➣ 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟏𝟏 “𝘼 𝙁𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧”
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Not even the darkness could undermine the determination in his steps. Resolute, he ignored the burning from his side each time his body moved an inch, all until he reached the entrance to the castle.
There were people already there: Albus Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge, his mother, his aunt, and five Aurors. The women had their backs to him, clearly arguing with the men, very heated.
“I will not allow you to take him until he’s healed!” yelled Aunt María.
“He’s a criminal!” retorted Fudge. “And let me remind you who the Minister is, Mrs. Cardona—”
His words were cut off when Pettigrew’s body slid through the floor, landing just beside them. In an instant, as the others yelped in surprise, Dumbledore’s eyes were on Nicolás' tumbling frame as he approached.
“Mr. Cardona,” the old man announced, his eyes twinkling.
“Nico!” his mother exclaimed, hands covering her mouth as she looked close to passing out at how her son looked: completely covered in dirt from the forest, and his robes damp with now-drying blood.
“Nico!” Aunt María exclaimed too, as both women approached him to inspect the boy’s state. The two men and the alarmed Aurors were inspecting Pettigrew’s body.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Nicolás tried to reassure them.
“You’re covered in blood!” said Carolina sternly.
“Nothing a little bit of Dittany won’t heal. Now, Caelum, Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Sirius?”
“They’re fine,” Aunt María explained. “As well as they can be. Harry and Hermione are in the Hospital Wing with Caelum and Ron. The Minister put Sirius in Flitwick’s office; he's waiting for the Dementors to respond to their summon.”
Nicolás groaned. “Pettigrew is there, he’s the responsible one for everything, I trust you to see that this empty-headed Minister grants us a trial, and Sirius’ immediate release of charges, I need to make another stop,” he said, before leaning and whispering, “Had to leave Dad in the forest, make sure to bring clothes,” he added to his mother before walking away.
Nicolás walked inside the castle, ignoring the men and the Aurors at the entrance demanding his presence. He limped all the way down to the entrance of the basements. With his wand in hand, Nicolás envisioned the phial of Essence of Dittany in his bag, and said, “Accio Dittany!”
It only took seconds, and the phial came to his hand. He opened it, taking off the bandages covering his torso, and dropped considerable drops on all the open claw wounds. In seconds, his skin was regenerated, making it as good as new, and he walked down to Snape’s office in the dungeons.
Inside, the man was pacing behind his desk like a fuming Dragon, there were pieces of parchment scattered around the floor — some of them on fire —, and a few of the flasks in his shelves had exploded.
The moment Snape’s eyes fell on him, Nicolás could swear he heard Snape growl like a rabid dog.
“What do you want?” he snarled, the steel behind his eyes cooling.
With a flick of his hand, the door of the office closed, and Nicolás walked in, slowly, stopping by the wall opposite to Snape.
“I suppose it's become of your notice already, but your nonexistent Order of Merlin is history,” Nicolás said with a smile. Snape growled at him through his clenched teeth, and if looks could kill, Nicolás would probably be lying on the floor by now, but his smile didn’t waver for a single second, if anything, it glistened. “But I actually came to have a small chat with you, you see, I kind of know just what kind of miserable man you are, and I wanted to tell you that you’ll keep my father’s name and his condition out of your mouth, and I better don’t hear a single word in the corridors about it.”
“That didn’t sound like a request,” spat Snape venomously.
Instead of answering, Nicolás paced a small portion of the office, relieved to have his wounds healed.
“I wonder, apart from Dumbledore, and a few people from the Ministry, how many others know you are a Death Eater,” he said faking pensiveness. "Supposedly, you defected, but Death Eater still."
Snape’s face turned sourer than spoiled milk and for a moment Nicolás feared the sneer on the man's face would break out of his countenance. “How dare you—”
But Nicolás wasn’t even dignifying him with a distracted look as he kept talking, “I wonder how many parents know that their children are being taught by someone who believes in blood supremacy and who voluntarily joined Voldemort’s ranks. You see, Professor, I know much of your story, of your… academic history.”
Each word that came from Nicolás’ mouth only enraged Snape even more.
“We… we wouldn’t want to have all the parents finding out about that… little… baleful… edgy tattoo on your forearm, would we?” Nicolás asked rhetorically. He waved his hand, and a current of wind moved up the arm of Snape’s robes, revealing the asleep remains of the Dark Mark.
“HOW DARE YOU COME TO MY OFFICE TO THREATEN ME!” bellowed Snape.
Nicolás chuckled. “I’m not threatening you, Professor, I’m only pointing out very truthful facts.”
Snape looked enraged, before a sly smile curled up his lips. “All of this over that monster of a father you have,” he said, making a disgusted sneer at the word ‘monster’.
“You will not have my father’s name on that filthy mouth of yours! And don't you dare call him a monster!”
A triumphally mean gleam shined in the man's eyes. “Why? Scared to hear the truth? I saw you limping to the castle. Who hurt you like that if not the monster of your father,” he dismissively pointed at the dried blood on Nicolás’ robes.
Snape wanted to be mean? Snape wanted to be venomous? Well, even if he was a Hufflepuff, Nicolás would have to remind this man how pleased the Sorting Hat was to suggest sorting him in Slytherin.
“I bet it hurts, doesn’t it?” he decided to ask, and Snape’s out-of-base expression told him he expected an emotional response, not this. “Knowing that a man condemned to suffer with a curse was, is, and will always be a better man than you.”
In just a second, the triumph left Snape’s eyes, being replaced by anger and hatred.
