Hello, my name is Remus John Lupin. Most people just call me Remus, or my nickname, Moony. Moony doesn't mean what you probably think it means (whatever that is). The name 'Moony' comes from…well…a story comes with it. Here goes…

(I haven't told this story in quite some time, but I'll try to remember it the best I can). I was about six-years-old, walking down the street at around 7:00 PM, humming a tune, (to which the name I now don't remember) when I heard a rustle in the bush next to me. I turned around, expecting to see one of my friends, or at least someone I knew. But no one was there. So I kept walking. That is, until a large furry thing jumped on top of me, topping us both over to the ground.

It wrestled me against the hot sidewalk cement. Trying to bite me. I used up all my strength to fight it, but before I could do anything, it bit me in the middle of my forearm. Blood gushed out of my weak little arm, spilled out onto my clothes and on the walkway. After that, the creature ran away before I had time to see what it was. I got up from the ground, still in pain, and slowly limped home, looking slightly up, and realizing that tonight was supposed to be somewhat of a beautiful night. The night my father and I go out camping into the woods and look up at the stars. And the full moon.

•••••

When I got back home, I cleaned myself up, before anyone noticed. I bandaged my arm, and wore a long-sleeve sweater to cover the markings. Even though I knew it was dangerous not to tell anyone, I kept to myself.

•

Later on in the forest with father, just before the moon came out, father was saying something to me, while lighting the tip of his wand to start a fire.

"Have you heard, son?" he had said, "There's this man on the loose, the please-men or whatever you call 'em are trying to catch him."

"Why?" This was a common question for me.

"Why?" my father repeated. "Well, because he's a bad man, that's why. They say he's hidden somewhere round these parts."

"Why was he bad?" Again with my often-used question.

"Actually, it's 'why IS he bad'. And, he's bad because he kept bitting children."

"Why?" I asked again.

Father looked at me seriously. "Because, son. That man, who they call Fenrir Greyback—he's a werewolf." Now, usually, if someone told you there were werewolves running around your neighborhood, you'd probably take it as a joke. But in the wizarding world, werewolves are real. That's why my father and I took it so seriously. Or, at least, as serious as a six-year-old can get.

As soon as my father said the word "werewolf," I suddenly began to realize what that horrible creature was. The one that bit me. It was that Fenrir Greyback. The bad man.

"Umm...father?" I asked. I'm used to asking things. "What would happen if...uh...this 'Fenrir Greyback' would, I don't know, maybe...bite someone?"

Father smiled. "Remus John Lupin." he said. "I am your father, and I know that you're smart enough to put two and two together. Werewolf plus bite equals...?"

"Another werewolf?" I asked, afraid this was the answer.

"Exactly."

"Father?" I said. "I have to tell you something,"

"Okay, Remus. What is it?"

I didn't know exactly how say it. "Well, I...uh...Well—" Suddenly, pain was shooting up my spine, like a spreading fire. The last thing I saw was the beautiful full moon peeking out behind the clouds. Unfortunately, that was the last time I ever found it beautiful. Then, I blacked out.