(no subject)
Title: Remus Lupin and The Centaur Ashes (Chapter 3/?)
Summary: An unorthodox cure... a famous scar... a different time... different friends... and a drastically different life, unbitten, with amazing new adventures. The first volume in the epic story of Remus Lupin. AU.
Characters/Pairings: Remus Lupin, Mr. Ollivander, Original Characters (Lupin family, Adelbert McNair)
Genre: Adventure/Friendship
Beta: None
Rating/Warnings: K+
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 3, 596
A pair of green-brown eyes, caught in the intensity of the hate radiating from them. A moment of utter terror, and then an explosion of silver and pain ripped through his shoulder.
Remus awoke with a start, his hand straying automatically to his right shoulder as the pain spread up into his neck for a moment before it disappeared, leaving stiffness that he knew would linger for the rest of the day. Rolling over, hand still pressed over his shoulder, Remus buried his face in his pillow, letting the comforting scent wash over him, recalling the familiar dream.
Over five years had passed since that night, and he still had the same dream every full moon, the same flash of pain through his shoulder and neck. And always something, something that slipped away on the last tendrils of sleep, something lost to the pain and sudden wakefulness that he could never quite remember.
Pulling his face out of the pillow, he glanced over at his father, asleep in an uncomfortable wooden chair next to the window, wand clutched tightly in his right hand. John Lupin had kept the same watch over his son every full moon, Greyback’s parting vow of revenge echoing in his ears.
Remus could hear the faint sounds of his mother downstairs, making breakfast, the house quiet with the twins and Grace still sleeping. The thought of food drew him from under the covers with one final stretch of his long arms over his head, and he moved to find clothes for the day. Slipping into a pair of jeans, he indulged in another stretch, this time pulling himself up to his full height with a yawn.
Remus was tall for his age, skinny, angled joints and long limbs, awkward at times as he grew into them. His sandy brown hair was long and fairly neat, fringe drifting carelessly over his bright amber eyes every so often, so that he had to push it away with an automatic move of his hand.
And on his right shoulder, still clearly visible despite his faint summer tan, the ragged scar, stretching over the entirety of the shoulder and inching up on to his neck. Even as he pulled the plain t-shirt over his head, the famous scar was still there, sneaking up over the collar into clear view along the right side of his neck. He couldn’t hide his past, wore it like a badge right there on his skin for all to see.
The kitchen was full of the sweltering August heat, a weight to the air almost, but his mother still stood next to the hot stove, looking completely unfrazzled and at ease as she moved the pan of eggs to the table. She noticed Remus enter the kitchen, and smiled as she summoned the cereal from the top of the fridge and set it next to the rapidly cooling egg pan.
“Morning, love. Eggs and cereal this morning, and no chocolate syrup in the milk. I swear, you consume more chocolate in one day then all the rest of Europe combined,” she said as he took a place at the table.
He mock pouted for a second with a wanting glance toward the fridge, but his mum just rolled her eyes and
handed him a bowl.
Rosey Lupin was a small, slight woman with a stubborn streak that left most people more willing to deal with a mother bear, and who gave hugs that could crush a grown man. Her son had inherited her sandy brown hair, hers tied back in a loose ponytail rather than the strict one she wore to St. Mungo’s, but not her light blue eyes, which she rolled again as Remus tested the dimensions of the kitchen by attempting to lean his chair back far enough to snag the fridge open and retrieve the chocolate syrup he desired.
She took the seat next to him, spooning eggs on to her own plate as she looked him over. Her gaze lingered just a moment too long on the familiar scar, and her hand moved slightly out to touch it before she caught herself. Remus’s own hand reached almost unconsciously up to cover the dark pink patch on his neck, suddenly self-conscious.
“Remus, if you want, I can hide it, just for today, for the trip to Diagon,” she said, reaching out to touch the hand still holding his spoon, slightly soggy cereal sitting forgotten on it.
He considered it for a moment, and then thought about the crowds in Diagon Alley, how inevitably someone would notice him without seeing the scar, and the questions would come about why he was hiding it. He had been known for so long that the scar was not the only think that made him recognizable any longer.
