"Now, now, little fellow. Where are you going?" the grisly man leered at me. He had filthy, long hair, a grey, patched coat, and shoes that were an extremely sorry sight. His fingernails were curled and claw-like - but it was his eyes and his breath that scared me the most. Yellow, bulbous eyes, fixed on me - but not on my face. Breath that stunk of coppery blood and sewage. Greyback, he said, his name was. Well, he was certainly grey.
I shuddered. "J- just the chores, sir," I managed to stammered out. I looked at my hands. Muddy, with dirt going under my torn nails. Relatively small hands. They couldn't do much against anything if he kidnapped me or something.
"Chores? What sort of chores?" he leaned in closer. Breath wafted at my face, like a warm breeze passing by the town dump. I wrinkled my nose, disgusted.
"Just ordinary chores - mowing the lawn and washing dishes... stuff like that," I managed to say. The smell was awful. I contented myself by looking down at the ground. Even then I could feel his breath on the top of my head. It made me feel quite vulnerable, so I snapped my neck up again after a few seconds.
"Well, well," he hissed, eyes narrowed, as if he had seen through my lies. I shivered. "Chores ain't fit for a little boy like you. Especially from a magical family. Your mommy and daddy can do everything, can't they? Especially at this time of night - a little boy like you should be asleep, now ain't that so?"
I hated him. I hated him with every bit of my body. I felt hot over with rage. I don't know why - maybe it was his disgusting grin which showed his fang- like canines, but I hated him. Besides that, I couldn't come up with an excuse...
"Come now, don't worry, sonny. Your mommy and daddy are probably doing the chores themselves. Come here, let me show you something," he urged. He backed off, pulling my hand hard.
Not good, not good, not good! I screamed inside my head, almost starting to cry with fear.
He pulled harder, his face lit up with ugly excitement. I gulped.
Maybe I should just pretend go along with him...
I shammed taking a step forward.
... and then run as soon as he forgets me slightly.
Another step.
His back was turned now, towards the moon, and I decided to creep away quickly.
As soon as I realized he wasn't paying much attention to me anymore, I dashed off, running as I never had before. Fallen branches crunched under my feet. My blood pumped in my ears. I could hear my panting, my small rapid footsteps...
And then I heard the howl. Long and eerie - painful and yet... delighted. I was so surprised that I stood rooted to the spot, trying to look over my shoulder at the source of noise. I squinted - a cloud had passed over the moon, and a wave of terror swept over me. He was transforming. And he was no Animagus, I realized. He was a werewolf. And he was coming to get me.
Horrified, I turned and sprinted. But I knew, now, that it was no use. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Moan, crack, another howl. A spasm of fear shot through me. I spurted on even more speed as I realized that he was gaining. Fast.
And then - with a sly kick on my left leg, he was on me. He'd flipped me over, paws on my limbs. I was done for. He growled, baring his teeth. And in those murky, yellow eyes, I could decipher an ounce of his human self - an ounce that was swallowed by evil relish and devouring hunger.
"Eeeaarrggghhh!" I yelled, repulsed. With a sudden upward push, I somehow shoved him off. Keep going, keep going! I thought, frantic. I ran on, blindly, not knowing where I was going or when I was going to stop. And then! I gasped to a halt. Water.
Doom Lake, it was called. My father had never told me to go there. It was deep, he had said. And bad luck always surrounded Doom Lake. I chanced a glance back, breath coming shallow. He was gaining, gaining - he was going to leap onto me and bite me any moment! No, there had to be another way. I looked about wildly, a sob escaping from my throat.
"Please," I whispered, looking from the lake to the galloping werewolf and back, "Merlin, please..."
I was rooted to the spot.
And he leapt. Some remote part of my brain screamed at me to do something - anything.
Inches away from me, he yelped in triumph. I jerked out of my cold paralysis and dropped to the ground.
He splashed into the water. But there was no time to gloat. I had to run, run, run to my house and stay there, safe, under my sheets in the bed. With a high-pitched whine, the monster began to flounder. But then he started to swim towards the bank.
I hadn't run half a yard when he was back, running after me, that deep growl reverberating in his throat. Panic-stricken, I sprinted. With the same quick flip he had used before, he got me helpless on my back. And this time he didn't wait. He ripped at my throat.
And the world went black...
