Yes, A Dugbog really does exist.
All Alone.
Seven year old Remus Lupin, his brown eyes excited, watched as his father opened a cardboard box that was emitting loud, high-pitched squeals and puffs at odd intervals.
"Can I feed it, dad?" he asked excitedly, nearly hopping on the spot. "And does it have a name?"
"Remus ..." his father said, tapping the straps with his wand "...we have been through this with your mother. You are not allowed to feed the animals that are classed as dangerous!"
"Oh, but, dad ... A Dugbog isn't dangerous ... and I won't be in the pen ..."
His father grimaced as he struggled with the last straps. "We'll see, Remus. Though after you see it, you may not like it so much." He finished the last strap and lifted the box with the speed of lightning and dumped it upside-down into a magically-made swamp that was strongly fenced and warded.
Remus watched the packing – mud, peat, slime, things that the Dugbog liked immensely - fall into the water. But he did not see any sign of the Dugbog itself. Her leaned over the rail, staring expectantly at the muddy water. "Why can't we see it, dad?"
His father, an expert and the owner of a small magical animal sanctuary that he ran at his own home, grinned. "Take a closer look."
Ever-patient, Remus stared hard at the water. "There's a big lot of marshes ... is it hiding in that?"
His dad joined him in leaning over the rail. "No, he isn't. He's in the water. Look." He pointed to a thing that looked like a gnarled and twisted log floating on the water. Remus followed his hand.
"It's a log. Dad, I think they cheated you ... Oooh!" Remus squealed and jumped back, pointing at the log. "It blinked at me!"
His dad chortled a happily. "Dugbog's are very devious creatures. When they are still, they look like logs – but when an unsuspecting animal comes along, it pounces. And," he added sternly, "it can cause very vicious injuries to humans – especially young humans. Which is why your mother and I do not want you to have anything much to do with it."
Remus, a fairly sensible boy, saw the sense in this. "All right. But can I help you feed it?"
"If you want," his dad replied, surprised at just how determined his son was. "But only when I am with you."
"Yes!" Remus whooped, clapping his hands happily. The Dugbog eyed them both with one suspicious look. "What does it eat?" he asked, grabbing onto his father's hand as they walked back to the house where the scent of lunch was already drifting across the fields. "Can we get it a friend? Is it boy or a girl? And does it have ..."
The little boy's voice got lost on the wind as father and son entered the small, red-brick house, complete with wine-cellar and attic-bedroom. Mrs. Lupin, her fair hair pulled back into a bun, was stirring frantically at a saucepan that was overflowing. Remus' mother had yet to perfect her cooking skills.
"Ah, good, you're back. How was the Dugbog?" she asked, poking a boiled cabbage worriedly.
"Oh, excellent," replied her husband cheerily. He loved his creatures very much. "Rose, are you, er ... having some trouble there?" he said eyeing her sadly soggy vegetables. "Would you like me to make some toad-in-the-hole instead?"
"Ooh, yes, thank-you, Jim," Rose sank into one of the chairs by the table gratefully. "I really don't understand that Aga ..."
Jim chuckled. "Of course, dear. Sit down." One wave of his long, thin wand and a piping hot toad-in-the-hole was sitting in a glass dish on the table. Remus, his tired mother and grinning father, sat down to a very satisfying meal of steaming potatoes and crispy sausages.
--
Remus stared out of his bedroom window. It was a beautiful, star-filled night. The milky-way stretched in swirling, hazy mist across the black sky; the stars were dotted everywhere, like bright jewels in a velvet cloth.
And the moon was out. It was huge – a full moon. Remus thought he could see, in the grey craters and pale surfaces, the man in the moon.
Actually, Remus thought, if you looked at it in a certain way, it looked more like a hare. A hare with grey ears. Remus liked this thought immensely. He started to float away in a little world of his own, thinking of hairs, and the moon, and flying there on a Cleansweep Four.
He fell asleep with such dreams, and so the long, piteous howl that rang through the large forest outside the Lupin family home did not wake him nor disturb his sleep.
--
Remus, a large bucket full of sloppy meat and scraps of fat hanging on his arm, struggled through the undergrowth on the fringes of the forest. He was going to put it in the Makavore's – a small, meat-eating mammal – food trough. His father was taking some dead ferrets to the latest Hippogriff that had arrived at the sanctuary. Unfortunately, Remus was not allowed to feed it, and so had been giving the job of taking the parts the butcher didn't want to the Makavore.
"Here you go, Milly. We've found a really nice forest in Germany that'll have you, so you can go back home soon," he told the small, dog-like thing as it gobbled down the pink mess. "And then you have lots of little baby Makavore's, can't you?"
Milly didn't really seem to care. She carried on eating, completely ignoring Remus. The little boy sighed. "Bye-bye, Milly. I'll tell Daddy to make a nice crate for you."
Milly gave one acknowledging shake of her bony tail. Remus hoisted the bucket onto the crook of his arm again, and set off back to the large that housed the food and equipment for looking after the animals.
"Dad!" he yelled happily. "Daddy, I was wondering, can Milly have – ?"
