Marauders Year 1: Rule the School

Chapter 1: Moony, The Letter

          "Remus John Lupin! Get up!"

I roll over in bed, muttering to myself. 

         "REMUS JOHN LUPIN!!! WHAT PART OF 'GET UP' DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!!!"

I sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes. Mum really can be loud sometimes, especially when she's angry. Not that she is angry right now. There's something in her voice that tells me she's really particularly excited about something and that only happens once in a century or so. 

I groan, stretch, then topple off the bed clutching my side. Oh, what a wonderful way to start the day. I crawl over to my dresser and rummage through the depths, searching for something respectable to wear. 

Sweatpants and a hoodie with some band I don't know on it? No. Who are the Beatles anyways?

Jeans and a sweatshirt? Nope, too hot for a sweatshirt. 

Shorts and a T-shirt? No, too cold.

Jeans and a T-shirt with a scarf? I guess this will have to do. 

I trudge down stairs and my mother shrieks and rushes me back upstairs. 

          "WHAT IN GOD'S NAME ARE YOU WEARING, REMUS! You look ridiculous! We're having a very well-known guest over in a few moments! Go, go, go! Quickly!" 

Thankfully, my father comes to my rescue.

          "Hope, he's nearly here! Oh my goodness, for heaven's sake, Remus! Ditch the scarf!"

Or not. 

I don't understand what everyone has against the scarf. It's warm and it looks perfectly fine. I stick my nose in the air just like I imagined one of the haughtiest characters in my book would. Just for your information, I am completely and utterly obsessed with books. If you lived in the Lupin household, you'd know this all too well from getting run into my none other than yours truly with my nose in a book. 

Just then, the doorbell rings and my mother is suddenly spurred into action. She releases her hold on my scarf (thank goodness, it was beginning to get rather tight), rushes into the kitchen and, (while flinging an enchanted spoon at the door hinge), proceeds to take the cookies out of the oven whilst juggling 4 cups and a teapot. I have never known how my mother does manage these feats.

Meanwhile, my father is hurrying to the door, straightening his tie and trying to look professional. Let me just say that Lyall Lupin looked absolutely absurd. I tried to walk down the stairs in a casual manner but only managed to trip on the first step and slide down the rest of the steps headfirst. Wow, young Lupin. Great job. I brush myself off and the bottom. As you can see, professionalism is not a strong point for the Lupins. 

Sauntering into the living room, I vaguely hope that our guest doesn't know where that is so I wont have to face him/her. It would have been a decent living room if I hadn't decided to clutter every spare inch with towering piles of ancient tomes. Mum used to attempt to get me to clear it up but she always failed. She kind of gave up after a year of it.

Picking up Hogwarts: A History, I settle down to bury myself in the history of the school I can never go to. Something in my dreams...

          "Why, hello there, Remus," a deep, quiet voice says from the corner. 

I jump and look up, a look on my face just like that of a young child caught in the middle of doing something naughty. I look around desperately, trying to find the source of the voice and very soon, my eyes land on an old man who is lingering just outside the doorway of the room. He is very old with wrinkles lining his face. But there are not only wrinkles of sadness and depression. In fact, most of them are wrinkles that come from when you smile and laugh. Well, this fellow seems cheerful enough, I think to myself. He has on rich purple robes embroidered with gold and encrusted with what look like actual gems. His long white beard reaches almost halfway down his front and he has a long, flowy, silvery-white head of hair which is just a little bit longer than his beard. 

He smiles and, almost as if on cue, my father shows up behind the old man.

          "Remus! This here is-" 

          "Albus Dumbledore, I know. I've read all about you, sir," I cut my father off.  

He looks rather stunned but Professor Dumbledore smiles and the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes and mouth crease and his eyes twinkle. 

          "W-well, er, yes," my father says, recovering himself. "He'd like to offer a real treat to you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see if Hope has the table set." 

He leaves the room, leaving me alone with the single most famous wizard in the world other than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. 

          "So. How are you, Remus?" he asks, softly. 

          "Oh, just fine," I mutter, managing a wry smile. 

          "Really? I'm surprised. The full moon's just a few days away, isn't it?"

Wait, he knows?! I must have looked shocked because he chuckled and patted my back. 

          "Look, Remus. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Werewolves are victims. They should not be looked down upon because everyone has a fair chance of being bitten. It just so happens that you were one of the unlucky ones. But don't worry. You have a great future. I have confidence in you."

With that, he reaches into the folds of his robes and pulls out an envelope, sealed with an all-too-familiar crest. 

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

________________

          "B-but, sir! Surely you can't mean to send me to Hogwarts! I'm a werewolf, for crying out loud! No one wants to be near me, let alone share a dorm with me!!!" I cry. 

          "Now, Remus. I think you will find that some are less willing than others to give up something to valuable as friendship for something as petty as being a werewolf. Also, if it consoles you any, Hogwarts as put in certain...safety measures of which shall be mentioned in your acceptance letter. Now, goodbye, Remus. Good luck. I hope to see you soon."

He turns and, robes swishing behind him, leaves me to sort out my thoughts.