Harry Potter and The Beauty of Magic Chapter 3 (Only A Memory Now) (Patreon)

James took a deep breath of the crisp, autumn air, lingering in the window as he drank in the fresh breeze. A warm, small hand grazed his backside as Lily slid her arms around his stomach and placed her chin gently on his shoulder. He returned the embrace as he stepped back from the window, looking down at his son, who was waving his tiny arms on the couch.

A broad, heart-felt smile creased his cheeks as he and Lily sat on either side of Harry, who looked up at them with a gurgling laugh. James pulled his wand out of his back pocket, and with a practiced flick of his wrist, sent a stream of multi-colored bubbles from the tip of his wand, leaving the infant awestruck.

Harry reached clumsily for a glittering red bubble that burst into a flurry of sparkles at his touch, and he let out a shriek of delight. Lily scooped her son into his arms as James sent another stream of bubbles drifting lazily through the living room as Harry watched them with fascination, reaching out to prod the ones that floated in his direction.

The family sat in silence for a long time, as James and Lily watched their son. The ominous foreboding that had ensnared their senses for the months they had been in hiding was pushed to the back of their minds that night, as they absorbed the present moment.

Lily kissed the top of her son's head tenderly as she stood up, holding him cradled in her arms. James stood up as well, stretching his arms and tossing his wand carelessly on the couch, where it rolled into a fold in the cushions.

"I'm taking Harry to bed," Lily announced, as she and James headed through the kitchen. She stopped at the foot of the stairs as James lingered in the hallway.

"I'll see you upstairs, Lils," he replied, leaning forward to kiss her full on the mouth. They held the kiss for a moment, before a faint click was heard from the living room. They broke away from each other, frozen.

"Wait here," James murmured, he braced his shoulders as he pushed the door open, leaving Lily on the stairs, clutching on to her son, who looked around wildly, not making a sound. Lily heard nothing but silence from the living room, making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle in alarm, before a fierce bellow jolted her senses.

"Lily!" James cried, the tone of his voice terrified her more than anything, as she took a feeble step towards the living room. "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"

Lily, frozen with fear, felt a sudden determination overwhelm her as she ran up the stairs, making her way for the nursery. She closed and locked the door behind her, clutching Harry tightly with surprisingly steady hands. Lily felt tears begin to swell in her eyes as she realized what awaited her. She took a deep breath, and looked down at her son, who peered up at her with wide, fearful green eyes – her eyes.

"Baby," she whispered, her throat felt constricted as she sent him gently in the crib. A sickening thud from below rang in her ears as a sob escaped her lips, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She forced a smile as she heard a cold, high-pitched laugh echoing up the stairs, staring steadily at her son.

"Mommy loves you, Harry. Dada loves you so much," She choked, placing her hand to her lips as she heard another click from the nursery door. A shaft of light illuminated the nursery as the door was pushed open, and Lily, now standing herself up on shaking knees, turned to face her fate.

Voldemort stood in the doorway, his pearly white head inclined curiously at the scene. He took a slow step into the nursery, as Lily raised her arms protectively over the crib. His thin lips rose into a mocking smile as he hissed in contempt at her feeble protection.

"Not Harry," Lily pleaded, her voice breaking, "not Harry. Please, not Harry."

"Stand aside, you silly girl." Voldemort jeered, "Stand aside, now."

"Not Harry," she repeated, more boldly this time. "Take me instead, just please, not Harry..."

Voldemort took another step towards the young woman, studying her fierce expression as he stood over her, her defiant eyes turning up to him.

"Please, not Harry... Have mercy," she begged "have mercy."

Voldemort raised his hand with a sudden swiftness as he brought it down wordlessly, a blinding flash of green light enveloped the room, and as young Harry's eyes were squeezed shut in the brightness, a dull thud confirmed the worst – Lily Potter had been killed.

A shrill, cold laugh echoed menacingly throughout the house as the Dark Lord stood over the crib, aiming his wand dead center for the infant's face. Harry, whose tears were falling, began wailing as he looked up at Voldemort, whose grin only widened in delight.

Harry was silent as he felt a third person in the room, strange words echoed through the room, the words flew around the room like wind in an open field.

Voldemort felt an overwhelming rush of power course through his body as he raised his wand above his head, bringing it down, he screamed, "Avada Kedavra!"

There was another flash of green light that illuminated the room, a roaring in Voldemort's ears, and a prickling feeling throughout his body. Something was wrong, he thought suddenly, something was very wrong...

Lupin

He knew no more.

It's November 1st, and when Remus wakes up, all he can feel are the aches beginning. The full moon is a week and a half away and old scars sting strong, he's found. He's been on this god-forsaken mission for two weeks already and can't wait to be home. He can practically smell Lily's bacon and eggs; she's the only one of the five of them that can cook. The thought cheers him up from the gloom that he's been feeling since late last night.

It's late now, almost ten, and Remus thinks that maybe he should get himself moving. No, he thinks sleepily, wrapping the covers more firmly around himself. Just five more minutes...

A tap at the glass of the hotel window alerts him to the owl with the paper just outside. A low growl rumbles in his chest, but Remus acknowledges the universe telling him it's time to get up. He stumbles over to the window, half-dressed in yesterday's clothes; he'd been too tired to get all the way changed. A few Sickles into the money pouch and the paper was his. He tossed it upside down on the bed, flopping down next to it before picking it up lazily.