“You know nothing about your father, or about his friends, your so-called family, or about everything they did to me! Don’t you dare—”
“Oh, please, I know everything! My parents have never hidden anything from me! I know exactly what they did, what Uncle Sirius did! I know you almost died in that stupid prank! I know Dumbledore forced you to stay silent! But don’t you dare come here and act like some kind of victim! I also know what reputation you had back in school! I know how much you loved and probably still love the Dark Arts! I know everything you and your pathetic gang of Death Eaters in the making used to do to the muggle-borns!”
“You know nothing,” Snape growled, his face purple in rage. “Your family—”
“DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK ON MY FAMILY!” Nicolás yelled. “Uncle James grew, he became a better man, a good husband, an amazing uncle, and a devoted father! Uncle Sirius grew, he became a better man, a good husband, an amazing uncle, and a devoted father himself! There’s no excuse for what they did to you or anyone else, just as there’s no excuse for what you did! Tell me! How many muggles or muggle-borns died by your hand?! Tell me! How many people suffered by your hand?!”
Snape clearly had nothing to say back, only rage and hate gleaming through the darkness of his black eyes.
“Tell me, what were you doing at that time, because I’ll tell you. While they grew and changed for the better, you went after Voldemort! You joined his ranks, you let him brand you like a piece of cattle! I bet you still hold all of those prejudiced beliefs close to your heart, I bet the only reason you don’t go around calling Hermione or any of the muggle-borns Mudbloods is because Dumbledore forbade you!
“And even now, more than a decade after, you’re still the same bitter, pathetic, miserable, meager teenager you were! You go around, in your old age, getting off by bullying children who are half your age! You haven’t changed a little bit, and you probably will never, so don’t you dare try and come at me or my family when you have nothing to speak!”
Snape’s breathing was just as stertorous as Nicolás’, even if he hadn’t uttered a word, and Nicolás was tired of screaming.
“The only reason you’re standing here, and not in Azkaban, is because Dumbledore was desperate for a pet spy, and you better keep that in mind.”
And without another word, Nicolás walked out of the office, tired and completely drained of fighting will. Against his body’s wish of walking back to his room and crawling in bed with Cedric, Nicolás walked towards the Hospital Wing, where Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Caelum were.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
As midnight passed, the cold breeze reigned outside, howling in the ears of those outdoors, but inside the Hospital Wing, the only thing to be felt was heat, and not the comforting warmth, but a suffocating one.
Hours before, after fighting off hundreds of Ministry’s Dementors, María and Carolina had levitated Harry, Hermione, and Sirius, who were unconscious, back to this room, only to find Caelum, an injured Ron, and an equally unconscious Snape already there.
After Sirius had woken up, screaming for Nicolás and Remus, Aurors took him to Flitwick’s office, where he awaited the Dementor's Kiss to be performed, leaving a distraught Harry screaming for him, with Carolina trying to calm him down as María unleashed her fury on Fudge.
The Kiss was unquestionable before Nicolás had arrived and delivered Pettigrew to the Minister's feet. A fire in María’s chest, seemingly dormant, had woken up with the power of a Swedish Short-Snout’s blue fire breath.
The pathetic rat-man had been brought to the Hospital Wing, for the bones in both his legs were shattered. And, in between whines, cries, pleadings, and whimpers, Pettigrew confessed everything, leaving a pale-faced Fudge.
And never in their lives, had the Cardona twins felt so grim and sour about being right. For years they had gotten a weird vibe from Peter — going to the extreme of questioning the other Marauders about him —, but they could never have imagined what he did.
To be Voldemort's spy was one thing, to give him the information that facilitated the death of multiple of their school friends was another, but to hand down Voldemort not only the life of one of his so-called best friends, his wife, and their one-year-old toddler, was just unnamable. And neither of the twins had ever felt as much hate, loath, and abhor towards a single person, except for Voldemort.
All the children in the room were pale as a paper, even if they probably knew. From the twinkling gleam in Dumbledore's eyes, Carolina deduced the goddamned old man had his suspicions and McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey challenged the palest parchment, not being able to conceive that one of their old students had done such a thing.
“There will be a trial tomorrow—”
“A trial?! I don’t think so, Minister!” yelled María. “My husband got sent straight to Azkaban without as much as a trial! Which is the slightest of what he deserved! And now that you have the real culprit who just confessed, now you want to have a trial?!”
“You need to be reasonable—” argued Fudge, paler by the second.
“Reasonable?! I’m being more than reasonable, Minister, more than you deserve!” María argued back. Carolina stood from Harry’s side, coming to her twin’s side, her voice was hard and steely, as she swallowed her pain.
“We expect the first page of tomorrow's morning Prophet to be a long telling of Sirius' absolution of all charges and the truth rectified, Minister. This is your only chance to make yourself and your cabinet be seen as slightly competent, for I assure you, we will be sending our own version of the events to be published at once if you fail to deliver.”
At this time, in the face of defending her family, none of the sisters could care they were speaking to their boss.
Carolina couldn't care that she was the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, as much as María didn’t care that she was a Hit Witch, or that Fudge had been coercing her into accepting the post as head of the Auror Office.
“Mrs. Cardona,” said Dumbledore as if he had anything useful to say, as if he hadn't already done enough damage to their family. “I believe we all need to be patient—”
“I can't possibly find it in myself to care any less about what you believe, Albus,” María interrupted him, almost growling. “You all should be grateful we’re not contacting the International Confederation of Wizards! You deserve no less!”
