Chapter Text
He began his new life standing up, surrounded by cold darkness and stale, dusty air.
Metal ground against metal, and a pit formed in his stomach as the floor began to move. It was so fast it knocked him off balance and he was left on his hands and knees. He scrambled back until he hit a wall and stayed there, trying to stop the rolling of his stomach and hoping his eyes would soon adjust to the darkness.
The room swayed as it ascended, making loud and eerie sounds and chains and pulleys sent him further up. Burnt oil, livestock, and wood was all he could smell. But he still couldn’t see. He wanted to cry, but no tears came; he could only sit there, alone and waiting in the darkness.
My name is Remus, he thought.
That… that was the only thing he could remember about his life. He thought he must have amnesia or something because his mind functioned perfectly fine otherwise. He knew things, plenty of things. Boiling point of water? 100 degrees Celsius or 212 degrees Fahrenheit. Tallest point on Earth? Mount Everest. Lowest? Mariana Trench. Sixty-four multiplied by three-hundred-and-twenty-seven? That one took a minute, but twenty-thousand-nine-hundred-and-twenty-eight.
And yet he didn’t know where he was born, who his family was, or how he’d ended up in this strange room. He didn’t even have a last name. He tried to imagine them—his family—but when he tried to picture anyone, his mind came up with a haunted smear of features that roiled and shifted the harder he tried to focus.
The swaying of the room and its rancid smells didn’t bother Remus as much anymore. Not when his own thoughts, or lack thereof, were so sickening. He was there for a long time. He couldn’t since just how long, but probably under an hour. Wherever he was going must be high up, or where he was coming from deep in the ground, because he could tell the room was moving quickly. He was desperate to know where he was going and what was happening.
With a loud groan and then a slam, the room stopped. The suddenness of it all caused Remus to fly forward, away from his wall, and into the middle of the strange room. The urgency to find out what was happening was quickly replaced with fear of what he might face, but then time passed. A minute, then two.
Five now and still nothing.
Remus paced the dark room, thinking, but he was sick of thinking at that point, “Help!” He yelled into the darkness, voice rough and raw, like he’d already been screaming. It struck him then what he sounded like. Deep and confident. He couldn’t remember ever speaking before, so it was a shock to hear himself echo off the metal walls of the room. He screamed again, “Help me!” he rasped. He went back to the wall, a panic starting to rise in him, and started to feel for a door. He moved around the room, knocking into crates and containers, but he found no door.
A loud screeching started above him. Gears turning and metal grinding until a line of searing white light raced across the ceiling. It grew quickly, spreading wider and getting brighter as it did. Remus had to look away and cover his eyes with his hands because the light hurt so badly.
Then he noticed the voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying at first, but then it started to make sense.
“Shit, this one's tall.”
“He's got scars.”
“All skin and bones.”
They were boys, maybe men? He couldn't tell. Remus didn't even know how old he was.
A hand reached down into the room, hovering by the edge for Remus to take. He didn't. Remus slowly backed away from it, feeling like a caged animal.
“You think the new moony’s stupid or something?” One of them asked.
“Shut up Pete.” A new voice came. Seemed to be connected to the hand. Remus could see more clearly now. The hand was brown and then sun kissed from time outside with hard calluses from even harder work. He looked up and could make out the face of a boy, eighteen or nineteen, with a pair of broken glasses. “Come on,” the boy urged, sticking out his hand even further.
He ignored the mumbles of the other boys and slowly reached up to grab the hand. There was no way he’d be able to do anything while in the box. He had to get out, and at that moment the boy with the glasses was his way.
Other hands gripped his arms, shoulders, and torso to pull him up to the surface. Remus was dumped on soft grass. He wanted to stay there for a moment and give up, but the creeping feeling of being trapped still made his skin crawl.
Remus got up quickly, the boy with the glasses helping him, “Whoa, there Moony, easy, easy. The trip up is never easy.” The boy was still talking, but his voice faded into the background. Remus turned in a circle, taking in his new surroundings. There were dozens of boys, the youngest looked about fifteen and the oldest in his twenties. Beyond that, grass, a forest, a stream, huts, and the worst of all, walls. Towering tall above them, so high even the vines snaking up them didn’t reach the top. There were four massive doors on each of the walls, open, and he was in the dead center of all of them.
“So, you know your name yet?” The boy with the glasses asked, placing a hand on Remus’s shoulder. Without thinking Remus swung his fist hard into the boy's jaw and bolted. He sprinted as fast as he could towards one of the open doors.
Before he could even get ten steps he was yanked backward by the back of his shirt and slammed to the ground.
“Too slow, Moony.” A boy said. The one that’s asked if he was stupid. As Remus caught his breath a face came into view. Blond, pudgy, and looked like he had some serious secret muscles. Though, he actually looked sympathetic, and tried to help Remus catch his breath and stand up.
“What is this place?” He asked the boy, Pete, he thinks. He stood straight, feeling a bruise already forming on his back from the hard impact.
“This is the meadow. You’re safe.” Pete assured. He didn’t really trust it, but he didn’t feel like being slammed into the ground again.
“Damn, moony, you got a hell of a hook.” The boy with the glasses said, standing up with the help of a dark haired boy and rubbing his jaw. Remus didn’t really know what to say so he stayed silent.
The group studied him. Eventually some of the boys must have decided Remus wasn’t entertaining enough, and started to walk away.
Once the crowd had thinned, glasses spoke up again, “Let’s try this again. I’m James, that’s Peter, this is the meadow, nice to meet you. Do you know your name?” James asked, giving his best smile.
“Remus.”
“Well, Remus, usually we have rules about punching the living daylights out of someone, but we’re nice, so we’ll give you a pass this time.” The dark haired boy said. Remus turned his attention to him. Athletic, but slim, masculine, but with long hair, and smiling, but with an unfriendly tone of voice.
“Sirius, be nice.” James scolded.
Sirius turned to James with wide eyes and threw his arms in the air, “I am being nice! I’m not throwing him in the pit, am I?”
“You can practice your manners while you give our new moony a tour.” James said, pushing Sirius towards Remus, “Peter, come help me with the crates.” James said, lowering a rope ladder into the room Remus had come up in. Sirius rolled his eyes and started walking away, expecting Remus to follow. James sighed and shook his head, “Don’t try running off again, alright?” He said quietly to Remus. James had this pleading look on his face that Remus couldn’t just ignore.
“Yeah, sure,” He said before jogging to catch up with Sirius, who was walking towards some of the buildings.
“Alright Moony, this is the meadow.” Sirius said, raising his hands in the air and doing a half turn so he was facing Remus. He stayed quiet, watching Sirius’ little show, unamused, “Do you always look so sour?” Sirius asked.
“Can’t remember.” Remus said with a deadpan expression.
Sirius’s lips twitched into a smirk, “At least you’re funny.”