So Remus just shook his head and returned to his breakfast, wishing desperately for chocolate syrup and an unscarred shoulder as he dug into his cooling eggs. His mother reached across him, taking his other hand away from his shoulder with her patented Be proud, Remus look in her eyes. He gave a small smile and sat up a little straighter in his chair, and she smiled back before casting a look towards the stairs.
“You finish eating, I’ve got to go wake your father and get your brothers ready before we head to Diagon. I hope I can just get Grace to sleep until we drop her off at your grandparents. Your letter somewhere safe?” Rosey asked, setting her plate to wash itself in the sink, and setting off up the stairs to rouse the remaining Lupin men.
Remus, after checking to see that the letter was still tucked safely into his jeans pocket (crinkled, the wax seal deteriorating a little, but safe), continued eating as he listened to the quite, familiar sounds from upstairs. Soon, his father’s soft footsteps could be heard on the stairs, and the accompanying pitter-patter of the twins, Sam and Lawrence. Though Remus was built like his father, his face similar, it was the twins who had inherited the dark blue eyes full of barely restrained laughter and the wavy hair that, while still sandy brown, was the color of wet sand.
“Morning, Remus,” said his dad as he took the seat Rosey had vacated when she went upstairs, “You sleep well?” he asked, the first question out of his mouth after every full moon since that warm June night over five years ago. Remus nodded as he helped Sam get his cereal, and Lawrence to avoid overflowing his bowl with milk.
John seemed to nearly inhale his own large bowl of cereal, and was pulling on his dark robes with the purple and gold Nimbus crest embroidered on the left breast as Rosey descended the steps, Grace, two years old, dozing against her mother’s chest. Running a large hand across his son’s heads, he dropped a kiss on Grace’s head, whispering something into the soft brown hair before giving his wife a quick peck on the lips and his wide smile. Remus heard the faint pop of apparition as he went to wash his bowl and plate in the sink.
He took Grace for a few minutes as his brothers finished their breakfast and his mum fussed over the slightly messy waves of their hair. After she had deemed them appropriate for public viewing and they had followed Remus’s example, washing and drying their plates, Rosey and the twins led the way into the living room.
The early morning sun shone through the picture window and glinted off the frames along the mantle, pictures of the four Lupin children, John and Rosey on their wedding day, various other members of the family. And tucked along the side, in plain view but certainly not the center of attention, was a framed copy of the article that had made him famous, edges crinkled, paper slightly yellow with age.
Still holding the sleeping Grace to her chest, Rosey cast an Incendio at the fireplace, and grabbed a small pinch of Floo powder from the jar on the table next to the hearth.
“Lawrence, Samuel, I’m going to take your sister through, and then you follow us to Grandma Julie’s, okay? Be careful, and remember to enunciate. If I have to chase you to all over kingdom come, I will be very irritated, understood?” she said, and the twins nodded as they gathered up their own powder. “Remus, I’ll be back in a few minutes, once I get these guys settled, so just wait and then we’ll head on to Diagon Alley.”
She disappeared in the green flames a few seconds later, and Sam and Law followed her, one at a time, each entering the fire as the last traces of green faded, and Remus sat patiently waiting. His hand once again rested against his shoulder, long fingers trying to work some of the stiffness out. When his mother reemerged onto the hearth, she gave him a stern look, but came to give it her own little rub before gesturing to the warm fire, stifling in the heavy heat.
Grabbing a pinch of the scratchy powder in his fingers, he tossed it into the fire and stepped in. The warmth of the flames was less uncomfortable now, and he stated his destination with a firm voice, and was whirled away. He clenched his jaw against the slight queasiness that he’d never gotten rid of while traveling by Floo, and tried to enjoy the ride.
His journey ended abruptly at The Leaky Cauldron, and Remus negotiated his long limbs out of the fireplace. His mum followed a few seconds later, and took to brushing off his clothes with vigor. He muttered something about not being six anymore as he blushed, but she continued her work until he was deemed presentable.
The Leaky Cauldron looked as it always did at this time of day, tables crowded with being and beast alike, and the smell was comforting, if the heat was even worse here then it had been at home. For a moment, Remus was hopeful, having made it nearly halfway across the bar without being recognized. But as he moved around a table, the firelight must have caught the few inches of exposed scar in just the right way, and the wizened old wizard at the table reached out for his hand.
