Christmas Day, 1973
Remus’s odd late night conversation with Philomena had caused him to re-evaluate his anxieties about girlfriends. His ability to comfort her had stirred no particular feelings of chivalry or affection – only a mild sense of relief that he’d got her to stop crying. He definitely had no desire to get that close to any other girl.
He thought about Narcissa for the first time in a while. Remus had secretly thought Narcissa was the most beautiful girl he knew – before she’d dyed her hair anyway. She had a regal sharpness which appealed to him on some base level. But even she was made foolish by love – risking her own life, in fact.
The sight of Philomena sobbing in her nightie only cemented in Remus’s mind the revelation that love and relationships were not worth the misery. He had enough pain in his life. Let Sirius and James work it out for themselves, but for the time being, Remus felt very intelligent for having come to this realisation so early in life. He had probably saved himself a lot of needless stress.
Christmas morning was as wonderful as it had been the year before – even Philomena perked up once she saw the gifts under the tree with her name on them. Remus was able to enjoy the immense satisfaction of handing out his own presents, and Sirius and the Potters were all suitably pleased and thanked him profusely. He himself received a chess set from the Potters, which was perhaps the most expensive thing Remus had ever owned – and bought just for him, not second hand. Along with the usual assortment sweets and practical jokes from the marauders, it was a very good haul.
Sirius looked a bit nonplussed at breakfast, as everyone else wolfed down their smoked salmon and scrambled eggs.
“S’up wif yoo?” James asked, mouth full. Sirius shrugged,
“Nothing from Andromeda,” he said, quietly, “I didn’t think I’d get presents or anything, now she’s got the baby, but I thought maybe a card… I sent her one.”
James swallowed and patted his friend’s shoulder.
“Owl might just be flying late – you know how the post is this time of year.”
James had received a brand new broom for Christmas, and as soon as breakfast was finished with, all three boys headed straight outside to test it. Sirius had his own broom with him, and Mr Potter suggested with an arched eyebrow that Remus take James’s old one.
“Yeah, have it if you want, Moony!” James nodded enthusiastically, “To keep!”
“Thanks…” Remus took it, unable to say no in front of James’s parents. Goodness knew what he was supposed to do with it over the summer – try explaining that one to Matron.
James and Sirius spent the rest of the morning showing off, and Remus spent it hovering; just skimming the ground with his toes, trying to read his book and look like he was enjoying the broom. He hoped Peter had received his gifts from them, and wasn’t having too bad of a time with his own family.
They were called in by the Potter’s house elf, Gully, who was dressed in a festive tea towel and had a sprig of holly tucked behind one ear. It was almost lunch time, and the house smelled deliciously of roast beef with all the trimmings.
“Upstairs, washed and changed, the lot of you.” Mrs Potter shook her wooden spoon at them, “I’ve had Gully set your things out.”
They washed and dressed quickly, stomachs growling as the wonderful smells from the kitchen wafted up the stairs. Just as they began to make their way down, there was the tell-tale CRACK of apparition outside the front door. Sirius tensed again, and Remus, one step behind him on the staircase, gripped his shoulder in a way that he hoped was comforting.
Sirius turned around and looked Remus in the eye, giving him a gentle smile of appreciation. It was quite un-Sirius-like, but it felt good.
The bell rang and they both turned back to it, James running forward to open the door. A couple stood in the entrance way – a young man and a woman holding a bundle in her arms. He had a mop of fair, curly hair, and was rather stockily built, she was taller and more slender. As they stepped into the light of the hallway, Remus sucked in his breath – she was the spitting image of Sirius’s cousin Bellatrix.
“No!” Sirius gasped, starting forward, a smile bursting on his face.
“Sirius!” The young woman grinned back, and Remus relaxed, seeing that it was not Bellatrix at all. This woman had the same wildly curly hair as her sister, though it was a much lighter shade of brown – it had to be Andromeda.
She passed the baby in her arms over to the man next to her – presumably her husband, Ted – and stretched out her arms to pull Sirius into a huge hug. Remus watched with fierce jealousy, and not a little guilt – he had never seen Sirius so embraced by anyone, let alone a member of his family. Remus made his own way slowly down the stairs, as Mrs Potter entered the hallway now, smiling widely, looking very pleased with herself.
“A good surprise, then?” She asked, as Sirius shook Ted’s hand and tentatively patted the baby’s head.
“You did this?!” Sirius stared at James’s mother in wonder.
“Effie was kind enough to invite us,” Ted smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Pleased to meet you, Sirius. Nice to meet someone in Dromeda’s family.”
“Come in, come in!” Mrs Potter ushered the gathering into the hall. They all followed her towards the dining room, Remus last of all.
* * *
Andromeda was the polar opposite to the rest of the Black family – or at least those Remus had so far met. Though she was as strikingly beautiful as the rest of them, with the same piercing eyes and biting wit, she was full of laughter and merriment. Ted clearly adored her too, and hardly seemed to mind that she left him with the baby most of the time.
‘Dora’ was the strangest infant Remus had ever seen – though, admittedly, he had not met many. She was as cheerful as her mother, with a gummy grin. Her wisps of hair changed from purple to green to blue with each moment, which everyone else seemed to find cute, rather than bizarre.
