Prologue: Part 2

Sunday, August 6th 1967

"There has to be some sort of cure."

Remus John Lupin awoke to the sound of his father's voice which, though usually calm, now held more than a hint of manic desperation.

For a while the seven-year-old did not open his eyes. He was very, very tired. No, it was more than that. He burned. Especially his left arm. It felt like hot needles were stabbing every inch of him and, every time he moved, every time his chest rose as his lungs filled with air or his heart beat, those needles were pushed a little deeper.

"I'm sorry Mr Lupin…"

"Sorry! You don't give a damn. If you did, you'd find him a cure. You'd…"

"John."

His mother's voice. Soft and soothing. Having been a GP all her working life she knew what it was like to give bad news. Now that she was receiving it she could empathise with the Mediwitch whose job it was to give her that news.

"We'll have to look elsewhere," she told her husband soothingly. "I'll look in the ICD. It's sure to have something…"
His father gave a bark of laughter. "No muggle…"
"I think he's waking up."

A fourth voice had entered the conversation. Uncle Ezra.

Remus blinked his eyes open, wincing slightly as he did so. His godfather leaned forwards to help him sit upright.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, his brows furrowed in concern. Remus noticed that his uncle's hair, which had always been a deep auburn, was now producing a few grey hairs.

Remus opened his mouth to answer the question but his throat felt so sore and he was only able to cough feebly. Somebody put a straw between his lips and he pulled on it gratefully. The liquid tasted thick and strange, though not unpleasant, and he winced every time he swallowed but, he noticed, the pain in his body was lessening with each gulp.

"What happened?" he asked when he had finished. "I remember seeing… I saw a big dog. And… it jumped up and… it bit me. Is that why my arm hurts so much?"

He looked up. The Mediwitch had gone to tend another patient but his mother had moved to stand next to Uncle Ezra who was sitting on a chair to Remus' right. He couldn't see his father. Remus frowned. He had expected his father to answer his question.

"It wasn't a dog, Remus," Uncle Ezra began before hesitating. The boy waited politely for him to continue.

"Do you know what a werewolf is?"

"Daddy does. He works with them." He looked enquiringly at his mother. "Doesn't he? He gets paid more for working with them. That probably means they're important."

His mother bit her lip nervously.

"Yes, Daddy works with them," she sighed.

"Remus, listen to me," Ezra said before the boy could respond. "A werewolf is a man most of the time but, once a month, he turns into a wolf. The big dog you saw, the one that bit you, was a werewolf in his wolf form."

"Why do they turn into a wolf? What's wrong with being human all the time? And why did he bite me? Are all werewolves so mean? And where's Romu…?"

Ezra interrupted him before he could finish the sentence.

"A werewolf doesn't choose to transform, they are forced to by the full moon. And no, not all werewolves are mean. They just can't help it, when they're a wolf."

He took a deep breath. "A man becomes a werewolf when he is bitten by another werewolf. Like you were."
Remus frowned in thought. "So, I'm going to turn into a wolf every month?" he asked. "What if I don't want to?"

His mother knelt down to take her son's hand in hers.

"It's just something we'll have to get used to, honey," she said. "You just have to be strong, ok? Will you do that for me?"

"Ok," Remus said. "I don't mind turning into a wolf that much. It just seems a little off. Where is Romulus?"

His mother squeezed his hand involuntarily and Remus thought he saw tears in her eyes but then she ducked her head so he couldn't tell. But it couldn't be right. His mum never cried. Except for that one time when she got something in her eye. Her eyes started watering. Maybe she had got a piece of fluff in her eye again.

But then Remus looked at his Uncle Ezra. The man looked very grim. Lines had appeared on his face that hadn't been there before and the new grey hairs on his head suddenly became more pronounced.

"The werewolf… Remus, you have to understand… not all werewolves are bad and we won't… we won't let you hurt anyone but…"

Ezra took another deep breath. "Remus, I'm sorry. But your brother… he was killed."

XXX

Remus was confused. He was also in pain, though not physically anymore. At least, not so much.

His mother and father had always worked long hours and he was used to them being away. But one of them was always on hand at night. Here, at the hospital, he was alone, except for the strangers in the beds around him. He couldn't run to one of them if he had a bad dream. And he did have bad dreams. Lots of bad dreams. But there was one that recurred and would do for the rest of his life.

He was a wolf, crawling through long grass. He could hear something up ahead. Laughter. The laughter of children. He could feel his lupine lips stretch into a twisted smile. He could imagine the moonlight glinting off of his pearly white teeth.

He would creep forwards slowly, ever so slowly, until he could see the children, two boys, only a metre from him.