Seconds later, he's no longer tired. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Defeated in Battle in Godric's Hollow!

Godric's Hollow.

Harry.

Lily.

James.

Oh Merlin. Are they alright?

The mess that had taken Remus two weeks to create is swept into a carpet bag in moments with a sweep of his wand, a spell James had taught him as they packed for Winter Hols their first year. Swearing at his current lack of clothes, Remus rips out whatever is on top to shove on before stuffing the rest back in. His long legs carry him out of the rented room quickly. Less than five minutes later and he's checked out.

Remus has never been as strong a wizard as James, Sirius, or Lily; he's only a good wizard because of the breadth of his spell knowledge. Ignoring the Statute of Secrets, Remus doesn't bother plotting out his course in terms of legal Apparation points. He knows that the most direct route will take him three or four hops to get to Godric's Hollow via Apparation from the muggle hamlet he's in.

One hop and he's in Edinburgh.

Two hops and he's in Newcastle Upon Tyne.

Three hops and he's in Sheffield.

Remus pauses for a moment to catch his breath, feeling the strain on his body that lets him know that he's expending magic at a rate that is not maintainable. But it's James, it's Lily, it's baby Harry.

And so he jumps again.

He lands in the gardens Peter and him had been forced to weed two and a half weeks ago. Now the flowerbeds and bushes are blown apart, spellfire evidence everywhere.

The wards Dumbledore set must have been overwhelmed, thinks the twenty one year old in horror, feeling his heart begin to fracture. The cheery noon-time sun, showing its shy face, lights the carnage up without remorse.

He's moving towards the front of the house seconds later; he has to find the Potters, make sure they are ok. He moves silently like Peter and Sirius taught him and James to do years ago. He's on high alert like James and Sirius had been drilling into him for years. And like James and Peter trained him as a second year, he sees every detail that he otherwise might have missed as he creeps stealthily around to the front door.

The front gate halfway off its hinges, weakly creaking as oblivious Muggles walk by on the road, greets him as he turns the corner of the house. The cracks in his heart get larger.

The bright shutters Lily had fallen in love with, now darkened with burns and framing broken windows, look out over the front lawn as he moves to the front door. He can feel his heart freezing in horror.

The shattered baby broomstick halfway out the door, a gift from Sirius to Harry only a few months before, forces Remus to pause. He just... He just can't...

His pause is only for a second. Remus can't break now. Not yet. Not while he doesn't know what happened to the Potters. And so Remus enters the house like he expects Death Eaters to be waiting inside, cautious and quiet.

Look left; the living room is in shatters. Mementoes of the boys and him, of Lily and Harry, everywhere. Shattered, like Remus is. Focus, Remus, says Sirius-in-his-head and the tall man sees all the destruction in seconds, sees James's wand on the floor and knowing that means the worst, and moves on with ruthless efficiency. An Auror's autopilot seems to guide him.

Look right; the hallway to the kitchen is ripped to pieces. At the end of the hall lies Lily's cat, the critter that James always hated, now neatly bisected into front and back halves, a pool a crimson liquid lit into a happy candy-apple red by the brutal sun. But Remus takes this in quickly and turns in search of his people, stepping carefully further into the house.

Lily had always joked that only Remus couldn't see into the house from the front door since he was tall enough the rafter in the foyer impeded his vision. And now, seeing what lay at the top of the stairs, Remus would have given anything to be so tall that he could never see what he now saw.

James.

His heart thumped once. Twice. Move, Remus¸ instructs Sirius-in-his-head coldly. What are you doing, frozen in an unprotectable position in the middle of the foyer? You aren't helping James, Lily, or Harry like this.

This takes less than a second; an observer would have seen only the smallest of pauses between the left, right, and forward assessments made by the werewolf. He steps forward, on alert for the slightest of noises, and ascends the stairs. A quick test for Prongs's pulse proves his greatest fear. If not for his face, angry and scared, James could have been sleeping; the Killing Curse had taken Prongs. Remus can't help but notice James's glasses, crooked at ever, and fixes them before moving on.

The nursery is next. It's where James and Lily would have run to if Harry were in trouble and Remus just knows that James leapt to get between his wife and child and danger. Without his wand, James wouldn't even have hesitated to be a physical barrier. So Remus steps over his best friend in a smooth motion and prowls over to the door to Harry's room.

Lily.

The vivid eyes and vibrant face of his best friend's wife are locked into a rickus of fear, anger, and desperation. It's the last face she'll ever make at him that greets him as he woodenly checks her pulse. Remus sees the lack of injuries and knows that the Killing Curse took James's doe and his friend.

Harry? Where is he?

He steps back. Lily's body -his whole self shakes suddenly, but Remus knows that Harry is what is important, he can't fail James and Lily now- is positioned between the door and the crib, so Harry must have been here when her soul was ripped from her body.