He stopped dead. His father was standing in the porch at the front of the hut, talking with two men. One tall and hulking, the other tall as well, but skinny and blond. His father, brown head bowed, but eyes fierce and blazing, was listening. One of the men said something with a snide expression on his face. His father's head shot up, wand emitting gold and red sparks.
"Get away from my home, you pieces of filth! Now, or you will regret it!!" Remus was alarmed to hear his father shouting, such an angry look on his face; he was usually such a mild-mannered man. He shrank back into his blue dungarees.
The two men also shrank back, then stood up straight. "No, you will regret this, Lupin. We have powerful friends in high places." They began sauntering over the grass, a long cigar dangling from the thin lips of the blond one.
"Oho! Now, who is this, Lupin?" The broad one bent down to peer at Remus. "Looks like you've done bit of breeding yourself, man." Remus backed away. This man smelt bad, like old potions and rotting flesh.
Remus' father strode hurriedly to his son and picked him up. "Now, Smithers, before I change my mind."
"You Gryffindors have always been so damn righteous. The Dark Lord will put a stop to it all ..." he surveyed the little homestead scornfully "... and we will not forget this. Watch out, Lupin ..." his gaze lingered on Remus with a thoughtful expression. " Watch out ... Lupin Junior."
As the two men disappeared, Remus turned to his father. "Daddy, who were they? What ... did they mean?"
Jim Lupin picked his son up, hugging him tightly. "They were bad men, Remus, people that you should leave well enough alone ... and never bend to their will." Jim looked his son straight in the eye, pushing the sweaty hair back from the small pale face. "We are a proud family, Remus ... and we will never bend to Dark Lord, though he may consume all of this world."
Remus didn't understand these words. But in years and years to come, he would think on them, and each time he would understand better and better; but at that moment, little Remus only wrinkled his nose and sneezed to get the stench of that man out of his nose.
--
Weeks and moths passed, and Remus forgot all about the two unwelcome visitors. Every day he checked the progress of the Dugbog, and was pleased to see it swelling more with every meal. Soon it would be fat enough to release back into the fens of East Anglia.
It was the summer solstice, and Remus, to his surprise, was told to go and wash his face and get into his best robes, because there was going to be a party. Obediently, he set off up the stairs to the tiny, low-roofed room that had his bed and few toys in it.
Remus' wardrobe was not extensive – his mother most normally dressed him in dungarees that were not likely to get as filthy and tangled as robes would when he was feeding the animals.
His best robes were dark red, and the turned-over cuffs and double-stitched hems gave him a look that made him seem very much younger than his seven years – it was handsome, though. Proudly, careful not standing on the ends of it, he walked down the stairs.
"Ooh, it's little Remus!" Someone cried, pinching his cheek affectionately.
"Now, now, Delia, let him alone," a man peered down and looked into his face. "Your mummy's over there, boy."
Remus slightly resented these people – whom he had certainly never seen in his life – cooing and giggling at him, and he hurtled through the party-goers to stand beside his mum.
"Remus, would you take these drinks around ..." she said distractedly " ... oh dear, I really must get a house-elf ..."
Remus picked up the tray and once again set out into the bewildering tangle of legs. People patted his head, and chucked his chin affectionately as if they knew him, and even occasionally pinched his cheek.
"Dear, could you give one of those scrumptious looking drinks, please?" A plump old woman, dressed in handsome blue, leaned forward. Remus carefully extended the tray towards her, she smiled and took a sip of the pink liquid. "What's you name, then?"
"Remus James Lupin," he said proudly. She smiled.
"Same as my little grandson, then. James his name is, you know. Frederick, meet Remus James Lupin." She called to man who seemed to be her husband. Old and benevolent looking, he peered down at Remus.
"Hallo, young man," he reached down and extended a worn hand. "Frederick Potter, at your service."
Remus giggled. He liked this man. "Hullo. I'm Remus. What's that?" he pointed at a bauble of clear glass with a picture in it that hung at the old man's belt.
"A muggle keyring. That's my grandson James, that is."
Remus looked closer. A small boy with spiky black hair was waving a small broomstick at him cheerfully. Remus blinked.
"He looks nice."
"Ah, he is, Remus. But that's what all grandparents say, even if the child is a howling Hippogriff."
"Frederick! Frederick! Do come here!" Mr. Potter's with called to him from where she was speaking with some other guests. Mr. Potter grinned and winked at Remus. "Ah, it seems my wife needs me. Here." He flipped a small silver thing at him, then moved off.
Remus picked it up from where it had fallen. It was a small, much smaller than a knut, and had six sides. On one side there was the head of a woman with crown on, and on the other side, a rose.
It must be a muggle coin, Remus decided. What strange people muggles were! Why were their coins so small? And why did they have that woman's head on it? He decided to ask his dad later.
There seemed to be a lot of people in the small house, which suddenly seemed much large than normal. The heat was stifling, and little Remus was soon sweating in his red robes.
A cool breeze swept over him. He turned eagerly and saw the door to the back of the house that led onto the forest open. He put the tray down neatly and went out of the door.
