Chapter 1
July 9, 1971: Remus Lupin
Sweat along his back dripped into the newest scratches there, making them sting. It was a hot August day- too hot if you asked Remus Lupin as he walked along the country road towards home. Remus adjusted his grip on the shopping, trying to posture himself in a way that made his back less sore.
Mam hadn’t wanted him to do the shopping, but he was always restless around a full moon. The open sky, the warm breeze, the smell of dirt and fresh cut grass made him feel better. Even the glaring sun beating down on him loosened his aching muscles.
The freedom he gained in the summer months had made it his favorite season. Due to the nature of his condition, his family would move at least twice a year. At the slightest hint of suspicion from neighbors, or a single whiff of magic, his parents would have their place packed and would be on the road by nightfall. When he was really young, his Mam repeatedly said it wasn’t his fault, often claiming his fathers work put them in a dangerous position, but he couldn’t remember a time when he didn't know the truth. Remus was the dangerous thing. This time, they had moved to a countryside town -if you could even call it a town, and had managed to last from the beginning of spring into the summer.
It became more and more evident with each passing full moon. The wolf, as his father referred to his alternate state of being, was growing at the same rate he was. Four months ago, Remus had managed to break off of the cellar he had been locked in, splintering the wooden doors. Lyall Lupin, Remus’s father and the only wizard in the family, had managed to corral Remus into the chicken coop, and lock him in there with a multitude of spells. Remus had woken up covered in shit, blood and feathers, the entire lot of chickens he had raised from chicks ripped apart and scattered around the coop.
They packed up and moved that day. Since then he had started having recurring nightmares of waking up in a chicken coop, but instead of chicken blood it was his mother’s and father’s, and their limp bodies laying in the dirt beside him.
The most recent moon hadn’t been as bad as the chicken fiasco, but he had left 3 large scratches across his lower back, just below his ribcage. For the bad cuts, his father would give him a healing draught or salve that would stitch the wounds enough to stop the bleeding, but he had only been given muggle medicine for this month's injury. His parents’ hushed arguments in the kitchen late at night led him to believe the potion funds were drying up.
Hell, all of their funds were drying up. Remus looked down at the depressing bag of shopping he had purchased. The wilting leeks, likely spoiled eggs and a few other bits and bobs that he had gotten half off left a pit in his stomach and not just from hunger. They had always gotten by on only a little, but the most recent move seemed to push them over the edge of financial stress. Lyall was rarely home now, and when he was, he was arguing about the budget with Hope, Remus’s mother. And now, they even had to buy eggs because of him. The young chickens they had bought following his slaughter still hadn't started laying eggs.
As he passed over the bridge that marked the halfway point from the market to his home, Remus tried to press his shirt to his wound to mop up the sweat that stings as it dripped into the wound. The heat was nice after a moon, it helped relax his muscles, but this was too hot. His back prickled in the heat. He was tired, his exhaustion from lack of sleep taking over for the restlessness he had felt earlier. Maybe he could nab some lemons from the neighbors tree and he and mam could make some lemonade and sit outside in the shade of the old oak in their back garden. His tad would likely already be gone by the time he got home.
The thought of a peaceful afternoon was interrupted by a familiar snicker behind him.
“Oi, Loony!” He turned toward the voice as a swift kick to his gut sent him tumbling back towards the guardrail of the bridge. The cobbled stone bit into his back, and the bag of shopping sprawled onto the ground between him and three boys, all taller and bigger than him.
"Shame we didn't catch ya before you did yer shoppin'. Could've done with some extra pocket money, couldn't I?” one of the boys said, toeing the leek that had rolled to his feet. He was the shortest of the three boys, but made up for it in width, his pudgy pink cheeks wobbled as he spoke. “But by the looks of it, wouldn't 'ave been much anyway."”
Remus didn't say anything. It wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with these boys, and he knew his best shot was trying to be boring enough that they’d leave him alone. At least, that had been the case during the school year. They had messed with him when he had first transferred in, but got bored of his lack of response to their beatings and had moved onto a smaller boy who ran his mouth more often.
But, the summer seemed to instill a kind of boredom in the bullies that could only be quenched by finding someone to mercilessly pick on to no end. They seemed to have a knack at finding Remus while he was out of the house and introducing him to one or all of their fists, although the freckly one preferred to kick him while he was down. Remus was just hoping to snag whatever was salvageable from the bag he had been carrying and run. He had managed to slip away from them their last few encounters, but there was a hungry look in their eyes today.
