FicWad

As I stirred awake, brilliant morning sunlight poured through the towering windows, casting a warm, golden glow across the bare wooden floorboards of my room. The radiant light danced playfully on the walls, illuminating the swirling dust motes suspended in the air. From outside, I could hear the bustling energy of the street—the rumble of starting cars, the joyful laughter of children, the gentle chatter of my neighbours exchanging their morning greetings. The world felt alive, pulsing with a vibrant, anticipatory energy, as if eagerly awaiting the adventures that the new day would bring.

I blinked rapidly, fighting to dispel the heavy fog of drowsiness that clouded my mind. With a weary sigh, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat in the eerie silence, my gaze drifting listlessly around the familiar room. My eyes settled on the vibrant Quidditch posters that adorned the walls, their moving figures a comforting reminder of home. Perched atop my desk, the owl in its ornate cage preened, her glossy feathers shimmering softly in the muted morning light.

I rose and made my way towards the open trunk at the foot of the bed. Clothes lay haphazardly scattered across the jumble of quills, potion vials, leather-bound books, and various odds and ends I had collected over the years. With a weary sigh, I began rummaging through the disarray, shoving aside the rumpled fabrics to find something suitable to wear.

My limbs felt weighted with sleep, but the tantalising aroma of breakfast urged me forward. With each step down the creaking stairs, I felt the comforting wrap of home settle around me. The old cottage we inhabited was hardly grand, but it was ours.

The aroma of freshly toasted bread and aromatic tea wafted through the kitchen, instantly awakening my senses. As I entered, the sight of Remus brought a comforting warmth to my heart. “Good afternoon, Harry,” he said playfully, handing me a steaming mug of tea.

I took a tentative sip, allowing the soothing liquid to chase away the last remnants of sleep. The tea’s subtle notes of chamomile and perfectly balanced sweetness of honey enveloped me in a sense of solace, making my heart swell with contentment.

“What’ll it be—toast... or perhaps some scrambled eggs?” Remus enquired, his tone laced with a hint of playful hospitality.

“Eggs, please,” I replied. Iwatched, mesmerised, as Remus’s skilled hands danced through the familiar motions of cracking eggs and whisking them into a fluffy mixture. There was an effortless grace to his movements that never failed to captivate me. Remus just had a way of elevating the ordinary into something extraordinary.

As he cooked, I leaned against the kitchen counter, my gaze drifting to the window and the tranquil scene outside. The comfortable silence was suddenly broken by Remus’s gentle voice.

“You seem awfully quiet today,” he remarked, glancing over his shoulder with a concerned expression. “Something on your mind?”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. “It’s nothing, really,” I replied casually. But the words felt heavy as I hesitantly added, “Just a bad dream.” I could sense the weight of my admission hanging awkwardly between us.

He stiffened, his brown eyes narrowing as he studied me. “I wouldn’t call that nothing,” he said, his steady voice laced with concern. Lifting my chin with his fingertip, he frowned slightly, searching my expression. I wanted to look away, to hide the turmoil swirling within me, but it was as if he could see into the dark corners of my heart where my worries lurked.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Remus said in his familiar, compassionate voice. “I know it must be so difficult for you, but we’re only here temporarily, and sooner or later we will have to leave…” His words drifted on the chilly breeze that flowed through the open window, tinged with melancholy. With each new temporary place, every brief encounter with what could have been a home, the struggle to adapt only grew more arduous.

The morning light gently accentuated the deep furrows lining Remus’s weary face, the pallor of his skin betraying many sleepless nights and the heavy burden of his unspoken concerns. I longed to reassure him, to convey my empathy, but the tightness in my throat rendered me speechless. Settling for a simple nod, I hoped the gesture might offer some small measure of comfort.

The sight of my dejected expression caused him to pause mid-sentence. When he resumed speaking, his tone had softened. “There’s no need to worry—we have plenty of time to discuss this later.”

