimed in from the back seat. “Magic, friends, adventures—it’s everything you’ve dreamed of, isn’t it?”
Remus turned to her, his lips quirking into a small, hesitant smile. “Yeah… it is.”
But what if it wasn’t? What if it was a disaster? What if everyone figured out what he was, what he carried inside him? He pushed the thought aside, clutching the strap of his bag tighter.