I don't know whether I'll make this an ACTUAL story or just a one-shot (most likely!), I'll have to wait and see if I get any reviews! (hint hint!).
But, seriously, if anyone wants me to continue it, I'm quite happy to, let me know in a review. I have some ideas for the time at Hogwarts, but as its about Remus it'll most likely concentrate on the 'forgotten years' after 31st October 1980, but before Harry's third year.
Padfoot1987
(p.s I also write along with my two marauders under the name of 'Padfoot, Prongs and Moony' at the Daily Prophet offices, if you fancy a laugh you HAVE to go and read 'The Daily Prophet, Lonely Hearts', and some random other stuff we'll be putting up there shortly! ;-))
The sun set on a peaceful, rural English village. As it cast its last bloody, red glows over the cool grey stone of the houses a gloomy bell high in its clock tower positioned in the middle of the village tolled menacingly nine times, each strike echoing far into the empty countryside, devoid of any other settlement.
The doleful sound even penetrated the deep, unforgiving darkness of a wild untameable forest, upon whose ankles this little village lay. Nervous wives and mothers usher the last stragglers of villagers returning from the fields inside, before heavy oak doors are shut and barred.
Children are tucked into beds, locked in their innocent sleep far away from the tightly closed windows. Women stoke up fires whilst men peer nervously out onto the dark road, now illuminated by the soft ethereal light of a full moon.
The huge white orb casts its glow over the quiet village, feared and unwanted. The snow has been falling for several weeks, not many live who can remember a winter such as this, the streets are covered in thick, white snow, and the River Avon, the last frontier between the peaceful village and the dark wood has frozen solid. The moon rises higher, permeating the thick trees of the forest; nothing can escape its silky glow.
The old forest begins to stir.
In a small cottage, north of the small church, a Grandfather sits beneath a window that looked out onto this forest; the river was dimly recognisable as the moonlight lit up the ice, a silver strand of light separating two worlds. The Grandfather gathers his grandson and two other village children around his feet; faces upturned he begins his story:
"Forty-one years ago, the village was much the same as it is now, but we were happy back then; we farmed the land, fished in the river, always keeping a respectful distance from the forest. We were granted this land by the great wizard Merlin to create a magical village away from muggles who tried to pry and find out our secrets; our kind are better off away from them.
"The one promise Merlin asked for was that we never cross the river into the forest, for if we cross into the territory of that place, there is no telling what would follow us out. We gave our promises willingly; we had no need or desire to cross the borders of the forest.
"But that year, the harvest had been bad; the village was hungry, close to starving; the winter closed about us, several of the village elders died; we had to eat. One cold but clear morning we awoke to find the River Avon had frozen over; we had a clear route into the forest where there was sure to be fresh meat. The older people argued; our ancestors had given a promise to Merlin, which we should honour.
"I was nineteen that year, young, reckless, and desperate to prove myself. The elders declared that it would be better if we starved, than to risk the terrible curse Merlin had warned about if we stepped over the river. I thought they were the foolish ones; young men from the village organised a hunting party, declaring that they wouldn't listen to the stupid warnings of a long-dead wizard. I joined the party; we were young, foolish, carried away with our own self-importance. We crossed the river and entered the forest.
"Nothing Happened.
"We weren't immediately struck down by some deadly curse, attacked by some mythical monster; we went deeper into the forest. Hunted. That evening we brought back meat enough for everyone, with enough left over to salt for the following winter. We did not realise we had disturbed the monster, freed it from its enchanted bounds to the forest. It was free.
"The following evening everything lay quiet once more, without us sleeping villagers realising; the first attack came, a pack of hungry wolves sneaked across the ice, prowling throughout the town; they knocked down doors with the strength of ten men, skidding into houses and grabbing the weakest humans. The children.
"The village was in disarray; blood covered the white snow of the long high street as villagers roused themselves with repeated, frantic ringing of the bell. Men grabbed weapons, women tried to save their children; throughout the night we drove them back, slipping in the blood of our friends, children, wives, husbands as we pushed them across the river and back into the dark hell of the world we had released them from.
