The Train - Remus
I’m about to lose my shit. It’s not that it’s my first time on public transportation, obviously not. I travel everywhere via trains and buses, it’s not that - it’s just that the train was wobbly and shaky and the manic first years were screaming in excitement down the narrow corridor of the vehicle, and it made me horribly queasy.
It was August 31st. A mere week after a terrible full moon, which I hadn’t quite recovered from yet. Every noise, every drop of a pin, made me feel the moon in my sore bones. The small compartment, which was empty (for now) held the achingly sweet smell of treats and delicacies, lingering still from the haste visit of the nice candy-cart lady. I declined her offer, knowing I haven’t a pound - or gallon - on my person, and frowned at my suddenly growling stomach.
Outside the compartment, another first year squealed in fear-joy-expectation, and the sound felt like an icepick in my frontal lobe. I wanted to kill the bastards! And, look, of course I knew I shouldn’t take my frustration out on a bunch of 11 year olds. They were, without a doubt, not to blame for my sorrows. Moving schools is hard enough, let alone in the fifth year. How am I supposed to get around the biggest magical school in the whole wide world? Especially as a previously-homeschooled kid! Surely everyone will laugh at me. “Look at Remus! Look at his scars, c’mon, stare! And what sort of name is fucking Remus?” I desperately wanted to change my looks completely. Shrink my limbs, make them shorter - easier to blend in that way. Grab some sandpaper and scrub away my scars until my skin is red and bloody but smooth. Maybe straighten my hair while I’m at it, hide those curls away (“look at this bird nest! Reckon he ever brushes that bloody mess?”) In short, I wanted to be unnoticeable. Hide in plain sight! What a delight would that be?
I fiddled with my trousers’ hem. They were too short for my legs, and my ankles were bare. That’s embarrassing, I thought. “Everybody gather round! Look at this loser’s fucking ankles.”
I’m probably overthinking this, aren’t I? I bet I am. Outside the compartment, two students were having a conversation. A nice and pleasant one, thank god! A tad less pleasantly, they were approaching the door.
“You see? I told you there’s an empty one! There’s ought to be - oh. Hello.”
She had big eyes. That’s the first thing I noticed. Big, round, doe-like eyes, staring right at me in surprise. Her hair, kept in neat and tight braids, was shining platinum around her face. She was wearing a blue tie, which I was 99.9% sure means she’s part of the Smart People House. She actually looked rather nice, I decided. The boy next to her, though…
“See, Pandora? No empty ones. That’s what you get for being late to the platform.” The girl - Pandora - was a tad taller than the boy was. His accent was posh. Extremely posh, if I’m being honest, and his words twisted with such elegance I wanted to cry. He was wearing a green tie, which I was sure meant he’s a part of the Snake House. Fuck if I remember the actual names, though. They’re ridiculous.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I say. Calm and collected, Remus, calm and collected.
Pandora smiled. “That was rude of us. I apologise, really. May we sit here?”
“Sure, alright.” I moved my bags from the seat opposite to me and tucked them under my own seat. The boy entered silently, following Pandora like a shadow. She was wearing a friendly smile on her face, whereas he looked less than bothered to be polite. They both sat next to each other in front of me.
“So…” She tries to strike conversation, “we’ve never seen you around, and I doubt you’re a first year?”
I anxiously scratched my neck. Deep breath. “Yeah, um, I’m a transfer. Fifth year. My name’s Remus.”
“Pandora, as Regulus here mentioned. What an interesting name you’ve got. Remus, Remus, Remus… That’s the guy who was raised by wolves. Roman mythology, right?”
I was about to answer, to tell her she stood corrected, before Regulus (weirder name than Remus, praise the lord) interrupted us. “Where did you transfer from?” He was staring at me as if I was a criminal being investigated.
“I was homeschooled before,” I answered shortly.
“Why?”
Because I was bit by a fucking werewolf when I was a kid and now I turn into a horrifying creature every month and up until two months ago my parents wanted me to do nothing with the world outside in fear I might endanger the innocent public. Happy? I thought.
“My parents are sort of hippies. They thought they could teach me everything I needed to know, but I insisted,” I said.
“Why?”
“Living in the middle of nowhere in Northern Wales with no human interaction aside from your parents can get to you, I assume,” I raised my eyebrow at him. Is this a normal thing here? Questioning people like some sort of Socrates? I genuinely didn’t know.
“Wales. That’s where the accent’s from,” Pandora seemed content with her guess. Then, gaining clarity, she added: “Regulus, leave the poor kid alone.” Pandora’s whimsy didn’t leave her voice when she scolded her friend.
“So you’re a muggleborn?” Regulus continued, ignoring the blonde.
“Half-blood. Mum’s a muggle,” then I narrowed my eyes. “That gonna be a problem?” God, I sounded so stupid next to him. ‘Gonna’? I’m embarrassing myself. Again! Jesus christ.
“No, of course not. I just like knowing stuff. What house do you reckon you will be in?” He shifted in his seat, leaning towards me while hunching his back and resting his elbows on his thighs.
“The smart people one. With the blue tie like Pandora’s,” I teased.
“You don’t know the house names?” He said, ignoring my attempt at banter.
“No.”
“Didn’t read ‘Hogwarts: A History’?”
“No.”
“Not a reader, then?”
“Definitely a reader, actually.”
“Favourite author?”
“Gotta be either Oscar Wilde or one of the Brunte Sisters.”
“Which one of them?”
“All of them. Although I’m leaning towards Charlotte.”
“You liked Jane Eyre?”
“Definitely. You liked Villette?”
“Hadn’t read that one yet. So why hadn’t you read Hogwarts: A History?”
“I like surprises.”
“No you don’t.”
“How would you know?”
“You’re queasy. Stressed about the new start.”
“I can like something that stresses me out.”
“No, you can’t.”
“You like horror films? Books?”
“Of course I do.”
“There’s your answer, then. You can like things that make you wet your pants in fear.”
He furrowed his brows. “Touche, Remus. Maybe you will be in the Smart People House. Its Name is Ravenclaw, by the way.”
“I appreciate the compliment.”
“Never said it was. Slytherin is obviously the best house,” he flashed a cheeky smile, and all of a sudden his face didn’t seem so tired anymore. A boyish mischievousness took place instead.
“You two done with the interrogation? My eyes were jumping like ping pong balls. Bad habit, Reg,” Pandora reclaims her presence in the conversation.
“Oh, come on. I just ask what everyone is thinking. You know that.”
“I do. Poor Remus doesn’t, though. And what did you say your last name was?”
“I didn’t. It’s Lupin.” What the fuck is up with these two? What happened to chatting about the weather?
“Your father’s a ministry worker,” she announces rather than asks.
“He is. Lyall Lupin.”
“Hmm. I don’t like your father, Remus.”
“Bit strange to say that to a stranger. Why’s that?”
“He suggested that law, about werewolves. About ten years ago, if I’m not mistaken.”
…
..
My mouth went dry. Does she know? She can’t possibly know. How would she? My family hid it perfectly well, thank you very much. But then again, there is something off-putting about her. So what? That doesn’t mean she knows anything. She’s just a bit strange. That’s alright, isn’t it? To be a bit strange. Who am I to judge? I'm a werewolf! I’m spiralling. She just said she doesn’t like my father, that doesn’t mean shit. She likes werewolves, then? Can’t be right. Nobody does.
Regulus looks at me with curiosity in his eyes. Pandora was looking out the window, not even invested in the hellish conversation she started. Was it a conversation? Or was she the type of gal to just say things? I didn’t know. Regulus was right. I don’t like surprises.
The rest of the train ride was spent in polite conversation and silence.