Hullo, everyone! If this story seems familiar, I had posted this previously and took it down due to the mirrored sites. I decided just recently to post it again.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor the rights to it-they belong to the fabulous J.K. Rowling.

I hope you enjoy this one-shot!

Creature of the Night

by Knowing Grace

It was all just a dream until I looked down at the fresh scar on my forearm. A scar that even magic could not fix. It did not look like much, just eight, white smudges where the creature's teeth had broken my skin. Maybe, if I was naive enough, I could close my eyes and it would disappear. But I wasn't innocent, not any more. My eyes had been opened in the worst possible way to the fact that there were monsters in the world and that I was now considered one of them.

I rolled over in bed and sat up, trying my best to hold in the groan that threatened to escape my lips—I didn't want to wake up my parents. They had already gotten very little rest the night before and I was loathe to disturb their slumber. My father, whose head and upper torso was resting on the mattress near my feet, muttered something unintelligible when I moved, but he soon fell silent again. Mum was leaning back in a chair and I grimaced at the position of her neck. She would have a frightful crick in it when she woke up, but there was nothing I could do about that for her now, short of rousing her.

As silently as I could, I slipped off of the bed and padded across the room to the lavatory. I closed the door softly behind me and flicked the light on.

I nearly screamed in terror when I came face to face with myself, but I calmed down a second later when I realized that I was gazing into a mirror. At first, I did not want to see what I looked like now that I was no longer considered human; then I tentatively stepped closer until my nose was almost pressed against the glass.

What I saw was an ordinary boy. True, I was much paler than I had been just yesterday afternoon, but I had always had fair skin due to my preference for spending many hours in the library rather than larking about in the out of doors. Peering closely at my reflection, I could see a slight difference in my eyes; they had a more slanted look to them and they were more of a golden colour rather than the light brown I had been born with. I scanned the rest of my face inch by careful inch. Nothing else had changed. And yet, at the same time, it had. I was no longer the same nine-year-old child who had run about the garden with my best friend—at his insistence—only the night before. Now, I was a savage creature that would have no qualms about biting the hand that fed me.

I turned my head, averting my eyes, and quickly used the facilities before going back to bed. The instant I left the tiny wash room, my parents—who had awakened to find me gone—converged on me, hugging me tightly as if they were afraid that I would blow away on the wind if they let go. Oh, how I wished that I could do just that.

My mother was finally able to utter something coherent. "Oh, sweetheart, you shouldn't be out of bed yet." She said, touching my face gently with the tips of her fingers. "Come on, let's get you settled again."

"Yes, Mum." I replied, keeping my eyes downcast so I wouldn't see the sadness in her gaze. She hefted me up onto the mattress with little effort and began to tuck me in—smoothing invisible wrinkles from the covers once she was done.

At that moment, a man dressed in long white robes entered the hospital room. I vaguely remembered seeing him the night before, but the memory of him was wreathed in a haze because of the fever I had been trying to fight off at the time. He conjured a clipboard seemingly out of thin air and then smiled down at me. From the looks of hm, he seemed to be about the same age as my father, though his hair was already turning a premature grey, most likely due to his high-stress occupation.

"Hullo, Remus. How are you feeling this morning?"

I could feel my face turning a deep crimson; I had never liked being the centre of attention. "Erm...all right, I guess." I mumbled.

The healer unexpectedly reached down to touch my forehead, but the movement scared me. The next thing I knew, I was across the room with my back pressed into the corner. I shocked myself with the speed of my movements, but when I looked up at the healer, he seemed unsurprised.

"Those are quite some reflexes you've got there, young man—most likely a side-effect from the bite. Forgive me if I frightened you, I was just going to check and see if your fever has truly gone."

I hung my head. "I'm sorry." I whispered.

A large hand gently patted me on the shoulder, and the healer knelt down in front of me so we were eye to eye. "You have nothing to be sorry for, lad; none of this is your fault." He replied, kindly. Then he returned to the task at hand. "Now let's see how that wound is getting along." He picked up my left arm and examined the site of the animal bite.

"Well, it seems that it has healed up quite nicely. I'm sorry to say that I cannot give you anything to make the mark disappear completely—there is no potion that can remove the traces of a wound from a..." He trailed off when my mother gasped.

She reached over to clutch at my father's arm and he pulled her into a hug.

The healer, who's name I finally remembered to be August Foster, touched my forehead with the back of his hand. "Excellent! Your fever is gone." He went on to check my pulse and poke and prod at me until I thought I would go mad.

I watched him silently for a while, but soon I gave in and asked him the one question that had been growing on my mind. "Sir, when can I go home?" I queried, my voice sounding small even to my own ears, which were now much sharper than there ever had been before.

