Chapter 1
Catch a bright star and a place it on your forehead
Say a few spells and baby, there you go
Take a black cat and sit it on your shoulder
And in the morning you'll know all you know
July 10th, 1971
Remus Lupin
They say you know when your life is coming to its end. That you feel it in your bones, beneath your skin, in your mind. There’s a clear cut sign that this is it, this is my time to go. And they say that it’s okay, that when the time does eventually come, like it will for everyone, that you don’t care. You feel at peace–utterly, completely drained of emotions. You are sated and warm, and ready to leave.
The thing is, Remus always feels like his life is coming to its end. Every day, he’s on the brink of death, the grim reaper standing beside him as his shadow, ready to collect him at a moment’s notice. And he’s fine with that. He’s been fine with that since he was 4 years old. He’s accepted death as his truth in life. He was never supposed to be here to begin with, and whenever the world decides that his time is up, he will go quietly.
He chuckles to himself, as he lay under the covers in his dark room. His brain has always had a tendency to take small things and run with it. At this point, it’s stopped being of any concern to him. He knows the spiral will end eventually; he just has to wait it out. Be patient. Not his most solidified trait, but he’s trying. He’s trying so hard. He wants to stay. He is only eleven–there has to be more out there for him. This can’t be all there is. Violence and teeth and scars and death. This can’t be all that I am.
He repeats that almost every day, his own personal mantra, and every single time, without fail, he is proven wrong.
There’s a knock on his door. He rolls over and buries himself further under his blanket as his mother enters. “Remus, you got a letter.”
“Don’t want it,” he mumbles into his pillow.
Her footsteps move across the room, and then the bed sinks under him. “Look,” she sighs, “You’ve been in here all weekend. You need to get out of bed, eat something at least.”
“Not hungry.”
“Remus.” He emerges from his protective barrier and blinks at the harsh light. When his eyes refocus, he sees the letter in his mum’s hand. Mr. R. Lupin, it read. “It’s your Hogwarts letter.” His breath catches in his throat. “Should I read it to you?” He nods, and she opens it. “Dear Mr. Lupin, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on the first of September. We await your owl by no later than the 31st of July.”
Silence sits between them for a while. Remus Lupin, the werewolf, invited to attend a school full of children and magic? There’s no way, he thinks, that they’d allow someone like me in if they knew what I was.
“There’s something else.”
Remus lays back down. “Don’t care.”
“They have accommodations for you, Remus.”
“...they know about me?”
“Apparently so.”
He sits back up. “And they’re…they’re okay with it–me?”
His mother sighs. “I don’t know. Probably not, but they’re letting you in anyway. You should take this opportunity.”
“No thanks.”
“Remus–”
“They don’t want me there, why bother?”
“This letter is addressed to you, saying that you have been accepted. I promise you, they want you.”
“I’m a monster. They don’t want me.”
“Remus, look at me.” He does. Her eyes are intense, exhausted, boring into his skin. “You are not a monster. They will make sure that you never hurt anyone, I promise. This will be so good for you, trust me. I may not know what it’s like there, but I know that you would feel so much better living with people that can actually understand you.”
“No one will ever understand me.”
“Yes, they will. But you have to be willing to let people in.”
Everything she says only strengthens Remus’ resolve that he does not want to go to this school. But, for whatever reason…
“Fine.”
“Yes?”
“I’ll go.”
She nods and pats his arm, standing up. “I’ll write them now. Will you come out? Eat something?”
He shakes his head and gets back under the covers, listening for the sound of the door closing. Once it does, he sits up, grabbing the letter and reading it over.
In addition, we have had preparations made for you in light of your condition. For your monthly transformations, you will be brought to a shack where you will be protected from the outside world, and the students protected from you. In the event that an accident should happen, you will be asked to leave Hogwarts for the safety of everyone involved. You will go to the hospital wing the night of the full moon, and will be further debriefed by our medi-witch, Madame Pomfrey. If all is in order, we hope to see you September 1st.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
A shack. As if that would provide any peace of mind to him. What’s a shack against a werewolf?
But he has to trust them. They would never let any harm come to their students, right? Everyone will be safe. Nothing bad is going to happen. He’s going to learn so much, and he will have the most uneventful seven years of his entire life. In and out, no drama, no violence, no death. Just peace.