Later. I clung to that word, repeating it like an incantation, desperate for the reassurance it could provide.

Staying by Remus’s side was crucial for my protection, though the weight of that necessity grew more burdensome with each passing phase of our lives. His unrelenting battle against the curse of lycanthropy loomed over us like a haunting spectre, casting a dark shadow on our every moment. Entrusting my safety to him, my guardian, felt reckless and ill-advised. Could he truly shield me when he was so beleaguered by the very essence of his being?

I stole a furtive glance at him, taking in the worn, faded brown pants and loose, billowing white shirt that hung loosely on his weathered frame. There was an undeniable allure to his battle-scarred appearance—a testament to the countless hardships he had endured and overcome.

In contrast, I was fine-boned and of average stature. My bright, emerald-green eyes, often obscured behind round, wire-rimmed glasses, were a source of both admiration and frustration. While I marvelled at the mesmerising gleam of the emerald hue, I frequently lamented the poor eyesight that forced me to rely on the frames, which had become as much a part of my identity as my perpetually unruly, jet-black hair.

Concern gripped me as I took in Remus’s greying hair and the haunted shadows in his eyes. My heart ached with worry.

I had long tried to ignore the growing concerns, consumed by my own duties. Yet how could I shield him when he was so intent on shielding me?

Remus carried his plate to the sink, leaving his half-eaten toast behind. He then settled onto the window seat, the Daily Prophet unfolded before him.

”What’s new?” I asked.

Remus solemnly held up the newspaper, its front page blaring with ominous headlines—dark marks, brutal murders, devastating disasters. I scanned the grim news, feeling a growing sense of unease and helplessness wash over me, as if I were trying to decipher an unsolvable riddle.

“The Muggles live in fear now,” Remus said, his voice heavy with sorrow.

I looked around our cosy, isolated cottage and felt a pang of guilt. “What can we do to help them?” I asked tentatively. “While we sit in safety, they fight for their very lives out there.”

Remus fixed me with his piercing amber gaze, his eyes reflecting the harsh realities of the world beyond the confines of those four walls. “Your path has already been laid out before you, even if you can’t see it yet.”

My mind immediately returned to the countless restless nights I had spent wrestling with my own destiny. The oppressive weight of prophecy and my troubled past felt like a heavy cloak I could never fully shed. I could almost hear the whispers of my deepest insecurities echoing all around me, each one a reminder of how small and insignificant I felt in the grand tapestry of the world.

I spoke softly, a tinge of sadness in my voice. “They’re scared.” I gazed around at the sombre scene. “And we can only watch, powerless to help.”

Remus’s voice was tinged with a pensive gravity as he carefully folded the paper and placed it beside him. “Fear can be a formidable force, capable of both crippling and catalysing us. Yet, as you’ve witnessed firsthand, Harry, it can also give rise to hope. Look at the courageous souls who stood resolute at your side, willing to defy that fear and fight back. You have inspired them, your very presence a beacon that rallies the brave.”

I felt a flicker of warmth blossom in my chest, but it was quickly smothered by the haunting memory of countless lives lost. I drew in a shaky breath, a desperate attempt to steady my nerves.

“There has to be something we can do,” I pleaded, my voice tinged with a sense of urgency. “Anything at all.”

Remus offered a small, sombre smile, his expression tinged with a hint of melancholy. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But remember, changing the world begins with learning to change oneself.”

I locked my gaze onto the window, watching as the trees danced wildly in the gusting breeze. Remus continued, his tone soft yet resolute, “Focus on mastering your magic. Work on becoming the hero you need to be before you can hope to help those who need it most.”

A spark of stubborn defiance flared within me, and I couldn’t help but question him. “You really think I can do this?” I asked, my voice laced with uncertainty.

“Yes,” he replied with a reassuring tone. “But take it one step at a time.Today, I want you to focus on practising that spell I showed you. Tomorrow, we’ll discuss the next steps together—just take it one footfall after the other, Harry.” His voice was steady and calm, instilling a sense of confidence.