Carolina saw how, in complete silence, her son entered the Hospital Wing, and with a nod, walked straight to the bed where Harry, Hermione, and Ron were, watching the whole display. Long ago Caelum had silently left to find where Sirius was being held.
“Enough!” exclaimed Fudge, his cheeks red and his forehead shining with sweat. “I am the Minister; I won’t be talked to like that!”
“Oh, please, Cornelius,” said Carolina condescendingly, with an eye roll and a dramatic exhale. “We all know the only reason you were elected as Minister was because my father didn’t want to take the post, don’t try to act all-mighty with me.”
“I’m sure this can be resolved without extreme measures and with reasonable demands,” said Dumbledore in his annoyingly calm voice, as if he wasn’t talking about the life of an innocent man.
“No, Albus,” Carolina chimed, “don’t forget this is not the first time you've crossed my family. I will not allow you to put a single other person in jeopardy for your chess games.”
“I have my own reasonings for such actions,” Dumbledore justified himself. María’s eyes sharpened in his.
“And I don’t give two shits about your reasonings, Albus!” María yelled. “How dare you? How dare you come and face me after you sent my husband straight to a living hell just for your own reasoning?!”
“Mrs. Cardona, I assure you—”
“You thought I wouldn’t remember, didn't you? What a shame for you, because I just did,” said María, and that was enough to plunge Dumbledore into a deadly silence. “You were there. I remember James saying you were to go and perform the Fidelius Charm, Albus. You were there, and you knew Peter was the Secret Keeper, and still, you pressured for Sirius to be sent to Azkaban when he served you no more purpose.”
“María, if you let me—”
“How could you?” María said in a whisper, for the first time letting her hurt be shown. “How could you do that to Sirius? To the man who was always loyal to you from the very beginning — the man who dedicated his years to serve your Order — the man who put his life on the line for you — the man who left his newborn at home each time you called! I will never forget this, Albus. I will never forget how you, unfairly, sent my husband to prison, while Severus, who served as a proud Death Eater for so many years — doing only God knows what atrocities — you rewarded by making him a professor at your school. And I will never forgive you for that.”
As Dumbledore opened his mouth, Carolina cut him off with all the rudeness in the world.
“And that’s not even when you stopped, how dare you take Harry from us? How dare you put him in an abusive place just for your so-called reasonings.”
“Harry is where he needs to be—”
“Well, the joke's on you, because Harry is with me! With my family! His family! And you will no longer have an ounce of control over him!”
“You don’t understand. This was for his protection—”
“Harry is protected! And our family will keep him protected! I better not get wind of you trying to do sneaky things like you like to do, Albus. According to the law, muggle and magical, Harry is my son now,” Carolina declared, catching everyone’s attention. Dumbledore looked absolutely beyond himself, and Carolina smiled at his rage. “If I as much as hear a whisper of you stepping out of line, rest assured, that my family won’t wait more than a week to get Harry a place to attend Castelobruxo.”
“I think the two of you should leave; the hurt patients require tranquility to rest and recover. And I hope I’ll be reading your profound apologies on the Prophet tomorrow with Sirius in Colombia, Minister,” María spat, walking out of the Hospital Wing without waiting for a single response. Her destiny: Flitwick’s office on the seventh floor.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
Sixteen years ever since she walked down the school halls — with a destination that wasn't the headmaster's office —, and they were still branded in her brain. Walking through their snaking corners and turns was easy, and not even the darkness of the night could mislead her.
It was surprising that she hadn't encountered a single Dementor on the way, not in the hallways and not flying and hovering around the windows.
Once she reached Flitwick's office the reason was clear. Standing in front of the door was an imposing lion — the perfect copy of Nicolás' Animagus form — made of silver light. Caelum's Patronus. His own Sunstripe.
Approaching the door, as the lion merely nodded to her, she realized the door was slightly ajar, and two voices came from inside.
“I still can’t believe Nicolás is an Animagus! And he turns into a bloody lion!” Sirius screamed in a whisper. “And he’s a Hufflepuff! It’s bloody brilliant! Man, Prongs would be so proud… and you?”
As she peeked inside, she saw something that, ever since Sirius was sent to Azkaban, she had only encountered in her wildest dreams. Her son, a maturing teenager, talking with his father, her husband.
Caelum scratched the back of his head with a tentative smile. “I’m not one yet, Nicolás promised to force me to do the process this summer, though, he’ll probably drag Cedric too, maybe even Harry.”
“And who’s this Cedric?”
“Nicolás’ boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?! He’s too young to have a boyfriend!” Sirius said alarmed.
“Love,” María decided to make herself known. “We started dating back in our fifth year too,” she said with a wide smile.
“Mari,” responded Sirius, standing up.
And to her, there was something so beautiful in the smallest and most genuine gestures, in the way Sirius expressed his love when he wasn't being flamboyant. The effort Sirius always put into pronouncing her name in Spanish, rather than simply letting his English accent take over it never failed to bring warm to blossom in her chest.
“I bring good news,” she declared, walking to embrace her husband, looking into his eyes, her favorite pools of melted mercury. “You’re free,” she said in a strained voice, gulping and doing her best not to cry on the spot.
“W-what?” Sirius asked, leaning into her warmth. “F-free?”
“Fudge dropped the charges?” Caelum asked, walking up to them, his eyes watering.
“Either he does that, or we publish the truth in the Prophet in our own not very amicable way. I think they know what’s best for his useless cabinet,” said María, leaning into the warmth of her husband, and bringing her son into an embrace. “Nicolás brought Pettigrew, and the rat confessed, there’s not much he can do by now.”