“By Merlin’s beard, it’s Remus Lupin,” he said, astonishment at his luck clear in his voice as he pumped Remus’s hand. The small exchange would eventually halt his progress for almost ten minutes, but eager as he was to escape, Remus tried to smile through every exchange, always meeting people’s eyes, trying not to slouch, even as the heat grew more terrible with each second. His mother always told him he that he should be nice to these people, that they admired him, that they didn’t do it to annoy him, but rather because he inspired them.
And just as it was becoming tedious, his shoulder growing stiffer with each eye that fell on it, Tom’s voice could be heard over the slight din, “All right, folks, all right. Young Lupin’s got to go off and fetch his school stuff, let the young feller breath.” Remus’s knees nearly gave out in thanks, and he gave a nod of appreciation as his mother began to cut a path through the crowd. The old barkeep gave a wink as he returned to cleaning glasses behind the bar.
When they’d escaped the warm tavern through the brick wall into the fresh air of bustling Diagon Alley, Remus’s mum directed him toward Madame Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, while she went to Gringotts to collect the money they would need for the rest of his supplies.
He managed to make it across the cobblestone street and into the clothing shop without being noticed, and stood just inside the door quietly, not sure what to do. He’d only been here once before, with his mother when she was being fitted with a robe for a friend’s wedding.
A dark haired witch who Remus identified as Madame Malkin from the picture on the sign hanging over the small desk, bustled up, saying, “Oh, dear, I’m sorry, we’re a little shorthanded today. Hold on one moment, Master McNair. Just jump up next to this young fellow here, there you go, let me get a robe. Quite tall, aren’t you? Well, no worries, we’ll get you all fixed up in a moment. Martha! Could you come finish up Master McNair’s hem here?”
Her pretty young assistant, Martha apparently, blond hair tied up in a serious ponytail, passed the older witch as she bustled off to find an appropriate robe for Remus, and took over her work on the other boy’s robe. Remus was still reeling from the velocity of her words.
Remus looked over at the boy next to him as he waited. His long black hair was slicked back, and he had features like a hawk, hooked nose and a serious mouth, dark, predatory eyes that were focused on Remus intensely. He tried not to squirm under the hard gaze and thanked God that the boy was on his left side, unable to see the scar.
“Any idea what house you’ll be in?” asked the boy suddenly, eyes not leaving Remus, and Remus could see the look of slight recognition sneaking into his gaze, prayed that Madame Malkin hurried. He shook his head, and the boy scoffed and looked almost disappointed in him.
“I’m almost a sure lock for Slytherin,” said the boy, glancing down at Martha for a moment and rolling his eyes, “My family’s been sorted there for generations. Any idea where you’ll end up?” he asked again, and Remus shook his head. The boy seemed to be growing bored with both the conversation and the fitting, but he continued to study Remus with growing intensity, as though he was determined to figure how he knew him.
Just as Remus was sure he would figure it out, Madame Malkin gave his leg a pat, “That’s you done, young man,” and he jumped down from the stool and away from the other boy, trying not to let him see his neck.
His mother was waiting for him by the counter, and he stood next to her as she paid for the package that Madame Malkin handed her. As they left, Remus could hear the other young man speaking to Martha in a harsh tone, telling her to hurry up, as he had other, better things to do.
“I stopped by the apothecary and the parchment shop on my way, as I figured you wouldn’t be too particular about that, so we’ve just got a stop at Flourish and Blotts, and then your wand left. And,” she said with a smile, looking down slightly at her son, detecting his uneasy mood, “your father has decided that you should have an owl. We figure it will be easier to keep your siblings from begging for your return home if you can at least write to them.” His face lit up at the news, and Rosey was glad to see the troubled look leave her son’s amber eyes.
“Well, come on then. Flourish and Blotts first, and then we’ll stop by that new shop, Eelyops or something, and see if we can’t find you something suitable.”
They managed to make it to Flourish and Blotts without being noticed, but several people, including the clerk working behind the counter, recognized him, and Remus, embarrassed, signed several copies of a book called Child Heroes of The War: Their Lives and Legends.
After the bookstore, they headed for Eelyops, and as they walked into the darkened main room, Remus saw the bird he wanted almost immediately. A majestic black creature, not small, but not one of the massive hulking ones that lined the bottom shelves, with piercing yellow eyes.