Lily Evans
It’s not that she isn’t expecting it, really, but that doesn’t dampen the surprise and joy that washes over Lily Evans when she receives her acceptance letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Of course, Severus has told her all about it for most of her life, so much so that she feels like she’s already attended. But the real thing, the proof in the palm of her hands, makes her squeal in excitement. There’s no way she is actually blessed with the gift of magic; the beauty that emits off of her friend is also somewhere deep inside her, in different flavours and colours and she cannot wait to explore her potential, and maybe one day, be as beautiful as Severus.
She runs outside, eager to share the good news with her friends, but he is already in her yard when she opens the door.
“Lily!” the young boy says, flush across his face and a letter in his hand. “I was just coming to see you. I got into Hogwarts!”
Lily grins and hugs him tight. “I’m so happy for you, Sev. But you’ll never guess what? I got in, too!”
Severus backs out of her grasp and chuckles, holding her gaze. “What do you mean? How is that possible? You’ve never shown any traces of magic.”
She laughs, shrugging and tucking a strand of her flaming ginger hair behind her ear. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just a late bloomer or something. But think about it! We’ll be at the same school, maybe even the same house! Won’t that be awesome?”
Severus’ face dulls for a moment, and she cocks her head in a question. “I don’t think we’ll be in the same house. You’re too…pure.” He chuckles again. “Ironically.”
“What does that mean?”
Severus drops his eyes. “Never mind. But that’s amazing that you got in, really. I just won’t be able to teach you anything anymore.”
Lily grabs his hands and attempts to regain his attention. “Yes, but I will be learning beside you. Do you not think that’s wonderful?”
Her friend nods, smile tight. “It’s great, Lily. Have you told your mum yet?”
“No, and I’m scared. Will you tell her with me?”
Severus shakes his head and laughs nervously. “No, she doesn’t like me. I don’t think so.”
Despite this, she pulls him backwards and leads them into her house. The wallpaper is flowery and bright, and he does look out of place with his black hair and dark appearance, but she’s never concerned herself with that. If her family doesn’t like him, that is their business, not hers. She will keep him with her, always, whether they like it or not.
“Mum!” she calls, and she hears two sets of doors open and rolls her eyes. Nosy Petunia. Two sets of footsteps enter the living room, and she hears two sighs before seeing the faces that made them.
“Hello, Severus, good to see you again,” her mother says, overly polite, before turning to Lily. “What is it?”
Lily can barely contain her enthusiasm, so she just shouts it. “I got into Hogwarts!!”
A mixture of emotions flash across her mother’s face, and before she has any time to process them, it turns into a small smile. “You mean the magic school?” Lily nods quickly, and then her mother envelops her into a tight hug. “That’s incredible, Lily! I’m so proud of you!”
“NO!”
Lily groans and pulls away from her mother, eyeing her rattled sister who is standing at the bottom of the staircase. “Yes, Tuni?”
“This isn’t fair! Why does she get everything?”
“It’s not her fault you were born without talent,” Severus mumbles under his breath.
“I heard that! Lily, why is your greasy friend here, anyway? Make him leave.”
“Be nice, Petunia,” her mother says sharply.
At that, Petunia gasps and stomps forward, bumping into Lily’s shoulder and slamming the front door behind her.
“Don’t let her ruin this for you, Lily,” Severus whispers, hand brushing against hers. “You deserve this.”
Lily glances up at her mother. “He’s right,” she says with a shrug. “We should celebrate. This is remarkable, really.”
She allows herself to be led to the kitchen, but she can’t really ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach that tells her she is doing something very, very wrong. But then, she always did enjoy Severus’ company more than Petunia’s. And that has to mean something, right? Feeling a stronger connection to someone with magic more than someone without, especially if that person is her own sister? Maybe she was always meant to be one of them.
One thing she’s learned from Severus is that magic is so, so beautiful. It has the power to dazzle, entrance, and bring so much light to the world. Magic is goodness embodied. Petunia will get over it eventually, they’ll be fine when Lily gets back. Because there’s no way something so pure could ever cause her in any way, any hurt at all.
