Decided to rewrite this 'cause the first chapter was hurried and very, VERY ugly. 8I And I refuse to write more until it's fixed, so, there.
"Remus!" I heard my mother's voice, high and sweet, drift up the stairs and through my open door to where I sat, splayed out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I really need to clean my room, I thought, looking around at the piles of clothes on the floor, the hastily made bed, pillows and blankets lay strewn about.
I did have an excuse, though. Last night had been the full moon, and I had only come home about an hour ago. Even so, bright sunlight was streaming through the open window and a warm breeze stirred my hair. "Remus! Come down here," my mother called again. I rubbed a hand over my eyes and down my scarred face, taking a deep breath. Really, I thought, bitterly, couldn't this wait until after I took a nap? Even so, she was my mother.
I got to my feet, the springs in the bed creaking as I stood up. I stretched, raising my arms above my head and standing up on tiptoe. My whole body ached and a could feel my heartbeat pulsing in my head. The first day after was always the worst.
I headed downstairs, not bothering to go fast, taking my sweet time. I passed the living room, with the faded, floral couch cushions that Mom had to have. The stone fireplace, now in disuse from the heat of the summer, the stones blackened and charred. The front window, which took up almost the whole wall of the room, was open, letting in a fresh breeze.
My mother was in the kitchen, sitting down at the table, stroking our pet cat, Biscuit. He had been my cat when I was little, and I never had the heart to get rid of him after the attack. (Even though I probably should have. He won't even go near me anymore.) I could hear him purring from here, curled in my mother's lap, his tabby fur turned golden in the sunlight, eyes contentedly closed. He didn't even hiss as I got closer.
I yawned. "What is it?"
"A letter," she said, handing a thick envelope to me, addressed with my name. I blinked, confused. Nobody sent me letters. Curious, I flipped it to the back to see a red, wax seal, emblazoned with a crest, keeping it closed. I noticed my mother watching me with interest, as if she knew what was in the envelope. She probably does, I thought.
I gazed at the seal for a moment, running my finger over the pictures too tiny to make out clearly. "Well," my mother said, "go on. Aren't you going to open it?" Biscuit opened one green eye to stare up at me.
I didn't know why, but at that moment I got a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. The kind you get when you know something good is going to happen. Without waiting a minute longer, I ripped open the seal and pulled the wad of paper out:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Lupin,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
I paused, taking in the letter, reading it a second and then a third time. I looked up at my mother, my eyes wide. She was grinning broadly, her hazel eyes sparkling with delight. "I-I-I..." I stammered. I swallowed, looking back down at the letter in my hands, clutched so tight it had begun to wrinkle. "I thought," I swallowed again. "I thought that they wouldn't take me because..." I trailed off.
My mother looked at me, a warm smile still on her face. "Oh, Dumbledore isn't one to dismiss any wizard, whether they be a squib, Muggle-born, or a-"
"Werewolf," I finished.
"Yes," she replied, cupping my face in her hand. "Even a werewolf." She paused, looked back at the letter before saying, "Well, aren't you going to finish reading it to me?"
I grinned, a tiny bit, and began to read again, my thoughts racing around me, not paying attention to what I read. Something about uniforms, what books I would need for the term, the other random bits and pieces for each class. I paused as I read aloud: "Students may also bring an owl, a cat, or a toad." I looked down at Biscuit, imagining bringing him along with me to Hogwarts. As if he read my mind, the tabby cat hissed, jumping off my mother's lap and onto the floor. Guess not.
My mother watched as he darted off to who knows where, smiling only slightly. "I never did understand that cat," she said quietly.
My mind was still going a mile a minute, imaging the new things I'd learn, the places I'd go, people that I would meet. When my body gave a sudden ache, and I began to feel tired, my body aching all over. It had only been a day since the full moon, and I had forgotten completely about it.
What about the moon? I thought, my gut beginning to clench. I looked over at my mother, afraid to ask the question. But I knew that I had to. "What about the full moon," I asked. "I mean, I can't exactly sleep in the same room as anybody that night."
My mother nodded her head, her face twisted in thought. "Well," she said, her eyebrows furrowed, "I'm sure that Dumbledore has an idea."
"Yeah," I muttered bitterly, "otherwise he wouldn't have sent me a letter at all, right?"
My mother looked back over at me, her hazel eyes catching my own. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Until then," she pulled out a piece of paper and an ink pen (very muggle like) and began to write up a letter.
"What's that for?"
She didn't pause. "They expect you to write a letter, saying that you'll attend." She looked up at me. "You want to go, right?"
"Yes!" I cried, not even hesitating. "Yes, I do!"
"Well, then, we have to get this written out." She began to write again, saying dismissively, "You better get some rest, sweetie. You look like you're about to fall over."
I felt like it right then, my legs heavy and my eyes drooping, now that I knew I would be going to Hogwarts. "Yeah," I mumbled, covering my mouth with a hand. "Night, Mom."
She smiled, a small sad smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners, shining more than they should have in the early afternoon light. "Good night, dear."