"We hastily lit huge fires along the riverbank, trying to keep the dark creatures at bay. It worked; they shrunk back from the fire and lay at the cooling dark mouth of their forest licking their bloody lips, waiting for a chance to steal back into the village. We kept those fires burning until the very last piece of ice had slipped back into the river to flow away south.
"We buried our dead.
"We thought it was the worst tragedy we ever had, or would see; unfortunately we were mistaken. You, see when the wolves fled our settlement, they took with them one of our own. Tommy Brown, a good man, one of my best friends. He received a bite from one of the wretched creatures when he was trying to protect me from them, the wound would not heal, and it caused him more pain than any of us could imagine – his screams were testament to that. But, after a while, it seemed to be getting better; he didn't scream as much, seemed calmer.
"About a month after the attack, when the river was still frozen, I was on duty; my jobs to keep the fires lit and alert the villagers to any approaching danger. My breath coming out in mist I gazed over the river into the forest – trying to catch a glimpse of movement, of bright wolves' eyes, the fires reflected madly in its evil eyes.
"Suddenly I heard a commotion of banging from behind me, I turned quickly and to my horror I heard a woman screaming from Tommy's house – I ran up the main street, once again illuminated by a bright full moon. The screaming suddenly abruptly stopped. Before I could reach the house there was a resounding smash as his door was ripped from its hinges and crashed to the ground. A great grey wolf barrelled through the hole where it used to be, breathing heavily, blood covering its nose and mouth. The wolf was bigger than any I had ever seen; hackles raised, inch-long teeth glinting in the moonlight, it walked towards me, its strong supple body moving quickly.
"I was terrified, I could not move; it padded closer and closer, until I could see its eyes trained upon me, the bloodlust dominated its mind. I knew I was going to die. But I was going to die fighting. I ran back to the fires, the wolf hot on my heels; snatching up a burning branch I waved it in front of me.
"'Back!' I shouted, 'Back!' My shouts made the creature pause; it seemed unsteady, contemplating what to do as it watched the fiery branch dance between us. Its appetite was insatiable, it leapt at me with a ferocious growl; I rolled to one side, and barely keeping hold of the torch pushing myself onto my knees I heard it coming at me again. I squeezed my eyes shut and jabbed out wildly with the burning branch. I heard an anguished howl and opening my eyes I watched the huge wolf leap past the remaining fires, into the refreshing dark of the wood.
"Shaken, I rose, alerted the villagers to what had happened. We ran up to Tommy's house. He was nowhere to be found, but his wife lay on the slabs of the kitchen floor – throat ripped out. They assumed Tommy – weak from his injury had been dragged away and devoured by another wolf. The sentry's were doubled. The fires blazed bigger and bigger.
"We never saw Tommy again, but I never forgot the eyes of that wolf. There was something inside, behind the eyes. Screaming to be let out.
"Mrs Brown was buried in a small graveyard, and as winter turned to spring we forgot – or tried to - and life slowly returned to what it was before, but we were ever-conscious of the dark that lay just over the river. Waiting.
"Sometimes an idle villager, looking out over the river would come home with wild stories of a naked man, blind in one eye, a huge scar down his cheek, dried blood caked onto his lips, cuts and bruises covering his body.
"I only ever saw the wolf once more, standing at the other side of the ice, looking at me with its one good eye, the other clouded over and melted in the burnt flesh which had fused itself clumsily back together. I tried to get closer, but he turned, and ran. Ran with the wolves. But he and I both know, the ice will freeze over again."
Remus Lupin looked up at his Grandfather doubtfully; he had heard this story many a dark winter's night.
He was a very sceptical child. He'd never believed fairy tales told by his mother, so there was no way he was going to pretend his grandfather had fought with a werewolf and survived to tell the tale. Especially since werewolves didn't exist.
He glanced over at his best friend Mary who was still staring up at his Grandfather with awe, obviously believing everything he said. Remus looked at his cousin Billy, who was currently tying his shoelaces together. As much as he disliked arrogant, bullying Billy, Remus found himself glad that at least there was someone else who wasn't stupid enough to believe his demented Grandfather's stories.
