"'I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure.'"-PoA

I was playing out in the front yard when I saw him. A patched, ragged looking man with graying hair and a lined face. He seemed so tired, and his whole body was limp and droopy as he trudged up the road. I stared, and he smiled and waved when he saw me looking. I waved back. I turned and watched as he continued to walk along, until finally he had disappeared into the woods.

As a six-year-old boy, there were three things that I knew beyond all possible shadow of a doubt. First, don't do magic in front of muggles, second, always clean your hands before dinner, and third, NEVER go into the woods behind the house.

I glanced at the kitchen window, wondering if my mother had seen. If she had, then surely she would drag the man out by his ankles, as she was so fond of doing to me. It was very dangerous in the forest; my mother told me that the monsters lived there. I wanted to tell her about the man. Perhaps if I had, everything would have been different. Instead, I looked at the sky. The sun was setting, and the man wouldn't have long before it grew dark. I couldn't leave the man alone in the forest after dark. He had looked as if he could barely stand, let alone fight off vampires and werewolves.

I knew about the dangers of the woods, and I had not stopped the man from going in. If anything happened to him, I was responsible. Steeling myself, I made up my mind. I would go into the forest and warn him.

It was very cold, and I wished I had brought a sweater as I went hurtling into the space between two dark, ominously creaking trees in search of a man I didn't even know.
I ran as fast as my little legs would carry me, and occasionally called out for him, just in case he was nearby. Finally, I stopped in a little clearing to catch my breath and nurse the stitch in my side.

"It must be very late," I said to myself. I glanced at the sky again, and was surprised to find that the setting sun had been replaced by a beautiful, pearly white full moon. I stared for a moment, transfixed by its beauty. I didn't even hear the telltale crashing through the underbrush that would change my opinion about the moon forever. I didn't know what was coming until it was already upon me.

The next thing I felt was something--something huge--slamming into my side. The wind was knocked out of me as I hit the ground hard. I felt hot, sickly smelling breath against my face and then, a piercing pain in my side that hurt more than anything and never stopped hurting. I felt something then--something poisonous, violent, and terrifying--coursing through my veins. As if from far away, I could feel myself being torn to pieces, but it didn't matter anymore, part of me was already dead and the rest was changed forever. I could see the blood, blood everywhere that the monster was lapping up eagerly. It took me a long moment to realize that the shrill, piercing sound that I kept hearing was my own voice, screaming.

It's probably what drew my father to the clearing. He ran towards me, white faced and shaking, drawing his wand and shouting words I couldn't comprehend, or was too far gone to make out. There was a jet of vivid green light, and the monster went limp in the middle of clawing off my leg. I closed my eyes, too exhausted by all the blood leaking out of me to hold them open any longer.

"Oh my God, Remus! Remus open your eyes! Oh God, Remus, please no, Remus!"

I did pull open my eyes. I didn't want my father to worry. I managed to smile my best half smile at him, and some of his tears leaked onto my face as he lifted me over his shoulder and whispered, "Don't worry buddy...Get you to St. Mungo's...Get you all patched up."

His voice drifted in and out of my head, maybe because he was sobbing or maybe because I was barely conscious. As he turned and hurried from the clearing, I got a glimpse of something shiny over his shoulder. Lush silver fur, wide yellow eyes, pointy ears pricked at attention.
"That," I thought to myself, "is the most beautiful wolf I have ever seen."
And with that final thought I passed out.

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When I came to, I found myself in a very white room. My breathing was raspy, but I couldn't feel blood gushing out of me, and for a wild moment as the events of the night before came rushing back to me--the pain, the wolf, my father sobbing--I thought that perhaps it had all been a crazy dream.

I sat up quickly, which I soon realized was a terrible mistake because it felt as if my side had split open. I lay back down and inspected it, noticing that I had a large cloth bandage wrapped around my entire abdomen. I also noticed various deep scratch marks on my arms and legs, and felt a few stinging on my face.

"I must look like a mess," I thought. I rolled onto my other side, and that was when I saw it, flopped unceremoniously on the bed right beside mine--the wolf. I froze, every muscle in my body tensed.

The wolf was still, in almost the same position I remembered from the woods. I hardly dared to breathe. Its gleaming silver coat shone beautifully, and the yellow eyes were still open wide.
A minute passed, then another, the wolf didn't move. It didn't blink, it didn't breath, and I began to wonder. Was it even...alive? I thought hard, remembering the jet of green light. What had the words been? My heart sank, Aveda Kedavra. This beautiful, proud animal was dead because of me. I had been foolish, wandering into the dangerous woods that way. Why on earth had I wandered into the woods? I screwed up my face in an effort to remember.

My thoughts were interrupted by a bang from down the hall. I could hear angry voices drawing closer. Terrified, not even knowing where on earth I was, I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes tightly.

"Please! Please, you have to let us see him!" cried a hysterical woman's voice. I recognized it as my mother's and opened my eyes at once, peering wildly around for her.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Lupin, but until we know for sure that it was a werewolf, we can't allow people near him. It's for your own safety you know, he might still be dangerous," said a cool female voice.