“I don’t — I never thought — what — what are we supposed to do? — what am I supposed to do?” Sirius stammered, his voice breaking at some ends as his cheeks got wet.
“You come home,” María whispered like the response to a prayer howled at the sky, cupping one of Sirius’ cheeks, her thumb rubbing his wet cheek. “You come home with me. With us.”
“Let’s go home, then,” he whispered back, leaning down to capture her lips.
“Ugh, please, not with the children around,” Caelum whined before picking up their words. “Wait, we go now?”
“No, not you, young man, the term hasn’t come to an end for you,” María said with a raised brow, back to her no-nonsense mother mode.
“But — but — we already sat our O.W.L.s!” Caelum whined. “Please let me come with you,” he pleaded, looking at his parents with big puppy eyes.
Sirius chuckled, leaning to kiss the side of his son’s head, nuzzling his nose there, and taking in his scent, a scent that had been his constant companion in dark nights and horrible nightmares. A scent he had dreamt of for so many years, but that now was here again, like the calm after the hurricane is gone, just like the day he was born.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
Once the sunrise made its presence known, with the first rays of sunlight parting ways through the cloud in the sky, Carolina decided it was time to go collect her husband.
Nicolás, as the staunch son he was, had overly protested against her rejection of his presence. The thing is, Nicolás is the kind of boy with a heart far too big for his still-growing chest, he has a loyalty that burns as deep as the lava of a volcano, always steady in its existence and never wavering when it comes to protecting or helping his family.
Carolina simply knew how much her husband and their son are alike, even though they are as different as day and night.
Remus grew up in a precarious situation with his father and the curse placed on him. Nicolás grew up surrounded by nothing but love and support from everyone.
Remus held so much love within him back when he was younger, but he was so afraid of showing it, so afraid of the self-imposed rejection he would face. Nicolás too held too much love in his heart, never afraid of showing it to anyone and everyone, from the smallest to the biggest creatures in the reserve, and each person he homed in his heart.
But if there was something the two of them did, was secluding on themselves when things went astray.
Back in school, so many times Remus tried to cut things. After each full moon, with even his hair hurting, came the tempestuous questions filled with nothing but self-loathing, the heart-wrenching begging for her to leave him, to find someone far more deserving of her, as if her heart would ever listen to any of that. As if there was anything in the world that could ever take her away from her Moony.
Nicolás, Carolina considered, didn't suffer from self-loathing. Throughout his childhood, he only showed signs of quick rises in anxiety, for which she taught him breathing and calming techniques. Each time he was worried, or sad, or angry, Nicolás would walk out of the cottage, he would go to the lakeside, sit on a bench and just exist for hours, or take tours by the reserve and spend time with the creatures, away from other humans.
So yeah, Carolina knew her boys very well, and if there was something clear for her, it was that Remus was blaming himself, kicking himself with as much self-loathing as he could. And she knew she needed to go to him quickly.
She knew that all it took for over twenty years of work and self-improvement to crumble to dust was an accident. One that had been handed to them last night.
She knew it herself, and she knew that Remus knew it in his rational mind — even if his subconscious refused — that Nicolás didn't possess a single mean bone in his body; or at the very least, that he would never use it against his family, least of all his father. He was as devoted to his father as a son can be, and he would never, not even in his angriest state, blame his father for anything that happened in his Werewolf form; not when he put himself in there constantly.
She was a mother, of course she was worried sick when Nicolás arrived last night hurt and bleeding, but she also knew just how capable her son was at handling any kind of wound, and he was healed as good as new an hour later. Thank the heavens above the Werewolf wound came when he was in his Animagus form.
She could only imagine how much Remus was suffering alone with only his treacherous thoughts. Only she knew just how much self-deprecation her husband carried ever since he was bitten, barely four at the time. She had been the happiest to help him carry on through their Hogwarts years, and Nicolás being born had done Remus so much good to help him take distance from his self-perception of being an unlovable monster.
The human psyche was probably meant to forever be a mystery beyond human understanding. No matter how much her conscious thoughts knew that her son was back at Hogwarts just fine, she couldn’t help to feel guilty herself. Perhaps, had she been there, the whole thing could’ve been different.
But she hadn't, and there was nothing to be done about that now. There was no use in sulking and moping over the past. Especially when her husband, aching from tiptoe to hair-tip, was probably lying in the forest ground after his body broke once more to transform him back to a human; all alone with his thoughts and his venomous mind.
She had left Nicolás with the sleeping others. As she crossed the entrance of the castle, she saw Ember sleeping on one side, probably waiting for Nicolás to come out.
It didn’t take her longer than ten minutes to enter the Forbidden Forest, from then, it was easy. She fell on fours as Hunter, the black panther. The smell of blood hit the feline’s olfactory system, and her legs took her there in minutes.
In a small space there was a cracked tree — probably from some kind of impact —, at its bottom a pool of drying blood, and in front of it was a tree with a severed large branch. From there, Remus’ scent moved to the east, passed the Whomping Willow — where the pieces of Remus' torn clothes were —, and down the tunnel towards the Shrieking Shack.
Once she transformed back to human, she opened the door, and the sight was enough to break her heart. The room, even in the morning, was dimly lit, and the air was suffocating.
In the farthest wall lay Remus, completely naked. He sat hunched on the cold, unforgiving floor, one of his sides pressed against the wall. His knees were drawn up to his chest, and he hid his head in his arms. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, and his once steady breaths — the ones that calmed her restless nights — now come in ragged gasps, each inhale carrying the weight of what happened last night.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
Hate. Shame. Regret. Disgust. Despair. Guilt. Helplessness. Loathe.