Remus spends the next the next hour searching the house from top to bottom. His eyes, trained by the observant and sneaky Peter, the brilliant James, and Auror-trained Sirius, see everything, save it for his nightmares, and move on to see more. Absentmindedly, he sends stasis spells to both Lily and James's bodies as he searches, avoiding the dead gazes of his closest friends. It's almost one before he knows for sure that Harry, helpless and tiny Harry who only three weeks ago walked for the first time, isn't here. Shoving unproductive emotions like bone gripping fear and debilitating panic aside, Remus walks outside and Apparates to Sirius's.

It's empty and looks like a troll went through it. Looks like it was tossed by a professional; either Death Eaters or Aurors, observes his inner-Sirius. Either way, a thorough search shows neither godfather or godson are here.

He apparates to Peter's doorstep, but when he sees the for sale sign, he smacks himself. Peter's lease was up two weeks ago. It seems to be the last straw for him when he realizes that he doesn't even know where Peter now lives. He stops.

Two friends dead.

One friend and a baby missing.

And he doesn't even know where his only other friend lives.

Remus Lupin's spirit breaks at that moment.

Remus knows now that he is a failure of a friend. He has failed all of them in every way. Failed even baby Harry. How did it come to this? He sinks down onto the doorstep, head in hands, and when the first sob comes out, he doesn't stop it. The second one rips through his lanky frame moments after. The third, the fourth, the seventh, and those after blur into one.

It's dark when Remus finally lifts bloodshot eyes to the despicable moon. Something about the moon bugs him more than normal, but he can barely stand, let alone assess his emotions, so he lets it go. Bent by the weight of the day's struggles, he trudges a step or two, twisting a bit to Apparate away.

As he cried for what he had lost, he remembered, he just couldn't stop his mind from remembering his friends, what they had been through together, the first time they met, but now all that was just a memory now.

"Alright, love?"

Remus started and tore his eyes away from the scarlet engine. It was surreal to be standing on this platform, surrounded by boisterous families, eager students, loaded trolleys, and owls of all shapes and sizes. His father had told so many stories about this very platform and the magnificent train it housed that Remus hadn't been able to help but entertain dreams of observing his would-be classmates during this rite of passage, even though he'd learned long, long ago his dreams could be nothing more, and nothing less, than the most whimsical of fantasies.

And yet here he stood on Platform 9 ¾, already dressed in his standard black robes. Even in his wildest dreams, Remus had never imagined there'd be a trunk full of magical texts and Potions ingredients at his side. And never, ever would he have dreamed there'd be a wand—his beautiful cypress wood wand of ten-and-a-quarter inches, complete with a core of unicorn hair—tucked safely away in his pocket.

There was no harm in dreaming of observing, Remus figured. Those were dreams he could live without if they never came to be. The harm lay in things that were too big, too impossible, to dream. Perhaps, then, it wasn't so strange it had never once occurred to Remus he might one day join his future classmates aboard the train. As one of them.

And yet here he was. Just like in his father's stories. No matter how many times it occurred to him that it was truly happening, he couldn't believe it.

Gentle fingers trailed across his shoulders, and Remus finally turned to face his mother, whose eyes of melted caramel shone with fading delight and growing concern. It was her first time on the platform, too, and though she was used to seeing Father perform magic at home, Remus was aware how wondrous it was for her to be surrounded by so many magical families.

"I'm alright, Mum," Remus answered softly, not certain if he was telling the truth or not.

She pressed a kiss to his hair and whispered, "Not feeling ill?"

Dread settled into Remus' gut, dousing the overwhelming awe he'd been experiencing since his first step through the barrier. He shook his head, shame threatening to set his cheeks ablaze, and stared at the red engine again, its presence now more ominous than it was magical.

"It's a fortnight yet," Father murmured, kneeling before his son and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You remember what we discussed before coming to the station, Remus?"

"Yes, Father," Remus answered. They had discussed it more than once at great length. With Albus Dumbledore himself, on top of that.

"Good lad," his father praised. His smile was genuine, but it was thin.

"Oh, that's enough now, Lyall," Hope Lupin scolded, looking a little ashamed of herself. "We're being silly, aren't we? This is supposed to be an exciting and special day. I'm sorry, Remus, dear."

" it's alright," he mumbled. This was most certainly a lie, as he was beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed and panicked amongst so many people, but his mother did not latch on to his distress. Her joy was radiant. She beamed at him with such pride he couldn't help but feel his anxiety ebb away again.

"Let's get you aboard, then," Remus's father said. "It's nearly eleven, and you wouldn't want to miss this ride for the world."

Remus offered a faltering smile, his heart pitter-pattering. Father had met his dearest friends on his first trip to school, and the thought of what that might mean for Remus...

Before he knew it, Mother drew him into a fierce embrace, and he was surprised to see her eyes misting when she drew away to brush his hair from his face. "Do have a great term, love," she said. "Be good, remember to study hard and have a little fun, and don't forget to write, otherwise you'll have me to answer to."

The mock-threat encouraged a true grin from Remus, and he nodded earnestly. There was a subtle hint of humor in his tone when he responded, "Love you, too, Mother."

"Go on, now," she said, wiping her cheek. "Your father's waiting."

Remus gave her one last hug and stepped away, ignoring the lump growing in his throat. Taking the first step away from her was one of the hardest things he'd ever done (and that was saying quite a bit), but he couldn't look back at her. If he did, he might not make it on the train.

