SUMMARY: Snapshot. Remus Lupin contemplates his Hogwarts acceptance letter.
DISCLAIMER: Hogwarts, and the rest of the Wizarding World belong to J.K. Rowlings.
The boy sat quietly under the tree, his back against the trunk so he could look out into the small clearing. A soft breeze ruffled his hair, providing a hint of coolness on what would otherwise have been an unbearably hot summer day. He had been in that spot for what seemed like hours, watching only absently the comings and going of the birds and the work of the bees as they flew from flower to flower. No matter the distraction, his mind and eyes kept drifting back to the parchment he clutched in his hand, the fulfillment of a long-time dream.
He still couldn't quite believe it. For as long as he remembered he had heard about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Both his parents were magic, that is, able to see and do magic, and had attended the school themselves. There were times, when he was younger, when they would put him to bed by telling him stories about the grand castle that housed the wizard school, of its ever changing halls, moving staircases, and even about the ghosts who lived there. He had always loved these stories, letting them fill his mind with dreams of adventures that would probably never have been allowed had he actually attended the school. Being very young, he had longed for the day when he could attend and experience everything for himself, not understanding all the hard work that would come with it.
With time and circumstances, however, all that had changed. His parents rarely ever talked about their school days around him anymore, afraid it would upset him to be reminded of what he couldn't have. A place in Hogwarts would never be given to a monster like him. His parents had tried of course. They had pleaded and begged and tried every remedy available to them until they could afford it no longer. He had been poked, prodded, and forced to drink foul potions more times then he could count. Yet it had changed nothing. His dreams of experiencing the castle and having grand adventures had become just that, dreams.
He had once read a fairy tale where the young princess's beauty was ruled by the phases of the moon. As the moon waxed her beauty grew, to be revealed in full splendor when the moon reached its own fullness. As the moon waned, so did her beauty and health, until she was as a frail old woman. Awakening only at night, the princess lived her life under the watchful and controlling gaze of the moon, until the night came when the curse was lifted by the kiss of a prince.
The parchment crackled in the breeze, the neat letters wavering in his vision. He didn't believe in dreams coming true, not anymore, not for him; that was for the realm of fairy tales, not real life. There was nothing that would lift the moon's curse from him. He would live under its control for the rest of his life. But maybe… He straightened the parchment once more, reading the words again. Maybe that wasn't the dream that needed to come true.
In the fairy tale, it was the prince's compassion and love of the old woman that lifted the curse, his acceptance of her at her worst. If he could be accepted for who he was, as the letter suggested he might be, that could be enough. It wouldn't take away the pain of the transformation, but it might make it bearable; just as his parent's love had allowed him to forget, at times, the moon's control over him.
He allowed a small smile to escape, a spark of excitement lighting his eyes. Maybe those dreams weren't as impossible as he thought. He might yet experience all those adventures his young mind had conjured. The small smile became a grin as he remembered. Carefully folding the parchment, the boy jumped up and started running, disturbing the birds who had forgotten his presence in his stillness.
AUTHOR’S NOTES:
[1] I imagine Remus being about four or five when he was bitten. Having watched nieces and nephews growing up, I have a new understanding (and sometime awe) concerning the intelligence and imagination of children that age.
[2] The fairy tale Remus refers to is “Little Daylight” by George MacDonald. It is a version of Sleeping Beauty.