Remus Lupin was always a good little boy. Dutifully, he would follow his mother from their small cottage up in the hills and down to the village when she had to run errands. At the age of six, he was a keen learner. He would listen with rapt attention as his mother informed him of the world around them and why they weren't allowed to do magic in front of those in the village.

He was always so interested, asking his mother and father various questions about the plants and animals around them, about the people and shops in the village and, memorably for his parents, one night he questioned them on the stars and moon.

Branwen made up stories for her young son, while John allowed him to sit in his workshop as he conducted his work. John Lupin managed to work at two different jobs, though both in a similar vain. As a carpenter, he repaired and fixed magical items for his wizarding world customers, whilst making and fixing furniture and other objects for those in the village.

"When I grow up," Remus exclaimed, watching his father work one day, "I want to be just like daddy!"

They loved their son, and as all parents did, imagined great things for him.

What Remus was not aware of was the fact that he had been born as a twin; his twin brother Romulus had died not long after Branwen had given birth to them, but his parents thought Remus was a bit too young to be told that. So they kept it quiet, and every year, the day before Remus' birthday, they would drop him off at John's parents' house, and drive to the small cemetery where Romulus was buried.

It was approaching Remus' seventh birthday when his grandparents phoned to say John's father was ill, and they couldn't look after him as they usually did.

Branwen and John were at a loss as for what to do with Remus. He had a few friends in the village, but out of respect for the dead, you were unable to apparate straight to the grave you were visiting, and as it was one of very few fully wizarding graveyards, the grounds were huge. They wouldn't be back until after dark, and they didn't want to risk leaving Remus in the care of Muggles for too long.

Of course, they knew a few wizarding families, but Remus had rarely met them; he was a shy, quiet boy and very timid. Around people he didn't know, he would be unhappy.

"We're going to have to stay home," Branwen reasoned, late one night after Remus had gone to bed.

John sighed, running a hand through his wiry brown hair. It had started to thin out not long ago, he no longer carried the thick, brown hair he'd had in his youth. "I don't like the idea of not going."

"We can go after his birthday!" Branwen sat on the edge of the armchair, watching her husband as he shook his head.

"No...why don't we take Remus? It's about time he knew."

"Maybe he's too young," she mumbled, not wanting to tell her son. She wanted to preserve his innocence, wanted to keep that light shining in his eyes for as long as possible.

John knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his and smiling into her light hazel eyes. "He deserves to know, Bran."

"I know," she whispered, hanging her head. "Fine. We'll take him. But we'll leave as early as possible. We won't be able to apparate outside the grounds with him, and I'd rather not have him there long past dark."

"Of course." He leant forward, kissing his wife's forehead. "We should get some sleep."

* * *

Remus was eager to find out where they were going, when he was informed that he would not be going to his grandparent's as usual. Branwen was making sandwiches for the journey, as John flicked through The Daily Prophet, Remus munching on his toast as he asked what they were doing that day.

With a sigh, John slid his reading glasses off his face and placed them on the table. All this magic, he thought, and yet there was little they could do for his eyesight. Some things, he knew, just could not be helped. He glanced at his wife, who placed the butter knife down and took a seat next to Remus on the table.

"Remus," she began, reaching forward and taking her son's hand in her own. "When you were born, you had a twin brother."

She let this sink in, watching as Remus scrunched his face up and stared at his plate. "Where is he now?" he asked, glancing sideways at his mother. "Didn't you love him like you love me?"

"Oh sweetie..." Branwen sighed, looking at John.

"Of course we loved him," John smiled gently at his son. "We loved him very, very much. But he...he had to go to heaven, Remus. Like granny did, before. Remember?"

Remus seemed to consider this, his eyes darting upwards. His granny – Branwen's mother – had died when he was four, and it was then that the concept of heaven had been explained to him. "So he's with granny?"

"Yes!" Branwen nodded. "He is. And on e day, far, far in the future, we might see them again."

"Did he have a name?"

"Romulus," John whispered.

Remus nodded slowly. "Can we visit him like granny?"

"Yes," Branwen squeezed her son's hand, "every year mummy and daddy go visit him the day before your birthday, because it is his birthday, too. And this year, we thought it'd make Romulus very happy, in heaven, if you were to come, too."

Remus' face broke into a smile. "I'd like that."

"Good!" John clapped his hands together, glancing at Branwen. Both looked relieved, happy that it had gone so easily. "Go get dressed, son, and we'll head off."

"OK!" Remus leapt from his chair and disappeared from the kitchen. Soon they could hear him clattering about upstairs, getting ready. Branwen let out a deep sigh.

"That was...easier than I thought."

"He's a bright kid," John leant back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Sometimes I really think we underestimate him."

When Remus was ready, he appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, clutching his favourite toy. The slightly battered rabbit looked at Branwen and John, as Remus stepped towards them. "Bun-Bun wants to go see Romulus, too. He said he wants to keep him company in heaven because they might not have toys there."

