So, I was listening to the Prisoner of Azkaban soundtrack the other day and I had 'A Window To The Past' on repeat and it inspired me to write the start of this Fanfic. And as I started writing it and I just couldn't stop. Now if you are a reader of my other fics you know that I'm really hard and critical on myself about my writing. But I have to say that I'm really proud of this here chapter!
Anyways, I don't own Harry Potter!
A light snow fell outside covering the ground and trees in a blanket of white. A wind blew and kicked up the snow and scattered it more across the land. Under two large trees sat a small pond that had began to freeze; the sun was slowly setting, giving the sky a soft orange glow. On the property hidden within a thicket of trees sat a small stone cottage that had a stream of smoke coming out of the chimney. Inside the house lived its only occupant, a single man.
The man had sandy brown hair and eyes like honey. He was currently sitting in a chair by his fireplace with a thick book cradled in his hands. His cloak was wrapped around him tightly, keeping the drafts off of his fragile body, a wand laid across his lap. A steaming cup of hot chocolate sat on the stand next to him, holding his book in one hand he reached over and grabbed the cup. He took a sip and the warm liquid slid down his throat and almost sat his body at ease, he took another sip from it and than sat it back down on the stand. With a sigh he closed his book and leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes.
He hated the holiday season, he had spent the last eight Christmases alone and he knew this year would be no different. He knew that his loneliness was partially his. Ever since the death of his best friends and the betrayal of another (though he could hardly believe that his friend was the traitor) he withdrew himself from the Wizarding World. No matter where he would go in it there were too many painful memories. He soon decided that he could no longer be a part of a world that caused him so much pain, grief, and loss.
The only connection he had to the Wizarding World was with a man named Severus Snape. Remus Lupin had a problem every month, one he liked to refer to as his 'fury little problem'; in other words he turned into a Werewolf once a month. When he was younger he stumbled upon a revengeful werewolf who claimed Remus as his next victim. And so every full moon Remus suffered his own personal hell of transforming. When he had been a young boy in school the transformations he went through weren't quite as bad as they were now. His old school friends had found out about Remus' problem and they took it upon themselves to learn how to transform into animals so their friend would not have to spend the full moons alone. Remus was eternally grateful for what they did to him and on the nights of a bad transformation he wished nothing more than for his friends to be there with him. But that was impossible and he knew that it did not do well to dwell on dreams.
So the man, Snape, would make him a potion every full month to help with his transformations but besides that Remus kept his distance. He even declined the numerous invitations to tea from his old Headmaster. After the deaths of his friends he had been in contact with his Headmaster because he was still doing work for The Order of The Phoenix but after time he simply stopped going to the meetings that were held. A part of himself wished he still allowed himself to be part of such a magical world, even if it was simply going to visit old school friends (even if he wasn't close to them) like the Weasleys. But no, he could simply could not do it, there was that chance that they would bring up what happened all those years ago and he did not think he could handle it. After all the deaths of your friends was not something you would want to sit around and talk about over tea and biscuits. The wounds of losing his friends were still fresh and just looking at pictures of them could bring him to tears.
So many years ago Remus tried to grab onto the last remaining piece of Lily and James; their son Harry. Sirius Black was named Godfather of the child and he was to go to him if something was to happen to the Potter's but since Sirius was blamed for the murder of Peter Pettigrew and thirteen muggles he was sent to Azkaban. And so Harry was shipped off to his next living relatives which were his Aunt and Uncle. Remus had went to the Ministry of Magic and all but begged for the custody of the boy; he was denied almost instantly because of his condition. After that happened he went to this old Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, to see if the man could help him fight for custody. And once more he got turned down, so he gave up all hope and pushed the little boy out of his mind.
But now with yet another holiday approaching he could not help but think about young Harry. He wondered what the boy was like now that he was nine years old. Was he happy and loved? Did he still have Lily's eyes and James' unruly hair? We he excited to be starting Hogwarts within the next few years? Sadly Remus would never know the answers to any of that.
The fire cracked and pulled Remus from his thoughts. He ran a hand over his face and reached for his hot chocolate and took another sip. He found it had went cold and he could not be bothered to place a warming charm on it. He sat it back down than placed his book which was resting on his lap with his wand next to the cup. He stretched getting ready to take a short nap in the chair, when he heard a tapping in the window. He looked up and saw the brown of a barn owl against the white snow which was coming down much heavier than before. He had not seen that owl for almost two years, it was the owl of Albus Dumbledore.
So, what do you guys think? Should I continue? Leave me a comment and let me know! Thanks for reading.