[Book 1]
❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭. ❞
Serena grew up well sheltered in a Muggle suburb with her mother. Little did she know what horrible past lies behind her well-known last name. Her life, which was as...
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• Remus Lupin •
„Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family."
Remus Lupin sat in his brown leather chair at his desk as he did every evening and read the newspaper. The marauder's map lay spread out before him on the dark wood. But instead of showing him Hogwarts' outline and its inhabitants, insults were thrown at him by his former friends.
It wasn't that Remus had forgotten how to open it, after all, he was a real marauder. No, he had deliberately opened it the wrong way in order to endure the not-so-friendly greetings of Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, who made fun of his little furry problem or the fact that he had become a teacher. This made Remus feel like his friends were alive or not traitors. It was as if they were standing right in front of him and he thought he could even hear them laughing.
He had been amazed to see the map again, for Filch had conscripted it in his seventh year at school. He was even more amazed, however, that none other than Harry Potter and Serena Black had it. The direct descendants of the manufacturers. But the most astonishing thing was their statement about whose name they were supposed to have seen on the map. Peter Pettigrew. It couldn't be possible.
His friend was dead.
What was more, Remus had gone through the entire school register, looking for a namesake of his former friend. But in vain. Harry and Serena had probably mixed up or misread something. Where on earth had they even heard of the name and how much did they possibly know?
Remus looked out of the window, his office was in the North Wing so he had a clear view of the Quidditch pitch. Dusk had already fallen over the grounds and the sun was just disappearing from the horizon behind the tall round gates. The Gryffindor team's training must have just ended, because he could see a cluster of students in red cloaks disappearing into the changing rooms. With the exception of three similarly dressed figures.
Remus leaned over his massive wooden desk closer to the window until the tip of his nose almost touched the ice-cold glass. Two of the students were also wearing red Quidditch cloaks, on their backs he could clearly read Potter and Black even at a distance, the third person had red hair and was just pushing himself off the ground with a broom, it was unmistakably Ron Weasley.
Remus looked for a chaperone, the person who tolerated students still getting up to their mischief on the grounds at this time of night. His gaze quickly fell on the one person crouched slumped in the tiers. The short hair sticking out from her head could only belong to Madam Hooch, who had obviously folded. His gaze had already fallen on the tattered cloak at the cloakroom when the Head of Quidditch abruptly startled and sent the kids back to the castle with an angry face and a raised index finger.