There was slight breeze, and the tops of the trees swayed in the dark. Remus, without thinking, strolled down the bank to the trees. The leaves, as it was high summer, were all thick above him, and it was possible to see a long way into the recesses of the forest.
Remus heard something crack; he jumped and peered into the darkness. There was another rustle, and Remus crept forward. What if it was Milly, scared and alone? Or big, gentle Bruno? Remus took a deep breath, then padded forward into the dark.
Five minutes later, and he had seen nothing. He was just about to turn back to go and get a drink, when he heard a low snarl. He leapt around, his foot splashing in a stagnant stream that ran right into the middle of the wood, and saw, across the water, a huge, hulking beast.
A wolf – Remus, his father a wildlife expert, knew it was one ... but there was something wrong. It's snout was long, bulging with huge, yellow teeth and saliva hung in thick strands from the gaping jaws. And the look in it's eyes ... as Remus met it's eyes, he knew it was no wolf that stood before him: they were nearly red, darker pupils in the middle, but it had such a look of complete and utter hatred that Remus tried to turn and run.
But as soon as he moved, the thing leapt. Clearing the stream in one huge bound, it landed before Remus. And as it lunged for him, the small boy was sure he had not imagined the satisfied glint in the monster's eye.
--
The red robes were sodden, stained darker with his own blood. The pain in his side was so terrible it almost didn't hurt at all. Stars winked and blinked before his eyes; there was a thick, choking fluid climbing up his throat, stopping his breath.
Remus was scared. Was he going to die here, without his mother and father? Was the monster going to come back?
A sob caught in his throat, and it quickly turned to a fit of choking.
But Remus didn't want to die. His thoughts turned to his dad, and though he could see the stars before him more clearly now, he gasped once:
"Dad!"
And then he lost consciousness.
--
A blur of white, gasping faces, his mothers soft pale hair on his cheek, Mr. Potter's black hair obscuring his limited sight: that was all Remus would remember later. Soon after, he blacked out again.
--
Everything was white. Remus blinked a few times, wondering if it was him. When his sight came back into focus, he blinked again. Why was his bedroom all white, and so big? And why was his bed so hard ... where was his soft woollen blanket?
"Remus?"
"Mum!"
"Oh, darling, you're awake ..." his mum held his face in her hands and kissed him, a lot. Like any boy, Remus resisted vigorously.
"Where am I?" he asked, waving off her hands, futilely.
"St. Mungo's ... Remus ... daddy and I have to tell you something ..." Rose's golden head bowed briefly. Remus looked around and saw his dad sitting on his other side, head in hands.
"Dad! Daddy ...?" When Jim looked up, he smiled wanly.
"Remus ... son ..." And now he hugged Remus as well. Remus gasped, feeling his side twinge with pain.
"What's wrong? Why am I here? What ... what happened ..." Remus trailed off as he suddenly remembered the mad, wild glint in the wolf's eye. He whimpered and was glad of his parents presence.
"Remus, I ... we ... the other day ..." Rose broke off with a sob.
"Son," his father stroked his cheek, "the thing that attacked you last night ... it was a werewolf. It bit you. And now ..."
"Oh!" Remus shivered at the name of 'werewolf' something even he had been taught to fear. "I don't understand."
"It means that now ... now, Remus, you're going to be werewolf as well." Rose sobbed, clutching at her scarf tightly. Jim had tears in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Remus ... so sorry ..." he hugged the little boy in hospital clothes firmly. Remus didn't understand the fuss. Wouldn't it heal, get better ...
After all, it was just a bite.
--
After a long week of nurses and Healers and questions and sobbing relatives, Remus was at last allowed to go home. He was put straight to bed, where his pale and sad mother would attempt to ease his boredom buy reading to him a muggle story that she herself had loved.
'The Magicians Nephew' was a very good book, and Remus enjoyed listening to it, even if the old man in it was silly – how he be a magician without a wand?! - but when his mum went away again, he was left with his own confused thoughts.
Why was everyone so sad? He had an illness, the Healer said. But lots of people had illnesses and lots of people got better too. He would as well, Remus was sure of it. But then came his first full moon.
--
Remus had always hated the wine-cellar. It was dark and damp and dreary – and it didn't even have any wine in it! And now, as he stood on the steps, clutching his soft warm blanket with his parents' hands on his shoulders, he liked it even less.
Holding his mother's hand, he descended the steps carefully. She hugged him tightly, throwing some raw meat in the corner, then kissed him – far too many times, thought Remus, who was feeling unusually weak – and stood up. His dad hugged him, too, and whispered again, 'I'm sorry'. He always did that. He seemed to think that Remus' illness was his fault. Remus didn't know how that was possible.
"We love you, Remus. We're so, so sorry." They both went up the steps; Remus could see tears on his mum's cheeks. He watched them go silently. They'd told him he had go down here, to turn into a werewolf, because it was full moon.
The door shut. They abandoned him to the moon.
When he became the wolf, one thought would be lodged in it's mind:
Abandoned ... abandoned ... abandoned ...
--