Another chapter! Whew! Can you believe it?
DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to J K Rowling; except for Alexander, Ariadne, Cassius, Nicolette, Roxane, Archibald, Sarissa and Raoul. The 'Bavarian Banshees' and 'Madrid Manticores' belong to me; although the 1966 Quidditch World Cup is probably hers. : )
I hope you enjoy this new chapter, and leave me lots of reviews! (Hey, I've written less on "By the Light of the Moon" than on "Playground Love", yet I've almost got the same amount of reviews on this one! Guess my writing has improved, huh? Either that or everyone really DOES hate Alex…) The formatting is screwed on this chapter in word; don't know if ff.net will change this. Oh well. The only *** break should be after I've described Remus' transformation. Ignore the rest. : )
Transformation
I felt like pins were pushing up through the skin of my hands, my feet, my arms, my legs and poking their pointed ends out like porcupine needles; they became softer as they emerged, the next layer pushing out covering them with coarse, protective fur. The blood was raging now, plummeting through my veins like rapids over a waterfall… my consciousness was on the raft that approached the drop, fighting the current with broken oars and losing hope.
My chest began to itch and as I reached my hands down to scratch it was as if I saw myself for the very first time. A frightened scream broke free of my body, and as I fell to the ground my mind began to pound, the tiny raft teetering on the edge of doom. My mouth opened and I felt a growl escape; low, guttural, it caused my body to vibrate against the cool stones of the cellar floor. I struggled to hold onto my sanity, and noticed my mother had left a lantern here for me to see by. You'll probably burn the manor down, the wicked voice inside my head whispered, and I saw my clothes, shredded and torn, lying before me, and the irony of the sensible shirt and trousers belonging to the thing I was made me laugh inwardly. The blood raged within me…
The raft collapsed and descended over the never-ending waterfall – and I felt my mind careening down after it.
***
In these early years, I remembered little of the transformation from man to wolf; however, I remembered more from the transformation than I ever did as a full wolf. I would awaken in my Grandfather's cellar, my arms scratched, my legs covered in blood and my face bruised beyond recognition, with no recollection of how I had come by my injuries. Always with the same pile of torn clothes nearby, and occasionally the small bodies of unfortunate rats or possums that had strayed carelessly into my raging, bloody path. More often than not I would have no reasonable explanation for my battle scars, and queried my mother, full of fear, if there were any exits from the cellar other than the one she locked physically and magically on each full moon. She reassured me that there was only one exit, and that after seeing the mess of furniture that lay in pieces down below, she had no reason to wonder at the cause of my wounds.
Surprisingly, the one thing always left unscathed was the standing mirror that had belonged to my Grandmother; Severus liked to tease me that as a wolf I must be very vain, his mocking remedied by a swift punch on the shoulder, and resulting in his acknowledgement that my strength had grown considerably due to my monthly 'exercise', as Uncle Cassius referred to it. I often wondered exactly what had caused Cassius' sudden approval of me; if anything I had expected my wolf form to be more of an embarrassment to his name than he could possibly bear. Instead, he took to hunting the woods behind our home in search of the elusive wolf who had given me his terrible gift, a pastime I found quite gruesome and abhorred violently. But, for the sake of peace in our household I received my Uncle's taxidermal presents happily, knowing that when Lucius' walked past my room that summer he shuddered visibly; refusing to speak to me in the halls or at the dinner table.
Evan Rosier had returned sheepishly in the summer of 1968; Sarissa had rejoiced to see him again. He was much the same as before, rampaging about the estate with Lucius' like idiots; however, this time they had brought home with them a new game from Hogwarts – Quidditch. Sarissa enjoyed sitting on the sidelines while Lucius and Evan rode their Shooting Stars above the Malfoy Estate. Grandfather, when he was home, watched also and directed them in the ways they should be flying, throwing, or playing in general. I finally discovered the importance of the heavy ball that had flown at my head on the Hogwarts train platform – and I dreamed of beating bludgers away on a Quidditch field, high above the crowd, not longing for the glory of a Chaser or the respect of a Seeker – but the reflex of a Beater. I knew that I was capable of it; but both my Grandfather and Lucius' shied away from inviting me to have a go. Severus told me about attending the Quidditch World Cup a few years before with his father, in which the Bavarian Banshees had lost miserably to Madrid's Manticores – but, because both teams had such poor seekers, the game had stretched on for almost eight hours!
"By the end of it, Remus, I couldn't wait for it to end," Severus said, shaking his head. Thinking about it – eight hours of Quidditch – almost made my head ache from my desire to have witnessed it. "I was almost glad the Spaniards won – even though they did carry on about it an awful lot."
It is obvious enough by now that my father was not, and has never been, a guiding influence in my early life. Archibald Lupin was, quite simply, in the words of the entire Malfoy family, a fool. I was named after Remus Reginald Lupin, a man I have never met and has never displayed any interest in my life, werewolf or not, and was commonly spoken of as a squib – thus adding to the reputation of a foolish family. My mother, in what she termed her 'foolish youth', allowed herself to be romanced by Archibald, knowing him to be wealthy, stable and unattractive enough to be sure to jump at the chance to marry someone from a family such as the Malfoy's. He was. He did.