Remus avoided a swarm of people and approached his father, who had stowed his trunk away while he was saying goodbye to his mum. Even though the energy of Platform 9 ¾ was catching, it was plainly obvious to Remus that Father was just as worried about this as he had been a month ago, on the day Albus Dumbledore invited himself in for tea.

Father didn't seem to know what to say, so he merely gripped Remus's shoulder in a show of solid encouragement. Most students were jumping aboard by now, and several were already leaning precariously out the windows to wave at their families. Father and Remus watched them in silence.

"I...never would have thought," Father finally breathed, his eyes trained on the bold letters adorning the platform sign overhead. Remus wasn't sure he was meant to hear, so he didn't address it when Father's gaze swung back to him. "We'll miss you, Remus," he said, causing Remus' gut to twist. "Take care."

And be careful.

"You too, Father," Remus said.

His father scanned Remus' face. Remus knew him well enough to know he was ensuring the message had been received and taken to heart.

The train suddenly released a shrill whistle, a warning for the last-second stragglers.

Father's eyes lit up, making him look years younger. His haggard features, dark with misgivings, smoothed as excitement took hold. "Go on!" he exclaimed, shooing Remus up the train steps. "Remember, I want to hear all about the Sorting, Remus! I've always had a feeling you'd—"

Remus didn't get to hear what Father had always had a feeling about. The train's second whistle and the roar of steam drowned out the rest of his exclamation. The train shuddered beneath Remus' feet and started to move, and Remus grabbed a metal bar alongside the steps to maintain his balance. Backing up further onto the train, which was gaining speed, he looked up in time to see Father waving, and he waved back at him and then at his mother, who was no longer trying to hide her elated tears.

"Get up, lad!" someone behind him said. A young man in a scarlet uniform with shining gold buttons smiled down at him. "Don' wan'cha fallin' off the train now, do we?"

Remus followed the instructions mechanically, looking back out the nearest window toward his parents once he was safely off the train steps. They were lost amongst a sea of family members, all waving goodbye, and when the train turned the corner, it left Platform 9 ¾ and any chance at turning back far, far behind.

Remus' hands were trembling, and he exhaled shakily. He was going. He was really on his way to Hogwarts.

It wasn't surreal any longer. Now that it was real, he was terrified. So many things could go wrong. The Headmaster had put most of those fears to rest, but there were so many other circumstances and issues Remus couldn't possibly foresee, things he couldn't possibly handle alone. God forbid the carefully laid plans and allowances were discovered...

Or worse. Between the marks and the...symptoms, there was so much evidence and only so little he could do to hide it all.

We can take you back home any time you want, love, his mother had assured him. But if I'm not mistaken...you'll hardly find yourself missing home once you get there.

She had been so happy when Albus Dumbledore explained there was a place for Remus at Hogwarts. Father, too, though he could scarcely believe it. His parents, after all, were the ones who had to put on solemn faces whenever Remus asked why he couldn't play outside, why he had to wear long-sleeves out in the summer, and why they had to move again. They were the ones who dealt with...it month after month, who told him with deadened expressions and cracked voices it might not ever be possible...

His fingers stroked the smooth wood of his wand.

Remus squared his shoulders and stepped away from the window. The crewmember had disappeared, so he had no awkward questions or sympathetic eyes to avoid as he boldly pushed open the doors leading to the first car of compartments.

Where he met another beast entirely.

Whatever form of courage possessed him to step through those doors felt as though it had been Vanished. With wide eyes, he watched Hogwarts students pass between compartments and adjacent cars, laughing and chasing each other, greeting friends and acquaintances alike.

There was no hope of finding a free compartment, Remus realized. None at all. He cast a wary eye into the chaos, unwilling to take the step forward. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to politely ask someone to join them? He wouldn't be a bother. What would he be able to talk to them about, anyway? Not that he expected anyone to want to talk to—

"Uh—Um, h—hello? Pardon me?"

Startled, Remus blinked and looked toward the speaker, a short, rather plump blond boy with small blue eyes and a rather unfortunate nose. Irony always did love to have a place in Remus' life, and since he was not quite amused with its humor at the best of times, Remus spun around, just to be sure the boy was speaking to him.

There was no one else standing nearby. He had to admit to himself that irony won this round. "Good day?" Remus said hesitantly, his greeting coming out more like a question.

The boy smiled weakly and licked his lips. "Are...are you a first year?"

"Yes, I am."

"Oh!" the boy exclaimed, looking relieved. "Oh, thank Merlin. I thought I was the only first year stuck without a compartment!" Eagerly, the boy stuck out his hand and grinned. "Peter Pettigrew."

Somewhat baffled, Remus took the pudgy, unblemished hand and shook. "Remus. Remus Lupin."

The boy—Peter—turned to look down the corridor, which was beginning to clear out. Everyone was settling into their seats for the duration of the trip. Confronted with the obstacle of finding a place to sit once again, Peter's enthusiasm died, and unease replaced it. He fidgeted and stuttered, "Remus? I know we...but...Would...would you mind terribly if...?"

Remus caught on immediately, and gratitude surged through him. Before he knew it, he was saying, "I'd love to join you."