Peter Pettigrew
Relief has never tasted as sweet to Peter Pettigrew as it does when he finds the letter from Hogwarts in the owl’s mouth on the kitchen table this morning. For a second there, he really thought he wasn’t going to get in. But no matter, he has it now. He is a wizard, through and through, recognized by Albus Dumbledore himself. He is not a failure, and now he can actually go somewhere that will help him grow instead of beating him down and making him feel as such. Now that he has this letter, he can be great, improve the bloodline, maybe even be the reason the Pettigrews become genuine, respected members of the Sacred 28.
He walks over to his mother’s study and knocks cautiously. “Mum?”
“Yes?”
He opens the door and bites his lip nervously, handing her the letter. “Hogwarts accepted me.”
His mother scans the letter and then hands it back to him. “That’s good. I pray you use your time there wisely. Can’t have another disappointment in the family.”
“No,” he nods, leaving the room. Short, simple, to the point. That is how things run in his life. He will be great, he will learn, and if he falls short of his expectations, he is no better than a Squib. But at least this is proof that he isn’t one. He has the power inside of him. He may not know how to use it well just yet, but that’s what the school is for, isn’t it? Professors are there to help him grow in his power, show him how to use all his potential, and make him something great. Whenever he needs help, he will be given it.
Exiting his family home, he feels a new sense of determination course through his body. Peter Pettigrew will never be neglected or overlooked again.
James Potter
Euphemia Potter has a certain air about her that brings peace to everyone in her vicinity, though she’d deny it if one acknowledged the existence of it. She simply has a way of painting life in such a manner that you just know everything will work out in the end. You are absolutely sure of it. There is beauty in life, and in magic, and in every precious moment, so you must treasure each second like it is your last, not for fear of death, but for the pleasure of the earth and all of humanity.
James was raised on this lifestyle, and he knows better than to question that woman. She is the smartest person he’s ever met, including his father and even Albus Dumbledore. In fact, all sorts of smart people have been popping in and out of the Potter family home lately, particularly Fleamont’s Ministry associates, but James makes no concern of it. Whatever it is, it’s not his business. The only thing he has to worry about is the letter he is currently holding in his hand. For all of his eleven years, he has waited impatiently for today, because through this letter, his vision for his life is coming to fruition. So far, it is all happening according to plan. Not that it really matters to him, if something unexpected were to happen and throw his future off track. He’s nothing if not adaptable. But this is a good omen for him, sets a good precedent for what he can expect in the coming months–predictability, simplicity, just some good, old fashioned magic and shenanigans.
Obviously, he welcomes any changes and blockades in his smooth road to success, just for the fun of it, but he knows at the end of the day, he’ll always have a soft place to land in the Potter home. With his doting mother and protective father around, nothing could ever go wrong.
James throws the door open before Peter even knocks and lets him in, the two immediately jumping up and down and showing each other their letters.
“James, is that Peter?” his mother calls from the kitchen. “Yes, ma’am!” Peter responds, eyes wide in excitement. James matching his expression.
“Come in here, dears, I’ve just made some pie.”
James walks behind his friend, grinning to himself as he clutches his letter until it wrinkles. This is it. This is what he’s been wanting since he could barely speak, and now he has it. As he sits down to enjoy his pastry with his best friend and his mother, he knows for certain: all is right with the world.
Mary Macdonald
Something is wrong here.
That is the first thing that crosses Mary Macdonald’s mind when she opens the mysterious-looking letter. It has her name on it, sure, but she can’t see how this could possibly be for her. Magic? She could laugh. What magic could there be in her life? The only magic she knows is the magic of Christ and how he died so that she could be lazy and arrogant, good for nothing. She should be so grateful. If that’s the kind of magic this “school” teaches, she wants nothing to do with it.
Why would she ever want to attend anything like that in the first place? Even if magic is real, and she has it inside of her, that’s just another thing for the kids to tease her about. She’s already such an easy target. She doesn’t look like the other kids in her town, with her skin so noticeably darker than everyone else, her hair so “wild” and “untameable,” as it has been so often described. She can’t control how she looks, but she can control how she acts, and she knows all this stupid school would do for her is subject her to more bullying. So, with that in mind, she tosses the letter. No need to put garbage in the pile of important letters.
