TWs: Bullying, Suicidal Thoughts, Neglect, and Implied Abuse

...

It was a welcomed spring day, the kind where just the right amount of sunlight trickled through the clouds to be pleasantly warm, even with the refreshing breeze that buffeted gently against all it came in contact with. One such burst of wind carried the smell of not-yet-trampled daisies in the field over to the small figure of Remus Lupin.

With ink on his hand from idly scribbling after finishing his literature exam early, the boy whose minute smile detracted slightly from the dark bags under his eyes was standing, poised to flee if the situation called for it, by his favorite tree out in the schoolyard. The slight curve of his lips wasn't directed at anyone but rather came from him getting lost in the thoughts of a summer away from this dreary place. He was so lost in his thoughts, a rather common occurrence for him, that he didn't realize people were creeping up on him until it was too late.

Several pairs of rough hands shoved him down onto the ground causing his head to hit the dirt hard, momentarily stunning him. No less than six older boys positioned themselves in a circle around him, successfully blocking their victim from the teacher's view.

"YOU'RE A FREAK!" came the roar that echoed in his ears ringing from the impact.

He winced at the volume and braced himself for what was to come. He tried to sit up, dirt in his mouth, blood leaking from his nose. He didn't get far as a heavy boot connected with his ribs over and over. His mum had told him how to deal with bullies, "Kill them with kindness, Remus darling." She had instructed him this over and over. It had never worked and he knew it never would. He was too different from them, too easy a target.

Even the teachers didn't seem to care about the small ten-year-old who had disrupted class more than once. Papers flying, glass shattering, and school pets escaping were all blamed on Remus. No one could explain how he did it. Of course, he could. It was the same reason his father could levitate things with the flick of the wand. The same reason his mum lit up when his father conjured a flower for her. Magic.

It still sounded funny on his tongue every time he whispered it to himself, forcing himself to believe it would bring him something other than the misery it always seemed to. But he could never tell that to the boys kicking and taunting him, couldn't even tell the teachers who would smile at him one minute for his grades and shout at him the next when he "skipped school too often" and "caused so much disruption."

However, even if he wasn't surrounded by Muggle children he'd undoubtedly be in the same position. For Remus Lupin's oddness stretched beyond being a wizard. His oddness was much more than that. It was painstakingly, torturously more, and he only had himself to blame.

"LOOPY, LOONY, LUPIN!" the bullies jeered, giving up their ineffective assault on the stoic boy for petty name-calling. He didn't dare move for fear the rocks would start flying, a favorite pastime of the kids. They desperately wanted him to cry, and part of him reasoned that if he did cry, they might leave him alone. Sure, they would laugh at him, but there was something about tears that suddenly made even the most unobservant teacher rush over. However, he refused to give them that satisfaction—plus, he dealt with so much worse on a monthly basis, so this really wasn't all that bad.

"TEACHER'S PET! ARSEHOLE! DICKHEAD!"

The words blurred together, barely comprehendible. He was falling away from the conversation into the dark pit that consumed his thoughts every time he was reminded of the monster he was. His fault, it was all his fault. He was an insolent child, a bad child. That much was certain.

If only he hadn't followed that stranger away from safety. If only he had the sense not to fall for such a ridiculous ploy. If only he hadn't let that man take him far away—if only he hadn't let the man hurt him, let him bite him. If only he had died and became a meal like he was supposed to. Tears actually did prick his eyes now and he swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. A constant disappointment to his parents, that's what he was. That and a monster that raged against him once a month, littering his little body with large scars that never healed and cost his family more money than they could afford.

"You ought to kill yourself."

It wasn't the bullies' voices echoing in his head anymore. He knew this new voice well. It was the same voice that pulled him away from family functions to whisper in a malicious tone. It was his uncle's voice, his father's older brother. The man whose frequent lectures made Remus feel like the creature he was. Not human, not one of "us", not one of the family, not one of the schoolboys, not even a wizard. He'd never hold a wand, never go to Hogwarts, never take his N.E.W.T.S. Because Remus Lupin was—and had been since he was five—a werewolf.

Suddenly the sound of the obnoxious bell that signaled the end of recess claimed everyone's attention. Children rushed towards the building in the distance, including the boys who had been bullying him. It took him a second to untangle himself, his lanky limbs shaking slightly from all the emotions he had to keep suppressing. He held himself back to prevent an onslaught of pent-up anger, which would release magic with it. The anger and sorrow that had been growing ever since that fateful night, forming inside him, taking on a life of their own if he ever slipped up and let them. He hardly had time to berate himself for wanting to walk outside instead of taking refuge in the school library because he was late and, try as he might, he couldn't get his sore legs to move fast enough.

