The Wolf and His Cub (UPDATED)
The knock on the door was Aria’s first surprise of the morning. They had barely finished unpacking their new home in London when it happened.
Aria, admittedly, didn’t know much about how English hospitality worked, having grown up with her dad in America for the last five years. Still, she was positive neighbors didn’t knock on your door randomly only a week after you moved in.
The strangely dressed old man was her second surprise. He was wearing long robes, which were strange to see in the middle of London, that were a vibrant purple color that clashed garishly with the orange trousers she could see hiding underneath the garment. On his nose sat half-moon glasses, behind which she caught a glimpse of twinkling eyes.
Upon seeing their visitor, her father closed the door slightly to block her from view, a silent signal that he didn’t want the man to see his thirteen-year-old daughter. Confused, she moved out of view of the entryway and hid herself in the closet of her father's new study, which had enough space for her due to how recent their move was.
Normally, her father's study was filled to the brim with different bottles of ingredients ranging in variety from frog legs to rose hearts to bezoars.
You see, the thing about Aria and her father was that they were what some would call abnormal.
When the two went on holiday they would head someplace far off in the countryside, and play quidditch until neither could sit for a week. When they lost something under the couch, either could simply wave a wand and it would float into the air to allow them to retrieve they’re missing item. Once a month, on the night of the full moon, the two would curl up in the living room, and enjoy being free of their human bodies for one night.
All this was possible for the two, for you see, they were both wixen. Aria’s father was a wizard and an intelligent one at that. He had a mastery in multiple subjects, mainly out of necessity. Aria herself was a witch, who despite only being a student, was rather skilled in using her magic to the best of its abilities.
Take now for instance, when she used it to silence all her movements and her breathing, allowing her to safely listen as her father spoke to their guest.
“What brings you here, Albus?” She heard her father ask as he stepped into the room. It took the older man a while to respond, which Aria assumed meant he waited until they both had seated themselves at her father's desk.
“Remus, it is wonderful to see you,” the older man greeted. Aria tensed at the sound of his voice, the steel edge it held grating on her control.
“Have you renewed your subscription to the prophet yet?” asked the older gentleman.
“I’ve been here ten days, Albus” came her father's curt response. She had to suppress a chuckle at her father's tone. While it was often difficult to discern his emotions from the sound of his voice alone, Aria, his only daughter, had been able to interpret him since she was a small child.
“Yes, I suppose you had other priorities,” the old man responded. He sounded nonchalant as he spoke, but Aria’s heart sped up at his words. Something about this man set her on edge, and she had learned from a young age that her gut instinct was usually correct.
“Well then, I assume it is news to you that Sirius has escaped Azkaban,” the old man informed her father, sounding slightly stern for the first time since he arrived. Aria could tell from her hiding spot that the name the old man mentioned meant something to her father. She could smell his instant spike of fear and the mix of hope and grief that rose with it.
“I- yes,” her father stuttered, “I hadn’t known that.” In the second part of his statement, her father sounded almost chastised, like he felt judged by the older man. Aria’s confusion as to who this man was rose as her father took a steadying breath.
“Why track me down to inform me of this?” He asked, and the confusion in his tone was genuine, mirroring his daughters. The two waited on bated breath as the older man pondered his response.
“It’s believed,” he started, pausing for what she could only assume would be dramatic effect, “that he’s escaped with the intention of killing Harry.” As the stench of fear grew oppressive, she began searching through her memories for any mention her father made of a ‘Harry’.
““You told me he was safe, Albus,” her father responded, his fury evident in his voice. Aria had never seen her father react in such a way to another person. The only time he had sounded as furious as he did now was when she was eleven and a British tourist tried to tell her she was a monster.
“And he is,” was the older man’s instant assurance, but he offered no evidence of such.
“However, I know you and the others had ways of sneaking in and out of the castle, ways not even I know of. I’m worried he won’t be safe come September when he returns to school.” The old man had taken on the tone of a worried grandfather, but her gut was telling her that something was wrong. Who was Harry, or Sirius for that matter? And why were either of them in a castle?
“I can’t tell you anything Albus,” her father said, sounding like he did after he explained to her for the hundredth time why she couldn’t have a sleepover on a full moon night.
“I’m aware of the oath, Remus. What I was suggesting was something more, direct.”
