"Daddy, can you check for the monsters under my bed? Please?" Young Remus Lupin looked up at his father with wide eyes, clutching the blanket under his chin.
Lyall glanced at his son from the bookshelf, where he was putting back The Tales of Beedle the Bard. It had been a long day at the Ministry. They had brought in a so-called Muggle for questioning about the death of two young Muggle children.
How daft could they be? Lyall thought angrily. There were a few obvious signs the man was Fenrir Greyback, and tonight was the full moon. Had they kept him for just another day, maybe his suspicions would have been proved. But no, he was nothing but an ignorant, simple Welsh boggart expert, he knew nothing of werewolves and other creatures of the sort!
He sighed, rubbing his temples. He regretted losing his professional demeanor in front of his colleagues, but he had not been thinking when he had snapped that werewolves were soulless creatures, deserving of nothing but death.
Lyall tore those his mind away from those thoughts and turned to his son, still in bed in his Quidditch pyjamas.
"Will you check under the bed for monsters?" he repeated, anxiously craning his neck to look over the side of his bed.
Lyall walked over to Remus's bedside, smiling wryly. "Now, Remus, there's nothing there, I've told you a hundred times now. You're too old for this sort of thing."
Remus sounded near tears when he responded. "But what if something comes and eats me while I'm asleep?"
Lyall softened a little at the genuine panic his son voiced. "Then I promise you, if there is anything that I'll come and chase it away with all the curses I can think of, alright?"
Remus hesitated, but then nodded.
"That's my boy. Goodnight, Remus. If you need anything, you know where to find mummy and I. I love you." He kissed his son's forehead lightly and stepped out of the room, leaving the door just a crack open.
Vaguely he wondered as he settled into his own bed that night if he should have checked for monsters, just for the sake of satisfying Remus's suspicions.
Nonsense, he told himself. He's nearly five, there are no such things as monsters under your bed and he needs to learn that.
With that thought, he drifted off to sleep.
Screams.
All he heard were screams, god awful screams emanating through the hallways of his home, bouncing off of the walls.
But that wasn't what scared him. Screams in the middle of the night were all too common during these Dark times. The screams alone didn't scare him at all. No, it was the voice the screams belonged to that sent fear ripping through his body in torrents, electrifying him like a thousand Cruciatus curses.
Remus.
"Daddy! Daddy! Help me!" His little boy screamed over and over again as Lyall skidded around the corners to his son's room.
"Stay in the room!" Lyall had shouted to his wife over his shoulder.
With shaking fingers he drew his wand and, as fast as a bullet, he blasted the door of it's hinges with a cry of, "CONFRINGO!"
And there, lying in a pool of tattered pyjama fabric and his own blood, god, his own blood, his young, innocent blood, was Remus, skin torn to shreds with slashes and bites.
And pinning him down, a creature with blood so shockingly scarlet- he couldn't believe it belonged to his son- dripping down it's fangs and eyes wild with psychopathy, was the "innocent Muggle man" brought in for questioning. Fenrir Greyback.
Lyall, you just stick to Welsh Boggarts, that's what you're good at.
With an enraged, strangled cry he rushed forward and physically tackled the creature off Remus. His wand was forgotten, at least momentarily. No, this creature had broken into his house and ravaged his son, his beautiful son, his clever son. He deserved nothing but death, this soulless creature.
When he came to his senses, he found his fingers gripping his wand tightly and a bloody Greyback in front of him. The werewolf was quickly recovering, however, snarling and slowly inching back to Remus.
Remus. He was still sprawled on his bed, motionless, his small frame broken and mangled. His son. His one and only son. His boy, whom he had watched grow up with such pride and happiness, was now ruined because of a few words he had said when not in his right mind.
"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" he screamed, aiming his wand at the werewolf. It ducked and rolled. The spell missed.
Lyall tried again. "CONFUNDO!" Again, the werewolf tumbled out of the way in the nick of time.
He tried to steady his breathing. He readied his aim.
"STUPEFY! SECTUMSEMPRA! DURO! BOMBARDA MAXIMA!" He was just so slightly off target, his mind wild and scattered. He could only think of his son, his son…
He would later call it a last ditch attempt, but of course it wasn't, of course he would have fought to the death for Remus.
"EXPULSO!" He channelled all his anger into the bellow, watching with shock and satisfaction as the spell hit its mark.
Greyback howled as he was thrown backwards into the window, which shattered upon contact.
"LEAVE MY HOUSE AND NEVER RETURN, GREYBACK!" Lyall roared after him. "IF WE EVER CROSS PATHS AGAIN I WILL MAKE SURE OF IT YOU DO NOT COME OUT OF THAT ENCOUNTER ALIVE!"
He tried to control his racing heart as he uttered a quick Reparo to repair the window so that nothing else could get in.
A small noise caught his attention. He turned and Remus was coughing, good God, he was coughing. A sign of life! Lyall wanted to cry with relief. He knelt by his son, smoothing his hair, which was sticky with dark red liquid, knowing that if he didn't act fast
"Remus, Remus, it's okay, Daddy's here." He tried for his most soothing voice as he wracked his brain for the most powerful healing spell he could think of. He was no Madame Pomfrey, no Healer, but he could tell no spell in the world would be able to fix his son.
"Brackium Emendo, Reparifors, Tergeo, Vulnera Sanentur, Episkey, Ferula…" He feverishly mumbled every healing spell he knew, hoping and praying to a God if there was one, that his son would stir, that he would live.
Then finally, Remus blinked groggily, and almost immediately tears welled up in his eyes.
"He… he…"
"It's okay, Remus. He's gone." Lyall knew the words on his tongue were a lie. His son would never be okay, never again.
"No!" Remus wriggled out of his grip, tears now freely flowing. "He came out from under the bed!"
Lyall blinked. "W- what?"
"You said there were no monsters! You said!"
Realization washed over him and Lyall felt his heart cracking. "Son-"
"No! You promised there were no monsters under the bed!" Remus sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his arm. He cast one last horrified glance at Lyall before running as fast as his injuries would allow him in the direction of where Hope would be, if she had stayed put and safe like Lyall had asked.
The older man sighed and drew his knees up to his chest. He sat there, head in his hands for so long, stewing over the fate he damned his Remus to. His words kept coming back to him like a wrecking ball slamming into the foundation of a building.
You said there were no monsters! You said!
And in his later years, long after his son was dead- died a valiant death, he had been told by Harry Potter himself, a hero's death- he wondered how much different Remus's destiny might have been had he just checked under the bed for monsters that night, the night when the full moon cast beams of liquid stardust into the room and Fenrir Greyback had attacked.
*GASP* What's this? Something that is NOT Solangelo or PJO related?
Saw a prompt on Pinterest and HAD to write this. It almost made me cry :'( so I decided I had to gift this to all of you.
Happy reading, all!