I worship J. K. Rowling. I mean no harm.

I still wake up screaming in the middle of the night, sweat dripping from my body, my throat hoarse and my salt licked eyes and cheeks red with anger and fear. I still see my father, such a brave man, refusing to work for another man. That man, if he could even me termed man, was like no other, his large body constantly reared for fight and attack. I could almost hear the adrenalin pumping through his system as he caught my scent. I could almost see the steam evaporating off of him, steam in clouds anger and resentment that day... The day, my world had been changed for life.

Over and over again, my father refused to work for Fenrir Greyback, refusing to aid him in a potion that would let him be at his worst for more then one day a month. "Despicable," my father would say, "And utterly inhumane,"

Jonathan Lupin was a healer, working on the third floor of St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries; the unit for Potion and Plant Poisoning. Specialising in strengthening potions for those weakened in battle, Jonathan spent many hours locked up in the basement, researching and fiddling with potions that would aid and assist the regrowth of body cells, making them stronger and quicker to heal. His intern-ship paper was on the research of specific plants and their effects on magical creatures. His most interesting find was how Alihotsy effects a Kneazle, by not effecting it at all, which led him to extract a bacterium from the hair of a Kneazle and produce a potion for those unfortunate enough to consumer Alihotsy and be sent into hysteria. He was also able to prolong the effects of some plants, which was used for pain relief in all wards of the hospital.

Needless to say, Fenrir Greyback heard of and was impressed with my father's intelligence and ability to conjure so many uses out of something as simple as ginger leaves. When my father refused to work under such vile conditions as Fenrir insisted upon, Fenrir warned him that he would be punished severely. It wasn't for another six months, September eighteenth, 1967, when I was seven years old, that the punishment was seen. I was bitten, half my right arm almost torn off as I held it above my head to protect myself. And my father... in desperation to save me, he howled and spilled his own blood with a silver knife, hoping the wind would carry the aroma of his fresh blood to distract the dreaded wolf. It sickens me each time I dream of it, sometimes vomiting at the thought of my father's mutilated and devoured body lying forgotten and never to be recovered. While the werewolf feasted on the corpse of my father, I ran to cover, securing myself at the side of my mother, a dear muggle woman who was about to learn more of the magical world then she ever could have wanted.

The most frightening night of my life formed me for good, it changed my DNA and remoulded me into a being of evil, of danger, or guilt. From then on, one night every month I, Remus Lupin, did not exist, I had no memories of those nights yet my skin held truth to my battles scars. I did though, have the memories of waking up each morning, finding a new gash on my leg, arm or stomach where I bit and scratched myself out of frustration and hunger. I would taste the blood in my mouth and more often then not, I'd have lost too much blood to move for another day or so. So I would lie in my own blood and my own waste, unable to summon the strength to lift my head and ask for water, though there would be no one I could ask. I was easier when I was younger, my mother would attend to me but I could see it was slowly driving her insane. When I was at school, I had Madam Pomfrey to heal me, but when I left it was different. Five years passed after I left school before the Wolfsbane potion was discovered. A colleague of my father had invented it and personally sent me a batch every month after many letters of explanations and assurance. He knew my father very well and my mother consoled in him after father died. Edmund Bobbin disappeared however. No body was ever found and I was certain who was behind it. I could never bring the bastard to justice without turning myself in to the law where they treat people like me like dogs.

Presently the war is raging so I am taking my time to document the most important and most cherished memories in my life, though there are many. I do not expect to survive the war. I only skipped through the last one on youthful luck and ingnorace. I am older now, and not as strong. I feel older then I am with the regular abuse my body receives and to really strike my humanity, I can barely leave my home without being tagged or traced. "A life on a leash," Padfoot would have once said.

I hope some day that this will be given to the child that resides in my beautiful wife's womb. Be it a son or daughter, I want my child to know me for who I am, not for who other's will say about me. I do not want to die with the knowledge of my child would not know the man behind the wolf

So the first chapter of my life starts off with my upbringing, right up to the fatal attack of my father.

So there you have an insight to my Remus that I have envisioned over the past few years.

I hope you enjoyed this.

Please tell me what you though, I'd love to know to try improve my writing and the story.

Many thanks.

Leanne.

(: