Chapter One: Bitten

The village of Merlin-en-coed, in Northern Wales, was an ancient magical dwelling. The village was composed of a grocer, a small church, a post office and flooing station, and several magical stores that sold everything form wizarding souvenirs, to potion supplies and wands. Recently, it had become home for several young wizarding families who had fallen in love with the at small town atmosphere ... it was the perfect place to raise a family. Everybody was friendly. Everybody knew each other. Nobody had anything to fear.

That was why Romulus (an Unspeakable) and Azura (a respected author and scolar) Lupin had decided to move away from the hustle and bustle of life in London, and raise their two sons – Curt, at age ten, and Remus, who was four – in an environment that appreciated the values which big city dwellers often forgot. Their house was one of the larger ones, placed a little ways out of town, flanked by an ancient forest on three sides, and rolling green fields on the fourth. The house was painted a cheerful yellow, with a gleaming white picket fence surrounding the property ... the perfect example of an English "postcard" home.

Merlin-en-coed had a small, one-room schoolhouse that Curt and Remus attended. Curt was one of the eldest children there, as every child over the age of eleven had been accepted at Hogwarts. Curt didn't mind ... In London, he had attended schools where there were boys that were years and years (and years!) older then he was. After attending this new school for a week, he had learned to love the feeling of control and respect he was given, but not the homework ... Mrs. Jacobs, the elderly school teacher, often called on him to recite long poems in Welsh – a language that he was having difficulties (to say the least) picking up - or write out long and complicated math problems on the old green chalkboard.

Remus, on the other hand, loved the world of education (something that Curt would never fully understand). It was his first year attending school, and was absorbing everything like a sponge would water. Sometimes Curt wondered how the five-year-old's head did not explode. In two months, Remus was able to speak fluent Welsh, write and read in English, and do math problems that Curt had troubles with. He adored Mrs. Jacobs, who often pinched his cheeks, and cooed about how cute the little blonde-haired-blue-eyed boy was. Curt would laugh at that. In his eyes, Remus was the last thing from being cute. He was much too small to be five years old, and skinnier then twigs. No matter . . . Adults always had a strange sense of what's cute and what's not.

It was a cool day in late October – Remus' fifth birthday, to be exact – and Curt was itching for class to end. It was a Friday, which meant that for the first time in five days, he was free! Free of the horrors of long assignments and embarrassing out-loud reading sessions.

Up at the front of the classroom, Mrs. Jacobs was talking in a quiet yet controlling voice. It had captured the attention of the oldest children (something that Mrs. Jacobs rarely could do), and held the youngest ones in a trance-like state. Curt hated to admit it, but what Mrs. Jacobs was speaking of horrified him. He had never liked studying magical monsters, but out of all of them vampires and werewolves were the worst. Sitting in the bright and happy school room, even saying the word werewolf was enough to make Curt run all the way home. It was taking every ounce of his courage not to start crying.

At one-minute-to-three, Mrs. Jacobs stopped the lecture and announced to the class that they were allowed to get ready to go home, and that no homework would be assigned over the weekend. Curt quickly stacked his chair at the back of the classroom, and then rushed up front to where Remus sat ... he always helped Remus stack his chair, as little Remus was unable to come even close to lifting it.

The class was dismissed, and the children ran outside into the weak October sunlight. The trees were half bare; the remaining leaves had become bright oranges, reds, and gold. The air was cool, and whenever Curt let out a breath a small cloud of fog would blow out of his nostrils. He pulled a heavy winter cloak and thick wool scarf over his robe before helping Remus do up the buttons of his muggle-style jacket. Curt then grabbed his brother's hands, and the two marched off down the cobblestone road away from the schoolhouse.

The trip home usually took a half hour to walk, where Curt and Remus would study the wildlife or review the day's lessons. Sometimes they would have fights in the fall leaves, or play a chaotic game of tag. Remus loved it when Curt played with him, and often thought of Curt as the best older brother in the world. Because of this, Curt took his position very seriously.

When Curt and Remus finally reached home, Mrs Lupin was standing on the front porch waiting for her two sons, singing 'Happy Birthday' at the top of her lungs. Remus' face lit up as he remembered that today was his day, and sprinted towards his mother, engulfing her in a bear-hug.

Ten minutes later, Remus was making his way down the stairs, donning the blue and silver robes of the Junior Boys Quidditch team he was seeker for. A mad grin was spread across his face. Curt, who was eating chocolate cookies at the table, could barely hold in his own excitement. All of the school children had been invited to the Quidditch-themed party that was being held that evening.

Remus climbed upon one of the kitchen chairs, and greedily began devour his after-school-snack. Mrs Lupin laughed, her blue eyes twinkling. "How was school today?" she piled more cookies onto Curt and Remus' plates, along with several apple-quarters.

"Alright," Curt said, spraying crumbs and milk in every direction. "We learned mulitipalton."

"Multiplication," Mrs Lupin corrected. "Good for you, Curt!"