Peter looked stunned that he agreed. In fact, he looked so stunned Remus almost burst into a fit of laughter. "T—Thank you, Remus."

Together, the boys worked their way down each car's corridor, searching for a compartment that was relatively empty. It was by nonverbal consensus that the two avoided compartments with older students, but the trip down to the end of the train was anything but silent. Peter, who warmed up to Remus very quickly, rambled about everything: topics ranged from his favorite pudding to the realization he'd forgotten the extra socks his mother had laundered for him that morning.

Remus attempted to contribute to the conversation, but he felt awfully out of his depth. He was afraid Peter would find him dull and look for someone else to talk to, but the nods and quiet murmurs he offered seemed to keep Peter entertained enough. By the time they reached the end of the train, Remus was sure Peter had gone through his whole life story.

And Remus would be lying if he said he hadn't absorbed every word.

"Wh—what about you, Remus?" Peter asked as they entered the last car of the train, suddenly sounding shy again.

"Me?" Remus asked.

"No, the Remus standing behind you," Peter shot off.

Remus stared, causing Peter to redden, and when it registered the other boy had made a joke, he laughed. The apology Peter was about to make died in his throat as Remus chuckled, "Not a very common name, is it? Sorry, Peter."

Now aware that Remus wasn't offended, Peter looked pleased with himself. "My cousins are a bit snarky," he preened excitedly. "I spent most of the summer with them, you see, and—"

The compartment to their right flew open with a loud bang. Peter squeaked in surprise, and Remus jumped back just in time to avoid the two first-years storming out. One of the two, a very pretty girl with red hair and vibrant green eyes, slammed the door shut again and raged, "I can't believe those two gi—Oh!"

When she saw Remus and Peter standing there, she stopped ranting, the wrath disappearing from her fine features. Her companion hardly passed them a second glance and hovered like a bird of prey at her shoulder. Unfortunately, the comparison would probably strike far too close to home if Remus voiced it aloud, for the sallow fellow had an even more unfortunate nose than Peter had. Remus felt bad for thinking so, and he ducked his head docilely, ready to apologize for standing in their way.

The girl sniffed as though something had grievously offended her, but to Remus' surprise, she didn't berate them. Instead, she asked, "Are you two looking for a compartment?"

Peter ignored the girl. Staring at the taller boy, who obviously did not want anything to do with them, he shrunk against Remus' side. He was so close, in fact, that Remus flinched away, unused to such close contact. Unsure of what to say to the unlikely pair, he merely nodded.

"Well, if I were you," the girl said, "I'd avoid this one."

Remus peeked into the compartment the two had just left. Inside sat two dark-haired boys. One leaned forward, glasses glinting as he gesticulated. The other sprawled across the seat, lazily twirling his wand in his fingers. He didn't look too impressed or pleased with what the other was telling him.

This was the emptiest compartment he'd seen yet. Remus' gut dropped at the prospect of intruding, especially on what seemed like a debate, but it made him feel even more ill to think of how awkward it would be to make the long walk back down through the cars. Quite a few people might notice, he realized in dismay. Remus might not have much social experience, but he did know that, should anyone take notice of his and Peter's second pass down the corridors, it would set them apart from their peers.

No one else had this much trouble finding a place, after all.

Remus had more than enough setting him apart already. After a quick mental debate, he decided that interrupting these two boys was the lesser of two evils...or rather, the easier of two obstacles.

"I think this one'll do, don't you, Peter?" Remus asked softly, hoping desperately for the other boy to agree. Despite what he might have told himself, he wasn't about to go in there alone.

Peter bobbed his head up and down, and Remus felt another rush of gratitude toward the boy.

The girl chewed on her lower lip. "The boys in there aren't too kind," she admitted. "I'd stay far away from them. You're first-years, aren't you? Why don't you join me and Severus?"

Severus did not look very pleased at all with that suggestion, so Remus was quick to say, "No, thank you. I'm sure we'll see you at the Start-of-Term Feast later?"

Remus felt exposed under her steady, compassionate gaze. She studied him for a moment and finally shrugged, turning her attention back to Severus. "Don't say I didn't warn you. C'mon, Sev."

The two departed without another word, leaving Remus with the sinking feeling he'd perhaps made a mistake.

No. Remus shut the thought down the moment it appeared in his mind. Everything...he had to believe everything happened for a reason, even if that reason was never in visible sight. Father hated it when he thought like that. He seemed to believe Remus thought he deserved what happened to him, but that was hardly the case. It was the only thing that kept him sane sometimes, during the rougher months, when Father's stories and his dreams could only do so much.

Besides, he made this choice. People like him didn't have that luxury. Some believed that people like him didn't deserve that luxury. But he chose, so he was the one who had to deal with the consequences. His heart pounded in his chest as he faced the compartment door again, but Remus was surprised to find it wasn't so scary as it was liberating. He so very rarely had any say in his life...

Remus did not consult Peter before sliding the door open. As he poked his head in, he took a deep breath.

He didn't have the chance to stammer out a single syllable.

"...easy for you to say!" the taller boy was saying indignantly, "You spoilt Gryffindor braggar—!"