“Please, just tell me.”
“I’d like for you to teach defense at Hogwarts this coming school year.” The tone with which her father was addressed suggested a few things. First, it was obviously laced with fake excitement, as though this was an amazing offer her father would just have to take. However, there was a threatening undertone to the man's words that sent a shiver down her spine.
“Absolutely not,” came the immediate response. There was no room for argument in his tone, her father was concise and to the point, and there was the undertone of a wolfish growl accompanying the words. She could not fathom what about this job offer would warrant such a response, which caused her nerves to worsen. Unfortunately, none of her father's reaction seemed as though it would matter, as the older man's magic seemed to lose some of its restraint, and Aria felt the immediate wave of annoyance and resigned determination.
“Very well Remus,” the old man said, sounding less like the overly fond grandfather than he had a moment earlier. For a brief moment, she thought the old man would walk out the door, and out of their lives forever. Her momentary relief shattered, however, as soon as the old man's next words left his lips.
“It will be such an inconvenience for you to have to explain to a possible employer why you will be absent for three days every month. I felt this would save you the trouble.”
The statement was made in an almost flippant manner, as though the old man was implying that had been his motivation the entire time. At her father’s sharp inhale, however, she realized the old man's true intentions behind the words. This old man was threatening her father. It wasn't a small threat either.
Aria’s father had had a difficult childhood. His father was a well-respected wizard, and his mother was a no-maj who had fully accepted her husband's magical abilities. The two were wonderful grandparents and entirely the reason their son and granddaughter had finally moved back to Brittain. Unfortunately, Aria’s grandfather had once insulted a very dangerous werewolf and had ended up having his son bit and turned into one.
From there, her father had been carted around his entire life in an attempt to hide his condition. He had explained to her that it was due to the British Ministry for Magics' inherent hate for creatures they labeled as ‘dark’. This was why they had also moved around; her father hopped from job to job in different magical and no-maj communities around the world so his condition wouldn't interfere, and he taught her the silencing spells he cast endlessly on his own room every month.
Despite what the BMM had initially led him to believe, her father had found that other wizarding communities often had brighter views of his species.
They had lived in various regions in France until Aria was six, and her father had gotten three masteries while working at local businesses. Not once did anyone reprimand him for taking the day before, the day of, and the day after the full moon off to spend time with his daughter. In fact, the apothecary he had worked for in Paris, and his teachers, demanded he do so. It quickly became a tradition for the two of them, becoming a cherished time they spent together.
Then the two moved to America, beginning their journey in New York, before moving westward across the country. Whilst living in Colorado, the two had met a local wolf pack, who were appalled at how they had been handling their transformations. The pack taught them that accepting one's wolf made the curse act as a simple animagus ability and that while the transformation once a month was required, it became much more relaxed. Their monthly ritual shrunk down to the day of the moon, and the two lived contentedly up until halfway through their fourth year living in the States.
Aria’s father had received a letter from his parents asking if he’d return to their hometown, as they both felt they were getting too old to travel to see their granddaughter. The same week, he lost his job at the local magical library, and they resigned themselves to leaving behind their lives once more. As her grandparents lived in an awfully small town, there were no properties available for the two, so they opted for an apartment in London, about an hour's drive from where her grandparents had ultimately settled down.
During his time away from the country, the ministry had only seemed to worsen their views on werewolf kind. Jobs became harder to find, ministry harassment got worse, and packs had gone completely underground, never really being seen by wizards or no-maj’s alike. The two had sat and listened as her grandfather explained how much the two would have to work to hide their gifts, and warned them of what would happen to the two should they be discovered.
This old man knowing what they were was a death sentence. The old man and her father sat in silence, and Aria could feel the smugness oozing off the old man's magic. Eventually, she heard her father grit his teeth.
“I'll owl McGonogall,” her father said shortly. She was stunned, her father had given in to the threat. Of course, he could have refused. He could have gone to work in the no-maj world. He could have shown the memories of this old man threatening him, as it was fairly obvious, and anyone would have believed him. Why? Why was this the one time her father wasn't standing up to a bully?
By the time she had recovered from her shock, her father had escorted the old man out of the house, and come back into the study, locking and silencing the door behind him. She heard him sigh from his desk chair, so she slowly let the magic around her slip and fall off. She waited a moment before he sighed again.