"Mr. Lupin! Quit dawdling!" came Mr. Fiefer's shout.

Sure, now pay attention, he thought bitterly, shaking himself. His teachers were good people, even if they chalked up his bloody nose to the unfortunate, yet not inaccurate label of 'wild child' they had branded him with. They weren't really the problem, he was. He forced himself to move faster, almost crying out from the pain. It was only the third day after the full moon and his whole body ached with the leftover trauma of the transformation. Plus, it left him dizzy with blood loss and fever, despite the costly potions he took to remedy this.

"Sorry, Mr. Fiefer."

"Just get inside," came the impatient response as his teacher practically slammed the door on Remus.

The rest of the school day passed in the usual fashion of indifference and tediousness. No matter how many times he was expelled, all of the many schools he went to had roughly the same routine. He jotted down his notes and answered the asked questions quietly to himself. Even knowing all of the answers he would never dare say them out loud, as that would label himself as brown-noser as well as a freak. He may often hate himself but he didn't fancy dying anytime soon. Well...not really.

So the hours stretched on and with them the classes. Different school subjects brought the same classification of teachers: those who tolerated him and those who did not. There were also students who tolerated him and those who made it their mission to drive him from the school as if they somehow instinctively knew the beast he was.

With another loud blaring ring came the end of the school day, which brought little relief as it resulted in Remus' journey home. He dashed out of the building despite his many pains. It was much worse when he was caught by the bigger boys after school. There was no bell to stop them then and they never tired of finding new, imaginative ways to torment him. Luckily, every time he moved schools, for multiple reasons, his family moved to a different town, until the bullies there caught onto what a freak he was. Then the rinse and repeat just kept on occurring.

This time though, he had a little less than half a mile to walk, and if the pattern stuck he wouldn't be here much longer. Most schools wouldn't tolerate his missed days for very long. In the meantime, this location meant a short walk home which he truly did appreciate. But even that didn't really make him feel much better. Normally he wouldn't have to be running for his life so soon after the full moon at all.

Usually, he would be picked up from school instead. But that was when his mum was alive. Now it was just his father and himself. His father didn't pay Remus much attention unless it was locking him in the Porta-Potty-sized shed once a month, or if Remus did something wrong. So he would have to get used to walking home, no matter how far that may be. Just like he had gotten used to hardly seeing his father in the wake of his mum dying. He didn't even expect his father to give him the time of day anymore, not really.

So it was the shock of his life when he silently entered the tiny two-bedroom house, shivering despite the thin sheen of sweat covering him, to see his father, Lyall Lupin, sitting at the kitchen table with a letter clutched firmly in his hands.

"D...dad...?" He ventured towards him cautiously. There were no empty bottles, but he didn't fancy getting smacked around any more than he already had today. His father was desperately clutching at some letter he was holding like a drowning man might clutch at a lifeline, and, rather than ignore Remus, which seemed to be the case 95% of the time, he turned to look at him.

"Son, come here."

His father's voice was thick and his steel-colored eyes were bloodshot. This wasn't uncommon, as his father spent a great deal of time crying after the love of his life passed away nearly six months ago.

Remus didn't dare disobey, but his legs shook slightly. If this was another letter from school on his 'lack of participation,' he was in for it. However, his father didn't have the cold look in his eyes that led to outbursts of rage, nor were his eyes glassy and unfocused, which led to Remus cleaning up puke and tucking him in at night. Instead, his father was looking at Remus as if seeing him for the first time. He shifted uncomfortably and now stood within reaching distance of his father. He bit back a yelp as strong arms grabbed him.

"I'm sorry!" he said, habitually flinching. However, he wasn't shoved away but was drawn closer to his father, and he couldn't suppress the gasp that escaped him at the shock. His father was hugging him! He couldn't remember the last time his father had hugged him. Hugging had always been his mum's job since she was the one who had wanted him, who had forced his father to keep him. The same man who had drunkenly confessed to Remus the only reason he was still here was that his mum's dying wish was for him to take care of him, that same man was embracing Remus like... a loving father.

"Dad?" he asked in a small voice, terrified at what this turn of events might mean. His father hadn't even hugged him when his mum died!

"You have a chance!" Mr. Lupin cried, tears rolling onto Remus' shoulders. He felt a wave of exhaustion crash over him. Maybe his father was drunk after all, since he wasn't making any sense. Then Lyall let go of him, both too soon and not soon enough. Remus swayed, the support suddenly gone.