The middle boy with mousy brown hair seemed to follow his gaze to the merchandise, and stepped towards him to block his vision. Duncan was it? One of them was named Duncan. The boy in front of him was the largest of the three, towering over Remus, a waft of hay and manure assaulting his nose, but Remus couldn’t escape it. He was backed so far against the curb of the bridge, he may as well have been sitting on it.
“Mam'll be proper sad seein' you've dropped it all again? Poor little Loony Lupin. Can't even 'old a bag right, can ya?"” He said, his breath a worse smell than the rest of him.
"Don't you 'ave owt better to be gettin' on with?" Remus said, finding himself more pissed than scared. These three couldn’t cause nearly as much harm as Remus had done to himself the night before. He just wanted to get home and off his feet.
Talking back was the wrong choice, because the tallest boy grabbed Remus by the scruff before he had the chance to squirm away. “But, Loony, we need to teach ya some balance, I reckon. Too clumsy, aren't ya?"
As his feet left the ground, his stomach gave a lurch. It seemed the lack of school had given the boys more time to be creative with their bullying, and Duncan, taking a couple steps forward, now held him over the edge of the bridge, his toes scampering to find purchase on the curb. The boy holding him was not tall or strong enough to keep him up that high for long. Maybe, when he let go, Remus would have the chance to find his balance and run for it.
“Drop ‘im, Dun.” The freckled kid behind him said, bouncing on his toes and an attempt to peek over his shoulder. The third boy stepped back to lean on the opposite wall and watch. Remus shot that one a glare, where he met the boy's eyes, half covered in messy blonde hair.
Then, Duncan did indeed let go, and Remus was given the slightest moment to reach out for purchase. His arms splayed out over the wall and held, causing something in his right shoulder to pop and pull. His feet scampered up the outer edge of the bridge, trying to find anything to support even a toe. But just as he found a crack to shove the end of his foot into, gaining a little more support, the small victory was squashed. Something small stung his forehead and went clattering onto the road in front of him. A pebble.
Looking up, arms shaking in effort, Remus saw freckles had joined the other boy in leaning on the opposite wall of the bridge. They both held fistfuls of pebbles they must’ve scooped off the ground. Remus’s foot slipped out from the crack he had found, and he braced himself for a moment before he found another foothold. He was going to fall. It was a matter of letting go now and getting wet, or getting pelted in the face by some stones, and then letting go and getting wet. Another pebble whizzed by his ear. His arms were already tired.
Just let go, you idiot, he told himself, looking down at the water below. It was a decent drop, enough to make anyone pause for a moment before diving in, but not far enough to cause injury. To Remus however, it felt like leagues. He knew the river below was deep enough to cushion the fall. He could swim. But his body wouldn’t relax. Even as two more stones cut into his face and his arms and shoulder burned, his grip held firm.
In truth, spite kept Remus clinging to the edge. Something angry was howling from deep in his stomach, furious at these pathetic boys for choosing him to pick on. Remus wanted to hurt them back. But he was even more weak and pathetic than them, a fact that did not help ease his anger.
How long would he be able to hold on for before his arms finally gave out? Based on the fact his entire body was now shaking in effort, not long. He tried to visualize the fall. He should at least be able to push himself away from the bridge enough that he wouldn't be injured.
Another sharp pain to his forehead and arm, brought him back to the moment as the sharp pebbles clatted to the street in front of him. He felt a little blood trickle down his forehead, but it was nothing to the blood that was likely staining the entire back of his grey shirt. The wounds from last night had definitely reopened. He could feel the openings across his back stretching from the awkward position he was in. His bandages were now loose and slipping down his back. The boys had moved closer now standing a few feet from him, their aim apparently not good enough to hit him as often as they’d like.
"Scorchin' today, in’t?" Freckles said to the other two. "You shud have a swim in the river to cool yourself down." He approached, and the quietest of them finally spoke up.
“Leave ‘im Colin.” Now he was gonna try to stop this? How many times had these three picked on Remus, beat him up?
“Feck off,” Remus spat at him.
Remus had no time to react before Freckles took the heel of his boot and slammed it into the fingers of Remus’s hand.
Pain shot from his hand up his arm, causing his left hand to completely flex, losing its grip. His right arm on its own was not enough to keep hold, and he slid down the side of the bridge, the cobblestone scratching up his arms and side as went.