"I read an entire chapter in my book, mum!" Remus exclaimed proudly. "And at lunch, me and John Thorsby frightened Eliza Brown with a newt!"

"John Thorsby and I," replied Mrs Lupin (only to be answered with a 'yah mum.' ). "What else happened," she asked.

"Mrs Jacobs taught us about werewolves," Remus said slowly. He whispered the last word, hoping that if any of the monsters were around, they wouldn't be able to hear him.

Mrs Lupin did not look happy to learn this. "Did she? And what did Mrs Jacobs tell you about werewolves, Curt?"

Curt went from a pale pink to ghostly white. "Stuff," he mumbled. "Like how're they're untrustworthy . . . and senseless monsters . . . and will eat you up in one bite!"

"I don't think that Mrs. Jacobs should be talking about that sort of stuff," Mrs Lupin said slowly, "She doesn't need to be scaring you children by telling you about monsters, or giving you false information. People always talk about how the world isn't acceptant enough, and how society should change, but then they go out and judge people when they've done nothing wrong, just because of what they are? It's sickening."

"Werewolves aren't bad," Remus said simply, not understanding a word his mother had just said. "They're just people who are sick!"

Curt snorted, also at a loss at the meaning behind Mrs Lupin's words. "Have you ever seen one Rem'?"

Remus' large blue eyes widened, "No!"

"Werewolves," Curt began, "are monsters! They're ten feet high, with seven-inch-long, razor-sharp fangs, and long pointy ears that can hear a pin drop a mile away!" Remus's color dropped several shades, but he looked Curt in the eye refusing to break his gaze. Curt continued, "They drink people's blood for dinner ... and not just on the night of the full moon ... And even when they're not hungry they'll kill people just for fun. They aren't people Remus! They're monsters!"

Remus did not challenge Curt's description. Instead, he stood and walked into the family room to wait for the guests to arrive. He was trembling slightly, though didn't know why.

After Remus was out of earshot, Mrs Lupin swooped down on Curt. Her blue eyes were burning with a furious fire. "Why did you do that?"

Curt was momentarily lost for words. "It's the truth though!"

"No, it wasn't!" Mrs Lupin snapped. "And, if I'm not mistaken, you've never seen a werewolf either. Don't judge people until you've met them."

She would have continued if not for the shout of excitement from the family room. The guests had arrived, and Remus had momentarily forgotten his fears.

The evening whizzed by in a blur of Quidditch, cake, and present opening. At some point Mr Lupin arrived with a new broomstick tucked under his arm for Remus (who had then paraded around the yard proclaiming proudly that it was a real broom, not a toy one). The children roasted marshmallows and hotdogs over the fire, and played games of exploding snap and tag - a strange but amusing muggle game.

To Remus' disappointment, the parents arrived to pick up their children what felt like hours too soon. After much begging, he had persuaded them to sit around the large bonfire burning in the back yard while the kids played a last game. All the parents agreed to this notion – eager to discuss what was happening in the magical world and have a cup of coffee after a long Friday.

The children organized a game of "Broomstick-Tag" (a game which Curt invented minutes before playing). It would have been perfect flying conditions if not for the cold: the sky was cloudless, filled with millions of softly sparkling stars, and only the faintest whisper of a breeze. The flawlessness of the night was only marred by the looming forest, which all the children avoided. Though the ancient wood was harmless during the day, the children instinctively knew that there were dangers lurking inside it a night that not even a full-grown wizard could face.

The game of "Broomstick-tag" lasted little more then ten minutes ... It had been a great success until one of the grownups looked towards the sky where the children were performing stunts that not even the bravest professional Quiddtich player would attempt. Unwillingly, the children collapsed in a circle on the grass. For a while they lay there, gasping for breath, totally silent, until William Gano, who had the reputation for being the toughest boy in school (and would be recieving his Hogwarts letter next year with Curt), spoke up.

"I bet there's a werewolf in that forest," he said casually.

Once again Curt felt the colour drain from his face. "No there isn't William!" he spoke the words more so to comfort himself then prove William wrong. "There aren't any werewolves for hundreds of miles. That's what Mrs Jacobs said!"

"Or so she thinks," William laughed. "You can never tell with werewolves. They're sneaky fellers, and totally untrustworthy ... You never know ... One could have slipped past the Ministry, and made a home in your forest."

"I don't think so," Curt replied quickly. The entire idea of a werewolf slipping past the Ministry of Magic was ridiculous! The British Ministry of Magic was the best in the world, and would never allow such a monster to get anywhere close to people.

"Still, that's a pretty scary forest," William sighed, looking into the black depths. "It must go on forever ... My dad's told me stories of the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, and all the things that live in it, like centaurs. Bet you have some living in there!"

"Do not!" said Curt, gazing up at the stars. He briefly wondered where William got his ideas from. "You're crazy William! Everybody knows centaurs only live in Scotland! There haven't been any in Wales for years and years!"