"Oi! You better watch your mouth there, Black!" the bespectacled boy ordered, hazel eyes flashing. "I'm just trying to—"

"Help me?" Black scowled, shaking his shaggy head of hair. "Right, that's precious. No offense, but I don't particularly care what you're trying to do."

The other boy's expression became cold and guarded. "You will care when you—!"

Remus, growing uncomfortable with the tension between the two, decided it would be in his best interest to knock.

When he did, the bespectacled boy made a wordless exclamation and leapt from his seat, completely unaware (or uncaring) of Remus' eavesdropping. "Brilliant! See, now we can have another opinion, Sirius!" he said with a crooked smile.

Sirius Black shot a skeptical glance at Remus and shrugged. "Just give it up, Potter. We'll just have to see, won't we?"

"I—" Remus tried to say, completely taken aback when 'Potter' took ahold of his forearm to lead him inside the compartment.

Hazel eyes turned to him. "You don't mind giving us your opinion here, do you?"

"Er, no. No, of course not," Remus stammered, turning halfway around in search of Peter, "But I—er..."

The boy caught sight of Peter, and his grin broadened. "Two opinions, then. Even better. Come in!"

Peter followed Remus in, closing the door behind him. "O—opinions about?" he squeaked as Potter motioned them to sit down.

"Sirius here is convinced he's going to be in Slytherin," Potter said, his tone making it clear the thought was absolutely criminal.

"I never said that!" the boy named Sirius denied.

"Well, he implied it, which is the same thing, and I don't believe a single word of it. I'm absolutely positive he won't land there, even if this one insists his entire family's been in Slytherin."

"Only the ones that matter," Sirius muttered under his breath. Remus caught a bitterness in his tone that did not quite hide the dread and doubt lying underneath it. "Not all Slytherins are bad," he defended. "My cousin 'Dromeda isn't."

Potter hummed cheerfully. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that and move on." Addressing Remus and Peter again, he continued, "I've been trying to convince him that blood has nothing to do with the Sorting."

"Hypocrite. Weren't you just saying you were going to follow your forefathers into Gryffindor?"

"Of course I did, but I'm not going to be Sorted into Gryffindor because they're family. It's because I know I'm Gryffindor material. Just like they were."

"That doesn't make sense, mate."

"Can't help that I am more self-aware than you are," Potter snapped.

"Try arrogant!" Sirius snorted. "You just don't like thinking you befriended a Slytherin!"

"You're not a Slytherin yet!" Potter exclaimed. "Perhaps you are just as bigoted and intolerant as the rest of your kind and you're the one who doesn't like thinking you befriended a Gryffindor!"

At the mention of his family, Sirius paled, but to Remus' surprise, he threw back his head and laughed, almost spitefully, "You're so full of it, Potter!"

Potter pretended as though he hadn't heard. "And like I said, I doubt you'll end up in Slytherin, even if your insults are as bad as any snake's I've ever met. We'll work on that."

Sirius blinked at him incredulously. "You don't like admitting you're wrong, do you?"

"That's because I'm not," Potter said smugly. "You're no snake."

"My entire family were snakes, as you put it," Sirius reminded him.

"Do you want to be in Slytherin?"

Sirius, Potter, and Peter all turned to Remus, who flushed upon realizing he'd been the one to ask the honest question.

"That's not the point," Sirius muttered, the fire dying from his eyes. "Just nevermind. We'll see, okay?"

"I don't see why this is an issue," Potter pressed.

"Because you're making it one!" Sirius snapped. "Why don't we drop it and play a game of Exploding Snap?"

"Exploding Snap sounds nice," Peter piped up, sounding utterly grateful for the reprieve. "We do have enough people for a good game."

"See?" Sirius said. "You were the one just telling me how brilliant you were at it, so I'd like to see you put your Galleons where your mouth is."

Potter's eyes glinted at the prospect of a competition, but he wouldn't take the bait that easily. He refused to acknowledge Sirius' suggestion. "I mean," he continued, "it's not as though your parents are going to disown you if you're not in Slytherin. Mine wouldn't if I wasn't in Gryffindor."

And with that, Remus thought, Potter hit the issue directly with a Stunner. With wary eyes, he watched the two dark-haired boys, one obtusely unaware of the conflict and vulnerability the other was trying so desperately to hide.

A part of Remus told him now would be a good time to intercede again, to take the pressure off of Sirius, but he couldn't be sure the two—or three, seeing as Peter seemed to glorify in the easy acceptance he received here—wouldn't take offense and ostracize him for the remainder of the ride to Hogwarts.

"How about you two?" Potter suddenly asked, sparing Remus from making the decision to speak up or not. "Where d'you suppose you'll end up?"

It took a moment for the question to register. Remus hadn't expected it, though he should have, considering this was probably the reason Potter invited him and Peter into their compartment in the first place. Nevertheless, his thoughts tumbled to a grinding halt. Which House? he repeated to himself. Father had had friends in all of the Houses, and though Remus had lived through those stories, getting Sorted hadn't been a consideration in his dreams either.

He took too long to formulate a coherent answer, so Peter took the lead, eyes shining at the prospect of being given the limelight. "No idea," Peter launched off cheerily. "Dad..." He trailed off, looking momentarily disconcerted, but he only skipped a beat. "Well, Dad was sent abroad for school. Mum was a Hufflepuff. I expect that's where I'll end up."