Remus poked Mary irritably, hissing:
"You didn't believe that did you?" Mary flushed a little at his sarcastic tone before replying:
"Yes," defiantly.
Remus was just about to laugh when his mother strode in and said abruptly:
"Time for bed you three. Dad, I wish you'd stop scaring the children!"
"I'm not sca-" seven year old Remus started before he was shushed by his mother and pushed into a small bedroom with three identical beds. He climbed into one while Mary and his cousin settled themselves down into the other two. Mrs Lupin kissed them all goodnight and extinguished the lamps, shutting the door carefully.
"Do you think the wolf will cross the river this winter?" Mary whispered fretfully.
Remus snorted and sat up in bed. "As if!" he said. "It was a story! It's not true!"
"How do you know?" came nine-year-old Billy's voice from the corner.
"Because werewolves don't exist," Remus retorted quickly.
"Prove it," Billy replied sitting up in bed as well.
"How?" Remus said warily, the last dare he had taken from Billy involved a rather embarrassing incident with a blackberry pie and a pair of the Vicars wife's knickers.
"Cross the river," Billy said evilly, in a low voice. The moonlight filtering through the curtains lit up his features and the look of glee on his face.
"No!" Mary said in a loud whisper, "he could get really hurt! Don't do it Remus!" she continued.
"Aaah, look at that," Billy said maliciously, "ickle Remus needs a girl to protect him. Is Remus afraid of the big bad wolf?" he continued.
"No!" said Remus furiously. To illustrate his point he threw off the bed covers and began to pad to the door. Billy got up too, and followed him.
"Where are you going?" Remus hissed.
"To make sure you don't chicken out," replied Billy sticking out his tongue. Mary got up too.
"Remus?" she started, "please don't go, I'm scared!"
"There's nothing to be scared of Mary!" Remus replied, feeling rather scornful of the six-year-old.
A few minutes later, the three children were outside clad in wellies, with their huge winter coats.
"Ssshh!" whispered Remus loudly as Mary tripped and fell with a rather large, 'ouch'. Sighing, he took her hand and pulled her up. Much to his embarrassment, she didn't let go. Luckily, Billy didn't notice, he was trailing some way behind looking rather white.
The full moon lit up the river and the three of them hurried towards it, all wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible.
Everything was silent, but if the children had strained their ears they would have heard the occasional twig snapping in the darkness across the river. Remus glanced at Mary.
"Come on," he said trying to sound brave despite his voice cracking. "We'll just have a quick look and then we can go home."
"G-go on th-then," Billy said, "you have to get to the other side of the river."
"Ok," Remus said, inwardly laughing as he realised his older cousin was much more scared than he was. Remus took his first steps gingerly across the ice, glancing back at his terrified companions. He was looking at Mary, when her features froze into a horrified stare. Remus turned his head slowly, knowing what it was before he turned around.
The Wolf.
Its fur was dark grey, save its chest, emblazoned with a white strip. Its pointed nose was directed at the children as well as one eye. The other was covered with a huge scar, blinding it. It edged forward slowly, licking its lips and baring its teeth as if it hoped to terrify the children even more. It wasn't possible.
The wolf edged closer as the children stood paralysed with fear. Billy let out a high-pitched whimper. Remus stared at the remaining eye of the wolf. He could see the bloodlust. It was going to kill them.
"Run," he whispered hoarsely to Mary and Billy; they didn't move an inch. Remus stumbled backwards, grabbing Mary's hand as he moved.
"RUN!" he screamed again, the wolf started jogging faster as the three children turned and fled. It let out a cross between a bark and a howl and leapt after them. The children ran for the cover of the village.
They never really stood a chance.
The wolf growled loudly, bounding over snow and ice. Remus gasped, he could feel the wolf's hot breath on his bare calves as Mary ran in front of him.
They were so close.