Those were all the emotions that flooded over his body, as if all the oceans of the planet cascaded inside of him.
Which one was stronger? Take your pick, the answer will be the same. All of them, all at the same time.
He hurt his cub, his son, his blood.
The one who was born sixteen years ago; the one who showed him that perhaps he wasn’t the monster he grew up to believe he was; the one who filled his days with nothing but loving smiles, warm hugs, comforting devotion, and soothing presence.
Because in the most loving rampage, his son came to tear to shreds all the strongest beliefs a once young Remus held to. He came to show him for the first time — or, perhaps, the second time, after his wife —, the purest shape love could take, the most selfless devotion, and sheer admiration.
Because to Nicolás, having a Werewolf father, was nothing different from having an Auror father, or a teacher one, or so on.
From a very young age, Nicolás understood the dangers his father represented, but he never cowered from him. After each full moon, after enduring the pain of having each and every bone in his body break and reshape two times, he would have a morning of having his baby with him, sharing all the warmth his small body could produce and all his unconditional love to soothe the pains his body could barely contain and process.
And now he was sixteen, and it was just the same, because Nicolás never changed, he only grew in size; his love, apparently, growing up with him.
And now, Remus hurt him. And he was condemned to have that memory ingrained in his brain, like a tattoo that instead of ink used Tetrodotoxin. And amongst the pain in his body, Remus could feel how his respiratory tract contracted, making it almost impossible for him to breathe, and the muscles in his body seemed to have gone numb long ago.
He could still remember how furious Moony had been after he transformed, how much he wanted to fight and follow that delicious human scent. And that lion stopped him, and in his rage, Moony forgot that it was his cub, and he hurt him.
He could still remember the feeling of his sharp claws piercing Sunstripe's side, before throwing him, and the moment Nicolás changed back to his human form. How the smell of his blood changed, and Moony didn’t seem to care that it was his cub’s blood he was smelling, he just wanted to bite.
It had only been thanks to Nicolás’ desperate voice, pleading him to stop, that forced enough strength to stop the beast. And even now, Remus wasn’t sure how Nicolás’ voice could make Moony stop, but it did, because Remus thanked the very heavens, or any superior power out there, that Nicolás had been smart enough to use that small breach of time to incapacitate him with a tree branch.
All of this over one lost potion dose.
Because Remus didn’t know what he would’ve done if he had done any irreparable damage to his son.
He would've never forgiven himself if he had condemned his son to live with the same curse as him. He would rather die than even think of that possibility.
He heard the door crack open, and it was like a cold bucket of water falling on him, washing him in new waves.
Hate. Shame. Regret. Disgust. Despair. Guilt. Helplessness. Loathe.
How was he supposed to face his wife after what he did to their son — their light —, just last night?
He didn’t find anything within himself. Nothing but muttering, time after time, like a mantra, like a plea to a mystical force, “I’m sorry.”
He pressed his face harder against his arms, “I’m sorry.”
His fingers gripped his brown hair in desperation, “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t even care that he was naked. “I’m sorry.”
To this day, it still surprised him how much Carolina endured with him. From granting him her soothing presence in their earliest years on Hogwarts, until recognizing his condition, and not flinching away from him, to becoming an Animagus alongside their friends, just for him. For loving him, for giving him the gift of fatherhood, for marrying him.
All of that, only to culminate in the present; here in the Shrieking Shack, amongst nothing but dust, devastation, and desolation.
In him hurting their child.
But that was it, wasn’t it? This was the moment he shall be stripped of what he never deserved; everything that should've never been his.
He didn’t know if he was going to be able to live once he was blasted from the family, but he couldn’t judge them. He, for sure, would never forgive anyone hurting his child, but to do it himself? He would never forgive himself, and so he wasn’t expecting anyone’s forgiveness, he didn't deserve it.
“Oh, Remus,” he heard the woman he loves the most say.
What he didn’t expect, was for her to drop to her knees at his side, wrapping her warm and comforting arms around his, her delicate and soft hands rubbing his bare and cold arms and back. She leaned, soothingly whispering in his temple, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” just like he had begged for forgiveness; like a mantra.
“I’m so sorry,” he croaked.
“It’s okay, Love,” she whispered against his temple once more.
“No, it is not!” he cried, desperate. “It’s not okay. I’m not okay. I hurt him, I hurt my baby!”
Feeling as the drops fell from her eyes, he also felt how the grip of her embrace never abated.
“I — I,” he tried to speak, but it was hard when his vocal cords had been producing nothing but sobs for what felt like an eternity. “I will understand if you want me to leave,” he finally got out.
And he felt the shift in her, because the grip that once produced an attempted sooth, now held to him in what he interpreted as rage. And, oh, boy, he fucked it, didn’t he? Nobody wanted to be under Carolina’s wrath.
“Remus John Lupin,” she said, and not even the thought of the beast in him caused as many shivers to run down his spine. “You will shut your mouth, and you will listen to me. And you will listen attentively, because I won’t repeat myself, do you hear me?”
Looking at her, wide-eyed, Remus only was able to weakly nod. Oh, boy, she seemed furious. But something in him told him it was not because of last night, which only confused him more. His wife extended her arm, handing him clothes he didn’t notice she carried.
He stood up, and quietly dressed. More than one time he had to bite his lips to stop his mouth from moving and uttering endless apologies. Something in him knew that would only anger her more.
“Caro—”
“Listen,” she cut him.