Before sitting down to eat, they were joined by several other guests – old family friends of the Potters, including, much to Remus’s excitement, old Darius Barebones.
“A toast,” Mr Potter raised his glass rather tipsily at the end of the meal, “To friends, old and new!”
“To the Potters!” Andromeda raised her own glass, “Protectors of outcasts and defenders of black sheep everywhere.”
Everyone laughed and clinked glasses.
“I think I must be the most outcast,” Sirius said, happily, “I’m a Gryffindor, after all.”
“To Gryffindor!” Mr Potter called out, from the other end of the table. Only the Gryffindors toasted, Andromeda narrowed her eyes at Sirius,
“Think so, little cousin? Try marrying a non-relative.”
“I’ll have to,” Sirius responded, as Gully cleared away the plates and Mrs Potter fetched in the Christmas pudding, “After Cissy’s wedding there aren’t any Black women left.”
“There’s Dora.”
“Excuse me,” Ted said, protectively covering his daughter’s ears, “Could we please get her through her first Christmas before arranging a betrothal?”
“I’m teasing,” Andromeda leaned over to kiss them both, “Dora can marry anyone she likes when she’s old enough, and I can say with absolute certainty that it won’t be anyone at this table.”
Everyone laughed again. Remus eyed Darius, furtively – he was looking just as merry as Mr Potter, his face glowing red from the fire whisky he’d been knocking back.
Once the pudding was extinguished, served and eaten, crackers pulled and terrible jokes read out, the party adjourned to the living room. Mrs Potter, Philomena and Andromeda went upstairs to change into their party dresses, Mr Potter smoked his pipe and Ted settled Dora down for a nap. The boys settled into a game of snap, before Darius and Mr Potter wrangled everyone into a round of charades. Remus had never played charades before, let alone magical charades, which involved a lot of red and gold sparks – though that may just have been high spirits.
In the evening, more guests began to arrive and the house was soon full of music, laughter and pleasant chatter. Andromeda and Sirius appointed themselves DJs, rifling through their combined record collections and alternating blasting Slade’s Merry Xmas Everybody and I Wish It Could be Christmas Everyday by Wizzard.
When the snowman brings the snow
Well he just might like to know
He's put a great big smile on somebody's face…
“They’re actually called wizard, though,” Sirius kept telling everyone, earnestly, “And just listen to it…”
Even Philomena forgot her melancholy for a few hours, getting up and moving to the music along with James, who was just about the same height as her and had no clue how to dance, but was pretty chuffed when she took his hand and showed him how to twist.
Quite sure he would not be missed, Remus slipped between the throngs of people in search of Darius. There must have been a hundred witches and wizards in attendance – some of them teachers at Hogwarts, who Remus did everything to avoid. He heard at least three people murmur that Dumbledore was there, somewhere.
“They’re both Black’s, you know,” he heard one witch whispering to her friend, as they watched Andromeda and Sirius giggling hysterically by the record player, “She’s run off and had a baby with that Tonks chap, and the boy – well he was the heir, but I’ve heard Orion is planning to contest it as soon as their younger boy is of age. Quite the little hell raiser, from what I’ve heard.”
“He can’t be any worse than Orion was, I went to school with him. Nasty, vicious kid. Sirius is a ray of sunshine compared to Orion – and don’t get me started on that bitch Walpurga.”
“Shh.” The first witch said, nervously, “You never know who’s listening these days, even at the Potters.”
“Well, what’s he doing here at all, I’d like to know?”
“He’s chums with the Potter boy. You know what Effie and Monty are like – they’ve taken in the Pettigrew’s eldest, too, she’s over there.”
“Yes, I heard about that.”
“Well, it’s no secret at all why she’s here – the Pettigrews and the Potters are both pure blood, after all, despite the rumours. Mind you, Effie might want to act quickly – if Philomena sees her chance to bag the Black heir then poor James isn’t going to get a look in, is he? I mean, everybody knows what’s going on; we all need to pick a side. The Potters picked theirs a long time ago, I’m afraid.”
Remus felt his blood boil. It was horrible, hearing his friends spoken about like that – and the Potters, who Remus was absolutely certain had no ulterior motives when it came to their son, or the company he kept. They let James be friends with him, after all, knowing exactly what he was.
He clenched his fists, wished he was allowed to do magic – do anything to shut those mean old bitches up. Sirius and Andromeda were now bawling at the tops of their lungs, joined by James and Philomena:
“Weeeell I wish it could be Christmas every daaaa-aaay!
When the kids start singing and the band begins to plaa-aay
Oooooh I wish it could be Christmas everyday
So let the BELLS ring OUT for CHRISTmaaaas!”
Remus smiled, and at the same moment, finally caught sight of Darius. The old man was steaming drunk now, leaning heavily on the bannister in the hallway and talking to an old woman who looked like she would very much like to get away from him.
