ONE
' soft currents '

☾⋆₊✧

JULY
1993

CALISTA LUPIN was by no means a sad child.

Thirteen years of age, doe-eyed, with loose dark red waves that framed her pale face, Calista carried an air of quiet determination. She was far more mature than most children her age—traits forged out of necessity rather than choice. But despite how it may have seemed from an outside point of view, things weren't all gloomy.

She had a home with the view of the sea one way and an array of trees the other, a place that felt both open and secluded. There were enough rooms for the two people that lived there—a porch that creaked underfoot, a modest kitchen with mismatched dishes, a cozy sitting room warmed by an old hearth, a study filled with well-worn books and scattered papers, and two small bedrooms— one for her, with a slanted ceiling and a window facing the ocean, and the other for her father, whose door was always slightly ajar, as if to remind her she was never alone.

She had food on the table each night, clothes on her back, and some company in the neighbourhood she would see on occasion.

Most importantly, she had her father. Remus Lupin wasn't just her parent— he was her entire world. His love, though sometimes clouded by the weight of his own struggles, was unwavering, and in his quiet, thoughtful way, he made sure she never felt unloved.

He called her Cal mainly, sometimes Callie, and when she was little, Stinker (her least favourite and she had forbade him from ever using it again once she turned six). But she preferred to go by Callie to the general population— when people called her by her full name it felt like the interaction was too formal, too serious. Calista, you didn't boil the kettle. Calista, try again. Calista, it's not looking too good. Calista, you're running out of time.

Callie was clever, perhaps too clever for her own good at times. From a young age, she had learned to be observant, to move quietly and pick up on things that others missed. It wasn't just because of her father's whispered warnings about being cautious— it was in her nature to be curious, to know more than she let on. And though she was well-behaved most of the time, she had her ways of sneaking past rules when she desired to. Each of these things she held onto with all her might, unyielding despite the circumstances.

But Calista was by no means a happy child, either.

Their cottage, tucked away in a quiet, forgotten corner of Yorkshire county, was more worn than it was cozy. The roof sagged in places, and the windows rattled in the wind. The inside was often cold, the winters only making it worse. The Hot Air spell was used plenty and when it couldn't be, Calista would gather every blanket and cover in the house to spread evenly between her and her father, who couldn't protest as he was fast asleep from a long day's work.

The food on their table, though enough to keep the Lupin's alive, was far from appetizing—usually something simple and bland like bread and soup that got tiring rather quickly. Remus would do a bit of hunting when he could, but it was rare as he didn't have much time and Callie didn't have the heart to kill such small things. In the warmer months they'd plant vegetables in small garden boxes in the yard (which Calista tended to since Dad didn't have a knack for gardening) and would have more colourful meals, sometimes of more variety as well. Occasionally Remus would bring back what Callie called special meals, which would range from whole chickens to cakes and more. She didn't know where he would get them, and just assumed he had saved up enough to spend a little more than usual. But again, they were special, therefore uncommon.

Their clothing, patched and mended countless times, clung to them like a second skin, reminding her of their never-ending struggle with poverty. Nothing was ever new, just hand-me-downs from neighbours or second hand muggle stores if her father was in London. It never was eye-catching either. At least not for the right reasons.

Her father's condition only added to the weight they both carried. Remus was a werewolf, and every month, the curse that haunted him tore him away from her. He would disappear into the woods surrounding their home, leaving Callie behind, sometimes alone, sometimes in the care of an elderly neighbour or, before she passed, his own mother. Those nights Callie lay awake, listening to the wind howl, imagining it as her father's voice caught in the throes of transformation. She hated those nights, hated being alone, knowing he was out there suffering. If it had been safe to stay with him, if he didn't turn into a beast hungry for her flesh... she would've been there every time.

Then there was her own illness. Callie had been sick for as long as she could remember, some days worse than others. She was frail, her body weaker than other children her age. She had good days where she could run around the forest, but they were always followed by bad days where she could hardly get out of bed. Medicine helped when they could afford it, and checkups with a healer were rare but necessary. Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, would visit when the time allowed, providing the father and daughter with anything else they were in need of. When she was nine and she wasn't getting enough oxygen, he'd brought a small breathing tube for her nose from the Muggle world. That had made the hacking the last few years a bit more bearable.

