Keep em coming!!
17 March 1969
St Mungo’s Hospital
Two days later, Damien surfaced from unconsciousness again.
When he forced his heavy eyelids open, his skull throbbing from the long coma, his gaze met a ceiling he knew all too well.
A dry, self-mocking chuckle slipped out of him.
At least this time, it wasn’t a stranger’s ceiling.
Same ward, same ceiling, same too-familiar smell of potions.
On the bedside table, a mountain of snacks was piled so high it looked ready to spill over.
Lying there, rubbing at his aching temples, Damien found he couldn’t feel any real relief.
He’d stepped in to help the Lupin family after Fenrir’s attack on Remus, driven at first by a simple, righteous anger.
In truth, all those “past events” he’d only ever known as background lore to the main story had never felt real to him.
But when Fenrir actually appeared in the yard—when the werewolf charged them, claws ready to tear them apart—Damien finally understood why this era was called the Dark Years in Sirius Black’s stories.
He finally understood how someone like Peter Pettigrew, dismissed by everyone as painfully ordinary, could one day unleash enough power to blow up half a street.
Tom Riddle, the second Dark Lord so often mocked in fanfiction for being “useless” and crude—his terror in this age was anything but baseless.
If Grindelwald’s followers were extreme idealists fighting under the banner of belief, then Tom’s Death Eaters were madmen who treated the chaos as license to indulge their darkest urges.
Grindelwald, at least, had reined his Acolytes in for the sake of an ideal.
Tom only pursued his own immortality; for that, he cared nothing for the lives of his followers—let alone those of innocent people.
Shameful as it was, Damien had to admit that when the explosion went off in the Lupins’ yard and Fenrir’s claws smashed through the door, real, marrow-deep fear had seized his heart.
People raised in peaceful times have never truly faced life-or-death choices.
Hit with that kind of brutality, all they can do is dumbly follow whatever orders the adults shout at them.
Damien was ashamed of his terror.
At the same time, for the first time, he felt—clearly, viscerally—what Tom and his lawless Death Eaters were doing to wizarding Britain right now.
His thoughts were drifting when a deliberately hushed voice drifted in from outside the ward, breaking the quiet.
“I swear, if you lock me at home again the next time something happens…” A woman’s voice, choked with tears.
Damien recognized it instantly: his mother, Catherine.
“Dear, I had no choice then.
Everything happened so suddenly, and I did it for your safety,” came Robert Jr.’s gentle reply.
“I can use a gun too.
I used to hunt wild wolves—my aim is very good.
I really regret not shooting those damn wolfs that night!”
Catherine’s furious words grew louder and louder, her restraint slipping.
Seeing his mother’s emotions climbing, Damien hurriedly shoved the snack basket with his hand.
The bulging basket tipped and crashed to the floor, scattering wrappers and sweets.
Clatter—
The noise cut through their argument at once.
A heartbeat later, Catherine burst through the door.
Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes swollen and red, her whole body radiating exhaustion and defeat.
Damien understood.
While he’d been lying there unconscious, this woman who loved him more than anything had clearly been drowning in guilt over her helplessness that night.
He knew pointless reassurances wouldn’t comfort her.
So he chose a different approach.
“Mom, I’m thirsty…”
Catherine rushed at once to pour him some water.
In no time at all, a cup of properly cooled black tea was pressed to his lips.
She gently propped him up and carefully helped him drink, all the earlier fury gone from her face.
Her eyes and her heart held nothing now but fierce love and aching tenderness for her son.
From where Catherine couldn’t see, Damien lifted a hand and waved lightly at Robert Jr..
Catching the signal, Robert Jr.
finally let out a quiet breath of relief and slipped out to find a St Mungo’s Healer.
“Mom, can you help me get something to eat…”
Damien lay half-propped up on the bed, making one small request after another of his mother.
Catherine tended to him with her whole heart, not a word of complaint on her lips.
With each errand she ran and each pillow she fluffed, the raw, gnawing self-blame in her eyes slowly eased.
Sometimes, self-blame is just another way of scolding yourself for not being strong enough.
Keep someone like that busy for a while, let her see how much you still need her, and that biting pain in the heart loosens its grip.
Before long, Robert Jr.
Catherine hurriedly stepped aside, watching anxiously from the edge of the bed as the Healer began examining Damien.
After Damien endured—almost in despair—more than twenty different examinations, the Healers finally announced that he was out of danger.
As long as he stayed at St.
Mungo’s for three more days under observation and nothing strange appeared, he could go home with an easy mind.
The burden in Catherine’s and Robert Jr.’s hearts vanished at once.
Damien, on the other hand, felt like collapsing when he heard he had to stay three more days.
On his personal panel, there were no negative statuses or strange conditions at all.
Instead, a brand-new talent had appeared:
Transfiguration Inspiration (Blue): The inspiration and imagination you gain when performing Transfiguration are slightly increased.
Uninjured and even gaining a talent—under those circumstances, who would willingly stay in a hospital, living a life where you raise a hand to read, open your mouth to eat, and have an endless supply of snacks and drinks?
While Damien was muddling through this dull, overindulgent recovery, a knock sounded at the door.
He looked up.
At Catherine’s invitation, the Lupin family filed in one after another.
Remus’s eyes were red-rimmed.
He lifted his head, ready to spill out his concern, only to be confronted with the sight of Damien in hospital pyjamas, a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them in hand, a steaming cup of black tea at his elbow, and a small mountain of snacks piled beside him.
Remus’s guilt, self-blame, and grief were all but smothered by that almost luxurious scene.
His mouth opened, but for a long moment no words came.
At last he managed, somewhat woodenly, “Good morning, Damien.”
Sitting up on the bed, Damien smiled at him and answered softly, “Good morning, Remus.”
