WEREWOLF
BY FAIRYFLY
PROLOGUE
Werewolf… I hate that word. I hate saying it, I hate hearing it, I hate the way it looks, I hate the way it sounds… I hate everything about it. It's like, when you have some sickness or problem, you don't feel comfortable saying the actual word. Because it sounds dirty, and it's a part of you anyway. I can't describe it, but it's the same for like an alcoholic to be saying "I'm an alcoholic". This probably sounds so dumb to you if you haven't experienced it all yourself, but that's the best I can do.
They told me I couldn't come to school because of what I was. It wasn't safe for the students to be exposed to me. Dad was mad. He tried to tell the school governors that I was only dangerous during the full moon, but we both knew that wouldn't get to them. So dad hired me a tutor. Sam or something, a graduate of Hogwarts. He told me a lot about the school. That's probably why I wanted to go so bad.
We always had to keep moving. People didn't like having a werewolf for a neighbor, and they didn't like hearing howls at night. Our frequent moves also kept me from making friends, even if they didn't freak out at the sight of me. They all were afraid, I suppose. But what they didn't know is that we, just like animals, were more afraid of them then they were of us.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not in my swirling world of self pity right now. I'm not complaining. Loads of people had it so much worse then me. I heard of a werewolf that was stoned to death. In Liverpool. His name was Brian, I think. And there are some who are driven to become something like a wolf, only human when the moons not out, instead of a human, only wolf when the moon is full. Confusing? Well, nevermind…
Anyway, to the story. I would tell you how I got bitten in the first place, since everybody seems especially fascinated by that (personally, I don't see why), but I can't. I don't remember a moment of it. That's what the brain does, when something as horrible as that happens to a child. It erases it completely. Or maybe it was Dad with a memory charm. I'm not sure. But that's the point. I guess neither Dad nor my brain seemed to realize that there was just so much more to being a werewolf then getting bit, that erasing that little of it wouldn't help at all. But I'll tell you from the part the I remember.
I was lying in a wide bed—it was my parents' bed. The window was open wide, and it was just too bright outside, but inside it was pretty dark. You could see little specks of dust as they floated past the window. Outside, I could tell by just looking, the air was crisp and fresh, the kind of winter air that bites your cheeks pleasantly, although it's warm enough to be outside in just a sweater. But inside it was hot and stuffy and hard to breathe. My father and mother were there. Dad looked grave and Mom's eyes were red and puffy as though she'd been crying. There three other men in the room I didn't know. Later I found out that two of them were from the Ministry (some Dangerous Creature department) and the short, round one was the doctor. But as I didn't know that then, I just wondered why they all looked as though someone had died.
"Mom? Dad? What's wrong?" I asked. I was five or six—I don't remember—when that happened, but, as my parents always used to laugh about it, I was surprising serious. As mom said, I was old for my age.
But however young or old I was, my words seemed to be the last straw for my poor mother. With a sudden eruption of sobs, she fell on her knees against the bed and started crying hysterically.
"Oh, my baby! Oh, he's just a little baby boy! How could this happen to him?!" She wailed.
"Mrs. Lupin, please, we're sorry for your—er—situation," One of the Ministry agents stepped forward, slightly tapping her on the shoulder. "but please compose yourself! We know this is difficult to comprehend, but we—"
"You bastards! Shut up and get away from me! You say you're sorry?! You say you know? YOU DON'T KNOW A—"
You have no idea how much that scared me. When your mother, for no apparent reason, starts screaming that something unbelievably horrible has just happened to you… All sorts of things were rushing through my head. And yet, none of them were "Oh my God! I'm werewolf!". Actually, I thought I was going to be sacrificed to the God of Yellow Pigeons (don't ask) because I had some incurable sickness.
"Mom!" I cried. "I'm fine! There's nothing wrong with me!"
The Ministry agents looked uncomfortable. One of them—the taller one—shifted his weight from one foot to another. He glanced at my father, who was scratching the back of his head and blinking furiously. The doctor seemed in a totally different world, bending over the table, mixing something in a small travel-cauldron.