“A beautiful bird, that one. Good eye, young man,” said the clerk that came forward, a wild haired, wide-eyed boy who didn’t really look all that much older then Remus.
“We’ll take him,” said Rosey, and while his mother paid and the clerk transferred the owl to an easier to transport cage, Remus waited impatiently for his present to be delivered to his eager hands. After everything was taken care of, the cage was handed to Remus, and as they emerged from the shop back into the street, the owl buried his head under his wing and fell asleep.
“Just your wand left then, and there’s only one place for that, of course. Lead on, Remus,” she said, and he did, handing the cage to his mother as he moved through the crowds unnoticed, not really realizing the excitement that was building inside of him until he pushed open the door.
The air was thick with dust and silence, and it nearly stole his breath away. The shop was empty, and Remus looked around curiously for a moment before he heard the sound of wheels sliding over the wooden floor, and looked up in time to see a ladder click into place in front him, a small man hopping down and scurrying over to Remus in a mouse-like manner to study him with wide silver eyes.
“Young Mr. Lupin. I suspected it was about time for you to be coming in. Your mother brought you?” he said, just as Rosey walked in and set the cage gently on the floor next to one of the benches along the back wall. “Ahhh, a marvelous wand you have, Rosey, stiff as a sickle, wonderful for Charms, your husband’s as well. Well, let us get started, Mr. Lupin. Your wand arm?” Remus lifted up his right arm, and he could feel Mr. Ollivander’s unusual eyes on the edge of the scar as he set his tape measure to work.
As it worked, the old man wandered off into the seemingly endless shelves, and the shop fell into silence again except for the slight rustling of the tape measure and Mr. Ollivander’s persistent muttering as he looked through the vast collection of wands.
Finally, the tape measure crumpled to the ground at Remus’s feet, and moments later, Mr. Ollivander emerged from the shelves, holding a single, incredibly dusty box. Looking distracted, he withdrew the wand and handed it to Remus, muttering, “Thirteen inches, oak, phoenix tail feather.”
Remus took the wand, and could feel the warmth spreading up his fingers, spreading up into the scar, and as he raised the wand up to eye level, a burst of silver smoke exploded from the end with a small bang, twisting up and up for a few moments before disappearing slowly into thin air. Rosey smiled behind her son, but Ollivander just reached for the wand, placed it carefully back into the box and turned away from Remus, a strange expression on his face.
“Sir?” asked Remus, nervous about the expression as Ollivander blew the dust off the box and began to carefully wrap it, “Is something wrong?”
Ollivander looked up from his task and considered Remus for a moment, before leaning close, so that only he could hear him. “Remus,” he said, and Remus was shocked by the use of his first name, “this wand has been sitting in this shop since my grandfather was a boy. I myself am far from young, so you can only imagine how many years it has been sitting on those shelves waiting for you. But that’s not the only thing that makes this wand special, that makes this connection… extraordinary.
“The phoenix that gave the feather for this wand was a brilliant, almost blinding silver. It was not unique, nor is this the only feather it gave, but it cannot be coincidence that this wand, which lay dormant for so long, has finally picked someone with such an,” and here, Ollivander reached out a single finger and shocked Remus by laying it against the exposed scar for a moment before pulling it back, “interesting past,” he finished, and then returned to his wrapping of the wand as though nothing had happened, as though nothing he had said mattered a bit.
Wordlessly, he handed over the package, and Remus took it, still reeling, and softly bid him good day. His mother was still sitting by the door; Remus’s new owl at her feet, and the sight pulled him back to the real world, out of the mystery and myth that Ollivander had woven. Rosey paid and Mr. Ollivander met Remus’s eyes for a moment before he followed his mum out of the shop, and then the sunshine nearly blinded him, and the old man disappeared within the shop again.
--
Hours later, Remus lay in his bed, open book having slipped down onto the floor, on the edge of sleep. The black owl, who’d been named Shaaro, a favorite character from an old book Remus had loved as a child, had been let out, free to glide through the night sky, and his cage sat empty on Remus’s desk.
Right before he dropped off, Remus thought of Ollivander’s strange eyes, so close and big, wider even then usual, if that was possible, his whispered words, the very things that mystery and destiny seemed to be made off, the power of the wand as it flowed into his arm and shoulder, the energy filling the scar.
In a week, Remus would be headed for Hogwarts, where he hoped some of the answers could be found.
