The Wolf I Have Become
Synopsis: Remus's account/life of being a werewolf
Disclaimers: Oo! Hands three Marauders back. Alright, alright! Reluctantly hands James back…
A/N: First fanfic up here…ish nervous. Anyway, the title's been bugging me after it popped into my head. Funny thought: "Remus's" isn't a name, a suggested spelling—Rumpus's.
All I remember of that nightmarish event was straying too far from the town, to the outskirts of the forest. Then, just to my left, a bone-chilling howl broke the night. Next came a fog, I-I can't remember, only blundering through the forest, with crashing sounds behind me and a searing pain traveling from my ankle. Then, black. Only later did I see the gashes down my back and a slash across my left cheek. That wasn't all. It was too late to stop the curse, yes, that's what I call it, from infecting me. I was a werewolf, a nine-year-old werepup.
It was horrible being known as a werewolf—I was feared, locked up every full moon, and everyone hustled away. The worst of it was seeing my parent's sad, mourning eyes, guilty of not keeping a close watch, sad at watching their only child being shunned by the public. I was lonely.
Turning into a werewolf is pain beyond the senses, well, pain before you lose consciousness and a-a monster from deep inside your core rises up and takes over. Not much is remembered being a werewolf, just howling, running…The pain from changing back into human form isn't any better. There's this deep tearing going on and you don't know what you are…Many a times it has left me nauseated, or maybe it's the rabbits.
Having the world's greatest havoc-makers, rule-breakers as your friends is the best and the worst thing that happened in your life. It's a wondrous feeling of freedom, and a slightly guilty conscious at the not-so-legal things we've done. Together, in this little group, we must've broken and shattered over ten thousand rules! But those were the days. When my companions decided (with gusto) to join me in my mutated state, I was puffed up with pride! I didn't walk, I strutted! I didn't smile, I grinned! Oh! How ecstatic I was! And I started to look forward to full moon. I noticed that in my new form, with my friends beside me, I seemed to have gained some control over my wild beast.
But now, now it's only me. I don't count Peter; he's just a sniveling backstabber who never deserved to come into this world. I've outlived every one of them! Not that's it's something to be proud of. First, it was James, loyal to the bone, killed at the prime of his life saving his beloved wife and son. Then, it's Sirius, who just had to be blasted through the veil by his sister. All destroyed by Voldemort and his weak, pureblood army of stone-hearted shadows. But why? Why not me? Must I suffer like this, watching my comrades die? What do I have to live for?
These years following the deaths of my loyal companions, I have become more violent in my wolf like state. I can feel it. I visit my enclosure and find deeper scratches in the wall, and discover more wounds on myself. Even my beast knows I don't want to live. Then why am I still here, why haven't I died?
A/N: Well, there you go. R/R. Everything is appreciated.
Spinnerette