Chapter 1
Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood. If you’re reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is to close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth and try to lead a normal life.
Being a half-blood is dangerous. It’s scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. I don't think I can even begin to describe the torment in which I went through. If you’re a normal kid, reading this because you think it’s fiction, great. Read on. I deeply envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened. That none of this is real. That I'm not real. But if you recognize yourself in these pages - if you feel something stirring inside - stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that it’s only a matter of time before they sense it too, they'll come for you. They always come for people like us, and make us suffer until our demise, if we're lucky enough to get to the sweet release of death.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
My name is Remus Lupin. I’m twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Hogwarts Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate England.
Am I a troubled kid? Yeah. You could say that.
I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it. Still, things started going bad last May, when our sixth-year class took a field trip to Manhattan - twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff. Most kids thought of it as torture and I would normally agree, however, I was sick and tired of being stuck doing boring schoolwork, so any escape was the best day. But Mr. Slughorn, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.
Mr. Slughorn was this middle-aged guy who dressed like he had never left the fifties. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn’t think he’d be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn’t put me to sleep. He was also the only teacher I think I actually gained an education from.
I was naive to think I wouldn't get in trouble on this trip considering nearly every time I went on a trip the same results always occurred. Expulsion. But this trip, I was determined, I would be good, and I would not cause any ruckus.
Peter was an easy target. His baby fat was something he was yet to shed, and his love of food only made things worse. He cried when he got frustrated. He must’ve been held back several years because he was the only sixth year with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. The kind of crippled that never allowed him to participate in PE. Lucky him. Maybe not so lucky considering it was some sort of muscular disease but lucky to not be hit in the head every time they played dodgeball.
Suddenly a peanut butter and jelly sandwich hit Peter in the back of the head sliding down, a girl named Lucretia threw it with a fit of laughter following shortly behind it. She had long brown hair that settled into annoying waves. She was popular and of course a bully. She even had a boyfriend named Marshall Fawley, the entire year thought they'd get married. They were disgusting.
“I'm going to kill her” I mumbled under my breath and Peters's eyes widened like saucers
He was a scardy cat through and through.
Peter tried to calm me down. ‘It’s okay. I like peanut butter.’
He dodged another piece of Lucretia’s lunch.
‘That’s it.’ I started to get up, but Peter pulled me back to my seat.
‘You're already on probation,’ he reminded me. ‘You know who'll get blamed if anything happens.’
Looking back on it, I wish I’d decked Lucretia right then in her stupid ugly face. The school punishment would have been nothing compared to the torment I'm facing now.
Mrs Umbridge was this little maths teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Hogwarts halfway through the year when our last maths teacher had a nervous breakdown.
From her first day, Mrs. Umbridge loved Lucretia and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, ‘Now, honey,’ real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month. Not like it mattered. At least I had a place to do homework.
Once, after she’d made me erase answers from old maths workbooks until midnight, I told Peter I didn’t think Mrs. Umbridge was human. He looked at me real serious and said, ‘You're absolutely right.’ I just laughed at his attempt at a joke, at least he was trying.
Mr. Slughorn kept talking about Greek funeral art.
Finally, Lucretia snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turned around and said, ‘Will you shut up?’
It came out louder than I meant it to. It always came out louder than I meant to.
The whole group laughed. Mr. Slughorn stopped his story.
‘Mr. Lupin,’ he said, ‘did you have a comment?’
My face was totally scarlet red. I said, ‘No, sir.’
Mr. Slughorn pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. ‘Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?’
I looked at the carving, and felt a flush of relief because I actually recognized it. ‘That’s Kronos eating his kids, right?’
‘Yes,’ Mr. Slughorn said, obviously not satisfied. ‘And he did this because...’
‘Well...’ I racked my brain to remember. ‘Kronos was the king god, and ~’
‘God?’ Mr. Slughorn asked me like nobody else was in the room. It felt nice to be noticed but not nice to be put on the spot.
‘Titan,’ I managed to correct myself. ‘And... he didn’t trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters -’
Some girls behind me let out an ew and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. What are we five?
Mr. Slughorn gave me a nod of approval before moving on. Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I’d ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something because the weather all across England had been weird since Christmas. We’d had massive snowstorms, flooding, and wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn’t have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.
I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Lucretia appeared in front of me with her ugly friends - I guess she’d gotten tired of stealing from the tourists - and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Peter’s lap.
‘Oops.’ She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos. A nasty-looking witch she was.
I tried to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, ‘Count to ten, get control of your temper.’ But I was so mad my mind went blank. A wave roared in my ears.
I don’t remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Lucretia was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, ‘Remus pushed me!’
Mrs. Umbridge practically materialized next to us. A crazy woman she was.
Some of the kids were whispering but I paid no mind to them. All I knew was that I was in trouble again.
As soon as Mrs. Umbridge was sure poor little Lucretia was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., the evil woman turned on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if I'd done something she’d been waiting for all semester. ‘Now, honey -’
‘I know,’ I grumbled. ‘A month erasing textbooks.’ That wasn’t the right thing to say.
‘Come with me,’ Mrs. Umbridge said. It came out more of a demand but what could I do protest? It would only make matters worse.
‘Wait!’ Peter yelped. ‘It was me. I pushed her.’
I was stunned. Peter, the same boy who was scared of his own reflection, Pettigrew was trying to help me. It brought a smile to my face.
She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled. ‘I don’t think so, Mr. Pettigrew,’ she said.
He tried to protest but the evil entity in front of us was stronger. Peter looked at me desperately.
‘It’s okay, man,’ I told him. ‘Thanks for trying.’
‘Honey,’ Mrs. Umbridge barked at me. ‘Now.’
Lucretia smirked.