"But you still have to wonder ..." William mused. "Bet you're too afraid to go into it, Curt."

Curt blinked. "Not at night! You could get lost in there, and never be found again! Just because there's no werewolves in there doesn't mean I'm crazy enough to stick myself in a never-ending maze of trees!"

William snorted. "I thought as much. Well, anybody got guts enough to go into the forest?"

A murmur followed. It appeared that everybody agreed with Curt.

"I can't believe it!" William exclaimed after a minute, "You guys think you're all so tough, but you won't even go into the forest! You're all a bunch of little babies!"

Immediatly the party-goers began to protest against William's words, until a unafraid voice spoke above the angry murmers.

"I'll go."

Everybody fell silent, and slowly turned their heads to where Remus was standing. William had a smug expression on his face; Curt's eyes were bulging out of his head; everybody else was deathly silent.

"But only if you go too, William," Remus continued. "And if you're so tough, you go first!"

William rose from the ground, walked towards Remus, and extended his hand. Remus quickly sealed the deal with a shake. William turned, chest thrust outwards, and strolled towards the forest. Remus followed closely after him, and trailing were the other students.

With one great step, William walked into the woods ... and jumped out faster then you could say 'Dumbledore.'

Remus frowned.

"That was cheating! You didn't even go into the forest," he exclaimed, followed by twenty-nine other voices agreeing with him. William pouted.

"Fine! Fine! Just testing you," he shouted. Making sure the other children couldn't see his shaking limbs, William took a deep breath and walked into the forest. One step, two, three, stop ... William stood there for a moment, surprised that nothing bad had happened ... he had half expected something to swoop down and grab him for dinner. Confidence growing, he shouted: "Come and get me werewolves!" before backing out. Happily William excepted the praise from his classmates ... it was a great achievement.

William turned to Remus after several minutes of listening to the wicked, Will's and that was amazing's.

"Alright. Your turn. I went in three steps. You have to do the same."

Curt lunged out to grab Remus ... to stop him from entering the dark forest . . . Yet the newly-turned-five-year-old was too quick. Remus dove into the woods, hurtling past the measly five feet William had ventured, into the gloomy depths. Outside, the children clustered near the edge of the forest, which was deathly silent. Remus had disappeared into the darkness, and the light breeze was filled with the scent of an approaching doom. Curt whizzed around, and ran to the bonfire where his parents sat, screaming for help.

I soon realized my mistake. Head filled with thoughts of glory and fame, I had charged into the woods hoping to gain the respect of my peers ... something the youngest in a group rarely recieves. In a matter of seconds, I was surrounded by darkness, all traces of the "outside world" lost. Panic immediately blocked all rational thoughts in my head . . . All I knew was that I had to get out of the woods at any cost.

The forest was as silent as a graveyard, except for the sound of my small form tripping over logs and roots; breath coming out in shuddering, frantic gasps. I was only in the darkness for a minute - though it felt like a million years - when I heard it . . . A soft padding of feat against the soft forest floor, and a long low growl, which to this day echos in my mind. I instantly froze, my eyes searching franticly for the sound's source when a huge hulking body materialized out of the shadows like a ghost.

At first I thought it was a wild dog, but seeing the huge canines dripping with saliva, and the strange human intelligence that was almost hidden in its fierce yellow eyes I immediatly knew what the beast was. It growled once more. Careful not to move too fast, I slowly began to back up. The wolf cocked its head to one side, amused with the fact I thought escape was possible.

Mustering all the courage I had, I looked into the werewolves' yellow eyes. I managed to hold its gaze for a moment, knowing that I was about to die ... That I would never get to see my parents again ...That I was never going to grow up, go to Hogwarts, or get married ... I muttered several words, hoping beyond hope that they would not be my last: "Please don't."

My pathetic plea must have only annoyed the wolf. It jumped into the air, bringing me down with it.

Suddenly, I knew that pain was not scraping your knee, or a papercut ... In later years I would learn that it wasn't even the cruciatus curse, though it did come close ... Pain was the beast's teeth tearing through my flesh, ripping muscle, breaking bones. Madly, I began to hit the wolf with my small fists, screaming at it ... begging it to stop ... Praying that my parents would suddenly appear and rescue me from my fate ... I couldn't feel my left shoulder, and my right leg was burning with unseen fire as the wolf, not caring that I was still alive, had begun to chew upon.

Neither the wolf, driven crazy by the taste of my blood, or I, trying in vain to batter off the mad beast, did not hear the sound of a dozen feet bashing through the woods. All I knew was that out of the darkness, a bean of green light appeared, missing me by a mere inch, and hitting the wolf who fell dead on top of me.

I remember terrified voices ... the wolf's spiritless body being lifted from where it lay upon me ... my father's strong arms lifting me from the forest floor, forever stained with my blood ... I can rember thinking "I'm saved" just before the world went dark.

Little did I know that this was just the beginning.