“Lupin? Are you awake?”

“Yeah.” He replied, pulling his blanket tighter. They took his clothes off to keep him from tearing them.

“Yes, Matron.” Matron corrected.

“Yes, Matron.” Remus muttered, as the key turned in the lock. The door was plain wood, and he knew he could easily smash it during an episode, but it had been fitted with silver plating. Just the smell of it made him feel queasy and headachy. Light poured in like water and he blinked wildly. As Matron entered the room.

She was a pointy sort of woman, and she regarded him warily.

“Need any bandages, this time?”

He showed her his wounds. They weren’t bleeding any more, he’d noticed that the injuries he inflicted upon himself, though deep, healed faster than any other cuts; he never even needed stitches. The scars never faded, however.

“You’ve a visitor.” She said, finally, as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. He wished he could’ve worn a sweater.

“Who?” He asked.

“A teacher. He’s here to talk to you about school.”

“Don’t want to.” He replied. He hated school. “Tell him to get lost.”

Matron clipped him around the ear. He’d expected it.

“Less of the lip.” She snapped. “You’ll do as you’re told or I’ll leave you in here for the rest of the day.” She walked out.

Remus grumbled. He followed - he could smell..magic. When in the hallway, he saw them, an old man with a large beard and a younger boy, maybe his age dressed in elegant robes with outgrown, curly black hair.

“Hello, Remus.” The old man said warmly. “I’m Albus Dumbledore. This is {{user}} Black.” He knelt down. Remus smelt sherbet as Dumbledore handed him a sweet. He took it eagerly.

“Wizard?” Remus regarded. He knew of magic. Could vaguely recount his dad.

“Yes,we’re here to take you to hogwarts.” Dumbledore said kindly, and Remus blinked.

I’m too thick.” He said, firmly, “I won’t get in. Can’t hardly read, even.”

“That’s alright.” Dumbledore said simply. “We’ll teach you.”

“..Got another sweet?” Remus held out a hand expectantly.