And then, Remus was finally falling. His stomach leapt to his throat as all he could feel around him was open air rushing past him. The boys’ shouts echoed above him briefly before all he knew was the water.
He let himself sink into the quiet for a moment. It felt nice to be able to hide under the surface, the water gently pressing him together, his joints lighter than they had felt in weeks.
When his lungs began to beg for air, he made his way to the surface and let himself float on his back, the sound of the boy's laughter above him retreating.
Could he not just have one nice day? Was a decent afternoon, some lemonade and a bed of grass too much to ask for? No. Of course he had to end up in a river, clothes soaked, and shopping ruined. His mom would probably cry again.
He seemed to always be making her cry. He pictured himself sopping wet, dripping his way into the kitchen, half smashed leek and whatever he could salvage from the ground tucked in his arms. He pictured his mam’s face at the sight of him. He slung an arm over his eyes to block the sun. And to stop himself from crying.
“Regrettable behavior born from ignorance and insecurity, wouldn’t you agree?” An elderly man’s calm voice from the bank of the river carried over to him. Remus splashed about in a panic to turn towards the voice.
A strange man in intricately embroidered deep violet robes stood there, just above where the ground got too muddy and the incline too steep for anyone to be able to stay upright. He seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. His white-silver hair went just past his shoulders. He had the longest beard Remus had ever seen matching in color. The man was still looking in the direction the boys had run. He wore half moon spectacles, and his eyes seemed to sparkle in the sunlight as his gaze turned to Remus, still floating in the water, dumbfounded.
“Take your time, my dear fellow. There's no rush. But if the mood strikes for you to come to shore…” he said, and Remus, embarrassed the whole mess had been witnessed, rushed to paddle towards the edge of the river. His water-logged clothes and sore muscles made the process much more difficult. The man gave him a hand to maneuver up the muddy bank, surprisingly steady, despite his frail appearance.
“Thanks,” was all Remus could think to say when he finally stood beside the man. And they both stood there in silence for a moment. The man was still looking at Remus with what he decided was far too much interest. “Well, reckon I'll be off then-” he turned to look at the road that led home behind them, as the man did something rather unexpected.
He pulled out a wand.
It took Remus a moment to realize it was a wand as the only one he had ever seen was his father’s, but as the man made a motion with it Remus’s stomach twisted.
Remus recoiled, throwing his hands over his head instinctively, but all he felt was a warm breeze pass through him from his toes to the hair on top of his head, finding the space between his skin and clothes. When he looked down he found he was completely dry. He looked up to find the man simply smiling at him.
“That’s much better, don't you think Mr. Lupin?” the man said, tucking his wand away in his billowing robes.
Remus blinked at him for a moment, stunned.
Then, Remus turned and ran.
Fuck.
A wizard.
A wizard in his village. A wizard that knew his name.
They had found him, and they’d take him away and they’d- he didn’t know what they’d do. The fear and urgency in his father’s eyes when he had lectured Remus countless times on the importance of staying away from wizards told him it was not good.
They didn’t like his kind- thought anyone like Remus was dangerous. And if this old man knew who he was; if he had found him despite his parents constant attempts to hide him, despite the fact they had only been around Beddgelert for four months, despite the spells and wards and charms his father had put on their cottage…
His lungs and legs burned and he tasted the metallic remnants of blood as he rounded the path leading up to his home, but he didn’t stop. The small cottage the Lupins’ had recently made home came into view through the trees. It was old and clearly in disrepair, the white paint on the sides was faded and cracked, the thatched roof mossy and unkept. Vines grew up the side onto the roof.
But it was clear someone had made an effort to nicen the place up. His mam’s hand was present in the front yard, where she had pulled up weeds and trimmed back bushes and shrubbery. She had swept the stoop of the front door, cleaned the windows and cut back the vines that blocked sunlight from passing through them. There were also countless flower seeds beneath the dirt, planted, just as she did every place they had lived. Remus could hear the chirping of the chicks from the back garden as he sprinted the last bit of the overgrown path leading up to the front of the house.
The front door opened up into the kitchen. It was a small room with the refrigerator, oven, sink and a few cupboards and a bit of counter space crammed into the space on the right side of the door Remus had just burst through. As he looked left, the area mirroring the right side, but only occupied with a small circle table and three chairs crammed into a corner, he found his mam sitting over the job listing section of the newspaper. The smell of chocolate chip muffins still lingered in the room from breakfast.
