Rage

December 22, 1971

Sirius had somehow managed to convince his parents to let him stay at the Potters’, and he was just relaxing with James and Pete, drinking hot chocolate and talking about everything. Of course, this image was quite shattered when the flames in the dying fire in the Potters’ living room turned emerald green, and two small figures, one after another, tumble onto the comfortable rug in the Potters’ sitting room.

“What the…” Fleamont Potter stood and timidly walked over to the two figures trying to untangle themselves from each other. Sirius saw two unbelievably messy brown-haired heads, and knew who the tangled people were.

“Remus! Romulus! What in Merlin's bollocks are you doing here!?” he exclaimed.

“Sirius! Language!” Euphemia Potter scolded, “Also, who are they?” 

“Heh, Remus John Lupin, yn falch o gwrdd â chi,” Remus said. Euphemia looked at him in utter bewilderment.

“Um, pardon?” she and Fleamont asked.

“He said, ‘Remus John Lupin, pleased to meet you.’” Romulus spoke up.

“That certainly helps,” Fleamont said with a laugh.

“Look,” Remus said, “I would like to get up and shake your hand, but I kind of can’t right now. I’m a frie-,” he seemed to cut himself off mid-sentence, “I, um, I know James Potter. And Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew.”

“Oh, um, are you friends?” Euphemia asked, smiling.

“Yes,” Romulus said.

“No,” Remus said at the same time. 

Sirius looked at him, slightly offended. Remus coughed, and looked around. Sirius then realised what state the two boys were in. Remus had burns on his hand and temple, and a bloody gash on his leg. There were deep slices through his arms and chest. His clothes were sticky with red blood. Romulus didn’t look quite as bad, but it was still unacceptable. There was a wound on his cheek, and deep purple bruises showed on the left side of his face, disappearing under the line of his shirt, where there were also burns and gashes.

“Erm, sorry. About him. He doesn’t really… do friends, I guess?” Romulus spoke for his brother, who looked like he was ready to collapse. Anger flared in Sirius’s chest.

“What happened!? Remus looks like he went through a paper shredder, and you look like you have been physically thrown! Was it your dad? Because if it was, I am going to beat the living shit out of him!” Sirius practically growled.

“Too late,” Remus said, “I beat you to it. Pun intended.”

Sirius felt like he was going to puke. Of course, his parents hit him sometimes, but never this bad. Remus looked in the process of dying, for fuck sakes. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Potter, for intruding, but if one of you could be of some assistance, that would be great,” Romulus said, looking as if the only thoughts he had were mental screams. Sirius wondered if he was trying with all his power not to dive back into the fireplace and kill someone.

“Y-yes, of course. I’m going to put these two in your room, okay James? You can sleep on the couch or bunk with Sirius if you like,” Fleamont spoke. Sirius had learnt that he was relatively decent at healing, so hopefully Fleamont would at least be able to keep Remus from dying.

“Of course that's fine! Just make sure they don’t die! Because even if Remus doesn’t consider us friends, I do!” James' voice was a little louder than necessary. It seemed that both the twins and Sirius winced. Sirius hated yelling, for very… personal reasons.

Fleamont helped Romulus to his feat, and conjured a stretcher. Sirius fiddled with the ring on his index finger, wondering just how Remus would react to that.

He did not react well.

Remus’s glare flicked between the stretcher and Fleamont. It was so intense that Sirius was surprised that the stretcher didn’t burst into flames. Fleamont grimaced as Remus’s intense stare landed on him.

“I can walk,” Sirius was surprised at how animalistic his voice was. It was practically a growl, his voice was low and deep in his throat. Sirius thought he detected a challenge, like Fleamont had backed him into a corner, and Remus was desperate not to show weakness in case it was detected. There was definitely no weakness seen on Remus.

“I know son, but I don’t think it wise to-”

“I. Can. Walk,” Remus cut off Fleamont, glaring furiously. Remus must really be controlling himself, because every time Sirius had seen that glare on him, something had always burst into flames. Now that he looked closer at the still conjured stretcher, there were thin columns of twisting smoke rising from it. Fleamont seemed to notice it too, and laughed nervously.

“Alright, no stretcher, but if you need help up the stairs… just ask, okay?” and Fleamont went to hold out a hand to help Remus up. Remus saw the motion, and flinched horribly. Fleamont’s eyes widened, and pulled his hand back. Sirius heard Mrs. Potter gasp quietly. 

He looked over, and saw realisation cross her features. 

Remus looked at Fleamont with wide, scared eyes. He seemed to instinctively lean towards Mrs. Potter, trusting her more than Fleamont. 

That's when realisation hit Sirius as hard as one of Remus’s punches. Both twins loved their mother with all their heart. It was their father that they hated. Euphemia and Fleamont Potter were one of the kindest people Sirius had ever met, but both twins seemed wary of him, and they both trusted Euphemia almost immediately.

“I’m just helping you up,” Fleamont spoke softly.

Fleamonts P.O.V

Fleamont looked at the bloodied boy in front of him. He used to deal with kids like Remus occasionally when he had worked at Mungo’s as a healer, but he had already demonstrated how quickly his emotions could change, and Fleamont didn’t want to stress him out more than necessary. 

“I don’t need help,” he spat venomously. It was a good mask, but he saw through it and saw the fear and mistrust underneath. Fleamont hadn’t the clue about why he seemed to trust his wife more, but suspected that it had something to do with the blood seeping into the decorative rug the boy was kneeling on. 