Potter nodded sagely. "And I expect she wouldn't care at all which House you were in, would she?"

"Oh, no," Peter agreed. "Hufflepuffs are a tolerant lot, you know."

Potter exchanged a glance with Sirius, who scowled. Remus couldn't be certain of the point he was trying to make whatsoever.

"And you?" Potter asked Remus.

All three boys turned to look at him. Anxious under their eyes, Remus stared at his scuffed shoes. "I...haven't thought about it," he answered honestly.

This, it seemed, was blasphemy at its finest. Perhaps even worse than saying he was destined for Slytherin. There were several exclamations of disbelief and childish horror. Even Sirius forgot his surliness in his curiosity.

"Really?" he asked, gray eyes wide. "Hang on, now. You're not Muggleborn, are you? What's your family name?"

"Lupin," Remus admitted.

"I recognize that name," Potter said with a thoughtful frown. Snapping his fingers, he said, "My parents've mentioned it before. Recently, in fact."

"Don't hurt yourself there, James," Sirius teased, snickering at James' contemplative expression. Remus noted the change from surname to given name and wondered...

"It's perfectly acceptable if you don't know the name and occupation of every wizarding family's patriarch," Sirius was saying. "It's not as though you're heir to an Ancient and Noble House, next in line for a venerable seat on the Wizengamot—a heir whose duty it is to know these things, I might add—or anyth—"

James Potter lobbed his carry-on bag at Sirius, who released an oomph when it collided with his stomach."I'd like to see you do better, Black," James grumbled. "Though I'm sure watching you try to use those brains of yours would be more terrifying than—Oh!" He cut himself off, turning back to Remus with a big grin. "The Boggart! We had a Boggart, and since Dad was out when Mum found it, she consulted Lyall Lupin's book. Best there is, apparently. She's quite the hand at Charms, but Defense Against the Dark Arts was never her forte. She praised your father's name to anyone who'd listen for the rest of the week!"

"Wow, Remus," Peter breathed. "I didn't know your father was famous!"

"We've only just met, Peter," Remus reminded humbly, causing Sirius and James to stare and then burst into chuckles of delight.

"It's always the quiet ones!" James crowed.

"I think I'm going to like you, Remus Lupin," Sirius added, eyes dancing mischievously.

Remus wasn't quite sure what they were on about, but he felt a warm glow spread through his chest just the same. So this is what it's like, he mused.

James leaned forward so that his elbows rested upon his knees. Energetically, he asked, "You know, Remus, wasn't your father in consideration to become the next Head for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"

Funny, how quickly reality could come crashing down again. Remus knew his father was renowned for his research on Non-Human Spiritous Apparitions, and he was a powerful wizard with credentials galore for the coveted position at the Ministry. It had created quite a stir when Father refused the position and then quit the department altogether.

Remus wasn't about to tell them it was his fault.

"Yes," he said, biting his lip. "Years ago. But he transferred to the Department of Mysteries, where he could continue his research. He says he's happier there."

Sirius crinkled his nose. "Fond of research, is he? Bound to be a Ravenclaw."

"Got it in one."

"So you didn't ever once think," James said, "that you might follow your dad's footsteps and end up in Ravenclaw?"

Remus hesitated. He could see why it looked very strange, and in scrambling for a lie, he found himself settling on the truth. "I was homeschooled," he said, trying to sound as though it was a commonplace enough thing. "I wasn't sure I was going to go to Hogwarts this...year."

At that very moment, Remus processed the true root of James' question and recalled what his father tried to tell him before the train took off from the station. It seemed too easy to fill in the remaining blanks now. Little signs since Dumbledore's visit, as well... How could he have missed it?

"Father thinks I'll be in Ravenclaw," he realized aloud. "He didn't say it, but I..."

"Ravenclaw's respectable," Sirius said carefully, and Remus looked up to meet intense gray eyes, no longer alight with humor. "Do you want to be in Ravenclaw?"

His question mirrored Remus' own. "I..." He didn't know. He hadn't cared. Not...not until now. "I don't want to disappoint him," Remus ended up blurting out. After nearly a lifetime of disappointing him, getting Sorted into Ravenclaw was the very least he could do. It was maybe one of the only things he could do.

Wasn't it?

James, sensing the mood of the compartment darkening, began to go on another cheery spiel about blood, Houses, and how it was down to the individual. It sounded much like the one Peter and Remus had walked in on. Peter clung to every word and added a few words of agreement here and there, but Remus Lupin and Sirius Black exchanged a single glance and knew they shared something the other two didn't.

They each had a secret, something fueling a need to follow their parents' footsteps, regardless of what they wanted.

"...Your mum, Remus?" James was asking.

Remus only heard his name, and he jolted back to the present. "Sorry?"

"Your mother," Peter repeated for James. "Where was she Sorted?"

"Oh," Remus said, smiling softly. "She wasn't Sorted anywhere. She's Muggle."

"Muggle?" Sirius asked. James looked at him sharply, hazel eyes blazing with a scathing warning, but Sirius took no notice. In fact, he was positively beaming with enthusiasm. "You must have alack-tri-sity, then!"