As we settled into the quiet life of the village, the curious Muggles couldn’t help but wonder about the strange newcomers in their sleepy town of Ottery St Catchpole. They watched with bewilderment as our peculiar habits and mannerisms drew whispers and sideways glances at the local market. Little did they know we were fugitives, hiding from the relentless pursuit of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, who were desperate to hunt us down and destroy us. The situation filled me with a deep sense of dread, but I remained resolute in my conviction that we could not fail.

Ottery St Catchpole was a breathtakingly picturesque village. As I leisurely strolled through its charming, narrow streets paved with weathered cobblestones, I was captivated by the quaint, modest cottages with their thatched roofs adorned in a tapestry of vibrant, flowering vines that cascaded down the human-made walls. From our hilltop home, we gazed out upon a serene pastoral landscape of gently rolling hills, where contented cows grazed peacefully and sturdy windmills spun lazily under the warm, golden sun. The air was thick with the soothing, earthy scents of fresh-cut hay and blooming wildflowers, while a chorus of chirping birds carried on the gentle breeze, creating a tranquil, almost magical ambiance.

The warm, welcoming locals radiated an easy openness that instantly put me at ease. Their quaint, unhurried way of life captivated me—where the most pressing concern was achieving the perfect cream-to-tea ratio, not dashing off to high-powered corporate jobs. Ambling along the streets, I watched them casually sip lemonade on their front porches, waving to familiar faces with a friendly, almost familial intimacy that felt both comforting and curiously foreign to my city-hardened sensibilities.

Remus’s gentle yet weary voice interrupted my thoughtful reverie. “Do you agree, Harry?” he asked patiently, his expression a mix of understanding and fatigue.

“Sorry,” I replied sheepishly, a pang of guilt stirring within me. “What were you saying?”

Remus’ brow furrowed slightly, a hint of mild annoyance flickering across his features as he regarded me. That morning, we were both set to begin our studies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—me as a seventh-year student and Remus in his new role as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. It had been decided that continuing my education in this setting, surrounded by peers my own age and under the tutelage of skilled professors in a wide range of subjects, would be the best path forward, with Professor Dumbledore ensuring my safety and wellbeing.

“I was saying,” Remus continued, “that we must prioritise learning the intricacies of our world and gain insight into Hogwarts. However, we must also be cautious. The school is brimming with curiosity and secrets, so we need to keep our heads down and blend in.”

I nodded, understanding this wasn’t just another year at Hogwarts. These ground rules were likely for my benefit, as Remus rarely had trouble handling himself in any situation.

“Sounds thrilling,” I said, my voice tinged with eager anticipation. Remus raised a quizzical eyebrow at my excitement.

Remus fixed me with a stern look. “Remember, we must maintain a low profile. Enthusiasm can attract unwanted attention, leading to enquiries and suspicion.” His voice was grave and serious.

I rolled my eyes, but the gravity of his expression made me nod in agreement. “Okay, I’ll keep my excitement under wraps.”

“Self-control is of the utmost importance,” he reiterated, his tone measured and calm.

I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “I know, I know.” My heart raced with a mix of anticipation and dread. “But it’s always easier for you to say that than it is for me to do.”

Remus faced me, his warm brown eyes filled with earnest concern, yet there was also a quiet understanding there—a steadiness that belied his gentle demeanour. “It’s not about taking the easy path,” he replied softly, “it’s about doing what’s necessary to survive. And if anyone has the strength to do it, it’s you.”

Remus had a wealth of hard-earned experience that allowed him to navigate these situations with effortless ease. He knew the rules inside and out, his mastery of them second nature. In contrast, Remus possessed a steadiness of temperament that I could only envy. Unfazed and untroubled, he met every challenge with an unflappable calm that I found frankly infuriating. No matter the circumstance, nothing could ruffle his composure—a fact that only compounded the unfairness of it all.