Fleamont couldn’t remember what his name was. When Sirius had said it, he was busy trying to comprehend that two boys, presumably brothers, had come tumbling onto the rug. Suddenly, an idea flashed into his mind.

“Okay. Euphemia, can you talk to these boys a bit while I set up James’s room? I’ll only be a bit,” he said. Maybe Euphemia would catch on and try to convince the boys that he was trustworthy.

“I know what you plannen’,” the boy who was standing said. So far, the only evidence that Fleamont could find that they weren’t polyjuice potioning into each other was their eyes. The one who was badly hurt who was still sitting on the rug had bright amber eyes, almost inhuman. Every time Fleamont had made eye contact with him, he felt goosebumps pop into existence on his skin.

The other one though, who was standing and in better shape, had dusky blue eyes.

Both of their eyes showed intelligence beyond any eleven-year-old Fleamont had ever met.

“What do you mean, son?” Fleamont asked.

“I know what you plannin’. Tryin’ to get us to soften a bit with ‘er,” he said, “an’ quit callin’ me son. I ain’t your son,” he replied.

“Rom, quit trying to sound tough. It doesn't work, you just make yourself sound dwp,” the one on the ground said.

“Shut it, Remus. Merlin, let me live in peace, will you?” Rom said. Fleamont wondered if that was his actual name or if it were a nickname.

“Remus, Romulus, Fleamont can be trusted,” Sirius spoke up. So that was his name, Romulus. It sounded familiar. “Trust me, I was a bit skittish around both of them, but they’re nice people.” Fleamont smiled inwardly when Remus seemed to be instantly calmed by Sirius. The only people in the room that caught it was himself, his wife, and Romulus.

“... fine,” Remus said slightly hesitantly, “but I swear to Merlin, if you are setting me up for death,” Remus eyes were alight, and manic. It was scary. Especially to Sirius, who looked uneasy.

“Here, Remus, let me help you up,” Sirius said softly. Remus seemed to stiffen at this, instantly rebuilding the walls around him that Sirius had managed to break down. But to Fleamont’s surprise, he didn’t object when Sirius walked over, knelt down, and grabbed Remus’s arm and pulled him to his feet. Fleamont was also surprised when both boys seemed reluctant to move from the contact. They just stood there, looking at each other, Sirius’s hand still gripping Remus’s bicep. 

“Waw, Remus, beth ddigwyddodd i'ch rheol gyda chyswllt? Ydy hyn i gyd yn iawn ar hap nawr?” Romulus said, a wicked grin on his face.

Fleamont didn’t recognise the language they were speaking in. Irish, maybe?

Remus glared so fiercely at his brother, Fleamont was surprised he didn’t burst into flames. Remus looked back at Sirius, and swatted his hand off his bicep, muttering under his breath, “Cael y fuck oddi arnaf.” It probably meant something like, ‘get off of me,’ though it didn’t sound so child friendly.

Fleamont realised something. Remus looked close to dying when he toppled out of the fireplace. Now, he looked way more lively. His face was returning colour from the deadly pale that it had been, standing without a trace of shakiness, light returning to his eyes, making them an almost molten gold instead of bright amber. Fleamont had never seen someone heal so fast before.

He looked over at Romulus, who seemed to be regaining his strength at an alarming speed as well. He saw a realisation of some sort flick through his eyes.

“I need to speak to Dumbledore,” he stated, looking Fleamont into the eyes. He could be quite intimidating, but Fleamont didn’t see him as anything but a worried, troubled boy. 

“And why is that, son?”

“First off, I told you not to call me son, hen ddyn, and it's none of your business,” he said. Irritation flared in Fleamont. This boy had come tumbling into his house with his half-dead brother, and now he was giving him attitude, and demanding something for apparently no reason. 

“If I’m going to call Dumbledore at this hour for no reason, he’s not going to be happy,” he spoke as calmly as he could.

“Tell him that Romulus Lyall Lupin has requested a meeting with him as soon as he is free, and it is about very secret, very dangerous matters, and would like permission for he and his brother, Remus John Lupin, to return to Hogwarts without parental permission,” he said. Fleamont was surprised at the formality of it. 

“What are the very secret, very dangerous matters?” Fleamont said.

“You seemed to miss the ‘very secret’ part of it,” Remus quipped. Fleamont closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. 

“You’re very aggravating for someone who arrived without permission from me or your parents,” Fleamont shot back.

“Wow, you're very insulting. Also, just tell the hen ddyn that we have a problem with the current timing of our arrival in this house and that we cannot stay for obvious reasons that are only known to a select few, him included, you not,” Remus said. Fleamont was thinking about silencing him with a charm. 

“Fine, you win. But if you called this meeting for no reason, he’s not going to be happy with either of us,” Fleamont said, and went to owl the headmaster.

_

Sirius watched Remus annoy the living shit out of Fleamont with great amusement. When he walked off to actually owl the Professor, he was more than surprised. He wondered what they had to talk about with the old man.

About an hour later, there was the loud crack of apparation, and a knock at the front door. Fleamont walked off to let Dumbledore in, and returned with a tired, serious looking Professor. 

“Boys, we have serious matters to discuss.” And with that, Dumbledore led them up the stairs into Fleamont’s study.