120 points for Gryffindor
Summary: An unorthodox cure... a famous scar... a different time... different friends... and a drastically different life, unbitten, with amazing new adventures. The first volume in the epic story of Remus Lupin. AU.
Characters/Pairings: Remus Lupin, Mr. Ollivander, Original Characters (Lupin family, Adelbert McNair)
Genre: Adventure/Friendship
Beta: None
Rating/Warnings: K+
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 3, 596
A pair of green-brown eyes, caught in the intensity of the hate radiating from them. A moment of utter terror, and then an explosion of silver and pain ripped through his shoulder.
Remus awoke with a start, his hand straying automatically to his right shoulder as the pain spread up into his neck for a moment before it disappeared, leaving stiffness that he knew would linger for the rest of the day. Rolling over, hand still pressed over his shoulder, Remus buried his face in his pillow, letting the comforting scent wash over him, recalling the familiar dream.
Over five years had passed since that night, and he still had the same dream every full moon, the same flash of pain through his shoulder and neck. And always something, something that slipped away on the last tendrils of sleep, something lost to the pain and sudden wakefulness that he could never quite remember.
Pulling his face out of the pillow, he glanced over at his father, asleep in an uncomfortable wooden chair next to the window, wand clutched tightly in his right hand. John Lupin had kept the same watch over his son every full moon, Greyback’s parting vow of revenge echoing in his ears.
Remus could hear the faint sounds of his mother downstairs, making breakfast, the house quiet with the twins and Grace still sleeping. The thought of food drew him from under the covers with one final stretch of his long arms over his head, and he moved to find clothes for the day. Slipping into a pair of jeans, he indulged in another stretch, this time pulling himself up to his full height with a yawn.
Remus was tall for his age, skinny, angled joints and long limbs, awkward at times as he grew into them. His sandy brown hair was long and fairly neat, fringe drifting carelessly over his bright amber eyes every so often, so that he had to push it away with an automatic move of his hand.
And on his right shoulder, still clearly visible despite his faint summer tan, the ragged scar, stretching over the entirety of the shoulder and inching up on to his neck. Even as he pulled the plain t-shirt over his head, the famous scar was still there, sneaking up over the collar into clear view along the right side of his neck. He couldn’t hide his past, wore it like a badge right there on his skin for all to see.
The kitchen was full of the sweltering August heat, a weight to the air almost, but his mother still stood next to the hot stove, looking completely unfrazzled and at ease as she moved the pan of eggs to the table. She noticed Remus enter the kitchen, and smiled as she summoned the cereal from the top of the fridge and set it next to the rapidly cooling egg pan.
“Morning, love. Eggs and cereal this morning, and no chocolate syrup in the milk. I swear, you consume more chocolate in one day then all the rest of Europe combined,” she said as he took a place at the table.
He mock pouted for a second with a wanting glance toward the fridge, but his mum just rolled her eyes and
handed him a bowl.
Rosey Lupin was a small, slight woman with a stubborn streak that left most people more willing to deal with a mother bear, and who gave hugs that could crush a grown man. Her son had inherited her sandy brown hair, hers tied back in a loose ponytail rather than the strict one she wore to St. Mungo’s, but not her light blue eyes, which she rolled again as Remus tested the dimensions of the kitchen by attempting to lean his chair back far enough to snag the fridge open and retrieve the chocolate syrup he desired.
She took the seat next to him, spooning eggs on to her own plate as she looked him over. Her gaze lingered just a moment too long on the familiar scar, and her hand moved slightly out to touch it before she caught herself. Remus’s own hand reached almost unconsciously up to cover the dark pink patch on his neck, suddenly self-conscious.
“Remus, if you want, I can hide it, just for today, for the trip to Diagon,” she said, reaching out to touch the hand still holding his spoon, slightly soggy cereal sitting forgotten on it.
He considered it for a moment, and then thought about the crowds in Diagon Alley, how inevitably someone would notice him without seeing the scar, and the questions would come about why he was hiding it. He had been known for so long that the scar was not the only think that made him recognizable any longer.
So Remus just shook his head and returned to his breakfast, wishing desperately for chocolate syrup and an unscarred shoulder as he dug into his cooling eggs. His mother reached across him, taking his other hand away from his shoulder with her patented Be proud, Remus look in her eyes. He gave a small smile and sat up a little straighter in his chair, and she smiled back before casting a look towards the stairs.