White went in and blacked out. A little circle grew and then shrunk. And then I heard voices.
"Do you think he'll be alright, John? Are you sure? Do you really think so?" a shrill voice asked.
"He'll be alright, dear. He's survived everything, even the wound." It was a deep, soothing voice this time.
The most comforting thing was, I knew who the voices belonged to.
"Mum?" I rasped, "Dad?"
At once the curtains ripped open, revealing two very worried looking grown-ups. But they were alright. They were my parents. They were here. A bubble of joy surged through me, and I felt a suspicious lump in my throat.
"Remmy, dear! Are you alright? How are you feeling? When did you get up, honey?" Mum asked, brushing curly brown bangs from her clear brown-green eyes. My mouth felt dry, and oddly wet at the same time, as though someone had poured coppery-tasting blood down it.
Instead I croaked, "Fine, Mum. I got up right now," and managed a small smile that calmed her slightly.
"Who was it, son? When did he do this to you?" my father demanded at once, sternly, although looking extremely relieved.
Obedient to his request, I searched my mind... what was his name again? Grey... Grey something... Looked like a hunchback, I thought, disgusted. And then I remembered it.
"Greyback!" I croaked.
My father's face turned white. "So... it was him," he hissed, through set teeth.
I was back home. I had been for two days. Right now I was standing outside the door of my parents room, listening, breathless.
"You know what this means? You know what will happen, Caroline?" my father was asking, voice rising passionately.
"No..." my mother quailed.
"He won't be able to go to Hogwarts. No school will accept him. That's what will happen. No schooling."
A gasp from my mother. Then, "What'll we do? The schooling will be seen to, God willing, but what about our ison/i? What shall we do? He's a werewolf, John. And I haven't the heart to see my only baby being sent away to St. Mungo's! They'll kill him or something!" Her voice was rising.
"We'll just have to lock him safely, then," my father sighed, heavily.
My mother sobbed.
Feeling sick, I turned away and went up to my room.
I flopped on the bed, staring hard at the ceiling, as the full realization collapsed on top of me. "I'm a werewolf," I whispered to myself.
They had locked me in. It was full moon. They had locked the door, took away all the furniture from the basement, and left only a few small plush toys for me to rip and tear when I transformed. bTransformed/b... That was a scary word...
And hardly had I thought of that when I felt a scratchy feeling at my hands. I looked down, slightly apprehensive. Prickly hair were growing from the back of my hands. My nails were pointing into claws.
And what followed was undescribable pain. I felt claustraphobic. I wanted to get away, break free of this body that - i I'm changing,/i I realized, suddenly.
I looked at the mirror facing me. A boy with eyebrows fast disappearing and shoulders that were quickly hulking up looked back at me. My legs were growing shorter and more hinged, and suddenly, I was on all fours. My fingers were clustering, moulding, growing out like a petalled-flower into the shape of paws. All in a matter of seconds.
"Nooooo-aooooooww!" I yelled. But I was transforming so fast that I didn't complete my yell with a human voice. The end was a howl. Like Greyback's. And I hated him all over. Hated him for existing, for being what he was, for killing and eating people, for taking pleasure in torturing others, for inflicting ime/i with this pain.
Blind fury took over me as I paced up and down on my four legs, growling and howling, barking and whining. Some minutes later I found myself shredding, ripping, and tearing - my beloved stuffed toys decomposed to balls of cotton. I howled in frustration, and yipped and scratched and bit myself till I started seeing red.
Wet, liquidy red that ran down in dripping streaks, interrupting my vision. The world went small, then huge. Things sat and doubled up, rose and stretched, danced and swayed. Until, once again, everything went black...
Some time later, I woke up, a human again, with marks and wounds and bites all over me. And there were big red spots in my eyes.
So, I found myself thinking, This is how it feels.
Every full moon after, my night was a painful one. My life had changed. No longer was I an innocent kid who loved to play about and break the rules and play pranks on his parents. No longer was I so carefree. I was different, now. Different is nice, sometimes. Being different makes you feel special, usually.
Not with me, though. Different is dead. And if anyone knows about it, then you don't just die once. You die over and over again.
Author's note: Thus ends the tale of Remus becoming one of them. Hope you liked it! There's a lovely link down there by which you can comment/review on this here story. Fancy using it? Purty please? *puppy eyes* Aw, come on! =P