“Come out here, please,” her father requested, sounding exhausted. She opened the closet door and sheepishly went to sit in the chair opposite her father, watching him carefully. He was watching her, with a glint in his eyes that told her of his determination. Aria watched him as he took a deep breath, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk.
“We are going to be in a dangerous situation later this year,” he began, and so she straightened up in her seat. He nodded once absentmindedly, looking at her as though she was someone else, before continuing.
“I will be accepting a position as a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he began, raising his hand to silence her immediate question, “It was the school I attended growing up. It will be filled with the children of the British magical community. Whilst we are there, you will look out for a man named Sirius Black. He was once a good friend of mine, but he gave himself up to a madness that ran in his veins. I expect you to take your grandfather's warning seriously, not reveal yourself to anyone untrustworthy during your time at school, and to come see me the evening of every full moon at dinner.” Aria nodded along as her father went. When he came to the end, she glanced over her shoulder to the door, before turning back to her father with a silent question.
“That man,” he sighed, “was Albus Dumbledor. He is believed to be the greatest wizard of all time by the people here. He is the headmaster of Hogwarts, and was aware of my curse, as he allowed me to attend Hogwarts. When I grew older, I came to realize he was hoping that would make me feel indebted to him, and follow his will easily. Of course, for my own safety, I did. I fought a war as a child so that nothing would ever be tied to me again. Eventually, I fought that war so that nothing would ever be tied to you, either.” Aria stood at this, making her way around the desk to hug her father, sitting in his lap so he could continue the story from the new angle.
“When the war ended, I left. There are many regrets in that statement, but only one that I would consider worth as much as you. Not more, never more, but just as much, and that will forever haunt me, but maybe I will get my closure teaching.”
They remained silent for a while, grieving what Remus had lost, and what Aria had never gotten to have, before they finished off their day, in a more somber mood than it started. After a few moments, Remus stood, smiling at his daughter tightly, before making his way over to the floo. He started a floo call, before laying down to speak to the person on the other end.
“Professor McGonogall,” he greeted kindly. Aria couldn't hear the other end of the call, but she could see her father relax slightly a moment later.
“Minerva, then. Would you and Poppy like to come through for some tea? The headmaster has just come by and I find myself with a new teaching position.” Her father fell silent for a moment before he chuckled. He gave the person, or persons, on the other end of the call their office floo address. Her father stepped back from the floo, and a moment later, two women came through. One was tall and stern looking, though she had a fond look behind the fire burning in her eyes. Her clearly long greying black hair was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, and her long emerald robes complimented her sparkling gold spectacles perfectly. The second was a woman dressed in a mediwitch uniform, with dark hair pulled into a loose bun at the back of her head. The moment she had come through the floo, her eyes had found Aria’s father, and she had the fond look of a mother seeing her son for the first time in years.
Aria’s father went up to both women and gave each a hug, before turning to her and gesturing towards the door. The two Lupins headed out the door, the adult beckoning their guest’s behind him. Aria went to the kitchen to prepare tea and some snacks for their guests, while her father sat their guests in the living room.
After the tea had been made and set on the coffee table, Aria took a seat on the couch next to her father, facing the two armchairs the women had claimed.
“And who’s this, Remus?” the mediwitch asked, her eyes dancing with curiosity. Aria’s father smiled at the woman, before placing a hand on her shoulder.
“This is my daughter, Aria.” Both women stilled at the information. The pause only took a moment and ended with both women looking at Aria with smiles on their faces.
“Oh Remus, that’s wonderful!” the mediwitch exclaimed, smiling at the man before returning her attention to his daughter.
“Hello darling, my name’s Madam Pomfrey,” she said happily, holding her hand out for Aria to shake.
“Aria Lupin,” the young witch responded, a tentative smile on her lips.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you miss.” The mediwitch smiled even brighter at her, and dropped her hand, turning to her colleague. She smiled at Aria, the soft look in her eyes becoming impossibly softer as she looked.
“My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall. It's very nice to meet you.” McGonagall smiled at Aria, and the younger woman smiled back, before turning her attention to her father, noticing the other woman do the same out of the corner of her eye. The older man sighed, leaning back against the couch, and picking up his tea.
“This is going to be a long story.”