“Remus?” She paused her reading, and stood. “What’s happened? Are you alright?” She said, speaking in Welsh, her words coming out faster and faster as she took the sight of her flustered son in. She rushed over, looking him up and down, that all too familiar worried look in her eyes.
But Remus was heaving at this point, struggling to get air into his lungs. And whether it was the lack of air or the panic that seemed to have seized him entirely at this point, he couldn't speak.
“W-” he tried, throwing his hand out in a circular motion away from him as if he could summon the words from his chest.
“Oh, cariad. You’re bleeding,” she had found the blood that must've soaked his back again during the sprint home. He tried to shake her off as she attempted to get his shirt off and examine the damage. This seemed to communicate that there was a matter more pressing.
“Remus,” She crouched down to meet him at eye level and turned him by the shoulders to face her. “Breathe. Ok. It’s ok. You're alright. Do it with me. Breath in-” Remus copied her as she took a deep breath in, “- and out.” He let his lungs deflate with her, despite how foolish it felt at a time like this.
“Good. Again. In-” They took a few more breaths before Remus felt right enough to speak, the breath work and his mother’s voice steadying him.
“A w-wizard. In town.” Remus tried to swallow, realizing how dry his mouth was. “In town and he knew who I was. He- he spoke to me.” Hope’s eyes were wide now as he looked up from his feet to her.
“In town?”she asked. He nodded. “How far off?”
“At the river.”
“Shite.” It was Remus’ turn for his eyes to go wide. “Lyall! Lyall we must leave. We must pack and leave. How long will the wards hold?” Lyall, Remus’s father emerged from the bedroom doorway that stood not three paces from the table Hope had just been working at.
Their bedroom, a small offshoot to the left of the kitchen, served more as Lyall’s study with the addition of a bed for him and his wife to sleep in. His hair was ruffled, as if he had been running his hands through it haphazardly as he read, his fingers smudged with ink.
“You know I can’t understand Welsh as well as- What’s happened?” He said, blinking away the far off look that still lingered in his eyes as he looked between his wife and child.
Remus’s mum nodded toward Remus, motioning to her son to speak. As his father’s gaze settled on him Remus found words difficult again. It was rare for him to face the brunt of his father’s attention, and whenever he did it always felt so intense, so dire. He looked back towards his mum.
“He came across a wizard who knew him, Lyall. In town- Can’t be more than five minutes out.” Hope said, now pushing past her husband to their bedroom, Remus following behind her.
“Remus, what did he look like?” His father stopped him, a hand on his shoulder. With his other hand he motioned with his wand, pulling the curtains on every window in sight.
“I- He was old- a long silver beard and hair” Remus said, looking back towards his father, “and fancy robes and glasses.” His legs were shaking. They felt like wet noodles, and he was suddenly unsure how he was still standing.
“Albus- '' His father’s eyes seemed to look through him, into whatever memories Remus had brought back through his description of the wizard. “Hope, forget packing we need to go now. He could be here at any-”
There was a knock at the door only a few feet from them.
Hope’s noises of tossing things about in the next room stopped abruptly.
The very air between the three of them stilled as she emerged in the doorway and they all looked towards the front door. A second knock sounded. Remus could see a fuzzy silhouette through the curtain that now covered the windowed portion of the door. They stood there, frozen for another moment before a familiar aged calm voice sounded from the other side.
"Silence seems an unnecessary veil. Lyall, Hope, allow me to assure you of my intent. My presence holds no threat to you or your son. I've come seeking a simple conversation with the three of you.” It was indeed the same man from the river. Remus had never heard anyone talk so oddly before. If he wasn’t scared out of his wits, he’d probably roll his eyes at how mad the man sounded.
He looked towards his father who was moving towards the door, his wand still out at the ready.
“Professor Dumbledore, what brings you here?” he said as he motioned at the door with his wand. A shimmering wall began to glisten in front of it now. With his other hand, now behind his back, Lyall was shoo-ing his son and wife away.
Hope took her son by the hand, the other hand putting a finger to her lips as they inched their way towards the living room. They could escape through the back door. Remus glanced towards his father, still motioning with his wand despite the fact the shimmering wall had started to melt away.
“I mean to only deliver a letter to your son, Remus.” the voice from the other side of the door said, and Remus, still looking in that direction bumped into his mam who had halted a few steps into the next room.
