"Daddy?" said a small, slight, brown-haired boy, looking out the sitting room window for the third time in five minutes.
His father spared barely a glance up. "What is it, Remus?"
The boy called Remus bit his lip, uncertain. He looked outside again, flinching back ― the scene hadn't changed. "Daddy," he murmured, fear constricting his voice to barely a whisper. "There's a man standing outside our house, on the corner."
The fear in his voice must have been evident; his father paid more attention. "It's okay," he soothed. "People are allowed to stand on street corners. There's nothing to worry about."
"He's been there all afternoon," insisted Remus in a whisper. Again he peeked out the window. The man on the corner inclined his head and leered at the boy. Turning his head quickly away, he added, "And ― and… He keeps staring at me."
John Lupin got to his feet and strode across the room to stand next to the boy. He glanced out the window, then at the foe-glass on the wall. Muttering a curse, he swept the curtains closed with a wave of his wand, pulling Remus further into the room. "Come away from the window, Remus. Now, listen to me." He stared down at his son severely, who regarded him with wide chocolate-brown eyes. "Don't go outside today," he warned. "Stay inside, and away from the windows, understood?"
Remus's head bobbed in a vigorous nod.
"Good." His father then proceeded to check that all doors and windows were magically locked, tapping his wand and murmuring words to all of the entrances to the house.
The child watched him owlishly, his eyes following the wand in his father's hand. Idly, Remus wondered why his father didn't simply step outside and curse the man away. "Daddy," he asked, "who's that man outside?"
"Nothing you need to worry about," answered his father very hastily, absently. Remus's observant eyes didn't miss that he seemed much more nervous than usual.
Remus continued to watch for a few moments, but when his father finished the job and left the room, he sat down slowly on the sitting room floor. His small hands found a book from the shelf, and he read by candlelight in the corner, alone, firmly keeping himself from looking out the window again.
An hour passed, or two. Night had fallen outside, and Remus's eyes, now bored and glassy, were drawn slowly towards the table. It was there, he realized, that his father had left his wand.
His heart leaped; in spite of himself, Remus looked back at the window. Through a crack in the curtains, a long sliver of moonlight shined into the room. His eyes wandered back to the wand, and he thought about the man outside, and how scared his father seemed to be.
In a split second decision, before he could change his mind, Remus scrambled to his feet and grabbed the wand. It felt warm in his hand, like it had only just been set down. Clutching it tightly, he hastened to the front door.
Remus knew no magic words like his parents, but he knew he could do some magic things if he wanted to. He would make the man go away.
When he approached the door, he held the wand aloft like he had seen done many times, and tapped the door. To his surprise, the lock sprang, and he slowly opened the door, stepping out, barefoot, into the cold night air.
Heart thumping, Remus jogged towards the street corner. The bright light of the full moon, along with the glow of lamplights along the street lit the way for him, but when he saw what waited on the corner, the boy jerked to a halt.
There was no man standing there anymore. In his place, there was a wolf, twice Remus's size, crouched in the shadow of the house. Saliva dripped from its jaws, and its claws scraped against the cement of the sidewalk.
Remus was frozen in place. Now, faced with this beast, he felt cold inside, lifeless. The warmness of the wand had disappeared. Now, reality slammed down on him viciously: He had magic in him, yes. But he knew nothing about using it. Nothing at all.
The hollow clatter of a wand dropping to the ground was drowned out by a long, drawn-out howl, and the scream of a child as a werewolf's jaws clamped over his shoulder.
For days, Remus lingered between life and death. Fever raged through his body, burning through any medicine his desperate mother tried to revive him with. Whenever the fever broke, his body was overcome with clammy cold, deathly cold. Within hours, though, the fever would return again. The wound in his shoulder would not stop bleeding, no matter what potions or spells were used.
When he finally woke, Remus could barely open his eyes. His breathing was shallow, but labored. His shoulder burned immensely, and he was covered in sweat from fever. Nearby, a door opened and shut softly. Gentle hands placed a cool washcloth over his forehead, and tipped potion into his mouth. He opened his eyes a fraction, and breathed in a cracked, hoarse voice, "M-mama…"
His mother's breath hitched, and suddenly, she was hugging him, sobbing. "Remus, Remus…"
Struggling very hard to sit up, Remus moaned, "Wh-what… What happened?"
"It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter… You're alive, you've alive..."
At that moment, the door opened and closed again. This time, it was his father. Suddenly, everything flowed back, and Remus relived the moment ― the werewolf on the street, the jaws that closed on his flesh. Now, he was crying, crying heavily. "I'm sorry," he choked through his tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
A month came and went. Remus had been revived to his full health, but there was a deep scar on his shoulder that refused to disappear. His parents were very delicate with him, careful to make sure he wasn't collapsing randomly. A month after that horrible full moon, his father approached him, this time with wariness in his expression.
Remus was scared; never before had he seen that look on his face when his father looked at him.
"Come here, Remus," said his father, taking him by the hand. He led the child up the stairs, into a room in the house rarely entered: the attic. His father patted him on the head, turning away. "Don't worry, Remus," he murmured. "I'll get you when it's over."
With that, he exited. The door snapped closed and locked with an audible click.
Remus didn't understand. Why was he being locked in the attic? When what was over? What was going on?
Somewhere in the night, a wolf howled.