But the uncertainty of her health loomed over their lives like a dark cloud, always threatening, always there.

Remus, in between jobs, could never hold onto any work for too long. He took on positions far below his skill level, sometimes even muggle positions, unable to reveal his secret without risking everything. His frustration was palpable, but he never let it spill over onto her. Still, Callie could see it in the way his eyes would cloud over, in the tension in his jaw as he worked through the bills late at night, knowing there was little he could do to make things easier for either of them.

So she was not sad, though not happy either.

Rather she floated somewhere in between the two, on the cusp of both contentment and discontentment, never fully anchored to either. She was grateful for what she had, but usually found herself wishing for more. She never made this known, of course. That wouldn't be fair to her father, not after everything he did for her already. Maybe one day...

For now, all was as well as it could be.

☾⋆₊✧

Everything began changing after Calista's thirteenth birthday.

It wasn't just the matter of the seasons that the near end of May brought— such as the revival of greenery and prepping of the vegetable garden for harvesting season. Nor was it because of the warmth being brought back to England, sunlight finally feeling more welcoming and the harsh winds settling down for a day.

No, there were heavier things stirring beneath the surface, both in the wizarding world and within her small corner of life.

As July began, Dumbledore finally paid the Lupin's a visit. It had been nearly six months since he had last come 'round. This winter had been particular rough in Shire, and it didn't help that the Daily Prophet was reporting almost daily that Hogwarts students were being petrified. Dumbledore had also apparently been sacked as Headmaster, and the school was being considered for permanent closure. Remus had had to budget for more trips to the healer as well as for more medicine, and the cottage was beginning to crawl with more bugs than Callie minded.

Then, within a blink of an eye, all had resolved itself. Dumbledore was Headmaster again, the students were waking up, and Harry Potter had saved the day once more. Ever since they'd been expecting a visit and the day had finally come.

It was a Sunday afternoon and Remus had the weekend off from his latest job as an inventory man at Turner's General Goods. He was snoozing in the arm chair in the office as the sun shone down on him, and Callie was just around the corner, nose buried in another one of the muggle 'Sherlock Holmes' novels. She was nearly done The Hound of the Baskervilles, her favourite so far of Doyle's four main stories.

Then, there had been a gentle but loud enough knock at the front door.

Callie peered up from her book, waiting for her dad to come trudging through the den to answer the door. One of Dad's rules—never talk to strangers— so never answer the door if it's not someone they were expecting. After a few seconds of waiting to hear his constant mumbling, all she got was an obnoxiously loud snore.

She waited ten more seconds. Another knock came, this time a bit louder. Her father; still snoring. Odd. The girl lowered her legs to the wooden floor where they had been awkwardly but comfortably positioned on the couch, setting her book down but still open on the page she was reading. If someone was coming all the way to their house at the weekend, it had to have been someone they knew, so she made the decision of answering the door. Light on her feet as always, she snuck across the wood as fast as possible before whoever it was would start banging on the door frame.

Tugging it open, responding with a loud creak, a familiar silver-bearded man stood just on the porch. "Mr. Dumbledore!" Callie was surprised at first, then remembered her manners and put on a smile. "Good afternoon, sir."

Dumbledore bowed his head. "Good afternoon, Calista. How has the summer been treating you so far?"

Before she could answer, Remus had suddenly appeared behind her, always her shadow. His arm instinctively held onto her shoulder. The father was so tall compared to Calista who was tiny, tinier than the other thirteen year olds her age. She looked more like a ten year-old, which Nellie Jackson, their neighbour to the left, always reminded her of. "Honestly, do you ever eat?" she had asked once when they were in the forest. Callie ignored her, rolling her eyes and thinking, Well of course, you daft blonde. They had told all the Muggles they knew she had cancer, and even Callie started believing that's what she had, too. There was never a name given to what her condition was, or perhaps they were never quite certain of the diagnosis. Whatever it was, she wished she could kick its arse all the way to Luton.