She brings the rest of the mail inside, and then disappears to her room to listen to her records and drown out the thoughts of protest regarding what she just did. It’s the right decision, after all. It’s probably junk mail anyway. After all, magic isn’t real. There is no hope of escape from this town. She closes her eyes and begs her mind to be silent, just focus on the music. Soon, she won’t even remember receiving the letter; it’ll be like it never existed.
Unfortunately, her daydreams are interrupted by a very loud owl, shrieking and tapping on her window with a second letter in its mouth. Gaping, she opens the window and takes it, swatting the bird away as it pecks at her. She closes the window on its face and throws the letter on her bed with a huff. Why is there no possibility of keeping her peace?
Although, she thinks as she paces her room, if the letter turns out to be real, then that would mean there is hope. She can get out of here, she can attend this foreign school instead of the terror that is Year Six, with all of her horrible classmates. Deciding to at least give it a chance, she opens the letter and reads it over once more. It’s the same as the last one, and it was delivered by an owl, which is not normal in the slightest. She looks at the second paper, the supplies list, and realizes that she will have to tell her family about this. If they were open-minded enough to believe that this could happen, they’d most likely have her burned at the stake. A witch? It’s like the staff at this place–Hogwarts–doesn’t even know how Catholic families feel about that kind of thing. She’ll be considered Satan himself. Joy.
She won’t have to deal with those allegations, though, if she’s not around to hear them. Or any other allegations, for that matter. In fact, if this school is full of outsiders like herself, she may never have to face any sort of prejudice or ridicule ever again. Until the term ends and she’s forced to move back, she might have a peaceful life. She might even fit in, and finally have somewhere she belongs.
Hugging the letter to her chest, she lays on her floor and listens to the record spin out, eagerness coursing through her entire body. Mary Macdonald, the obnoxious little Black girl, will go to this strange school and return a witch–powerful, strong, exceptional, and extraordinary. An adventure, where, this time, she sees herself in the other characters. Breaking the news to her family aside, she cannot wait to see what wonders lie ahead, in the halls of magnificent, magical, perfect Hogwarts.
Marlene McKinnon
Chaos ensues nearly every day in the McKinnon household, so it’s no surprise when Marlene walks out of a silent room to retrieve the letters their owl just dropped off, she returns not sixty seconds later to a bustling crowd of strangers and friends of her brother’s, scrambling around every which way and making it very hard to search for her mother. No matter, the noise, both physical and verbal, will disperse shortly, and everything will go back to normal. Well, quiet at least. She can’t really tell what her normal is anymore, after Mitchell, her brother, published that stupid book last month, which gained so much popularity that they don’t have a day to themselves anymore. Mitchell’s always been like that, though, a golden boy. Everything he’s ever done is praised, nearly worshipped, not only by adoring fans, but also by her family.
Marlene is expected to follow in his footsteps one day, be as famous as him. She thinks she could be, if she tried hard enough, or wanted it enough. She’s always enjoyed writing, but she’s not sure she’s very good at it. She’s positive she’s nowhere near the level one needs to be to publish something, like Mitchell finally did, but then again, she’s young. He’s not. Maybe talent will come with time and experience. Maybe she’ll find her writing skills at Hogwarts, through the countless number of essays she knows she will have to do, or maybe there she’ll try her hand at songwriting. She loves music, after all, and it wouldn’t be the worst industry to go into. She’d rather do that than anything at the Ministry, anyway. Fame might not be her thing, but she has enough money to fall back on, thank Merlin, should she prove to be talentless, or unsuccessful. But she believes in herself, right? She can learn. She has that ability, at least. It’s okay, she tells herself, over and over again, reminding herself that she is only eleven years old, and it’s okay not to have everything, or even anything, figured out yet.
Well, at least she has one thing. The letter in her hand. She’s been picking at the crimson wax seal for the last few minutes while she waited for the room to clear, but she can see now. Her mother is standing in the corner of their sitting room, next to some lady with a Quick-Quotes Quill and a pad of paper. Marlene rolls her eyes, and decides to just walk up and interrupt. How many articles did they need to write about Mitchell, anyway?