The constant need to relocate, adopting new identities and fabricated stories, left me yearning for connection. In each unfamiliar town, I found myself drawn to park benches and cafes, craving the thrill of conversation with strangers, the comfort of shared laughter and fleeting moments of solace. Yet, this longing came at a price. With every new friendship, a dark anxiety gnawed at me, a whisper of the dangers that lurked. Remus would observe from afar, his brow furrowed, and before long, we’d be on the move again.

The hardest lesson I had learnt was that my life was no fairy tale. It was a tangled web of complexities and emotional baggage, and as friends began to attach themselves to me, it felt like an inevitable storm looming on the horizon—a tempest that would threaten to upend the safety and security of us all.

Yet, this time was supposed to be different. When Remus spoke of Hogwarts, I couldn’t help but raise a sceptical eyebrow. Hogwarts, surrounded by countless curious students who would surely pry into my hidden past? I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that we might be placing ourselves in even greater danger than before.

Remus, with his calming presence, looked at me with his deep, pensive eyes. “Harry,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring, “Hogwarts is the safest place for you. The headmaster has extraordinary ways to protect his students.If you choose to stay there, we won’t have to move again.”

I gazed at the looming castle of Hogwarts, imagining its sprawling grounds. Safety was an alluring prospect, but trust did not come easily to me.

Remus gently urged me to go and wear my Hogwarts uniform. With a smile, I stood transfixed before the mirror, studying the garments that clung to my frame in a peculiar way after years of aimless drifting. When I finally descended the stairs, I found Remus had likewise traded his casual attire for something more refined and dignified.

Remus had carefully dressed me in the last pieces of the Hogwarts uniform: a crisp white button-down shirt, neatly pressed grey trousers, and a tie that I fumbled to properly knot around my neck. I glanced down at the familiar Hogwarts crest embroidered on my robe, a symbol that once filled me with a sense of pride and excitement but now felt like a heavy burden weighing on my shoulders. With a final flourish, Remus placed the pointed hat atop my head.

“There,” he chuckled, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. “From wandering nomad to prestigious schoolboy.”

I couldn’t help but wince at the mocking laughter in his voice, as if my old, familiar life was nothing more than a cruel jest to him. Being labelled a wandering nomad wasn’t a compliment, but a heavy truth I struggled to bear. Anxiety gripped my pounding heart as I confessed my doubts to Remus. “I’m not so sure about this. What if I’m simply not ready?”

Remus took a step closer, his stern features softening with reassurance. “Yes, you are. Look how far you’ve come—I’ve trained you well, and I know you have the strength to do great things.” His confident words soothed my nerves, though uncertainty still flickered in my mind.

The phrase “great things” echoed hollowly in my mind, sounding more like a foreboding prophecy than a hopeful promise. I desperately wanted to believe him, to find the courage his words promised, but a nagging sense of doubt gnawed at me like a mischievous creature. “It’s one thing to hide from Voldemort and catch glimpses of the wizarding world from the sidelines,” I murmured, my voice quivering with trepidation. “But now we’re going to be thrown right into the thick of it.”

“That’s the point,” he replied, his tone steady and reassuring. “As much as I want it, we can’t be expected to hide all the time. You deserve to experience Hogwarts, to be part of something bigger.”

I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. “But what if something goes wrong?”

“Hogwarts will be there to make it right.” His confidence was unwavering. The sheer power of friendship and bravery that he believed in at the school acted as a sturdy shield against my anxiety.

I shuddered, the weight of my troubled past heavy on my heart as I gazed apprehensively at the unknown path before me. “But it just seems like such a dangerous place for me,” I confessed in a hushed tone.

Remus placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “That’s why I’m here,” he replied, his soothing voice cutting through the shadows clouding my mind. “And Professor Dumbledore is with us too. You don’t have to face this alone—you have me, and perhaps even some new friends to support you.”

He offered a serene, reassuring smile that seemed to dispel the lingering doubts weighing on my soul.