Lyall was pleased. He had his daughter back. Hope had started to say "she" again, and she'd even taken Dahlia shopping— at Dahlia's request— for some girl robes and outfits. Dahlia still refused to grow out her hair, but she paraded around the living room in her new clothes, to the smiles and encouragement of her father. He knew he had been right all along. Dahlia was clearly happier now. It had all been a phase after all.

Remus, on the other hand, had begun to resent his father. Unwillingly of course, but it got to the point where he just wanted his father out of the house, because when his father wasn't around, Remus could be himself. He could wear his boy clothes, and his mother would call him "he" again. He was her boy again, and he was happy. When his father was there, he wasn't happy. But he never let on to either of his parents how he felt. His mother would worry and tell him to go back to normal and not worry about his father. His father would get angry and blame both of them. Remus just didn't want any arguing. So his parents continued to believe that everything was okay.

And then came that fateful night.

His parents awoke to screaming. The silence of the night was being pierced by a child's desperate cries, and they had no time to think, they just ran. Ran down the landing and into their son's bedroom.

A man was crouched over the figure of their child, his head bent over Remus's neck. Remus was frozen with terror. Hope screamed, alerting the man, and Lyall wasted no time in fending the intruder off with a rapid series of hexes and jinxes. The man managed to escape out of the window, just missing getting hit by a jet of red light before he disappeared off into the night.

"Lyall, he's hurt, oh god he's hurt! Call the police!" Lyall stared at the child. Remus was being cradled in Hope's arms, barely conscious. His face had been scratched right across and the left hand side of the bed was soaked in blood: Remus's shoulder was bleeding profusely. "Lyall he has to go to hospital, we have to take him to the hospital!" She was sobbing hysterically. Lyall had rushed to her and was now bending over Remus's shoulder, wand in hand.

"We can't," he breathed. Hope stared at him in shocked confusion.

"What do you mean we can't!? He needs help!"

"I'm helping him! I can fix his wound with magic, he'll be fine."

"He's been attacked, he needs a doctor and we need to call the police!" Lyall didn't look up. He was frantically casting spell after spell to stop the bleeding and close up the wound.

"We just can't," he reiterated. "It's not a normal attack he... it's not a normal wound."

"What do you mean it's not a normal wound!? Who was that man!? What did he do to him!?"

Remus started to gain consciousness again, cutting off his mother's questions. First he started to whimper, then he began to cry. His mother held him close, whispering comforting words in his ear.

"It's okay, sweetheart, you're safe now. You're going to be fine."

Hope interrogated her husband once they were out of Remus's bedroom and in their living room. It had been an hour now since the attack. They had stayed with Remus until he had fallen back to sleep, making sure he was okay, bandaging up his wounds and locking his window tightly. It took a while for him to fall asleep again, terrified as he was of the intruder and traumatised from what had just happened to him. But he was only young, and by around two in the morning he simply couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. The whole event had left him exhausted.

Once he was safely asleep, his parents had then gone round the whole house ensuring that every single entrance and opening was sealed tight. They had planned to stay in his room all night, but Hope needed answers and she didn't want to risk waking Remus up again. He needed to rest.

Lyall sank into his favourite armchair and Hope stood over him.

"You better explain to me what the hell has just happened," she demanded in a dangerously low voice. "I need to know why my child was nearly killed and is now quite possibly scarred for life." Her voice wobbled but she continued to glare at her husband. "And I need to know why you refused to call the police." Lyall rubbed his hands together anxiously, not knowing how to tell his wife what had happened. He took a deep breath.

"That was... ." He hesitated. "Dahlia was bitten."

"Bitten!? By who?!"

"Fenrir Greyback. He... he was accused of murdering those people I told you about. Werewolf attacks—" he saw his wife tense up. "He claimed he didn't know anything, disguised himself as a homeless person. Everyone believed him... except me." He was now staring angrily at the ground, his jaw clenched.

"Please don't tell me I'm hearing this. Please tell me our child hasn't been..." Hope had to sit down. She couldn't quite take in what had happened, she refused to believe what had happened.

"I said he was a werewolf but everyone just laughed at me. And I got angry and... and... ." He exhaled shakily and put his head in his hands. "Oh Merlin this is all my fault." The room was a deafening silence. The enormity of the night's events had yet to hit them fully, but deep down they were all too well aware that their future and their child's future had just been irreversibly changed in a matter of seconds. And there was nothing they could do about it.

"What did you do?" asked Hope, her voice suddenly deadpan. Lyall didn't move his head from his hands.

"What do you mean?" he said, his voice muffled.

"You said it was your fault..." she finally looked at him again. "How?" Lyall raised his head, but didn't meet her eyes.

"I... I said some things in front of Greyback," he explained. "Bad things. About werewolves. Said they were... evil, and soulless. And this... this must be his revenge." His voice broke. "Hope I'm so sorry." He stared at her despairingly. "I hurt our son."