"Albus," Remus nodded, gently pulling Callie to the side with him so Dumbledore could enter. "It's good to see you."

"I hate to drop in unexpected." He gave a small, apologetic smile, but Remus waved him off.

"You're never not welcome," he replied, but there was some kind of hesitation in his tone, almost as if he were saying it out of habit and not based on true feeling.

The older man's gaze softened as he took in Remus' disheveled appearance. "Thank you, my boy. I hope you've been well. I apologize that it's been a while." His words sounded as careful and measured as ever. Callie tried to keep her face friendly. Brave of him to say that, given that only the other day there had been an excruciating full moon for Dad.

As Dumbledore brushed by, he shared a look with Remus, with a flashing expression of solemnity. Remus felt his smile drop because he knew that look by now, and well. What ever he was really here for was not going to be easy to hear.

Dumbledore had taken a seat and Calista stood before him, now on the same eye level as each other. When he came to check on Callie, it was never rushed or clinical. He didn't pull out potions or wave his wand with dramatic flair. Instead, he would sit across from her, offering a small tin of lemon drops that she always politely declined, though she secretly appreciated the gesture. His questions were simple and direct, but never invasive.

"How have you been feeling lately, Miss Lupin?" His voice was soft, but it carried a weight that made it clear he wasn't asking just for the sake of conversation.

Callie shrugged lightly, a faint smile playing on her lips. "About the same," she answered, her voice carefully neutral. "Tired a lot, but nothing new."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled, though the sadness behind them never fully disappeared. As usual he would nod, listening intently as if her every word held the key to some greater mystery. Sometimes he'd ask if she was keeping up with her studies, or if she'd read anything interesting lately. Other times, he'd tell her small, amusing stories from Hogwarts— tales of mischievous students or the enchanted staircases that seemed to change their minds more often than their directions.

Their interactions were never strained, but there was always an unspoken understanding between them. Dumbledore would look at her as if he knew more about her future than she did, and Callie could never quite shake the feeling that he saw her as something more than just a sickly child. Still, she trusted him, in the way that children trust those who seem to know the world far better than they ever will.

Usually Dumbledore and Remus would then have their own private conversation, and shoo the girl away. But this time, Dumbledore wasn't finished with her yet.

He motioned across from them, where her father had taken a seat on the chair her book had been. It had now been moved to the side table, still with the spine open on the page she'd been stuck on. "Do take a seat now, Calista," he requested. "I have another important matter at hand to discuss with both you and your father."

She turned around, though hesitating, and looked to her father with confusion. Remus didn't look certain himself of the situation but still offered her a tight smile of reassurance. So Callie plopped herself on the floor right in front of her father's legs, too old to sit on his lap but wanting to be close to him all the same. She held onto his leg with one hand as the other began to fiddle anxiously with her breathing tube. Obviously something important was to be said, making the girl feel a sense of curiosity and unease. But there were no recent developments with her condition, so what could it possibly be?

Dumbledore, watching them both, leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlacing as he rested them on his lap. His gaze shifted from Callie to Remus, and then he spoke with his usual calm authority.

"Remus," he began, "I know that you and Calista have both lived in a state of great caution and secrecy. But the time has come for me to offer you an opportunity. One that could bring some stability for you both."

Remus' brow furrowed, and his body stiffened slightly. Callie had unhooked her arm from his leg and was now leaning forward, but her hand still rested on the breathing tube. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

Dumbledore's eyes softened. "I would like you to join the staff at Hogwarts. As a professor. We have a need for someone to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts this year, and you, Remus, are more than qualified for the role."

There was a long pause as the words settled between them. Callie glanced at her father, seeing the surprise and uncertainty written clearly across his face.

"I—" Remus started, his voice halting. "Albus, I appreciate the offer, truly, but... I don't think it's possible." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, so he elaborated, "Not with my condition." His voice dropped lower. "And Callie. I can't risk her safety. Being at Hogwarts, around so many people... It's dangerous. For both of us."

Dumbledore nodded, as though he had expected this response. "I understand your concerns, Remus. But I assure you, I have taken them into account. If you were to accept the position, I would ensure that both you and Calista would be provided with full access to the school's resources."

