Remus Lupin was in a morose frame of mind. He was going on to his fourth year at Hogwarts next month - the first werewolf to be educated there. He couldn’t ask for more. He should be content, but still some aspects of his school life disturbed him.
He owned he had a wonderful set of friends, who accepted him completely, lycanthropy and all. They were even planning to become Animagi to help him with his monthly transformations. He was the top of class and most of the teachers’ blue-eyed boy, although certainly not Horace Slughorn’s, that pre-judiced git.
A few others on staff always looked at him with revulsion, too, but he had long accepted that he would not be winning popularity contests, given his condition. He left that to James, or maybe Sirius, if the voting public consisted of only the female gender.
Remus was entering a strong adolescent phase and knew his limitations in the dating field, but had learned to accept them with a resolute mind. Still, when an excess of teenage and werewolf hormones raged for recognition, he felt unhappy to not acknowledge their presence.
Thankfully, years of squashing down on his instincts helped him tide over potential outbursts. After all, he knew he was fortunate to have been offered a place at Hogwarts. He did have to make some sacrifices on the way. He didn’t mind too much but wished that he could lead an ordinary life like his friends.
Things were unhappy on his home front too. His parents were trying to lobby for Werewolf rights, despite stiff opposition from all quarters. They spent their time, energy and money on it, that most necessities became a luxury.
Like new robes, that he had stepped into Madam Malkin’s to buy. Adolescence ensured that Remus grew at a rapid pace and he had to get new robes for the coming school year. He thought it was a luxury, but his mother insisted otherwise. She had always insisted that Remus have impeccable manners and be dressed properly at all times.
He was very grateful to his mother for that. She made him believe that he was not a monster and gave him the confidence to face the world on its terms. Thanks to her training, he always had a refined air about him. He knew that the money for the robes could be used for some much needed potions for his father, but his mother had insisted that his appearance was more important.
Thus, here he was in Madam Malkin’s, standing on a stool while outfitters whirled around taking measurements and draping lengths of cloth over him.
When he was lost in contemplation, he felt a tug at the hem of his robes. He lost balance on the stool and fell to the floor, though werewolf reflexes ensured that he landed on all fours. He looked up from the floor into limpid brown eyes and a toothsome smile. He had been floored … by a toddler!
‘Goo?’ queried the little girl. She reached out a chubby hand and pulled his nose.
Remus was flustered. He had a way of dealing with the young of animals, but had never had an opportunity to deal with babies, owing to his family’s isolation. After being rejected by even his cousins, he was taken aback that this baby could reach out for him happily.
He caught the baby’s hand and swung it to and fro. Then, he tickled the baby gently. The baby laughed - a sound of unadulterated, pure joy. Laughter that came straight from the heart without any premeditated thoughts influencing it. A sound that was possible only from children, from the very young.
Remus was enraptured by that sound. It had the ability to seep into the sad recesses of his heart that he thought would never feel sunshine. It reached out to the lost innocence of his childhood, sacrificed at the altar of a werewolf bite. It dispelled the silent areas of despair in him by filling it with a sound so joyful.
He gazed at the adorable infant who was now drooling over his robes.
‘Dorie!’ called a voice. A flustered looking middle-aged witch came into view. Seeing the fallen stool and robes, she knew that the baby had been involved in the fracas.
‘I am sorry, my boy! Did the baby disturb you? She wandered away from me.’ The witch rambled on breathlessly, ‘I am looking after her for a friend, but she is a handful. Come, Dorie! Your mother is waiting.’ She made to pick the baby up.
The baby in the meanwhile had caught Remus’s collar and was refusing to let go. Remus gently disentangled himself and smiled at the baby.
‘I am sorry, my dear,’ said the witch.
Remus demurred that it was not a bother and rose up.
With hurried thanks, the witch picked up the baby and turned to go.
The little girl looked up to see Remus. ‘Unnk?’ she said and gave a toothsome grin.
Remus smiled at her and waved goodbye. The baby waved back and kept waving until the witch turned a corner.
The boy was staring at the spot he had last seen the baby. He had entered the shop feeling unhappy, but suddenly everything seemed brighter and cheerful. Things may not be as dreary as it seems, he thought. He felt that his family will rally around somehow and looked forward to the coming school year. All because of limpid brown eyes, a toothsome smile and the sound of unadulterated joy.
‘Angel of Joy!’ whispered a voice in his ear.
Remus smiled.
* * *
Author’s Notes: I just discovered a slight discrepancy in the timeline. My previous notes showed Remus entering Hogwarts in 1971. Thus the story was based on it. But today, I noticed that the timeline has been altered. With your permission, let me take liberties with the timeline. Please bear with me!