Remus changed after that night. Not physically, although he was of course a werewolf now, a change that they all had to get used to. But his whole personality and demeanour had changed. He was never the most outgoing child but he could be very chatty, rambling on and on about whichever subjects he was interested in, and he loved to play outside, but now he barely said a word. He just shut himself in his room all day and read. All he wanted to do was read. His mother asked him what he wanted for his fifth birthday and all he said was books. She willingly obliged.

The only bonus that came out of Remus's ordeal was that his father no longer cared about Remus identifying as a boy. Everything seemed to have been put into perspective for Lyall after the traumatic event. For starters, being a boy made Remus happy, and Lyall wanted so desperately for his child to be happy again, and he clearly knew that there were much bigger problems in their lives right now than his daughter becoming his son. He was just happy that his child was alive. And Remus was happy that he had finally been accepted as a boy, despite the circumstances that had brought about this acceptance.

Or at least, he thought he had been accepted.

It was around three months later. Remus had transformed three times now. He hated it. It scared him no end. He had to be locked in his room for the whole night and he never remembered what had happened once he'd woken up the following day. His parents tried to be as calm about it as possible. They told him they'd stay with him until he transformed, then it would just be like going to sleep and waking up the next morning.

It wasn't though. Remus couldn't remember details but he remembered how it felt. It was painful and lonely, and dark and angry, and what if he ended up hurting his parents? He wouldn't even remember hurting them... and he wouldn't even recognise them as he hurt them... anxiety attacks became more and more frequent for him, and his parents couldn't do much except insist that he would be okay. All he could do was trust them.

After every transformation, his mum would buy him a book, as a sort of reward for the previous night; a reason to look forward to transforming.

On the third month, his mum bought him a book of Roman myths. He enjoyed both muggle and wizarding books alike, and he was quite keen on history. He liked the story of the twin founders of Rome: Romulus and Remus. The boys who were abandoned at birth, raised by a she-wolf and went on to found one of the biggest empires in history.

He was also fond of the name Remus.

His name hadn't bothered him much when he was a young child, but as he grew a bit older he started to hate it. It was definitely a girl's name and it didn't suit him anymore. He wanted a new name.

He'd once asked his mother what he would have been called had he been born a boy.

"Well, I wanted to name you John after my grandfather, but your dad probably would have named you Lyall. It's common for fathers to name their sons after themselves."

Remus wanted to honour his mother's naming decision but he didn't think John really suited him either, and he didn't know what his father would say if he named himself Lyall.

But Remus... Remus was nice. And he supposed it had a good connection; the mythical Remus had been raised by a wolf, and he was a wolf. It fit.

He decided to broach the subject with his mother.

She was in the kitchen reading one of her muggle newspapers with her coffee. Lyall was at work. He'd been spending more and more time at the ministry lately. Remus had once overheard his father telling his mother about trying to find a "cure" for Remus's lycanthropy. They were all holding out hope that one day it would appear, but so far there was no sign of it.

"Good morning, sweetheart," greeted his mother, all smiley. She tried to act as cheerful as possible around Remus, hoping it would rub off on him and she could see his smile again. His genuine smile, not a fake one that he was sadly beginning to master.

"Morning," he replied back. Hope stood up to make him some toast. They had a toaster of course since Hope couldn't use magic. It was all beat up and rusty and Lyall hated it, tutted every time he saw it being used. "How do muggles live without magic?" he'd mutter.

Remus sat at the table. It certainly wasn't unusual anymore for him to be quiet and keep things to himself, but it was a surprise when he actually shared his thoughts this time.

"Mummy?" He began.

"Yes, love?" A pause. Remus was trying to find his words.

"Can I change my name?" Hope stopped buttering the now toasted bread and turned around.

"Do you want to change your name?" Remus nodded.

"Dahlia's a girl's name. I don't like it anymore."

"Well, what would you want to change it to?" Remus looked down. For some reason he felt a bit embarrassed.

"I like Remus," he said eventually.

"Remus?... Remus..." She tried it out. "It's nice." Remus smiled. "You definitely want to be called Remus instead of Dahlia?" Remus nodded again. "Do you want your father to call you Remus too?" Hope was worried about what her husband would say. So far he'd finally accepted the pronoun change, but a name change too? Remus, however, shook his head.

"Not yet. Just you."

Lyall returned home from work one day, clearly tense. Hope had asked what was wrong and all he had replied with was that his day had been stressful, and he declined to elucidate further. Remus was still up, reading a book on the sofa. Normally his father would have told him to go to bed, but his parents had been very lenient with him since the attack.

"What're you reading there, Dahlia?" was all his father asked, sitting in the adjacent armchair.

"Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," Remus replied, not taking his eyes off the page.

"Ah, good choice. Newt Scamander's a great bloke. Met him once, years ago. Bit odd, but there wasn't a single thing he didn't know about magical creatures."