Remus' gaze sharpened, suspicion creeping into his tone. "Resources?" he repeated.

"I'm sure you remember the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said. "She would tend to Calista whenever necessary, and to you as well. You will also have access to the Wolfsbane Potion, which Professor Snape has agreed to brew. This will ensure that your transformations remain... controlled."

Remus chuckled at the mention of the potions professor. "Snape? Don't think he has a particular fondness for me."

"Nor does he for anyone."

"Yes, but..." Remus cleared his throat. "You're aware how it was when I was at school with him."

Calista frowned. Who was Snape? Why did her father seem so weary of him? And Wolfsbane? She had heard of it, of course. Her father didn't use it, but she knew how important it was in helping werewolves. Not that they could ever afford the ingredients. But her father at Hogwarts, teaching? The idea was almost surreal.

"Regardless, Snape is not heartless and is also under my orders. You won't be of any danger while at Hogwarts."

Remus shook his head slowly. "That might help with the transformations," he said, his voice strained, "but what about the other students? They can't know about me. And Callie—Calista... she's already at risk. If something were to happen..." he trailed off, then began rubbing his temples.

Dumbledore's expression grew serious, though his tone remained gentle. "I have given this much thought, Remus. You and Calista can maintain your privacy, as you always have. We will protect her identity as we have done so far. And I assure you, no one but my most trusted staff will be aware of your condition."

Protect her identity. She wasn't well known, no one knew her name but those they told. That's why they lived in a muggle village; no one would have any idea who the Lupin's were. No curious witches or wizards, no whispers about the werewolf and the girl by his side. The isolation was a shield— imperfect, but essential. It kept the questions at bay, kept Callie safe from the kinds of rumours that could ruin her before she even had a chance to find her place in the world. But the cost was high. They were always on the edge of society, never fully belonging anywhere.

Remus ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. The weight of Dumbledore's offer was clearly pressing down on him. He glanced at Callie, who was watching him carefully. Still twiddling with the cannula, he gently pulled her hand away from it, instead giving it a light squeeze. "Calista, go water the crops, please," he asked her.

There it was— time for Dad and Dumbledore's secret grown up talks.

She hated not being in the loop on everything, hated that there was some sense of mystery to her situation that they couldn't tell her. She always grappled with the fact that she deserved to know if there was more to the story. Callie had tried to eavesdrop on them once, but had failed miserably. Her father could always sense her presence, and there was no use in attempting to sneak around Dumbledore. That man had eyes and ears everywhere. He seemed to be hyperaware of everything at any given moment.

But if there was something else, something so unspeakable for a child already suffering enough to know, then she would survive being left out.

So she obeyed as usual, shuffling her way out into the yard. She glimpsed one more time into the house, where both men were now on their feet, huddled close and most likely talking quietly. She focused her attention to the crops; the spinach seemed to be coming in nicely.

☾⋆₊✧

"There's one more thing I haven't yet mentioned," Dumbledore began, his voice lowered and grave. "Something that adds to the importance of this decision, Remus. There is far more at stake if you stay."

The father sucked in a breath, waiting for the killing blow, of what he sensed would change the trajectory of their lives forever.

Then Dumbledore said, "Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban."

Remus stiffened.

It felt as if the world had tilted beneath him. His heart pounded loudly in his ears, drowning out the soft crash of the waves in the distance. Once his brother, once his friend, once only one of the few things that kept him grounded and from staying in this world, that had turned into an enemy overnight, had fled the most secure prison in their world. And now he was out on the streets of England, prowling around like he had once done many moons ago.

He stared at Dumbledore, disbelief filling his features. "Sirius?" Remus breathed, the name scraping painfully in his throat. "Escaped?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly, the gravity of the news weighing heavily between them. "It seems so, yes."

Remus' mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Azkaban. No one escaped from Azkaban. Especially not someone like Sirius Orion Black. He was a traitor, a murderer— the man who had betrayed Lily and James, who had led to their deaths, and by extension, destroyed the Marauders. He had torn their world apart. He had spent so many sleepless nights trying to fit all the pieces together, to make sense of what had driven him to madness. But nothing ever fit. Not in his mind.