The three days of observation flew by.
In the blink of an eye, it was time for Damien to be discharged.
That day, the Lupin family made a special trip to St.
Mungo’s as well, which made Damien feel a bit embarrassed about all the fuss.
But every time he saw how bloodshot Remus’s eyes were, he couldn’t bring himself to complain.
He could only throw an arm around Remus’s shoulders as the two of them traded and compared their newest Chocolate Frog cards.
It was only when Robert Jr.
finished the discharge procedures that Damien sensed something was off.
When they finally walked out of St.
Mungo’s, only Catherine, Hope, Remus, and Damien himself remained.
Even more absurdly, Catherine then very naturally stepped to the curb, hailed a taxi, and bundled them all inside, heading for London Station.
Watching this completely ordinary Muggle way of travelling, Damien was utterly baffled.
He ventured, “Mum, can’t we take the Knight Bus home?”
“Oh, Damien, your father and I both think you should attend a Muggle school for two years and experience a proper childhood.
Don’t worry, Remus will be going with you.”
Smiling, Catherine dropped this bolt from the blue on Damien and Remus—who was still absorbed in sorting his Chocolate Frog cards.
Remus, who had been carefully pasting cards into his notebook without even looking up, snapped his head up at once when he heard.
Staring in shock, he hurriedly shook his head to tell Damien that he hadn’t betrayed him—he had only just heard about it himself.
Going to school wasn’t something Damien absolutely rejected, but it was still quite a shock.
After all, someone who’d spent four years preparing for Hogwarts suddenly being told he’d be transferring to a Muggle school instead was no small twist.
However, Damien wasn’t really just a nine-year-old child.
He quickly caught the most important point:
“So, where’s Dad?
Why isn’t he with us?”
At that, Remus also looked toward Mrs.
Hope.
Prompted by Damien’s question, the same doubt surfaced in his mind.
Catherine and Hope exchanged a quick glance, before Catherine answered a little stiffly:
“It’s just that wizards aren’t used to living in Muggle communities, so we’re going to be apart for a while.
Don’t worry, your father and Uncle Lyall will come to see you regularly.”
Damien saw straight through Catherine’s forced smile, but if his mum didn’t want to say more, pushing her would only make things worse and weigh on her even more.
So he buried the unease and the questions about the future deep in his chest—for now.
He was only nine.
He didn’t even have a wand yet.
Even if he uncovered the truth, there was nothing he could actually do about it.
Silently, he called up his system panel.
The 624 experience points he’d scraped together over the past four years floated before his eyes as he sank into thought.
The major upheavals in the timeline had already twisted most people’s destinies.
It would clearly be much harder to gain destiny points in the future.
But as for these experience points he earned by studying…he still had no idea what they would be good for later.
Settled into his first-class seat, Damien took a paper and glanced past it to the scenery streaming backwards outside the window.
“Damien…”
Remus’s soft call from beside him tugged him out of his reverie.
Damien turned his head to look at his friend.
“What’s wrong, Remus?”
“I… it’s my first time going to school…”
Remus faltered over the words, but the faint tremor in his voice gave him away.
He was nervous.
Damien clapped him on the shoulder.
“Don’t be like that, Remus.
You’re so handsome—you should be worrying about how to turn down all the love letters.”
Remus let out a long-suffering sigh.
After years of dealing with Damien’s occasional nonsense, he was used to it; he no longer wasted breath arguing with this infuriating guy until he was red in the face.
“Anyway, the train’s still got a long way to go.
Remus, let’s walk a bit.”
Damien nudged his friend, who was clearly starting to spiral with anxiety, and added, “Our mums are both Muggles.
Living among Muggles is nothing special.”
“Uh… okay.”
Remus had no better suggestions, so the two slipped past their mothers—who were deep in a discussion about the Beatles—and started wandering down the aisle.
As they crossed into the next carriage, Remus, distracted and preoccupied, accidentally bumped into a boy who was reading.
There was a startled yelp from Remus, and the thick-haired brown-haired boy looked up, displeased, as his book hit the floor with a soft thud.
“Sorry, sorry, I was just spacing out.”
Remus blurted out an apology.
At his side, Damien hurried to smooth things over as well, looking a bit embarrassed.
Sincere apologies tended to work.
The boy let it go easily enough, then asked with some curiosity,
“My dad’s going to Cokeworth on a business trip, and my mum and I are tagging along for fun.
What about you?
Where are you going?”
Hearing about the boy’s carefree trip, Damien—already in a sour mood about school—felt his spirits sink even lower.
He answered without much energy.
“We’re going there for school.”
“Oh, are you locals then?
Is there anything fun in Cokeworth?
Any good desserts…?”
The barrage of questions left the already nervous Remus completely at a loss.
He shot Damien a helpless look, then muttered to the boy, a little embarrassed,
“Sorry, we… it’s our first time going too, so we don’t really know.”
“Oh… right, then…”
The boy sat back down, looking a little crestfallen.
Seeing that, Damien and Remus moved on, continuing their “Muggle socialization” practice, leaving only the familiar sound of their bickering trailing down the corridor.
“Remus, relax.
It’s just school; it’s not going to kill you.”
“Damien… I’ve never been to school before.”
“So what?
I haven’t either.”
“Then why do you act like you’re so chill about it?”
“I’ve been to school in my dreams—the kind where you have classes from morning till night and endless homework.”
“Oh, Muggle schools wouldn’t have that much homework… right?”
“Don’t worry, Remus.
Being a bad student isn’t so bad.
Once we get to Hogwarts, it’ll probably be hard to enjoy that feeling again.”
“Damien…”
“What is it, Remus?”
“You’re so confident at being a bad student…”
“Remus, could you maybe not be so foul-mouthed when you’re insulting people?”
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