read my new story:
Hogwarts : He Starts by Deconstructing Avada Kedavra...
Hogwarts, my partner is Tom…
Inside the little cottage.
Lupin opened the door fast, like he'd been expecting someone.
On the doorstep stood a blond kid juggling a pile of gift boxes while a dark-haired one casually levitated the rest in midair.
"Morning, Professor Lupin," Sean said, glancing around the room. Lupin's stuff was pathetic—one wardrobe cubby wasn't even half-full. Between him and Justin, they managed to stuff it to about halfway.
"Welcome to your new place, sir!" Justin beamed, always the enthusiastic one. He set a fancy magical cookware set on the hearth—a self-stirring spoon and a cauldron that never burns anything—to fill the empty stove.
"Morning, gentlemen," Lupin said, a little startled. The quiet cottage suddenly felt… lived-in.
"But—what exactly are you two doing?"
Lupin opened a dusty tin. "I'm afraid I've only got teabags…"
He dropped a couple into a kettle that started steaming before the water even boiled. Sean noticed Lupin's color was already better than yesterday.
"You seriously didn't know?" Justin asked, his grin faltering. He studied the tired man carefully. "Housewarming party, sir."
"Oh."
The word sounded like it belonged to another lifetime. Lupin's calm expression flickered; he had to dig through old memories just to remember what it meant.
A few seconds of silence. Then, softly, "Thank you, gentlemen."
Maybe he'd been on the move too long. Maybe he'd forgotten how to talk to people.
The silence lasted until the kettle screamed.
"So… what do people do at parties?" Lupin asked gently, handing them two chipped mugs of tea.
"Nothing huge, sir. Maybe a big dinner later?
Hey, you've been reading this?" Justin laughed, smoothly steering the conversation toward the beautifully bound copy of Green's Notes sitting on the table.
The three of them settled by the crackling fire, flipping through the pages, chatting about obscure bits of wizarding history and scribbling notes next to the funniest biographies.
Lupin's knowledge was ridiculous. Justin—who'd personally edited the whole set—felt like a first-year next to him.
Only Sean could keep up, occasionally tossing in a completely different angle.
From the silent Levitation Charms the boys had used when they walked in, to now casually dropping that in 1792 a rampaging Cockatrice had injured all three headmasters during the Triwizard Tournament (including Hogwarts' own)—Lupin was quietly stunned.
"When I was your age, gentlemen, I was nowhere near this impressive," he said with a soft laugh. These were the kind of kids any professor would kill to teach—curious, ridiculously well-read, and still humble enough to treat knowledge like treasure.
It took him straight back to his own Hogwarts days.
After the hiding and the lies were finally over, Dumbledore had let him in.
Three friends who noticed he disappeared every month. He fed them excuses—sick grandmother, family emergencies—but he lived in terror that they'd find out he was a werewolf and ditch him.
Instead, after a few sleepless nights, they figured out how to make the full-moon nights not only bearable but the best nights of his life.
They became Animagi.
Those three had been his whole world. Even when they drove Dumbledore up the wall, he'd just sigh and look the other way. Turns out it takes more courage to hold your friends accountable than your enemies.
Then Voldemort rose, and everything shattered. Two dead. One in Azkaban.
Lupin stared into the fire, remembering Dumbledore's visit, remembering friends who never flinched when they learned the truth.
Today felt… eerily similar.
"Professor Lupin," Justin said suddenly, breaking the quiet, "you're a werewolf, right?"
Lupin blinked. He should be used to the question by now, but it still knocked the air out of him for a second.
"Yes, Mr. Finch-Fletchley. You're an extraordinarily sharp young wizard."
He closed his eyes, waiting for the usual fallout.
He had no idea when he'd given himself away. Probably months ago in Hogsmeade—people here had suspected him for years. But meeting kids who didn't care? That was rare as dragon eggs.
Sean peeked over the top of the Ilvermorny book he was pretending to read and watched Justin pull a small, expensive-looking potion box out of an Undetectable Extension bag.
Now it made sense why Justin had been running around Diagon Alley like a headless chicken.
Wolfsbane Potion.
The stuff you have to start drinking a week before the full moon so you keep your mind when you transform.
It's brutally hard to brew and costs an absolute fortune. Most werewolves can't afford it. Can't afford it → get spotted → can't get jobs → still can't afford it. Vicious circle.
Ever since they'd met Professor Lupin, Sean had been secretly studying the recipe. Even for him it was a nightmare; this was going to be a long-term project.
"Welcome to Green's Book Cottage, Professor," Justin said cheerfully, sliding the box across the table. "Happy housewarming.
We'll dock it from your salary, of course."
Lupin just stared.
Outside, Hogsmeade was buried in snow. The light was fading, flakes tapping against the big front window. Through the glass you could see warm lights glowing all down the street.
And now one of those lights belonged to Green's Book Cottage.
"See you later," Sean said, heading for the door first.
"How did you two even get to Hogsmeade?" Lupin asked, standing in the snow. "I might know a few shortcuts—"
He was clearly worried about two second-years wandering around alone.
"No need, sir," Sean said with a small smile. "We know plenty."
Lupin raised an eyebrow—doubtful.
Sean shrugged, pulled a battered piece of parchment from his bag, and tapped it with his wand.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Ink blossomed across the page like spider silk, lines racing outward, crisscrossing, filling every corner.
At the top, in looping green script:
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
are proud to present
THE MARAUDER'S MAP