Branwen almost burst into tears. Instead, she turned away and gazed out of the window.

John marvelled at his generous, kind and loving son. "Yes, Remus. I think Romulus would like that."

So, for the first time, the family, as a whole, gathered together and began the journey to the cemetery.

* * *

It was already starting to get dark by the time they were halfway to the grave. The Knight Bus had dropped them off right at the entrance of the graveyard, and Remus, exhausted by the long journey, was half asleep in his father's arm, being carried across the cemetery in the man's strong grip.

Branwen carried the toy, holding it gently and glancing, every so often, at the form of her husband carrying their son. She smiled at the pair of them, before glancing up to the sky.

A large, white moon hung in the sky above them, the clouds drifting across its full face. Branwen shuddered. She'd heard rumours, recently, of a werewolf in the area, of wizards and witches hearing howls in the middle of the night when they'd come to visit dead relatives. The cemetery was surrounded by a forest, bewitched so that any Muggle who tried to get through it get disorientated and end up back on the other side.

Plenty of space for a werewolf to roam.

Still, there had been no attacks. Branwen knew that much. She hadn't mentioned the matter to John, not wanting to worry him, but now the thought sent a shiver down her spine and she hoped they could get to Romulus' grave soon.

"Here we are," John whispered, his voice carrying on the wind as he gently laid Remus down in the swaying grass. The boy was still dozing, and neither parent had the heart to wake him. They stood in front of the grave, Branwen kneeling down to place the toy rabbit on it.

"Hello Romulus," she reached forward, brushing a few overgrown plants from the grave's face. "We brought your brother to say hello."

John rested a hand on Branwen's shoulder, squeezing gently as she spoke to their dead son.

They only had their backs turned on Remus for a few minutes.

"Remus," Branwen breathed his name softly, staring at the spot where he had been sleeping. John turned around, eyes jumping around the graveyard, searching for his son.

"Remus!" he called, coming to his senses quicker than his wife. Branwen felt her knees weaken beneath her, felt her blood run cold.

Then they heard it.

The howl.

The sound carried across the cemetery from the forest, and Branwen's face went white, the blood draining from it as John pulled his wand out of his pocket, taking off at a sprint, calling his son's name the whole time.

"Branwen!" he shouted behind him. "Look that way!" He gestured behind him, and silently his wife nodded, withdrawing her own wand.

"Lumos!" she cried, lifting the wand up high to get a large area covered by the light. She darted away from John, and soon both of their voices rose up in the air, calling the boy's name over and over again.

Panic drenched Branwen in sweat; she felt it dripping off her forehead, felt her heart speed up and her palms grow clammy. Where was he? He couldn't have got far, surely...

"Dad!"

The screech came from somewhere close to John, and Branwen whirled around, running towards her husband as he sped up, following the voice. It had been scared, terrified and Branwen could only send a prayer up into the sky.

"Let him be OK," she whispered, ignoring the tears suddenly streaming down her face. "Let him be OK!"

His scream ripped through the air and ripped through Branwen.

Like a lightning bolt, the thought flashed through her; I didn't want him here. This is John's fault.

Another howl filled the air and Branwen was suddenly speeding past John, leaping over graves and screaming "I'm coming, Remus!" She lifted her wand, not stopping even as she spotted it.

A large, grey beast lifted its head and glared at her, strangely human hazel eyes staring at her, daring her to come any closer. It was panting, blood dripping from its teeth, a piece of flesh in its mouth. She didn't stop. Branwen was overcome with adrenaline, as she lifted her wand and cried out a curse.

A bolt of red light shot from her wand, hitting the beast between its eyes. It let out a whimper, turned and ran, loping over the grass and all too soon, disappearing from sight. She almost chased after it. She wanted to kill it, she wanted to see its body chopped up and discarded across the floor for the vultures to peck at.

"Branwen!" John's sharp cry brought her to her senses and she whirled around, dropping to her knees beside her son. Remus was whimpering, holding his leg as he stared, wide eyed and scared, at Branwen.

"I'm s-s-s-sorry, mummy..."

"It's OK," she reached forward, drawing him into her arms as tears came, uninvited, streaming down her face. They rolled onto the head of the small boy.

"I just w-w-w-wanted to go for a w-w-w-walk..."

He was shivering, clutching onto the lapels of her jacket. The wound was large, and John quickly took off his own jacket, wrapping it around the boy's leg and tying it up.

He attempted to take Remus from his mother.

Branwen held on tightly, shaking her head and staring at John with a glare fixed in steely determination. "I'm stronger," he whispered, and Branwen, reluctantly, let go of the child, tilting her head forward as John stood up.

His arms cradled Remus, as the boy wrapped his small arms around John's neck. He whimpered in pain as John set off across the cemetery, Branwen scrambling to her feet and following closely behind, wand still raised, lighting the path in front of them.

Please, she glanced around at the graves surrounding them; I don't want to have to come here to see two of my sons...