CHAPTER 04.
"The Lycanthropy"

March 9th, 1965 —
(Lupin Residence)

TW: mentions of blood, alcohol,
and suicide.

FOOTSTEPS PADDED against the linoleum floor. An excited Remus ran into the kitchen, his eyes wide with excitement as he eyed the cake on top of the countertop. Hope Lupin graciously walked in after, engulfing her son in a sweet embrace. "Don't touch that, Remmy!"

Lyall Lupin followed suit, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers. His hair was gelled back neatly, and a proud smile displayed on his face. He sat perpendicular to his wife across the table, "Did the Daily Prophet get here yet?"

"Not yet, honey." Hope replied, placing the tea kettle on top of the stove before making her way back to Lyall. She placed a chaste kiss on his forehead, replicating the action over to Remus.

"Daddy, can I open my presents early this year?"

Remus smiled mischievously, hopping onto a stool. "We discussed this," Lyall replied, crossing his arms. "You're only allowed to open one, remember?"

Remus bit his lip, a smile hidden beneath his disappointed gaze. "Alright, mum."

The flames of the fireplace lit the house with its warmth. If there was anything that Remus liked, it was being comforted by the friendly heat next to the hearth. He often spent many mornings sat by the fireplace, a mug of hot chocolate tucked in between his icy cold palms.

"Go on then," Lyall gestured to the gift on the table. "Open it up."

Scrambling to open his early birthday present, Remus tore the wrapping paper apart to reveal an emerald green box. Inside were four Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks. A smile spread across his face, his expression giddy with joy.

"Now you can get a head start whenever you get your letter," Hope hinted, squeezing the hand of her husband. "Letter for what?" Remus said, too preoccupied and dazed in between reading the words 'Defense Against the Darkest Art'.

He furrowed his brows, before running towards another gift. "Can I open this one too?"

In the evening, the Lupins took a stroll around the park. Remus stood between his mom and dad, both swinging him up and down gently.

"I love you both," Hope stopped to look at them. "I am so proud of both my boys."

Finally, remus glanced up at both of them. "We love you more, mum."

The night was eerily quiet, when a mystifying fog made its way across the yard. Owls hooted nearby, followed by a loud snap of tree branches. Lyall Lupin planted his feet against the floor, his expression filled with terror. He and his wife both shuffled down the dark hallway— concern visible on their faces, clearly alert.

Remus' cries didn't help the nerves building up their chests as they rushed towards his room, his tiny figure barely visible through the baluster. A loud crash followed suit, broken glass shattered amongst the second floor. "Remus!" Lyall cried, running up the steps to the second level.

It was until then that he was able to catch a glimpse of the perpetrator, Finrir Greyback, before a sheer pang of guilt struck him in the chest. "W-who is that?" Hope whispered, a shudder running up her spine. "A werewolf," Lyall murmured, launching himself forward to attack. "Get back to Remus!"

Hope nodded submissively, rushing over to four-year-old Remus. He lay unconsciously on the wooden floor with a bloodied scar over his left abdomen. "Lyall," Hope gulped, placing a hand over her mouth. "Get help!" She pleaded, before letting out a piercing sob. His body was pale and motionless within her grasp.

With Greyback no longer in view, Lyall ran into the room. His heart raced. He shifted his gaze between the floor and his son's limp body.

"No . ." he whispered, stumbling over to where his body lay. He fought the tears that threatened to escape, but to no avail. "My son . ." He said.

"MY SON," He repeated again, but louder.

For hours it seemed- both sat clutching him close to their bodies. They each exchanged glances, hoping that perhaps if they opened their eyes the second or third time, he would be awake.

Hours later, the ministry of magic had finally arrived.

Over the course of the first week, Remus recovered in the hospital wing. It was not known, whether one day he would decide to open his eyes, or simply lay lifeless in his hospital gown forever. Waiting made it difficult, they decided. It was not just the heart that ached for their son. It was also their minds that broke as well thinking of ways to get him back.