"How?" he managed, his voice low. "How did he—?"

"We don't know the full details yet," Dumbledore replied. "But it is true. It'll be in the Prophet tomorrow. Sirius has escaped. You are no longer safe here, Remus. Neither is she. The Ministry believes Black's main target is Harry Potter, but," he paused, "I suspect he'll be interested in more than just the boy. If he finds you, he finds her."

Remus shook his head in disbelief. "He can't know that she's alive. If he even remembers her, he must think she's dead by now."

The old man understood, but knew that was not the truth. "That may be. But Sirius has certainly not forgotten who she is. They found Harry and Calista's names written all over a wall in his cell. Some had just been freshly carved."

The anger bubbled up alongside the fear, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to overtake the father. Sirius was Callie's last living family member. He was her mother's twin brother, of course the older one, born exactly twelve minutes before Celene. He could feel himself slipping away as he imagined her in all her beauty; long dark hair, deep but beautifully rich eyes, the way the idents in her cheeks began to deepen as she smiled back. But he was grounded by the fact that Sirius was her mirror— and he was dangerous.

"Hogwarts is where the two of you belong now," Dumbledore began coaxing. "You have denied that girl long enough."

Remus, feeling attacked, raised his voice slightly. "I didn't forbid her from going because I felt like it. It wasn't a good decision for the last two years."

The Headmaster placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, the quiet strength in his touch somehow grounding Remus in the moment. "I understand your hesitation, Remus," he said softly. "But keeping her isolated, alone, as you have done... may put her at more risk. Sirius is a powerful wizard, and he may find a way to reach her. I cannot guarantee that he would harm her, but given the fact that he supported the man who got his sister killed, and his mind has been affected by Azkaban-"

"Stop. Please." He cut him off, having heard enough that would leave him in a daze for hours. "I'll take the job. We'll go to Hogwarts."

Remus turned away, enough said, nothing else left on the tip of his tongue. Staring out the window near the bookshelf, Calista was just outside, back turned but intensely observing the crops. Her long auburn hair which she had inherited from his father was disheveled, as usual, and her knitted sweater and ankle-long skirt look like it was swallowing her up. She never complained about much of anything, but he knew she wasn't satisfied with their life. They'd had many lifestyle changes over the years, had to grow used to new customs before it reset all over again. But she never struggled with the change. Hopefully this would be an easy enough transition as well.

No, definitely not.

Dumbledore took a step toward the man, now watching Callie as well. "Remus... it is not my place and I will respect your wishes. But the time of hiding the truth from her is coming to an end."

His heart sank. He knew Dumbledore was right. She was smart, she loved mysteries—she'd piece things together soon enough. But it didn't make it any easier to accept.

He had protected her for so long. Lied to her her entire life. Once she knew he wouldn't doubt she'd despise him. But what child should have had to carry the burden of the truth? He never wanted her to feel about herself what he had when he was a child. What he felt about himself even now. That she was a burden, a lesser being. That her parents had failed to protect her as early as her conception. But having to dump all of that on her— it felt unbearable., and he wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do it.

"I'll tell her," Remus said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll tell her everything. But not now. Not yet."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding, his gaze softening. "In your own time, Remus. She will understand. She's stronger than you realize."

As the two men stood in the quiet, watching Callie from a distance, Remus felt a heavy sense of inevitability settle over him. He had made his choice. And soon, there would be no more secrets. Sirius's escape was the beginning of something—something dangerous, something that could tear their world apart again. Remus would do as he had always done, and protect her as well as he could.

But the truth was coming, whether either of them were ready or not to face it.

^^ accurate representation
of me writing this book

welcome to the first MMM (memento mori monday) !!!

chapter 1 is here! what do we think? do we hate it? tolerate it? there was my lil introduction to callie, and her and remus' secluded life so far. god i love them so much even though they go thru it. i swear i do.

i'm about halfway through writing act one while publishing this, and i think i'm going to start with bi weekly updates to the story (on mondays because MMM). i hope it'll stay consistent and you guys stick around 🤞 it's so chaotic from here on out and i fear this is the most peaceful it's going to ever be.