“But Nico—”
“He’s fine,” she insisted, and Remus felt like he was finally allowed to breathe. “Oh, please, don’t tell me you believed scratches would stop the boy you and I raised?” she challenged, and Remus didn’t know how to counter-argue that. “He cast a few healing charms before coming back with Pettigrew and used Essence of Dittany to heal the wounds, Remus. He’s perfectly fine, not even scarring left behind. I swear it.”
And he stopped for a few seconds to think. In his waves of self-hatred, he had forgotten about Pettigrew and his escape. Well, if Nicolás came back with him, then maybe things with Sirius were cleared up.
He was still unable to meet her eyes, his sight fixed on the dusty, old, and tormented floor of the Shrieking Shack.
“I’m a monster,” he whispered, clenching his aching fists.
“No, you’re not,” said Carolina. Not a single ounce of doubt or qualm in her voice. “You are forced to turn into one, but not you, Remus, you weren’t, you aren’t, and you will never be a monster.”
“Yes, I am! I am a monster. A bloodthirsty monster who was willing to gut his own son last night! How — how can I ever trust myself around Nicolás after what I did?” he asked, in desperate need of an answer. “I’m a monster — I’m a monster.”
But his voice came to a halt once he raised his eyes at the sound of the door moving. His eyes locked in his son’s, and he felt the bile rise up his throat, because Nicolás’ eyes were glossy, and instead of the contempt and disownment he expected, his son was looking at him with the same understanding love and the same worry he had after each full moon. Not worry for himself — not even after his monstrous father hurt him just last night —, but worry for him, for Remus, for how much he suffered after each full moon.
“Nico,” Remus whispered, taking in the sight of his healthy son.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
Nicolás woke up when he felt the weight beside him — his mother —, lift. It took him minutes to finally come to his sleepy senses.
He was in the Hospital Wing after what was part of the top three most chaotic nights of his bloody life; up there at the top, next to the night he fought Voldemort’s young self, and the night he and Caelum went to steal one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes and came back with Regulus Black’s not-so-dead body.
He stayed, at most, fifteen minutes after his mother left, ordering him to stay. He spoke shortly with Madam Pomfrey, making sure that Harry and Hermione had received chocolate after their large exposure to Dementors, and to check Ron’s leg injury.
With the reassurance that all of them were doing fine, he walked with quick steps out of the castle, finding Ember resting by the entrance. Thankfully, at this ungodly hour, there was nobody in his path — the Minister and his Aurors had left with their damned Dementors —, and so, he made his way into the Forbidden Forest.
He froze the Whomping Willow, before making his way down the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack.
During the twenty minutes said journey took him, Nicolás thought about all the possible discussions he was going to have with his father. Because, yes, he didn’t hold any kind of resentment for the wound of the night before, but he knew his father would. His father already hated himself enough as it was, this was only gasoline to a flame that had been subdued for years.
Every logical argument, explanation, and reassurance died in his brain as, standing behind the door, he heard his father’s desperate voice, as he seemed to be arguing with his mom.
“Yes, I am! I am a monster. A bloodthirsty monster who was willing to gut his own son last night! How — how can I ever trust myself around Nicolás after what I did?” he asked, in desperate need of an answer. “I’m a monster — I’m a monster.”
Hearing those words leaving his father’s mouth hurt more than any poisonous and bitter insult that had ever left Snivellus’ mouth. It hurt just as much as drinking the Drink of Despair from the Horcrux cave.
His father’s voice died out when their eyes locked in one another's.
“Nico,” Remus whispered, as if finally able to breathe at the sight of his son being alive.
But Nicolás didn’t wait to see if his father could utter any other word. In just two seconds, his not-so-long legs helped him cross the room, throwing his arms around his father’s neck, ignoring how he needed to stand on his tippy-toes to reach and hide his face on his neck.
“It’s okay,” the boy whispered.
“No, it’s not,” his father croaked, “I hurt you.”
“And I hurt myself all the time,” Nicolás said, taking a step back. “It’s really nothing,” he added, raising his shirt to show the perfectly pristine tanned skin of his abdomen and sides. “Nothing a few drops of Dittany couldn’t heal,” he shrugged.
His father seemed to take in the sight of his skin, probably expecting some kind of scarring screaming back to him that he was a monster; waiting and fearing for a physical reminder of his condemnation. But no matter how much his eyes burned each inch of skin, he found nothing, and Nicolás saw him breathe out in profound relief.
“I’m still a—”
Nicolás shot a finger to his father’s lips, stopping him, frowning. “For your own good, I suggest you not to finish that sentence. I don’t take kindly on people bad-mouthing my father.”
Remus’ eyes watered. “I really don’t deserve you, either of you,” he said with a watery chuckle, his eyes moving from his son to his wife.
“I think that’s up to us to decide,” Nicolás said, before pressing his face into his father’s warm chest.
A second later, his mother’s warmth was on his back, and another pair of arms wrapped around them, all their warmth combined.
And Remus leaned down, deeply inhaling into his son’s hair, taking in his scent, and relishing in the knowledge that he was perfectly fine. He was fine, and that would have to suffice for now.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
Three hours later, after convincing his father to simply wait the last week of term as a teacher, Nicolás walked into his empty dorm, finding a letter from Caelum.
Dear Nico,
I don’t know if I’ll be able to say it when we see each other, but you know that I mean it. I can’t, and never possibly will, be able to thank you enough for what happened last night. I have my father back, because of the pain you endured, and I’m ashamed to recognize I didn’t do much to help.
If you know something about me, is that I don’t wail on the past. By the moment you read this, I’ll be already gone (sorry for not finishing the term with you).
