compartment at the front of the train where a pale, thin boy with sandy-blond hair sat with
his nose stuck in a book.
She raised a brow as she studied him, unsure as to why her magic was reaching out
needily.
The boy's nose twitched, and she watched him sniff the air; immediately a confused
expression painted his face as his soft green eyes turned and peered up expectantly at her.
She took quick notice that, unlike most of the other students, the boy was already
wearing black Hogwarts robes. They looked slightly big on him, covering him from head
to foot—save for his hands and the small expanse of neck where Mia could see the faint
outline of what looked to be a fresh scar.
Mia let out a soft gasp.
Remus.
She turned her head away from him, stifling her anger as she moved past his
compartment, breathing heavily. This boy was the reason she was here in the first place.
The reason she had been torn from her own time and thrust into the past without her
permission. The reason she was an eleven-year-old again and forced to create a new life
and a new identity.
Mia wanted to walk into that compartment and hit him. But then she remembered
the confused expression on the boy's face and the scar on his neck. This was not the Remus
that tricked her into going to the past; this was just a boy, a boy who, from the looks of it,
was feeling very ill.
Mia suddenly realised that the full moon was due in just three days' time. Damn.
He was probably in a lot of pain, feeling sick and on edge, and now he had to deal
with the stress of his first trip to Hogwarts.
And hopefully, very soon you will come across a very lonely boy who is
terrified to go to Hogwarts and is desperate for some understanding friends.Her frown deepened. Remus was her friend. No matter what he had done, she had
always trusted and admired him. He had been the best teacher she'd ever had the privilege
of being mentored by, and he was always there for her. She, in turn, had tried to be there
for him, helping Tonks with his transformations and the healing that he needed afterward.
At his worst moments—like when he doubted his ability to be a good father—it had always