“If you think that changes anything, I’m afraid not. I must ask you to turn back and leave us in peace.” Lyall said his voice was shaking in a way Remus had never heard before. Lyall’s wand hand was still at work, but there was not a glimmer left in the air between him and the door.
“Remus has gained admittance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as he is now eleven years old.”
Time stopped and Remus’s heart leapt into his throat.
He looked up at his mam beside him, who was now squeezing his hand very hard. Her face was unreadable, but she was looking towards the door with an odd expression. Lyall had finally stopped his wandwork, his left hand now limply hanging at his side.
“Dumbledore, you are aware of his- his condition. You know what that means for him in the wizarding world. I was told by you yourself that sending him to Hogwarts would be dangerous if not impossible.”
“That was before I was appointed Headmaster.”
Lyall huffed a breath at the man’s words. Remus watched as his father shifted his weight.
“As it is my school now, I think it is time some changes be made regarding how those with a condition like Remus’s are treated. I have figured it out with the staff. Only those who must know have been informed of his condition. They feel as though handling this special case would be a good thing. We have made a plan, one which I would like to share with you if you’d be so kind as to open the door. Conversations blocked by doors are far less productive,” Dumbledore said.
Two minutes later Remus was sitting across from the wizard in their living room, a game of gobstones between them. His parents could be heard muttering quickly in the room next to them, but a charm his father had placed into the doorway, made the words impossible to make out.
The old man was looking around the room with apt curiosity as if it wasn’t a dingy old cottage with a few pieces of furniture and some cobwebs. Even at the sight of the quaint room decorated with only a simple rug, a beat up couch, a couple dining chairs with cushions and Remus’s rickety cot shoved into one corner, Albus Dumbledore’s polite smile did not falter.
“A very nice home you have here, Remus,” the man said. Remus scoffed. Dumbledore’s tidy beard and hair, and elaborate robes made him look utterly out of place in the dank and dusty room. His father had some robes like those, but Remus had only seen him wear them a few times when he was younger, and never were they so elaborate. And yet despite how odd the man’s appearance was, Remus couldn’t help but stare. Is this what an average wizard looked like?
“Are those your drawings that I see on the walls over there? From what I can see at this distance you're very talented” the man motioned towards Remus’s cot, where he had tacked up some of his drawings above his bed.
Remus looked back down at the gobstones in front of them. He had admitted to a vague memory of the game, but needed Dumbledore to explain the rules. Given his limited experience, he thought the old man was letting him win at this point. Remus had only managed to keep two stones in the outermost rings. Dumbedore had practically copied his performance to a slightly less skilled degree, with only one stone in play. And yet, despite himself, Remus was having fun. Dumbledore had brought a tin of lemon drops that Remus helped himself to, and the older man didn’t seem to mind Remus’s quiet disposition.
“I’m glad we have a moment to talk with just the two of us,” Remus looked up at the man as he spoke, his wrinkled hand hovering over the tin of candies. “How do you feel about going to school for magic?” He chose one and popped it into his mouth before meeting the boy's eyes.
Remus shrugged looking down. In truth, he hadn’t thought about it much. Sure, when he was younger, he had marveled at the simple spells his father had promised to teach him one day, but as the years went on, Remus came to the conclusion magic was something to be avoided.
“Has your father told you much?” Dumbledore said, motioning for Remus to take his next move in the game.
Remus shook his head, looking down at the gobstone in his hand. "It's not allowed for me. My dad said he'd teach me 'imself, but I can't get a wand till I'm seventeen." He flicked the stone out of his hand with his thumb and watched it roll to the second inner ring.
"Indeed, rules serve their purpose, yet they often cast shadows upon those who feel different.” Dumbledore had picked up his next gobstone, and was rolling it around in his hand. “Hogwarts, despite its greatness, is not impervious to imperfections. Your father would agree. But above all else, Hogwarts is a place of learning, where you can learn much. You can learn magic, but you can also have new experiences, make friends, become a part of a new world.”
“But I’m-”
“A werewolf. Yes,” Remus tried not to flinch at the word as Dumbledore spoke while flicking his gobstone into the circle, knocking one of Remus’ out of the circle entirely. “I understand your reservation. We have taken measures at the school to ensure your comfort and safety during the full moons. Naturally, your parents would appreciate knowing the details of these arrangements as well. Only me and a few other staff members would know about your condition and we have a plan in place to keep your secret.”