"You may be able to go to Hogwarts!" his father confessed in a hushed voice, as if saying it out loud might make it not so.

"What?" A dream, this must be a dream, had to be a dream. Remus' head spun and his vision got rather fuzzy. This couldn't be really happening. Surely not!

"Remus, you may be going to Hogwarts!"

Now his father shouted it with more joy than Remus had heard from him in six months. More shocking still was the fact his father's dark blue-grey eyes were filled with a pride Remus had only ever dreamed about being the recipient of.

"Oh?" he managed to utter, thoroughly bewildered before he blacked out. He vaguely recalled his father actually catching him, rather than avoiding contact like usual, as if Remus might suddenly bite him.

...

In the morning Remus opened his eyes and stared at the cream color ceiling above him. Remus pushed himself up in bed taking comfort in his small room where the three books he had been reading the past month were still sitting proudly on his otherwise bare desk. Remus was about to walk over to the desk eager to make the daily decision of which world he would escape into today. But as Remus swung his legs off his bed he found a glass of water perched on the edge of his tiny bedside table. Next to it, half perched on the reading lamp that took up practically all the space on the nightstand, was a hurriedly scrawled note with poor handwriting that would have offended Remus' proper mum, had she been alive to see it.

'Remus, Headmaster Dumbledore is coming to talk to us in a few weeks to discuss your possible future attendance. Do not mess this up. Make sure you don't stick a single toe over the line or the consequences will be severe. Don't do anything to jeopardize your one chance at being normal.'

Remus finished reading it, clutching the letter in a similar fashion to how his father had clutched his yesterday. His stomach rumbled, chastising him for skipping dinner almost three days in a row. But Remus hardly registered this, nor did he brood over his father's choice of words as he usually would. Instead, an all-consuming fire of hope had come alive in him and made him feel very restless and very tired all at once. It didn't seem fair he had to wait two whole weeks to find out what the rest of his future would be like. He hopped off his bed, nearly falling as his ankle throbbed in protest to the sudden movement.

Because of his typical battered and sick condition he couldn't jump in anticipation like most boys. Nor could he run around and expel some of the wild energy that had surfaced suddenly in him. Instead, he had to settle for pacing as he frantically tried to sort through his thoughts and feelings. He shouldn't be so hopeful. After all, it wasn't a done deal. And for all he knew, this headmaster didn't know about Remus' lycanthropy. Hope fizzled out as quickly as it had come and a leaden sense of despair took its place.

Whatever this meeting with the headmaster would bring, it certainly wasn't going to be acceptance and inclusion, this Remus was certain of. Well, almost. Try as he might, he couldn't completely squash the rather resilient flicker of hope that stayed with him determinedly, somehow making it both easier and so much harder to get through the next two weeks.

...

Two weeks flew by quickly. The school was now thankfully nearing its end. On March 10th Remus spent his 11th birthday alone, letting himself cry as he clutched his mum's knitted quilt to his chest. On his last birthday the two of them had gone to the beach, something of a rarity for him, despite the close proximity of their quaint town to the ocean. It had been a rainy day and his mum had laughed gleefully as she jumped in the puddles, encouraging him to do the same.

"Remus, love, you must act like a child sometimes. Come join me!" He had. His mum had always had a knack for getting him to laugh and enjoy himself, even on the worst days.

"Mum," he moaned into the soft quilt, only daring to let himself mourn her when his father was gone. They used to be a happy family—he had vague memories of his father laughing and running with him on his shoulders, boyish shrieks of glee filling the air. That had been so long ago, and so different from how his father was now. The memories felt so strange and unreal compared to how things were now that Remus would have believed them fantasy if he didn't remember those times with surprising clarity.

But that had been before. After...well, after only his mum could get his once cheerful father to crack a smile. Both of them had been transformed from what they used to be. After the month he'd been gone and the weeks he'd been in the hospital, both his mum and father had aged considerably due to worry.

In Remus' first year back home as a werewolf, their dismay and worry were made worse by the fact Remus wouldn't talk to either of them. However, a few months later the reality of lycanthropy was sinking in for both of his parents and the focus turned away from the trauma Remus had faced at the hands of his kidnapper to the trauma that would follow monthly due to the same man.

At first, his already loving parents had grown closer because of the whole ordeal, but that too changed with time. Most of the time they argued in low voices when they thought he couldn't hear. His father always seemed to lose the arguments. Afterwards he'd ruffle Remus' hair with grave affection or awkwardly pat his shoulder as if to prove something to himself.