“You finish eating, I’ve got to go wake your father and get your brothers ready before we head to Diagon. I hope I can just get Grace to sleep until we drop her off at your grandparents. Your letter somewhere safe?” Rosey asked, setting her plate to wash itself in the sink, and setting off up the stairs to rouse the remaining Lupin men.
Remus, after checking to see that the letter was still tucked safely into his jeans pocket (crinkled, the wax seal deteriorating a little, but safe), continued eating as he listened to the quite, familiar sounds from upstairs. Soon, his father’s soft footsteps could be heard on the stairs, and the accompanying pitter-patter of the twins, Sam and Lawrence. Though Remus was built like his father, his face similar, it was the twins who had inherited the dark blue eyes full of barely restrained laughter and the wavy hair that, while still sandy brown, was the color of wet sand.
“Morning, Remus,” said his dad as he took the seat Rosey had vacated when she went upstairs, “You sleep well?” he asked, the first question out of his mouth after every full moon since that warm June night over five years ago. Remus nodded as he helped Sam get his cereal, and Lawrence to avoid overflowing his bowl with milk.
John seemed to nearly inhale his own large bowl of cereal, and was pulling on his dark robes with the purple and gold Nimbus crest embroidered on the left breast as Rosey descended the steps, Grace, two years old, dozing against her mother’s chest. Running a large hand across his son’s heads, he dropped a kiss on Grace’s head, whispering something into the soft brown hair before giving his wife a quick peck on the lips and his wide smile. Remus heard the faint pop of apparition as he went to wash his bowl and plate in the sink.
He took Grace for a few minutes as his brothers finished their breakfast and his mum fussed over the slightly messy waves of their hair. After she had deemed them appropriate for public viewing and they had followed Remus’s example, washing and drying their plates, Rosey and the twins led the way into the living room.
The early morning sun shone through the picture window and glinted off the frames along the mantle, pictures of the four Lupin children, John and Rosey on their wedding day, various other members of the family. And tucked along the side, in plain view but certainly not the center of attention, was a framed copy of the article that had made him famous, edges crinkled, paper slightly yellow with age.
Still holding the sleeping Grace to her chest, Rosey cast an Incendio at the fireplace, and grabbed a small pinch of Floo powder from the jar on the table next to the hearth.
“Lawrence, Samuel, I’m going to take your sister through, and then you follow us to Grandma Julie’s, okay? Be careful, and remember to enunciate. If I have to chase you to all over kingdom come, I will be very irritated, understood?” she said, and the twins nodded as they gathered up their own powder. “Remus, I’ll be back in a few minutes, once I get these guys settled, so just wait and then we’ll head on to Diagon Alley.”
She disappeared in the green flames a few seconds later, and Sam and Law followed her, one at a time, each entering the fire as the last traces of green faded, and Remus sat patiently waiting. His hand once again rested against his shoulder, long fingers trying to work some of the stiffness out. When his mother reemerged onto the hearth, she gave him a stern look, but came to give it her own little rub before gesturing to the warm fire, stifling in the heavy heat.
Grabbing a pinch of the scratchy powder in his fingers, he tossed it into the fire and stepped in. The warmth of the flames was less uncomfortable now, and he stated his destination with a firm voice, and was whirled away. He clenched his jaw against the slight queasiness that he’d never gotten rid of while traveling by Floo, and tried to enjoy the ride.
His journey ended abruptly at The Leaky Cauldron, and Remus negotiated his long limbs out of the fireplace. His mum followed a few seconds later, and took to brushing off his clothes with vigor. He muttered something about not being six anymore as he blushed, but she continued her work until he was deemed presentable.
The Leaky Cauldron looked as it always did at this time of day, tables crowded with being and beast alike, and the smell was comforting, if the heat was even worse here then it had been at home. For a moment, Remus was hopeful, having made it nearly halfway across the bar without being recognized. But as he moved around a table, the firelight must have caught the few inches of exposed scar in just the right way, and the wizened old wizard at the table reached out for his hand.
