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Five-year-old Remus Lupin perfectly understands why he is in the basement.
His mother said it was a test you see, to find out if the scary man from a few weeks ago changed him in some way and here was the best place to be because it would make everyone safe. He didn’t think he would actually hurt his parents but from past experience, he’s learned that they usually know best, so he was going to do as he was told.
As he rolls his little toy car around in the dust he thinks over what his parents told him, that if some kind of change did happen it might hurt him a little. But Remus could handle pain, the other week he had cut his head wide open and didn’t cry at all – which he was very proud of himself for – and he was quite a heavy sleeper so he could probably sleep through whatever kind of pain came over him.
How wrong he had been.
Remus had been in the basement for a few hours when he felt himself start to grow tired and, after a few more minutes playing with his toys, he stood up to make his way to the little makeshift bed his father had made him for the night. He got about five steps towards it before a crippling pain shoots up his spine and with a loud cry he falls to the floor.
The pain continues for the next few hours – or is it days? – And he can feel sharp things tearing at his skin. He can feel the agony of bones bending and changing shape to fit into this new body that seemed so much different from his own. And once the transformation is complete, he can feel all his senses being attacked.
Remus could hear everything, the clunk of the next door neighbour’s pipes, the party the girl was having down the street and even the old lady across the road snoring. But, he could also smell everything, and it takes him a while to sort through all the different scents that bombard him until one stands out, clear in his mind. Meat.
He claws and scrapes at the door in a desperate attempt to break out, to get close to that mouth-watering smell, but his efforts are futile. After a whine of frustration he begins to attack himself, angrily scratching at his flesh and Remus comes to realise that the sharp things from earlier where his claws – where did his hands go? – scratching at his own skin, ripping at the flesh until it bled.
Five-year-old Remus Lupin woke up in the middle of the floor cold, alone and in ripped, bloody, clothes, fresh scars littering his sides and back. Despite his aching body he drags himself up into a sitting position and hugs his knees tight into his chest in an effort to comfort himself, tears slowly starting to stream down his face and all he can wonder is why was this happening to him?
Were his parents mad at him? Was it for something he did wrong? They said it would be safest down here, but Remus wasn’t safe, he was hurt and confused. He wasn’t a boy a few hours ago…he was…well, he was…he wasn’t sure what he was. He peeks over his knees at his hands and even though his vision is blurry from his tears he can recognise that they weren’t the sharp talons he saw with his eyes that didn’t feel like his earlier that night.
He buried his head in the space in-between his knees and only looks up again when he hears the door unlock and his heart thuds in relief when he sees his father. Pulling himself up, though his body screams in protest, he launches himself at his father, burying his head in his jumper.
“I-I’m so sorry.” Remus wailed, his little hands balling up his father’s jumper. “I didn’t mean to smash that plate – I’ll be more careful, I promise! Just please don’t p-punish me like this again.” It takes a moment for his father to return his hug and he lets out another sob as his father’s hands accidently graze over the cuts on his back.
His father stroked his hair. “Oh no, Remus you didn’t do anything wrong. This is my fault, daddy did something stupid and someone is punishing you instead of me. I’m so sorry my boy.” Remus peeked up to see that his father was also crying, and. despite the fact he didn’t fully understand what was going on, he could see this was also hurting his father as well as him - because his father never cries. Remus reached out a hand and wiped away a tear from his dad’s face like he had done with him the night that the scary man had shown up.
Later, after they had both calmed down a bit, his dad scooped him up gently so he wouldn’t press too hard on any of his wounds, he took Remus to the bathroom where his mother had a hot bath waiting for him, he noted that her face was red and blotchy as if she had been crying too. She gently bathed him and cleaned his cuts while the hot temperature of the bath made his eyes droop even further. Afterwards, his father took him to his room and got him into PJ’s before tucking him into his bed.
“Dad – wait!” Remus called, his voice scratchy from the crying and the screaming from the night before. His father stopped at the door, his hand paused on the light switch. “What happened tonight – will it happen again?” He asked, fear creeping into his voice. His dad gave him a sad look and for the second time in his life, he sees a tear fall from his father’s face as he gave him a small nod and it seems like a lifetime before he speaks. “I’m afraid so my boy.”
Remus barely has time to process it before he falls into an empty, dreamless sleep.