There had been good days too, when they used to curl up on the couch and his father would only stiffen sometimes as Remus leaned against him and read the Daily Prophet with him. Of course, the few days leading to the full moon and after, his father avoided him. He only appeared to give Remus a solemn word of warning on the night of the full moon and seal the impressively safe but dismally small shed with the necessary spells and charms needed to keep an increasingly large wolf contained.

It took a while, but a routine was formed and silent rules were established between his father and himself. Things had very slowly gotten better in the years following Remus being a werewolf. But then his mum got sick. Six months later, and she was gone before either of them could wrap their heads around the idea. Then his father began to drink even more excessively than he had before and skipped workdays, which he never used to do. Remus had quickly learned to take care of himself and his dad.

If only things had turned out differently, if only his mum hadn't died! He could still remember the exact day it happened, that rainy birthday on the beach after which his mum had gotten sick. At first, it seemed to be a mere cold from being wet too long. Unlike with a cold, she didn't get better.

Remus shuddered and cried harder. A small part of him felt her death was his fault too. She had gone into the rain to play with him for his birthday, but even worse than that, her usually child-like joyful disposition would fade into a sickly worry once a month, which took its toll on her after years and years. She tried to hide it, but he would feel her crying over him, and on those days she would be as pale as he was. Of course, no one other than his uncle had dared to blame him for his mum's death. But at her funeral, all the whispers seemed to be accusing him, blaming him.

His uncle was the only one brave enough to outright tell him it was his fault, dragging him away when Remus' father wasn't paying attention, which didn't take long. He had recanted to Remus the reason the wizards wouldn't heal his mum. Thanks to the Werewolf Registry, a great proportion of the Ministry of Magic knew what he was. This seemed strange to him because being a minor his name remained hidden, so only those working in the Magical Bites and Burns Ward would know what he was. But he knew his uncle must be right, even if Remus hated to admit it to himself.

Still, as much as Remus blamed himself for everything, he couldn't help but wonder if his uncle had made it up about the Healers, because surely they wouldn't all know about him? Still, in the wake of his mum's death, it hadn't taken much to send Remus fleeing the scene due to guilt and fear, which, upon further reflection, had most likely been what his uncle had wanted.

His memories jumbled together, even darker ones surfacing, that he frantically tried and failed to shove away. He cried until he couldn't anymore, then spent the rest of the day how he usually did, curled up with a book. At 11 p.m. his father came into the house and quickly disappeared into his room. Remus slipped downstairs and warmed up dinner in an almost robotic fashion. The depressing life Remus shared with his father had become something of a routine for the two of them. He had hoped…foolishly hoped that the letter from Headmaster Dumbledore would change their routine, but his father's hope on Remus getting into Hogwarts seemed to have extinguished quickly and more firmly than his own.

He knocked twice on his father's door, having set down the plate of food on the floor like he did each and every night he physically could. He left the plate there, where it would be waiting for him when his father opened the door, once Remus had left. He turned to leave, as his father never opened the door until he was gone. However, perhaps the routine was changing after all because the door opened. Remus turned quickly, afraid he might be yelled at if he didn't. His father stood in the doorway, a pensive look in his eyes.

"Tomorrow's the big day Remus."

Remus almost said that his father was mistaken, that today was his birthday before he realized that's not what he was talking about at all. Albus Dumbledore had agreed to come to meet Remus, to talk and decide if Hogwarts would indeed be in his future, on March 11th. Tomorrow! A thrill of excitement ran through him, though his facial expression remained in that neutral place he had found was the safest option.

"Yes, father. I won't let you down, father," he whispered. His father gave a curt nod and bent down to pick up the food.

"Thank you," he muttered, and then disappeared once more behind the closed door. Once his father's door was out of sight Remus did a little dance of nerves and barely suppressed hope. The great Albus Dumbledore was coming here to talk to him! Excitement turned to panic. Here? He looked around the dingy house they'd been living in for the past five months.

There was a sheen of dust everywhere and wilted flowers in the flower pot. There was a stain on the carpet, and even though Remus regularly did the dishes the two in the sink from yesterday seemed to scream how filthy the place was. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore would take one look at this place and deem Remus an irresponsible werewolf who didn't deserve Hogwarts if he couldn't even bother to keep up on his chores. He rolled up his sleeves and squared his shoulders, determination reflecting in those eyes that were far too old for the little boy they belonged to.

"I'll make you proud mum," he whispered, then set to work cleaning long into the night.