“By Merlin’s beard, it’s Remus Lupin,” he said, astonishment at his luck clear in his voice as he pumped Remus’s hand. The small exchange would eventually halt his progress for almost ten minutes, but eager as he was to escape, Remus tried to smile through every exchange, always meeting people’s eyes, trying not to slouch, even as the heat grew more terrible with each second. His mother always told him he that he should be nice to these people, that they admired him, that they didn’t do it to annoy him, but rather because he inspired them.
And just as it was becoming tedious, his shoulder growing stiffer with each eye that fell on it, Tom’s voice could be heard over the slight din, “All right, folks, all right. Young Lupin’s got to go off and fetch his school stuff, let the young feller breath.” Remus’s knees nearly gave out in thanks, and he gave a nod of appreciation as his mother began to cut a path through the crowd. The old barkeep gave a wink as he returned to cleaning glasses behind the bar.
When they’d escaped the warm tavern through the brick wall into the fresh air of bustling Diagon Alley, Remus’s mum directed him toward Madame Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, while she went to Gringotts to collect the money they would need for the rest of his supplies.
He managed to make it across the cobblestone street and into the clothing shop without being noticed, and stood just inside the door quietly, not sure what to do. He’d only been here once before, with his mother when she was being fitted with a robe for a friend’s wedding.
A dark haired witch who Remus identified as Madame Malkin from the picture on the sign hanging over the small desk, bustled up, saying, “Oh, dear, I’m sorry, we’re a little shorthanded today. Hold on one moment, Master McNair. Just jump up next to this young fellow here, there you go, let me get a robe. Quite tall, aren’t you? Well, no worries, we’ll get you all fixed up in a moment. Martha! Could you come finish up Master McNair’s hem here?”
Her pretty young assistant, Martha apparently, blond hair tied up in a serious ponytail, passed the older witch as she bustled off to find an appropriate robe for Remus, and took over her work on the other boy’s robe. Remus was still reeling from the velocity of her words.
Remus looked over at the boy next to him as he waited. His long black hair was slicked back, and he had features like a hawk, hooked nose and a serious mouth, dark, predatory eyes that were focused on Remus intensely. He tried not to squirm under the hard gaze and thanked God that the boy was on his left side, unable to see the scar.
“Any idea what house you’ll be in?” asked the boy suddenly, eyes not leaving Remus, and Remus could see the look of slight recognition sneaking into his gaze, prayed that Madame Malkin hurried. He shook his head, and the boy scoffed and looked almost disappointed in him.
“I’m almost a sure lock for Slytherin,” said the boy, glancing down at Martha for a moment and rolling his eyes, “My family’s been sorted there for generations. Any idea where you’ll end up?” he asked again, and Remus shook his head. The boy seemed to be growing bored with both the conversation and the fitting, but he continued to study Remus with growing intensity, as though he was determined to figure how he knew him.
Just as Remus was sure he would figure it out, Madame Malkin gave his leg a pat, “That’s you done, young man,” and he jumped down from the stool and away from the other boy, trying not to let him see his neck.
His mother was waiting for him by the counter, and he stood next to her as she paid for the package that Madame Malkin handed her. As they left, Remus could hear the other young man speaking to Martha in a harsh tone, telling her to hurry up, as he had other, better things to do.
“I stopped by the apothecary and the parchment shop on my way, as I figured you wouldn’t be too particular about that, so we’ve just got a stop at Flourish and Blotts, and then your wand left. And,” she said with a smile, looking down slightly at her son, detecting his uneasy mood, “your father has decided that you should have an owl. We figure it will be easier to keep your siblings from begging for your return home if you can at least write to them.” His face lit up at the news, and Rosey was glad to see the troubled look leave her son’s amber eyes.
“Well, come on then. Flourish and Blotts first, and then we’ll stop by that new shop, Eelyops or something, and see if we can’t find you something suitable.”
They managed to make it to Flourish and Blotts without being noticed, but several people, including the clerk working behind the counter, recognized him, and Remus, embarrassed, signed several copies of a book called Child Heroes of The War: Their Lives and Legends.
After the bookstore, they headed for Eelyops, and as they walked into the darkened main room, Remus saw the bird he wanted almost immediately. A majestic black creature, not small, but not one of the massive hulking ones that lined the bottom shelves, with piercing yellow eyes.
“A beautiful bird, that one. Good eye, young man,” said the clerk that came forward, a wild haired, wide-eyed boy who didn’t really look all that much older then Remus.