This did little to calm Remus’ heart, which felt as though it would beat out of his chest at any moment. His thoughts were racing with a thousand different reasons why this was not a good idea, and yet there was a voice in the back of his mind. What if I could go?
“I- I’m no good at school,” was all he could think to say. And it was the truth. Even if he didn’t turn into a bloodthirsty wolf once a month, Remus was not smart enough for some fancy school, magic or no. He’d attended school with other kids a few times, and found he was very behind all the other kids, who could always read circles around him.
“You'd be surprised at the number of wizards and witches who've uttered those very words prior to arriving at Hogwarts. Many among them have ventured on to achieve extraordinary feats and leave a lasting mark on our world." Dumbledore’s eyes still sparkled as he spoke.
“Mam and Tad won’t like it.”
“It is your life Remus. If it is something you wish to do, they may just surprise you with their support.”
In the end Remus decided he did not trust Albus Dumbldore. He seemed far too happy with his lot. Even after his parents finally joined them in the living room, the man seemed too relaxed as they discussed what to Remus was the life or death situation of his lycanthropy.
Remus's father, on the other hand, seemed overjoyed at the visit. After the elderly wizard left, Lyall had told Remus of how big of a deal the man was in the Wizarding world. Something about dragon’s blood and a fancy rock Remus didn’t care, but noticed how his mother seemed to breathe a bit easier at Lyall’s reassurances.
“If Albus Dumbledore says the school is safe for him, I have every belief that it is.” Lyall said as if it settled the matter.
How years of paranoia could be washed away with one visit from one strange man, Remus couldn’t understand. Hadn’t his father been the one to tell him over and over not to trust wizards, not to share his secret with anyone, to run the other way if Remus ever got even a whiff of magic on the wind? A thousand doubts swam in his head as his mum and dad went back and forth over the matter. When they finally turned to him to ask what he thought, the only thing Remus could do was shrug.
“I dunno. Learning magic could be alright, I guess, but-” he looked at his mum, unable to admit his fears out loud. But Hope Lupin’s face remained unreadable.
“Well, let’s think about it. For now- I think- some supper?” Hope said, standing up and rubbing her hands together.
Later that night, after Hope had scrounged enough food together for a simple summer cawl (minus the leeks), after Lyall Lupin had paced the property twelve times, resetting the various magics he had put in place to hide and protect them, after Remus had bathed and redone his bandages, he lay in bed, staring up at the old wooden rafters of the ceiling above him.
“A wizard.” The word felt odd now as he whispered it to himself. Only a few hours earlier, the word has been something he completely feared and avoided. Tad was a wizard. Lyall had told Remus he could be a wizard like him, but-
and there was always that “but” with him; he was different. He could be a wizard, but couldn’t have a wand until he was seventeen. He could be a wizard, but he’d have to hide from other wizards for the rest of this life. He could be a wizard but he would never really be a part of their world.
He could be a wizard, but he’d always be a werewolf first.
And yet, it didn’t feel as hopeless as it had before meeting Albus Dumbledore. Despite the fact the old man came across as a Crachach, Dumbledore had seemed to put a lot into making sure Remus could attend Hogwarts. Dumbledore seemed confident in the plan he had spoken about with Remus and his parents earlier.
Remus rolled over onto his side to look at the envelope that now sat, seal broken on his nightstand. He couldn’t read it in this light, maybe not in normal light either. The strange sprawling handwriting was too curvy and confusing for his eyes. But he knew what it said.
Dear Remus 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 September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress
And that was it. Remus had his mother read the letter to him three times. And now he laid there in bed, replaying the words in his head. There was a list of the supplies on the next page, but it all seemed so… simple.
He had never admitted it to anyone, not even himself, but now, in the quiet still of the night. Remus imagined himself as a wizard. Sure, he wouldn't be any good at the books, but he’d never seen his father reading while doing a spell. Surely he could learn magic, even if he was different. Dumbledore had said so himself, and everyone seemed to believe Dumbldore was right about everything. He supposed for this, he could believe the strange man. He supposed for this, he could take a chance.
Remus imagined himself on a warm summer day, able to pick lemons from the tree with a simple wave of his wand. He could help his father with all the protection spells, and packing. He could light the fire in the chimney. He could learn to make the potions he took after the moon. He could learn to defend himself. Would his mother not have to worry so much anymore? Could he find a way to make the moons better?
Remus fell asleep with these thoughts; spectral images of magical creatures and duels with wands dancing in his mind. His dreams were sweet that night. And his decision was made.