Remus straightened his back and consciously smoothed his features. He’d borrowed a set of James’s smart dress robes for the occasion, and Philomena had kindly performed a cosmetic spell on his scars. As such, he hoped that he’d get away with at least appearing to be the son of a famous wizard, rather than a muggle brat from a children’s home.
“Good evening, Mr Barebones,” he said, affecting an accent learnt from three years of listening to James and Sirius’s received pronunciation. He held out a hand to the old man, who shook it, looking at him, puzzled, “Remus Lupin – you remember we met last year?”
“Ah, yes! The Lupin boy!”
“That’s right,” Remus nodded, smiling serenely, keeping his expression controlled. He handed Darius another whisky, as the witch the old man had previously been talking to snuck away. “I believe you knew my father?”
“Lyall Lupin! Best dueller I ever knew! Married a muggle somewhere in Wales, didn’t he?”
“That’s right,” Remus said, steadily, “My mother.” He took a careful breath as Darius guzzled more whisky, then cleared his throat, “Did you know Lyall very well?” He found that ‘Lyall’ was much easier to say than ‘my father’.
“Oh, quite well, quite well,” Darius nodded enthusiastically, thrilled to have someone to talk to, “Worked under him at the ministry, before all the trouble started. Never knew anyone better with boggarts – or dementors, come to that. The Azkaban liaison office has missed him, I can tell you.”
“The trouble?” Remus asked, swiping another glass of whisky from Gully, who hurried past with a tray, and handing it to the old man.
“Thank you, dear boy. Yes, the trouble. Nasty business. Nasty.”
“You’re talking about… the events that led to Lyall’s suicide?” He couldn’t say it. Darius had to say it.
“I’m talking about the damned werewolves!” Darius slammed his empty whisky glass down on a nearby sideboard. “Forgive me,” he muttered.
“Not at all,” Remus replied, unblinking. “Do go on. I know the story, of course. But I’d like to… hear about it from someone who knew him.”
Darius surveyed him, carefully, through his whisky-addled haze. He seemed to slump, slightly, before beginning his story.
“We couldn’t possibly know, you understand, none of us… well… Lyall was a great wizard – a great wizard, you hear me?” He slurred. Remus nodded. “But…” the old man looked upwards, glassy eyed, “Well, he did have a tendency to obsess over things. And that temper! Flew into rages at work – during committee hearings, even.”
“Committee hearings?” Remus almost broke character.
“Hasn’t your mother told you?” Darius looked at him, surprised, “Bloody muggles, not fit to raise our children, I’ve said it for years...” He sighed, “Your father was on several committees at the ministry for the regulation and control of magical creatures.”
Remus was glad he had taken Care of Magical Creatures, otherwise he might know nothing at all about this. As it was, he was able to nod, knowingly. Darius continued,
“Just his area, of course, he was a giant in the field. But he liked his own way, and he was seen as a bit of an extremist, in those days. Wanted an overhaul of the Werewolf Registry, better identification and tracking measures. We just didn’t have the manpower for it, and resources were better spent elsewhere. And Lupin… he’d been working with dark creatures for so many years, he thought he saw werewolves everywhere – always saw danger where there clearly wasn’t any. Honestly, we all thought he was an eccentric, we couldn’t have known… when they brought Greyback in, I was there. I saw him, and I don’t mind telling you, none of us thought he was a threat. Clearly drunk. Confused. A vagrant, that’s what we thought. And when Lupin went off on one of his rants about werewolves, well… we didn’t think twice.”
“You let Greyback go.” Remus said, stonily. Darius looked very sorry for himself now, almost weepy. He nodded.
“We let him go. Of course now, now we know… if only we’d listened. Lyall killed himself just after that, didn’t even want to hear the committee’s apology.” He sighed, and looked at Remus again, “I’ve always wondered what drove him to it, you know. Some say it was the guilt – not being able to stop Greyback. I wouldn’t have thought he was the type… and to abandon his family like that, I mean, you couldn’t have been much more than a baby?”
“Five.” Remus said, “I was five.”
“Yes, well.” Darius shifted, uncomfortably, looking morosely down at his empty glass, “I have my own little theory about what happened… what if Greyback came after him, eh? We know how dangerous he is, now. We know he hates wizards more than anything else, and your father said some very unpleasant things. So what I wonder is… did Greyback go back and get him? Did he bite him? If that’s what happened then… I must say, I don’t blame Lyall at all. Only good beast’s a dead beast.”
“Mm.” Remus replied, feeling very hot, and a bit dizzy. “And Greyback?”
“Last I heard, he’s in league with you-know-who.” Darius shook his head, “And the damned irony of it all is that we need your father more than ever. Still,” he smiled at Remus, kindly, “Don’t think he died in vain, dear boy. We did end up implementing a lot of his reforms, particularly where half-breeds are concerned. Can’t escape the registry now, no sir!” He slammed his wizened old fist down.
“Excuse me.” Remus turned, quickly. He had heard enough. “I hear Mrs Potter calling.”
He slipped back into the crowd of merrymakers, the music still blaring as Sirius and Andromeda led everyone in chorus:
“So here it iiiiiiiis, Merry Christmas,
Everybody's having fuuuuun!
Loo-ook to the future now,
It's only just begun!”