"Electricity?" Remus corrected with an amused smile. When Sirius nodded, he said, "Yeah, Mum's got the house wired for it."

"We've got it, too!" Peter said. Sirius turned to him, looking surprised. "Mum's a half-blood. Like Remus. Can't live without her telly, she says. She's addicted to that program with the funny man in the blue box."

Sirius looked just about ready to burst from his seat, and questions tumbled from his lips so quickly he could hardly finish one before starting another. Peter and Remus could hardly keep up, but before long, the two boys were trying very hard not to laugh.

James, for his part, gaped at Sirius, who kept up a steady stream of chatter, for a solid two minutes before laughing uproariously. "I would have never believed it," James gasped, clutching at his side. "A Black who's likely to be the first to sign up for Muggle Studies his third year! And you still think you're on for Slytherin?"

"Muggles are clever," Sirius said in his defense, ignoring the jibe. "You can't tell me you aren't the least bit curious about their techylogy."

"I'm not the least bit curious about their techylogy," James deadpanned.

At that point, Remus couldn't even keep a straight enough face to correct their terminology. He had never laughed so hard in his life.

And he continued to laugh, growing bolder and more comfortable in the company of these three boys as the hours slipped by. It wasn't until well after the trolley stopped by and a Prefect poked her head in to warn them they were pulling into Hogsmeade soon that Remus realized...he had forgotten.

He had forgotten the last time he laughed and smiled as much as he did during that train ride. He had forgotten the girl who had warned him and Peter against entering that compartment. He had forgotten his doubts, his fears, and all comparisons to his wildest fantasies.

Remus, in fact, didn't fully realize the enormity of it all until he exited the train and looked up at the quarter-moon overhead. The dull ache in his bones couldn't faze him today.

No, not today.

His kind weren't meant to go to Hogwarts. His kind weren't meant to own wands or appear in any sort of civilized society. It was only by the grace of Dumbledore and his exceptional disregard for bias and written law that Remus was here. Dumbledore offered him something special, something normal children took for granted, but it wasn't Dumbledore who'd done what Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and James Potter had.

They had helped Remus forget that he was a werewolf at all.

Later that night, after they rode across the lake together with Hagrid and caught their first sight of the magnificent castle and after they each sat anxiously beneath the brim of the Sorting Hat, Remus looked around his Gryffindor dormitory at his three new bickering, laughing friends—all quite a bit rough around the edges—and felt that, just maybe, he was right where he was meant to be after all...

It's at the doors of his own home that he realizes that he hadn't told Dumbledore he left his post. Remus almost ignores duty, but rules and following what should be done are so ingrained into him that he just gives a heavy sigh-almost a sob, but not quite- and leaves. It's a war, and he's a soldier and he needs to let his general know he left his post.

At the gates of Hogwarts, he begins the spell the four boys had learned as fourth years to send a message to the Headmaster. "Expecto..."

But the memory he normally uses, of that moment when his friends stood strong and proud next to him for the first time as second years, knowing his faults and quirks, stabs his heart. He falls slowly into the gates of the castle, barely keeping himself upright as it hits him again; dead or missing, all of them.

He doesn't know how long he stands hunched there before the caretaker sees and recognizes him, letting him onto the grounds and leading the broken twenty one year old up the castle steps. Remus can tell the other man is shaken by broken look in his eyes. He is led past the Dining Hall, through the halls, until they reach a familiar gargoyle statue. A murmured word from the other man opens the passage to the Headmaster's study and he is left alone in the room.

Remus doesn't think he's ever been in this room alone.

James or Sirius or Peter were always right next to him if they were called here for troublemaking. If it was prefect business, Lily stood here, worrying about everything under the sun. Even for werewolf related things, his parents or Madame Pomfrey kept him company.

A soft touch on his shoulder, and Remus, now used to touch after the years with his friends, responds slowly to the stimuli. Professor Dumbledore guides him to a chair that Professor McGonagall Conjures for him. The old man nods soberly at him. "You've heard."

He hunches down in the chair just like he used his first and second years when he was still trying to avoid being noticed. Tears- when did those start?- drip down his nose into his lap. But Remus has had a lifetime of hiding these his feelings (Sirius was the dramatic one, James the emotional one; Remus knew how to be strong and silent even at five when his mom stood over him after the full moon in tears as his dad magic-ed his self-inflicted wounds closed) and this is a war and he is a soldier, so he straitens in front of his general to report, and takes a breathe as he scrubs his tears away.

"I left my post, sir, when I saw the news. I'm sorry for that." Remus speaks softly, as usual. That slight quiver isn't usual though; Remus injects a bit of steel born in full moons spent alone into it. "I went to the Potters. James and Lily are dead and Harry is missing. Sirius is gone too, and his place looks like it's been tossed looking for something. I... I'm sorry, sir, but I don't even know where Peter is."

A gasp from his old professor makes him pause. A horrified McGonagall and a grave Dumbledore look him in the eye. "He doesn't know, Albus." Whispers McGonagall.

"Harry is alright, he's with Sirius right now, you don't have to worry about him, both of them are alright," Dumbledore spoke with a bit of hesitation at the end.

Lupin released the biggest sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding for so long, as he prepared to ask where they were he suddenly remembered...

"Where's Peter?"