For days to come, Lyall Lupin would punish himself. If he hadn't insulted the entire clan of the werewolves, his son would be awake and enjoying his birthday today.

The next morning, Hope held a cup of coffee in her hands. Although shaky, she entered the room leisurely, the door creaking open in front of her. "Lyall. . ." She spoke, barely above a whisper.

Silence responded in his wake, his gaze fixed on the broken window in Remus' room. She sighed, turning back around, "I'll be in the kitchen."

Downstairs, Hope picked off the candles from a yellow-colored cake. She recalled the times that Remus insisted on a grey cardigan with slight tinges of yellow to it. Yellow and grey reminded him of soft, rainy evenings, and the lighting that flashed across the sky on occasional nights.

A faint smile pulled at the corners of her lips, but she refused to let it display on her features. Just then, a lone tear made its way down her cheek.

Back upstairs, Lyall avoided his own gaze in the mirror, having no interest in learning what it felt like to meet his own eyes again. It was as if that night had impaled itself into his soul; he would never allow himself a moment of peace again for what he provoked. And if Remus ever woke up, he would be cursed to be a lycanthropy forever.

During the second week, Lyall buried himself with work and alcohol. When Hope came home from the office, he was passed out on the sofa. He chose madness as a defense mechanism against grief. In the end, madness won. During the third week, Hope wanted a divorce. Lyall refused to sign the papers, so Hope took him to court.

At the end of the fourth week, Lyall hung himself in the basement of their home. He couldn't escape the madness that engulfed him in his dreams and in reality.

During the end of the fifth week, Remus had finally awaken. He learned very shortly of his late father, and of his mother— who chose to place him in St. Edmund's, a children's home for boys— as soon as she learned of his recovery.

Growing up at St. Edmund's proved to be very challenging. With endless nights of treacherous bullying, the boys made it incredibly difficult for Remus to live an ordinary life, as bizarre as it already was. In his room, or rather— cell, Remus was all on his lonesome. Regardless, he preferred to be alone than with the boys who loathed him.

The matron was no better. At every chance that she had to make his life more miserable, she took it. Remus once went without food for a full week; many kids feared her for this very reason. In fact, most children had the opportunity to go to bed with their belly's full. Remus had to go to bed with an empty stomach most nights.

—And on every full moon, an echo of screams filled the endless corridors of the institute. Every night, Remus had to endure his painful transitions alone. It wasn't until a mysterious man offered him the chance to attend a special school. And ever since, everything was better.

September 10th, 1976

Elora's eyes fluttered open, her mind reeling from the days events. In front of her, Jane flicked Kayla on the wrist. "Slytherin is definitely going to win! I'll bet you five galleons."

"You're totally off your knockers," Kayla retorted, before being shushed by Madam Pince, the school librarian. Elora placed a hand over her mouth, muffling a small giggle.

There was a loud commotion over by the entrance, and all three girls turned to see Peter and Remus arguing against Rosier and Mulciber. All three of them stood instinctively, making their way towards the boys.

"Why don't you go back to the loony bin," Mulciber chuckled, pushing Remus backward.

Remus formed a fist, his jaw clenching tight.

"Watch it," Peter muttered, before Rosier shot him a daring look.

"What did you say, mudblood?"

"What's going on here," Jane interjected, meeting the eyes of her housemates.

"I guess there's a couple of loose snakes in the grass," Kayla chimed in, "Why don't you go have fun elsewhere."

"Watch yourself," Mulciber barked.

They both glared at her, muttering curses under their breaths before making their way out.

Remus sighed, looking flustered at the thought of three girls coming to his rescue. "We didn't need your help," he spoke, a certain tone laced in his voice. "Looked like you did," Elora pursed her lips into a thin line. "You're welcome."

"Thank you," Peter said.

"Those two sapheads deserve to have someone put them in their place," Jane smiled. "I'm Jane, this is Kayla, and as you know— this is Elora."

Remus remained silent, while Peter straightened his shoulders, "Hi."

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