"Like you?"

"Oh I just specialise in things like boggarts and poltergeists. Nothing compared to Scamander." Hope walked into the room then, fiddling about with an apron and clearly not focusing.

"It's getting late, Remus, you should go to bed soon," she glanced at her son, looked back at the apron and then froze, realising what she had said. Remus didn't move either, just stared at her. Lyall looked back and forth between the two of them, then turned to his wife.

"Who's Remus?" He asked. Hope looked awkward.

"No one, I was just... thinking of someone called Remus and it slipped out."

"Which someone called Remus?"

"You know... that muggle story. Romulus and Remus. Founders of Rome. Dahlia was reading it and it... it popped into my head." Lyall searched their faces. Fear was written all over both of them, clearly showing that they had been caught out, and Lyall wasn't an easy man to fool.

"You're calling her Remus now aren't you?" Remus flinched as his father reverted back to calling him "she". Hope didn't know how to reply right away, wanting to contradict him but not wanting to argue about the name Dahlia in front of Remus. She knew which option would be more beneficial to her son, though, but she was too late. Her consequential silence was enough to confirm Lyall's accusation. He sighed heavily. "I don't have time for this," he said.

"I don't see what the problem is, it's just a name—"

"Of course it's not just a name!" He stood up, his voice already growing louder and Hope could immediately sense an argument.

"Remus, go to your room," she instructed, and Remus wasted no time in getting out of there. He couldn't help himself from stopping at the top of the staircase, however, and listening through the banister.

"So this is really a thing now?" interrogated his father, as soon as Remus had left the room.

"I thought you had accepted it."

"How can I accept it?! I don't even know what this is! Why does she feel this way?! I was humouring her to keep her happy, because she's gone through something no child should have to go through, but this is going too far now and you're not thinking of the consequences."

"No, you aren't! Maybe if you actually did some research—"

"Did some research?! On a random phase our kid is going through?! How about researching how to cure her of her lycanthropy?! To stop her transforming every month, to stop her being ousted from society and actually give her a chance of having a future?! Because that's what I've been doing every. Single. Day. And I don't have time for this nonsense anymore!"

"It's not nonsense." Lyall put his head in his hands. "I've been doing some research, down at the library. People — muggles— are doing this new study on people like Remus—" Lyall raised his head to the ceiling at the sound of Remus's new name, as if petitioning some sort of deity to give him strength, but Hope was determined to continue. "It's an actual thing, it's not a phase. We need to take this seriously, just as serious as his lycanthropy because this is his future.

"He doesn't have a future... ." The room went quiet. Hope stared at him, aghast. Remus, meanwhile, felt his chest constrict. Too many thoughts were whirling around his head and he felt overwhelmed by them.

"How could you say that?" breathed Hope.

"We need to face facts, Hope. She won't be allowed to go to Hogwarts now, which means she won't get the qualifications she needs to work, and even if she does get the qualifications, she won't even be allowed to get a job."

"Then we raise him the muggle way. He can go to a muggle secondary school and get a muggle job and you can teach him magic when he's seventeen."

"The ministry won't allow us to send him to a muggle school. It's too much of a risk to the Statute of Secrecy. He'll be at an age when his magic is becoming powerful, but he won't be able to control it."

"So what is the Ministry expecting us to do?"

"I suppose... hide him away until he's old enough to control his magic." Hope stared at him, her gaze unfaltering.

"So we're supposed to cut him off from the rest of the world, muggle and wizard alike, until he's old enough to control his magic, and then he can't even get a job? Get a house? Get married?" Lyall nodded sadly. "All because he was attacked by a werewolf as an innocent child and couldn't do anything about it?" Lyall nodded again. "Then there's something seriously fucked up about the wizarding world," concluded Hope. Lyall didn't say anything. Remus felt a vague sense of dread. He'd never heard his mother swear before, so he knew the atmosphere had gone deadly serious.

"You're right," replied Lyall softly. Any anger towards his wife that he'd had had quickly dissipated. "You're right and I... I wish I could change things."

"Things won't change as long as people still think that all werewolves are nothing but soulless and evil creatures." Lyall flinched. Her shot had gone home, and Hope knew it. They stayed in silence for a moment, Hope just staring at him. He wished she would stop staring. Eventually, her gaze fell. "I'm going to bed," she stated. She left the living room, and Remus— who had been lost in thought for the past minute— was quickly shaken back into reality. He ran back to his own bedroom before his mother could catch him spying and dived under the covers, waiting for his mum to open the door to check on him.

Lyall was left standing by the fireplace, the last embers burning out within it. He sunk into his armchair, letting the entire conversation wash over him. He felt terrible, and all he desperately wanted was for things to go back to normal.

He stayed in his chair all night, and fell asleep at around twelve pm. Hope never bothered to check on him.