Healer Foster sat back on his haunches and rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. "Hmm...Well, Remus, I think we can have you discharged by this afternoon. There really isn't anything else I can do for you, but if you start to feel ill or if your fever comes back, don't hesitated to tell your parents. They can contact me here at St. Mungo's at any time, day or night." He stood and gave me another smile, then turned to my parents.

"May I speak with both of you in private for a moment?" he asked. My father nodded and led my mother out into the hall, closing the door behind them.

They tried to speak as quietly as possible, but my now altered hearing allowed me to catch every word of their whispered conversation. "Healer Foster, is there anything we can do?" My father inquired.

"I'm so very sorry, Mr. Lupin, but there is no known cure in the wizarding world for—"

"But there must be something, surely! A potion, a ritual, or even a-a spell of some kind! I can't just sit back and watch my baby turn into...into..." My mother couldn't finish the sentence and I grimaced.

I heard the healer sigh and could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off an impending headache. "I'm afraid it's not that simple, Mrs. Lupin. Many excellent healers and potion masters have tried to create some kind of cure for lycanthropy, but so far no one has been successful. However, that does not mean you should give up; your son is going to need all the strength that the both of you can give him.

I, myself, know very little about these things, but I will notify Healer Stefanus Hemming and see if he would be willing to speak with you before you take your son home. He has much more hands-on knowledge of lycanthropy; his younger brother, Adolfus, has a 'fuzzy little problem', as he calls it. He should be able to answer your questions and prepare you for what's to come."

My mother began to weep and the sound ripped my heart in two. I hated to be the cause of my parents' grief. I knew that my father blamed himself for what happened, but I couldn't find it in myself to hate him for my condition.

Healer Foster spoke up again, but I ignored his words, made my way over to the hospital bed and flopped down on it—not bothering to slide under the covers this time.

I wished with all of my heart that I could somehow go back in time and change the past, but short of somehow gaining a time-turner, I would simply have to resign myself to my new future. I knew that my parents would drag me around the world in search of a cure; they still had hope. I, on the other hand, did not—I had read enough books to know that everything the healer had said was true. There was no cure, and nohing was going to change that.

A shiver ran up my spine that had nothing to do with the teperature of the room. I had read that the transformation from human form to animal was agonizing. At least I had a high tolerance for pain; I hadn't even cried out when the werewolf had bitten me, although it had hurt worse than anything else I had ever experienced.

The door creaked loudly as it opened and I quickly closed my, forcing myself to breath evenly as if I was asleep. Something draped over my body and I realized that someone had wrapped a blanket around me. The mattress dipped as that person sat down on the side of my bed. Soft fingers combed through my hair and I lay perfectly still, drinking in the scent of sunshine, lavender, and freshly baked bread.

"Oh, John, what are we going to do?" Mum asked my father quietly so as not to disturb me.

"I don't know, Maire. I'll have a few of my close friends at the Ministry inquire discreetly about any possible cures and we'll go from there. It's the only thing that we can do for him right now." His breath hitched and I could tell that he was fighting back his own tears. "I just wish that I could have done something to prevent this; I-I shouldn't have insulted Greyback like that, but I didn't think he was serious when he threatened Remus..."

My mother rose from the bed and went to my father's side. "This isn't your fault, John. I'm sure that our son doesn't blame you for this and neither do I. If you must lay blame on someone then blame Fenrir; that monster should have been locked up or done away with long before this." Muffled sobs escaped from my father and I felt tears pricking in my own eyes; I had never heard my father cry before and it wasn't something I never wanted to witness again.

"Shh! Dearest, you'll wake up Remus." My mother crooned. The weeping quieted until there was only an occasional sniffle coming from the man. "Come on, let's find this Healer Hemming that Healer Foster was telling us about."

I heard movement and then soft lips brushed my cheek. "Sweet dreams, my son, we'll be back in a little while." Mum whispered, and then they left the room.

The minute the door closed behind them, I let the tears fall.

My mother couldn't have been more wrong in her wish for me. Never again would I have good dreams or, at least, dreams that would ever come true. I was living in a nightmare, one that I would never be able to awaken from. I was a monster, a creature of the night, a beast that parents told their children about at night to ensure good behaviour.

For the first time in my life, I hated what I had become.

I was an outcast. I would never have the privilege of getting married or having any children of my own—it was against the wizarding laws. It would be nearly impossible for me to get a job, let alone be allowed to go to school at Hogwarts with other ordinary kids. I was no longer normal; I would now be considered by all to be little more than an animal.

I rolled over in bed and sobbed, letting the pillowcase soak up my bitter tears. From this day forward, I would never be the same. I was now Remus John Lupin: the werewolf. And the full moon would haunt me until my dying day.

Finis