“Mum?” she says, hesitantly.
The journalist leaves and her mother turns to her, exasperated. “What is it?”
Marlene looks at the ground. “I got my letter.”
“Oh? Let’s see it!” Relieved by this change in mood, Marlene smiles and hands her the letter. Her mother reads it over quickly, familiar with the contents from Mitchell’s time at Hogwarts, and then gives it back. “Do you think you’re ready? It’s a tough place to get used to, I’m told.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. What’s there to worry about?”
“You’ll have to ask your brother, but from what I gathered, it’s fairly dangerous. You need to be careful.”
Marlene shrugs, “It’s not like I’m going tonight. There’s time to prepare. And honestly, I’d invite a bit of danger. My life’s boring.”
Her mother gestures to the now-empty room. “This isn’t exciting enough for you?”
“It’s…” she grimaces, “something alright. In any case, I’ll be out of the house, and you’ll be stuck here with them, so…”
She groans and leans into Marlene, hugging her and resting her head on her shoulder. “Why are you leaving me? So grown up, already.” She steps back and smiles at her daughter, then kisses her forehead. “I know you’ll make me proud, my girl.”
“I’ll try.”
“You will. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m worried already.”
Her mother looks into her dark eyes with concern. “About what?”
Marlene drops her gaze. “What if I’m not as good as Mitch? Or Father?”
She scoffs and hugs her again. “You can’t compare yourself to them, my darling. You can only try your best and be as good as you are. I’ll still be here if you need me, but you won’t. Trust me. Be patient, and your time will come.” She caught her daughter’s eyes again. “Okay?”
Marlene nods, thinking it over. Patience. Whatever talent may come to find her, she will embrace it with open arms, and maybe, just maybe, finally know who she is. “Okay.”
Sirius Black
“Reggie,” Sirius whispers, entering his younger brother’s bedroom. “Reggie, are you awake?” He shuts the door behind him, clenching the letter in his hands, shaking with the hunger to share the good news with his favorite person.
“Sirius?” Regulus mumbles, rubbing his eyes as he sits up, and suddenly the room is illuminated. “What’s going on?”
Sirius crawls into the bed and shows Regulus the letter, watching his face, waiting for his expression to light up. “Isn’t it amazing? I get to go to Hogwarts!” he asks after a long beat of blankness. Regulus shoves the letter into his older brother’s hands and slides back into the blankets.
“It’s great, Sirius.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m happy for you.”
Sirius rolls his eyes and pulls the blankets off of him. “No, you’re not. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
“Why would anything be wrong? You’ve just been told you can get out of here and attend the best magic school in the world. It’s wonderful.”
Now he was confused. “Then why are you acting like that?”
“Don’t know. Did you tell Mother?”
Sirius tenses. “Not yet.”
Regulus sits up. “Then she might not even let you go. What if she has other plans for us? We never really discussed it.”
“Yeah, we did. She said she’d keep us under private tutors our whole life, which is fine, but this letter is my ticket to freedom. She might let me go if I catch her in a good mood.”
“Because that’s likely to happen any time soon.”
Something is stirring in the wizarding world. Sirius has no idea what it could be, he only hears bits and pieces before his mother or father catches him eavesdropping and shoves him out the room. Whatever it is, it’s affected his parent’s moods significantly, fluctuating between extreme highs and extreme lows, neither of which is ever good for the Black brothers. They try their best to stay out the way, for the most part, but Sirius has to intrude for this matter. He has to put his say in. He thinks it would be better for them if he were out the way for a few months, anyway, so they might actually let him leave in that regard.
Sirius smiles at his brother. “Ah, little Reggie, so clueless. You just have to have the right words, and you can convince her of anything.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Besides, you’re not the most eloquent of speakers, so I doubt you’ll have an easy time persuading her of anything, let alone this. If she’s made up her mind, she’s made up her mind. I wouldn’t risk setting her attention onto you. This may not be worth it.”
“Don’t be such a wuss, Reggie. I’ll just casually mention it to her and see what happens.”
Regulus raises an eyebrow and then shrinks back into his bed. “Do what you want, just leave me out of it.”