Mom and I will take Dad back to Colombia, she wants to have him as far away from the UK as she can, at least for now—says it'll do him good to be away. He’ll have to spend at least two weeks in the Hospital del Sagrado Corazón, but hey! You all will be able to visit after the term ends.
With all my love, my Dad’s, and my Mom’s,
Caelum Cardona-Black
P.S. I took the liberty of snatching some of the healing potions from your trunk for Dad!
With a contented sigh, Nicolás walked into the bathroom to shower, before walking down, with just enough time to have a tranquil twenty-minute breakfast in the Great Hall.
Entering the room, the first thing that welcomed him was the loud chatter of what was safe to assume was every single person in the Great Hall. Upon his entrance, many of them fell silent, and Nicolás swore he saw many of them pointing at him with their fingers.
Blocking the sight of them, and ignoring the incessant noise, he walked towards his usual spot in the Hufflepuff table, in between Cedric and Alec.
But before he reached it, he was engulfed by two thick arms and brought straight into a hard chest.
“Merlin, I was so worried when you never came back last night,” Cedric sighed against his hair.
Leaning his face against his favorite neck, Nicolás sighed, feeling guilty for worrying his boyfriend.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t plan for any of that to happen. I usually don’t plan for these things to happen, but they always do,” he mumbled against Cedric's neck with a shrug.
Cedric gave a deep chuckle, before taking his hand and bringing him to his seat — a bit closer and he would've sat Nicolás on his lap. He started to fill Nicolás’ plate as if he was preparing him for a famine.
“Mate,” Alex exhaled, “You’re famous,” he added, handing Nicolás a copy of morning The Daily Prophet.
‘SIRIUS BLACK DECLARED INNOCENT OF ALL CHARGES’ read the gigantic title. ‘Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, makes official statement to declare Black’s innocence. Read below for further information,’ read the subtitle.
In the most bizarre plot twist known in recent history, Sirius Black, most notably known as the first person to ever escape from Azkaban Prison, where he was previously imprisoned for the death of one Petter Pettigrew, as well as twelve muggles—while being in service of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—, is declared innocent of his crimes, as Peter Pettigrew reappears.
Pettigrew was held in a confessionary, and while under Veritaserum, confessed all his crimes. From being an illegally unregistered Animagus since his teen years, to being the Potter family Secret Keeper.
On the night of Halloween Eve, year 1981, after he betrayed his former friends, handing them to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Pettigrew baited Black into a street in muggle London, where he cast the explosive curse that killed twelve muggles, framing Black for the crime, as well with his own feigned death.
Just last night, Pettigrew made his reappearance, at Hogwarts of all places — how good are the defenses of our precious school, if not only Black, who was an escaped top-security prisoner of Azkaban at the moment, infiltrated it, but also Pettigrew slept in its grounds for years? —, there, in between a fuss with some students —reportedly, with the intention of kidnapping Harry Potter, The Boy Who Live —, Pettigrew was captured by one fifth-year student, Nicolás Cardona-Lupin, nephew of Sirius Black himself, and son of the current Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, Remus Lupin, as well as the current head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Carolina Cardona.
We have been unable to approach María Cardona, famed Hit Witch and Black’s wife, nor Caelum Cardona-Black, son of Black, but our insiders confidently revealed to us that the Cardona-Black family had retreated to Colombia, the home country of the Cardona family's ancestral home for Black’s recovery.
“We are working very hard to make sure that the injustices committed by the previous Minister and government are rectified,” declared Minister Fudge. “There will be a trial for Peter Pettigrew as Sirius Black recovers at home.”
Bartemius Crouch Senior, previous head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and current head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation, responsible for sending Black straight to Azkaban without a trial, refused to give a declaration.
Move to the last page to see a long and detailed recap of the Cardona family and its connection to our country.
Okay, Nicolás didn’t even need to read the article's footnotes to know Rita Skeeter had written it. As promised, the last page was a long recap of his family’s history. And Nicolás had to give kudos where they were due, and this was a pretty good investigation; which was also kind of creepy on its own.
It kicked off with his grandfather Pedro — who, back in the 1st Wizarding War had the same post as Nicolás’ mother had currently —, it spoke of his prowess when it came to potions, helping develop the Wolfsbane Potion, which earned him, along the rest of his accomplishments, an Order of Merlin, first class.
It moved to his grandmother Angela, naming some of her published books on herbology, magical creature care, and potion-making — most of which are used to teach in Castelobruxo.
Next, it went through his mother and his aunt, his father, and his uncle, and finally, it moved to Caelum and Nicolás himself — thankfully, having grown up in Colombia, there wasn’t much to say about the cousins —, and with that, the morning edition of The Daily Prophet ended.
The last two weeks of the term passed quickly. Nicolás threat on Snape worked, as not even a whisper about his father’s conditions passed down any of the corridors — not that it made much difference, considering Remus had words with Dumbledore to resign by the end of the term.
Every day, the front page of The Daily Prophet would be related to Sirius’ case, Pettigrew’s trial — where he was found guilty and sentenced to a life in Azkaban —, and, in general, Nicolás’ family.
Nicolás had to dodge questions like a soldier dodging land mines on the battlefield, afraid to let anything slip. An interesting note was that Nicolás discovered that he was right, Hermione was really using a Time-Turner to attend all of her classes — which was an absurd use for such kind of magic if you ask him.
And in the blink of an eye, Nicolás found himself, once again, in the Hogwarts Express, this time however, sharing his compartment with his father, Cedric, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ember was slumbering while Nicolás rubbed his socked feet over his back.