Then, suddenly, there was only one boy. The taller one. He was standing right in front of the wolf. He seemed to be paralysed with fear. The wolf, Remus, would howl his victory. And then, he would leap…

He jolted upright in his bed, clutching St Mungo's issue bed sheets to his chest, sweat pouring down his forehead and, despite the summer heat, he would shiver.

Because the boy in his dreams, the boy he would kill whilst in wolf form, was his brother.

Despite the large age gap between the two boys, they had always been close. Perhaps it was because there was no one else for them to be close to. The friend their mother left them with when she went to work had children who had grown up and moved abroad.

They had never gone to school, either. Most wizarding families had their children home tutored in the basics of mathematics and English grammar and, after many long arguments, Mr Lupin had eventually persuaded his wife to that way of thinking.

So the two boys had never met anyone their own age. Instead, they had relied on each other.

And now Romulus was gone. Remus had never felt so alone in his life.

XXX

Saturday, August 12th 1967

The man was brought in at 9 o'clock that morning. He slept until 6 o'clock in the evening. Not that Remus minded. His mother and Uncle Ezra had come to visit him. His father had come to, but he sat on a chair at the end of the bed, head bent over a large volume, reading feverishly. When he had finished he snapped the book shut and walked away. He hadn't even said hello.

Remus was confused by his father's behaviour. Whenever he or Romulus had been upset in the past, their father had been the first to comfort them and make a fuss out of them. Their mother had told him he was too soft on his sons, that a grazed knee wasn't going to kill them and was therefore not worth all the fuss he made. She had, after all, seen worse injuries.

But John Lupin, who had spent the last few years of his career in the House-Elf Relocation Unit of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, had spent all his energy on looking after his sons as opposed to steaming towards a promotion. He would get one, in the end, he had reasoned, but his sons came first.

"He's taking Romulus' death hard," Uncle Ezra had told Remus when he had asked. "Just give him time."

But he had looked worried and uncertain when he had said that.

At 6 o'clock dinner was served to the patients and the Mediwitch shooed Remus' visitors away.

"If not for the patient's sake, then for yours," she had insisted. "You've been here all day and you haven't eaten a thing. Go home and get your own dinner. He's recovering well."

Now dinner was over and Remus had nothing to do except stare at the same ceiling he had been staring at all week.

"Hey, kiddo."

The man in the bed next to him smiled.

"Betch'ya as bored as I am." He winked and Remus nodded shyly.

"I've been here for ages," he confided. "You only got here today. And you've been asleep."

The man laughed. "Alright kiddo, you win. You're more bored than I am."

Remus smiled, more confident now. "Why are you here?"

"Got in the way of a fire crab. Got burns all over my lower body. Difficult to believe that some wizards like to keep 'em as pets, hey? Gone off them a little myself."
Remus nodded sagely. "They don't sound friendly," he agreed.

"So why are you in here kiddo?" the man asked. "Got stung by a pet of your own?"
"Bitten," Remus said, showing him the scar on his left forearm. "By a werewolf."

The man, who had leaned forwards to inspect the bite, pulled away quickly.

"A werewolf," he spluttered, suddenly very pale. The he turned towards the Healer's office. "Healer Van Dalen," he shouted. "Healer!"

Remus wondered what was wrong. Had the man moved in a way that made his injuries hurt more?

The Mediwitch bustled over, looking slightly annoyed that her after dinner snooze had been interrupted.

"I want to move," the man said. "To another ward. Or even another bed will do. But I'm not staying here. Not next to a… a werewolf!"

The man pointed at Remus and the boy recoiled in shock. What had he done to upset the man? Nothing as far as he could work out. He looked down at himself. He was still a boy. He had no fur, not fangs, no gleaming yellow eyes. His uncle and mother had told him that werewolves were dangerous, but usually only in their wolf form. But here he was, still human, and the man in the other bed was looking at him with an expression of sheer horror and disgust.

The Mediwtich clicked her tongue impatiently but obliged the man by waving her wand and levitating him gently across to a bed on the opposite end of the ward.

Remus felt something hot and wet slide down his cheek. He wiped the tear away quickly.

"Healer?" he asked quietly as the Mediwitch passed him again. "Why was that man hate me so suddenly?"

Healer Von Dalen paused.

"I… I have some books about werewolves," she said eventually, not quite looking at him. "I can lend them to you if you like."

Remus nodded. It would be nice to have something to read. It would stop him from getting bored. But he didn't see how the Healer's response had answered his question.

The Mediwitch left and a few minutes later came back with a selection of texts. Still without looking at him, she put them on the chair his uncle has vacated only an hour and a half before. Then she bustled away again.

Sighing, Remus picked the first one of the pile and began to read.