"You loathe yourself, do you not? You've hated yourself your entire life because of what you become when the moon is full. I see that in you. I see it in the lines about your eyes and in your graying hair. Why? Because they told you to.
"They call you a Dark Creature, for that is what a werewolf is: a creature. They do not see you as a man. And they do not care how you act when you are human. You are evil. A monster to be hunted and cut down. Come, Remus. Tell me this is not true. Tell me that you are trusted by others, even when you are werewolf. Tell me your friends hold no fear in their hearts of what you are.
"You are unsurprisingly silent. No less than I expected. You have allowed yourself to become a prisoner of your blood. By trapping the beast inside you, you are destroying yourself. I know you feel it. It makes you hallow. Empty. A mere puppet in the lives everyone else lives. You should embrace it, Remus. Embrace who you are. Embrace what you are. I can help you do that."
"Get away from me," Remus said hoarsely. "I will not be one of your puppets."
"Puppet? Remus, you disappoint me. I've been protecting you from those who would do you harm, and you think I would make you a puppet? Puppets are toys for children. I will make you a man again."
"You will only make me a murderer."
A thin smile spread across the Dark Lord's lips.
"Like your dear, Moira O'Shaughnessy? Yes, Wormtail has told me about her. She, too, is a murderer. She killed a dear friend of mine many years ago. And just a few weeks ago, she tried to kill you." He cocked his head. "Don't you remember?"
"You're a liar."
"Am I? Perhaps you need reminding?"
Remus braced himself as Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at him. In a low voice, Voldemort whispered a few words, and images filled Remus' head. He was in his own house. Moira too.
"Moira, leave! Now!"
"No, Remus."
"Moira-" He looked down at his hands. His fingers were lengthening, hair thickening. He could feel his body tearing and twisting, reshaping itself. He cried in agony, his voice low, a growl.
"Run!" he screamed.
"No."
Falling to his knees, Remus looked up at her. She held a sword in her hands, the tip leveled at his throat.
"I won't let you hurt anyone, Remus. Even if I have to kill you."
"Moira? MOIRA? NO!"
"Moira, no! Gods, no! Lies! They're all lies! Damn you, they're all lies!"
Voldemort smiled at the man rocking back and forth on the stone floor at his feet. A fresh wave of cries filled the room as Voldemort crossed to the door and closed it firmly behind him.
"He's almost ready. Has Wormtail returned?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Excellent. Summon our Potions Master."