Cedric’s arm never stopped being wrapped around Nicolás waist, just like Remus never stopped sleeping throughout the entire trip. At one point, an unknown owl arrived at their window.
It was a grey owl, and rather small for all the things it was carrying. It was carrying a small package and two letters. Harry, closest to it, quickly opened the window for the small bird to enter.
The owl dropped one letter on Nicolás' lap, the other one on Harry's, and the package on Hermione's, before taking a place to rest on Nicolás’ shoulder. The small bird ruffled his feathers, before leaning against Nicolás' neck for some warmth.
“It’s from Sirius!” Harry exclaimed, before reading out loud.
Dear Harry,
You probably already know this from the Daily Prophet, but at the moment I'm residing in a hospital in Colombia.
Mari and Cae told me you have already come to Colombia! Which is great, I'm very glad you haven't lost the chance to meet this beautiful country (save for the awful heat). I'm also most glad that, in my absence, the family has been taking care of you.
There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt — Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays’ worth of presents from your godfather.
I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you and your friends during our first official meeting.
Don't you dare think you're off the hook from me, huh? I hope to see you visiting me soon! I was told you and the family are coming in a few days! I can't wait to speak with you.
The package is a bit of compensation for your friend Hermione, for all the trouble her dear cat caused in my name.
With love,
Sirius
P.S. I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it’s Nicolás' fault (in my name, I might add) that he no longer has a rat.
Well, he wasn’t wrong. Good riddance, that damned rat was now in Azkaban. Hermione didn’t want to tell them what she had received, but if Nicolás had to guess, based on the squeal she let out, it was probably something school-related.
Nicolás opened his letter but chose not to read it out loud.
My Dearest Nico,
I feel like it has been an eternity since the last time I wrote that, and I missed it.
I can’t, and possibly will never be able to thank you enough for everything you’ve done, and least of all repay you for it, even if I know you’d rather hit me in the head with a broomstick than accept any repayment.
Now that I’m recuperating, I will be expecting you to faithfully and devotedly visit your favorite uncle, yes?
I wanted to apologize for putting you on the spotlight there in the Daily Prophet’s article, but your aunt and I decided it was only fair, after all you endured that night.
Anyway, have a nice trip and come visit me soon! Also, I know our Moony, please do try and get into the thick head of that father of yours so he doesn’t blame himself to death, will you?
With love,
Sirius
P.S. I was told there was something important you needed to tell me, so, I’m eager to hear it!
Well, now considering it, it only made sense that Uncle Sirius and Aunt María had had their own input in the article Rita Skitter wrote.
With a gigantic smile on his face, Nicolás reclined back into his boyfriend’s shoulder, resting his face against the warmth of Cedric’s neck, a steady hand massaging his scalp, and the security of a strong thick arm around him.
The rest of the trip passed in a blur, with them getting off in silence. Nicolas found himself at peace.
There was no encounter with Voldemort during the school year, nor anything really related to him, except for Pettigrew. But that was solved now, and they had effectively stopped the servant from going back to his master.
But even so, there were parts of Trelawney’s prophecy that still rang in his mind.
It was basically prophesied that Voldemort would find a way to come back, stronger and mightier than ever, but it was up to them to show him not to mess with a lion’s pride.
But that was probably going to be trouble in the days of their future selves. For now, he knew they could rest before the storm brewed upon them.
There was the matter of Uncle Sirius recuperating, before attempting to convince him to go forward with the Breakout Ritual to unlock Regulus’ crystallized body. And Cedric had already promised to come home to do the Animagus transformation with Caelum, both of whom had the Mandrake leaves under their tongues.
After getting off at King’s Cross, Nicolás walked with Cedric towards the latter’s parents, just letting them know what Cedric would be up to in the next weeks of summer. Neither of them seemed uncomfortable with the boys’ proximity and inability to not touch each other.
After a long kiss — and Nicolás' best efforts to ignore the bitterness of the Mandrake in Cedric's mouth — and leaving a very red-faced Cedric with his chuckling parents, Nicolás walked to his mother, who was waiting with his father and Harry to leave.
In a quick succession, they Apparated home, to gather their things and take a Portkey to the Reserve in Colombia.
⋆｡°✩°｡⋆
Author's note
people, I can't believe it but TODAY IS THE EXCHANGE STUDENT'S FIRST BIRTHDAY!!!
I started this book as a way to representation; as a Latino, I wanted to be able to actually see myself inside this universe, I wanted to show a bit of my country's beautiful heritage and customs, and I think I've been able to do so (or, at least, I like to think so), anyway, it's been an incredible journey of self-discovery and improvement; I think my writing has improved so so much over the last couple of months (reason why I decided to rewrite it) and I'm so happy with the direction it has now taken and the one I'm working very hard to follow!!!
I probably sound like a broken record but I really appreciate each and every single one of you guys who take the time to read this work, and even more, those who take the time to vote and write comments.
It's been an incredible journey, from crafting the characters, to actually crafting the story and the plot and all the changes I have done and plan to make. It's not been an easy one, especially when English is not my first language, but one that I have enjoyed greatly, one that has proven to me that the internet may not be as horrible a place as I had thought.
I want to take a moment and especially thank my two favorite people on the internet @wheremyarmorends and @yllwjckts with whom I will forever be grateful. Thank you guys for your kind words and the incredible support you have given me and my work; thank you for loving The Exchange Student and its characters as much as I do <33
This was a highly emotionally charged chapter, and I really hope you guys enjoyed it!!! As always, comments, votes, and reads are more than welcome!!!
- 𝐣.𝐟. 𝐜. 🐼💜