After their marriage, so to separate herself entirely from the Lupin's, my mother insisted on residing with her family, to keep close to her mother, who was known to be in the grip of an unknown and fatal Muggle disease. She had suffered stomach pains soon after the birth of her final child, Lucius, but the family was not particularly worried. They believed that if Magical Doctors were of no help, then treatment by Muggle physicians, from which knowledge of the disease had originated, would surely lead to a cure. Lupin refused, and left my mother pregnant at her parent's house, choosing to sleep on a couch at the Ministry of Magic instead.
He returned eventually, but was always continually absent from most family gatherings, and, as would have already noticed, was not included in important family discussions. However, on the night of my first transformation, Archibald disappeared completely, never to return. What was even more unusual was the fact that, for several weeks, I barely noticed. With the loss of a father – Sarissa claimed she had seen him racing down the long driveway that connected the Muggle road with our Magical home in a crazed state – nothing much changed. My mother became more despondent than before, and constantly retreated into herself, but at these times I simply left her alone and she was soon as she was before. Severus had always been more male company for me than that of my father, anyway, and who was to say that I would not see him again? And I have, I am sure of it.
It was, most certainly, this loss of a father that allowed my family to draw me closer, to include me in their discussions and secrets. I was still too young, however, to venture into the realm of what my Grandfather and Uncle Cassius spoke of in their fireplaces late at night… but I heard whispers through the family of an unnamed threat appearing in England and assumed that was the danger of which the men in my family spoke. Even Raoul, Severus' father, looked haggard and worried whenever he came to collect his son, and as the days wore on Severus' eyes retained his father's look. I knew not to question, and was not concerned about the state of the world as I lived, quite happily, snuggled in the arms of a family that pulled me close to its heart. If my mother was indisposed it was always Aunt Nicolette who would tend to my wounds; Sarissa would confide in me secrets of the way she felt when Evan Rosier looked at her; and I smiled quite indulgently, congenially, and later when alone in my room giggled to myself – for no matter how silly I found Sarissa's confessions of love, I could never have divulged her secret, even to Severus, to whom they would have amused most of all. But then Severus was becoming distant, and no matter how I tried to pull him closer, back to me, I felt his friendship slipping away like sand through my fingers.
How strange these thoughts seem when glancing back on them? To think that, as a werewolf, I shed more tears at losing a friendship, or through laughing over the infatuation of my cousin than I did thinking of what I was! But, in this time of my life, which was filled with love and encouragement from all who surrounded me, who could feel neglected, or sad? Even the loss of my father barely stands out as an event in the year that was, in effect, seen as the loss of my innocence. I knew no guilt in these days; and since the advent of my change had only brought me closer to those around me, what did I need to fear? The only black spot within my golden summer was the thought of my education being lost to me. My mother had taken me to the Ministry after I had recovered from my first transformation, and I was now registered as a Beta Werewolf; she had also sent a letter in request of an interview with Professor Dippet in reference to my attendance at Hogwarts; something no doubt met with a guffaw by the crabbed old wizard. His reply was the typical form letter: Our places are not determined by interview… blah, blah… should your son/daughter (the latter was crossed out) not receive at letter inviting them to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in his eleventh year… blah, blah… variant methods of learning…
Mother was furious, and Grandfather Malfoy issued a complaint against Armando Dippet immediately; calling for his immediate dismissal by insinuating that his grandson, Remus Lupin, was considered an outcast and, in effect, a squib by Wizarding society. I simply sighed and went back to dreaming about my career as a World-famous Quidditch beater; my vision only marred by the thought of a full moon rising during the World Cup Match, and my rapidly transforming body falling from my broom to the dense ground of the field, the fans deserting the stands in panic at the sight of Remus Lupin, a werewolf?! It seemed impossible. But dreams manage to stick with us for a lifetime, and even now nothing pleases me more than to pitch a bludger at the head of a rival team mate… it seems that my viciousness began to show quite plainly in my daydreams as well, not that I have ever noticed it before. The wolf simply became part of who I was, and who I am, and who I shall always be.
In September I watched as Sarissa packed her trunk for Hogwarts; she kissed my cheek in farewell as Cassius' proudly led her to the Ministry car. Lucius appeared behind her, and in a gesture of goodwill extended his left hand to me, a smile playing at his lips. I grinned and shook it, feeling as if finally my family had come together in recovery after the tragedy of a lifetime. Watching as the car rounded the corner, I gazed up at my mother's dry eyes, and she leaned down to kiss me on my forehead.
"Don't worry, Remus," she murmured softly, her eyes luminescent in the dawn light. "I'll try everything, harass everyone, hurt anything… to get you there."
"I know, Mother," I said, the smile still lingering on my pale face. "And I'll do anything to get there."
And there we stood, her arms entwined in mine, as Lucius' and Sarissa headed to Hogwarts and I, Remus James Lupin, was left behind.
***
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