“We’ll take him,” said Rosey, and while his mother paid and the clerk transferred the owl to an easier to transport cage, Remus waited impatiently for his present to be delivered to his eager hands. After everything was taken care of, the cage was handed to Remus, and as they emerged from the shop back into the street, the owl buried his head under his wing and fell asleep.
“Just your wand left then, and there’s only one place for that, of course. Lead on, Remus,” she said, and he did, handing the cage to his mother as he moved through the crowds unnoticed, not really realizing the excitement that was building inside of him until he pushed open the door.
The air was thick with dust and silence, and it nearly stole his breath away. The shop was empty, and Remus looked around curiously for a moment before he heard the sound of wheels sliding over the wooden floor, and looked up in time to see a ladder click into place in front him, a small man hopping down and scurrying over to Remus in a mouse-like manner to study him with wide silver eyes.
“Young Mr. Lupin. I suspected it was about time for you to be coming in. Your mother brought you?” he said, just as Rosey walked in and set the cage gently on the floor next to one of the benches along the back wall. “Ahhh, a marvelous wand you have, Rosey, stiff as a sickle, wonderful for Charms, your husband’s as well. Well, let us get started, Mr. Lupin. Your wand arm?” Remus lifted up his right arm, and he could feel Mr. Ollivander’s unusual eyes on the edge of the scar as he set his tape measure to work.
As it worked, the old man wandered off into the seemingly endless shelves, and the shop fell into silence again except for the slight rustling of the tape measure and Mr. Ollivander’s persistent muttering as he looked through the vast collection of wands.
Finally, the tape measure crumpled to the ground at Remus’s feet, and moments later, Mr. Ollivander emerged from the shelves, holding a single, incredibly dusty box. Looking distracted, he withdrew the wand and handed it to Remus, muttering, “Thirteen inches, oak, phoenix tail feather.”
Remus took the wand, and could feel the warmth spreading up his fingers, spreading up into the scar, and as he raised the wand up to eye level, a burst of silver smoke exploded from the end with a small bang, twisting up and up for a few moments before disappearing slowly into thin air. Rosey smiled behind her son, but Ollivander just reached for the wand, placed it carefully back into the box and turned away from Remus, a strange expression on his face.
“Sir?” asked Remus, nervous about the expression as Ollivander blew the dust off the box and began to carefully wrap it, “Is something wrong?”
Ollivander looked up from his task and considered Remus for a moment, before leaning close, so that only he could hear him. “Remus,” he said, and Remus was shocked by the use of his first name, “this wand has been sitting in this shop since my grandfather was a boy. I myself am far from young, so you can only imagine how many years it has been sitting on those shelves waiting for you. But that’s not the only thing that makes this wand special, that makes this connection… extraordinary.
“The phoenix that gave the feather for this wand was a brilliant, almost blinding silver. It was not unique, nor is this the only feather it gave, but it cannot be coincidence that this wand, which lay dormant for so long, has finally picked someone with such an,” and here, Ollivander reached out a single finger and shocked Remus by laying it against the exposed scar for a moment before pulling it back, “interesting past,” he finished, and then returned to his wrapping of the wand as though nothing had happened, as though nothing he had said mattered a bit.
Wordlessly, he handed over the package, and Remus took it, still reeling, and softly bid him good day. His mother was still sitting by the door; Remus’s new owl at her feet, and the sight pulled him back to the real world, out of the mystery and myth that Ollivander had woven. Rosey paid and Mr. Ollivander met Remus’s eyes for a moment before he followed his mum out of the shop, and then the sunshine nearly blinded him, and the old man disappeared within the shop again.
--
Hours later, Remus lay in his bed, open book having slipped down onto the floor, on the edge of sleep. The black owl, who’d been named Shaaro, a favorite character from an old book Remus had loved as a child, had been let out, free to glide through the night sky, and his cage sat empty on Remus’s desk.
Right before he dropped off, Remus thought of Ollivander’s strange eyes, so close and big, wider even then usual, if that was possible, his whispered words, the very things that mystery and destiny seemed to be made off, the power of the wand as it flowed into his arm and shoulder, the energy filling the scar.
In a week, Remus would be headed for Hogwarts, where he hoped some of the answers could be found.
120 points for Gryffindor