"Mr. Lupin, would you mind coming downstairs with us?" Said the taller Ministry agent. "There's still the paperwork to fill out."
"Yes, yes, paperwork." Chimed in the second.
Wordlessly, Dad bend down and took Mom's elbow, tugging her gently and tiredly away from the bed.
"Come, Natalie." He said quietly. "Paperwork."
CHAPTER ONE
I admit it, I had wanted to get into Hogwarts. I dreamed about getting that letter at night, and when I woke up, I couldn't wait to go to sleep so that I could dream about it again. Sam said I was impossible. Oh, don't think me crazy. I knew I wouldn't get it. I knew it. But was a kind of a inside hope, a guilty wish, that those people who send out letters made some mistake. Or maybe they forgot I was something that my own mother was embarrassed of. It was like when you know there's a test today, but you come into the classroom hoping the teacher forgot about it. We were all amazed when the letter came.
It was really an amazing happening. Or maybe it seems so amazing to me because in was all about me, but at that moment I couldn't have cared less. I was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea. We've just finished breakfast (By "we" I mean "I". Dad was in Bulgaria and Mom was upstairs cutting out paper flowers. Her new hobby. I suppose that's what I should call it.) when the owl soared in.
Oh, he was a handsome bird. All proud and dignified… He dropped the latter on the table and flew off gracefully. At first I didn't spare the yellowish envelope an extra glance. I had supposed it was from the Ministry (such an arrogant creature could only belong to them), but then I realized that if the letter was for Dad, it would have been dropped off in Bulgaria.
Plus, I saw the Hogwarts seal.
That's what I though of the first time I met a dementor. It was really, truly what you'd call, well, a dream-come-true. They're so rare, when you want something just so bad, and you actually get it. But those are the best. I felt so full of energy suddenly. I jumped out of my chair, accidentally bumping the table and upsetting my half-full tea cup. I didn't care, though. I felt as though I could run forever and then run it again. I raced upstairs to the nearest person in the house (and only).
"It's a mistake."
That was the first thing my mother said when I stormed into the room, nearly wrenching the door off it's hinges. She didn't even sound a tiny bit excited. And that hurt me. I felt hurt and betrayed You that feeling. You must Every child has met up with such a reaction from an adult at least once. When they discover or find or achieve something utterly fascinating, and all they get in a response and indifferent and bland "That's nice, sweetie." But this wasn't some little thing. This was HOGWARTS!
"Mom, it's not a mistake. Look, it says clearly, 'Mr. R. J. Lupin!' and it has my room and everything!"
"Alright, you got in—"
I grinned, and leaped up in the air, letting out a great whoop of joy. Mother continued to cut out the flowers. That was making mad now, and as I didn't want my great mood ruined, I turned on me heal to go back downstairs. I wanted to write to dad, tell him the good news.
"—But you're not going."
I didn't hear her. Maybe because I didn't want to hear her, maybe because I was cheering so loudly. I wouldn't have paid attention even if I did. I was already thundering down the stairs, out the front door. Writing to dad seemed to long and still. I needed to yell. Racing outside, into the street, I looked around panting, who to tell my great news first.
And then I realized there was no one to tell.
Author's Note: Well? Did you like it? My first fic!!! This is one of the shorter chapters, because nothing really happens. Well, it does, but nothing you could really write on. The story's gonna go through Lupin's Hogwarts years, and it'll end at the end of Book 3 (Prisoner of Azcaban) or maybe even book 4. If you guys like it. Please review. Flames will be used to warm up my room, cuz it's FREEZING here right now. Reviews will speed up the coming of the next part!!!
Disclaimer: Mr. and Mrs. Lupin belong to me, as do the Ministry Agents and the doctor. The plot's mine, too. The flowers belong to Mrs. Lupin, and the rest are wondrous creations of you-know-who (and, no, I don't mean Voldemort).