"He is not dangerous, he can't be dangerous, he's a six-year-old boy!" my father shouted.
My mind was processing very fast. I may have been six but I was not stupid. They thought I had been bitten...by a werewolf. But that would mean that I would become--no, I couldn't be, I just couldn't be. I was afraid of werewolves. They were evil, dark creatures and I had always been taught to hate them. I couldn't BECOME one after all of that could I?

I reached down and touched my side. With a soft whimper of pain, I pushed down the bandage and saw deep gashes in the shape of teeth marks.

"Sunrise is due in only a few minutes, and then we will know for sure. Now Mr. and Mrs. Lupin, since you're already here, perhaps we can talk about options for dealing with your son. There is no cure for a werewolf's bite at the present time. If you take him home with you, you will need to have your home approved for transformations by the Ministry in order to protect yourselves and your neighbors. I have to warn you that werewolves require a lot of attention, they injure themselves to appease their violent tendencies if they are locked alone in a room during the full moon, as is required by law. There are also a whole host of other symptoms that I can get you a list of if you like. Your other option is to leave him here at St. Mungo's. You'll have to pay for his keep and everything of course, but during transformations there will be staff members on hand to restrain and subdue him so that he is sure not to hurt other people. If you don't want anything more to do with him, which is of course understandable, you can sign a form allowing us to test experimental medications on him and he can stay here free of charge."

I stared at the ceiling, horrorstruck. A few minutes to sunrise, she had said. If this wolf transformed into a man...but no, it couldn't be. I wasn't anything like the nurse had described. I could barely get into an argument with my mum, let alone attack a hapless stranger wandering the forest on a full moon. Maybe, said a cruel voice in the back of my head, the violent tendencies come with time. That woman had talked about me as though I was some sort of animal. No, some sort of monster that lived in the forest for mothers to warn their little boys about.

For the first time that day, tears began to fall, not because of the pain but because of the way this woman that I didn't even know considered me a dark being too monstrous to be allowed to return home with my parents. I sobbed quietly into my pillow, it was all too much, yesterday I had been a normal little boy who liked to play with his toy broomstick, and now I was facing a life full of pain, suffering, and ridicule. It was all happening too suddenly.

Thankfully, my parents seemed to disagree with the nurse's views on werewolves, because they both started shouting at her so loudly that I couldn't really understand what they were saying. Or perhaps it was because they were using cursing too advanced for my young mind to comprehend.

I heard a loud CRACK from the direction of the wolf, and looked over quickly. It was still dead, but now it looked as though something awful was happening to it. Something that looked as though it involved quite a few bones snapping and muscles stretching to their limits. I shut my eyes, fighting off nausea at the sight, and when I opened them it wasn't a wolf, but the man I had tried to save from the woods. There he was, right beside me, his blue green eyes open wide and his mouth gaping in surprise.

I closed my eyes again and, unable to hold back any longer, retched over the side of my bed. My parents must have heard, because they stopped shouting at the nurse. I felt my mother's arms around me before I even heard the door bang shut. She stroked my hair and kissed my tearstained face.

"Don't worry Remus darling," she whispered, and I saw that she was trembling, "We'll have you out of this horrid place before you know it. I've brought you some chocolate, the doctor said it might help you feel a bit better so eat the lot. That's a good boy."
I bit into the chocolate and experienced a warm, comfortable feeling from head to toe. My tears slowed a little, and I remembered my musings from earlier. Mother would know whether or not I was different--evil. Being a small boy, I asked the question in the only way I knew how.

"Mum," I said, realizing that my voice sounded very small in the echoing white room, "I haven't become...a monster have I?"

My mother's gentle face clouded over, and she bit her lip uncertainly. Her honey-brown eyes mirrored my own as she looked over my scratched, battered face. She took what felt like an age to consider, and finally seemed to come to a decision.

"No, Remus you are not and never will be a monster. If anybody ever tells you differently, don't you dare believe them. You can't help what you are darling, and there's nothing wrong with who you are," she brushed a strand of light brown hair behind my ear, "Anybody that really loves you will know that."

She stood up and walked to my father, who I realized stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the dead man.

"You had to," she said heavily, "He would have killed Remus. I would have done the same." My father nodded. Satisfied, she turned back to me. "Darling we'll finish the forms and get you out of here alright? And don't worry. I'm sure we'll find a way to fix this." She blew me a kiss and my parents left the room. I was alone again, but this time with a dead man instead of a dead wolf.
As quickly as I could in my injured state, I crossed to him. His eyes were still open in a wide, eerie way that I knew would haunt my dreams for years to come. I reached out and touched his hand, it felt cold and smooth as marble. It wasn't his fault. None of this was his fault. He had been crazed and out of control--the way I would be. My heart twisted in fear at the thought of the grisly transformation.

"This isn't about me," I chided myself firmly, "This is about him."

Carefully, I pulled the blankets up to his chin, tucking them in around him. I stood on my tiptoes to kiss his forehead, and then brought up a shaking hand to close his eyes. I offered him comfort in the only way I knew how, the way my mother said goodnight to me. It was my fault. It had been all my fault and now I was paying very dearly for what I had done.

I clung to the man's hand until my parents returned and told me that we had to leave. As we exited the hospital, I heard my father say, "Don't be afraid Son. We'll find a way to fix this."

I nodded, but a part of me already knew that this would be my own cross to bear. Mine and an anonymous man who I felt closer to than anybody I had ever known.