With a sudden shriek, Billy tripped in his oversized wellies and fell headfirst into a snow drift. The wolf immediately pounced. Billy's screams were instantly silenced. Remus turned and stopped, he made an attempt to go back, even though he knew it was already too late. The wolf lifted its head, bloodstained mouth leering at Remus. It began to stalk towards the young boy, obviously one victim was not enough. Remus couldn't move, his eyes were fixed on the crimson blood seeping through the clean white of the snow, the sight of his cousin's mangled body.
Mary's screams brought him back to earth with a thump; the wolf was stalking towards him licking its bloody lips, throaty growling making the ground vibrate beneath Remus's knees. Remus turned and saw Mary hammering on his front door screaming hysterically for help. He ran, stumbling, hardly aware of the tears falling thick and fast from his eyes.
Remus was just turning the corner when it pounced. Pushing itself forward on strong hind legs, it propelled itself into the air, pulling the young boy down. The wolf quickly stood up and lunged at Remus, he put his arm up to protect his face and the wolf latched onto it with its strong jaws. Remus screamed as it dragged him away through the snow.
A shot echoed through the air splitting the silent night. The wolf let go of his arm and growled at something in the street. Standing over its prey, it raised its hackles and howled a warning. Remus used all his remaining strength to lift his head. There, in the middle of the street stood his grandfather, rifle slung over his shoulder, staring at the wolf.
The wolf started towards his grandfather, Remus pushed himself to his knees, clutching his arm to his chest, vaguely aware of the blood trickling down his arm through the thick material of his fathers coat.
"Come on, Tommy!" shouted his grandfather, "I've been waiting for this for forty years!"
The wolf leapt at the old man who quickly unslung the rifle and squeezed the trigger, a bullet flew out of the barrel of the gun, embedding itself in the wolf. The creature let out a bone-chilling howl; it turned limping and made a dash to the forest. When it reached the trees it turned slowly and gazed at Remus.
"Doomed to run with us ..."
Remus heard the words echoing in his head.
His Grandfather sent one last shot after the retreating wolf for good measure before strolling over to his grandson and holding his prostrate form tightly, he took Remus home. Remus was put into bed and his mother cleaned and dressed the wound, an outline of the wolf's mouth.
His mother had tears in her eyes.
"Don't worry mum, I'll be alright," Remus tried to reassure her, as the wound bled through the dressing. His seven-year-old mind couldn't accept the death of his cousin. So he ignored it. He tried to take her hand, she snatched it back and stumbled away from the bed. Thinking she was angry, Remus ran after her:
"I'm sorry Mum! I was only trying to prove to Mary that she shouldn't be scared!" Even a seven-year-old child realised the irony of those words.
His mother left the room and slammed and locked the door. Remus hammered on it shouting, then gave up. His arm felt like lead. Remus was alone in the dark.
He crept to the window, in the distance he could see bright fires being lit by the village men, and, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck, he could hear wolves howling wildly. He saw his father and uncle, wrapping up the body of his young cousin in a large blanket and carrying him quickly into the nearby church.
His aunt was on her knees in the snow in her flimsy nightdress, screaming and wailing. Remus saw his mother enter the scene and try to comfort his aunt. She was pushed away roughly; his aunt started screaming at his mother. Remus could hear the words echo through the night. Every one a knife in his heart.
"Get away from me! Go and comfort your husband! At least my son's not a monster! At least he can be at peace! You better leave this village! Take that abomination with you! I'll kill it! Kill it! Just like it killed my baby!" With that she collapsed into fresh sobs. Remus' mother, tears running down her face ran back to the house.
Remus glanced at his wounded arm, pulled off the dressing, he stared at the bite marks, puncturing his flesh, already the outsides had turned a strange tinge of green. The wolf had marked him. He was doomed to run with his sire monthly for the rest of his life. Despised and hated, even by his own family. Remus refused to cry.
He would save his tears for Billy. Remus would never forget the sight of his cousin, ripped apart by the wolf, mangled remains lying still in the snow while blood seeped across the ground. But, in a way, Billy was the lucky one.
The moonlight permeated the glass, touching his skin. He licked his lips at the sight of the red blood staining the snow.
The wound burned.
Remus Lupin screamed.
A monster was born inside him.