Sirius smirks and exits the room, his heart-rate rapidly accelerating as he approaches Orion Black’s study. Despite all his talk, he is really scared of how his mother might react to his broaching of this subject. They might not have had time at all to consider putting the boys in any school, let alone Hogwarts, but Sirius did not want to suffer another year of stiff, dreadful tutors. Last year, they were so boring, he actually wanted to cry and would much have rathered his parents teach him themselves. But now, he has an opportunity for a better life. Better schooling, for sure. The best in the world. Walburga couldn’t say no to that, could she? Stubborn as she is, she knows when someone is superior to her. It’s why she hates her sons so much, Sirius is convinced. One day, they will both surpass her and be the most brilliant wizards anyone has ever seen, and she’s scared of being shown up by her own kin. That’s why she limits their education, even though she knows they could be so much greater.
As Sirius knocks on the door to his father’s study, he pockets the letter, deciding to raise the issue gently, non-persistent, so that he might actually have a chance of getting his way.
“Enter,” says a stern voice. Not off to a good start, but maybe he can talk his way to a better atmosphere for conversation. He opens the door. “Sirius,” his mother greets him. “What do you need?”
Straight to the point. That doesn’t leave much room for him to work around her clearly agitated disposition, but the longer he stands there, the more angry she’ll become. He pulls the letter out of his pocket. “I’ve been accepted into Hogwarts, Mere.”
Walburga glances up from where she is seated next to Orion at their desk. She pushes her chair back, placing her pen down, and slowly walks over to Sirius until she is so close, he can see his reflection in her eyes. He holds out the letter, and she takes it, holding it by her hip in disregard for it. Sirius swallows and doesn’t allow his icy gaze to drop her own, proving his resolve. He deserves a better education, in a better place, far, far away from the cutting wands and the poisonous blood and the poignant words and the fear and the torture and the insanity of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Sirius Black deserved better.
“And you wish to attend?” his mother breathes. Sirius nods, hands clasped behind his back. “Very well.”
“Excuse me?”
She flashes a glare at him before collecting herself and returning to her seat. “You may attend. We will have your supplies collected and brought to you.”
“I can go to Hogwarts?”
She sighs, clearly exhausted from whatever she and her husband are doing. “Yes, Sirius. Your cousin, Narcissa, attends Hogwarts and will keep a close eye on you for us.” Sirius exhaled in relief. “However,” she starts again, and he composes himself, waiting for what’s to come. “Should you disgrace our family name, in any way, you will be sent home immediately, and I will personally see to it that your life is made miserable. Am I understood?”
She’s understood, alright; he understands that he’s in the clear. They’re too busy to pay him any more mind than this. If he goes and doesn’t make too big a spectacle of himself, he can fly under her and Narcissa’s radar and have all of the freedom he’s ever desired, the kind he rarely sees in his dreams anymore for how impossible they are. Well, were. Now, his fantasies can come to light. Friendship, magic, love, food whenever he wants it, no one breathing down his back with a wand at the ready, waiting for him to behave properly. In a school where the only rule is essentially “don’t die,” he will thrive. He will finally know what fresh air tastes like. The taste of freedom. “Yes, Maman.” He turns to leave, hiding his building giddiness.
“Sirius,” she calls. He faces her. “Do not. Disappoint me.” He gasps as he feels two bursts of sharp pain run down his back, accentuating her words.
And then he realizes how serious she is. This isn’t just some excuse to get him out of the house. No, it’s more than that. It’s performance. Whatever they’re working on will be reflected in him when he shows his face in public, somewhere as populated as Kings Cross Station and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If that’s what this is about then, well, that changes everything now, doesn’t it?
He nods and exits the study, reflecting as he shuffles back to his bedroom. If it’s a performance she wants, a performance she’ll get. Merlin, would she get it. She can’t touch him from thousands of miles away. They won’t tell him what they’re doing? Fine. He’ll figure it out. Forget flying under the radar–he’ll make such a spectacle of himself, that the gods themselves will marvel at his audacity, his valor.
Hogwarts is his fairy tale. If Walburga and Orion Black are his villains, then he will be the hero. And he will not stop fighting against their iniquity–and anyone who goes along with it–until the war is won, and goodness prevails.