A/N: This is my first fanfic and I am amazed that I even managed to work out how to upload it, I'm so computer illiterate! I wouldn't call this story AU because the characters are all there, all still wizards and there will still be Voldermort and stuff. It's just Remus' backstory which (while we don't actually know much of it anyway) is totally uncannon-like-thing.... Oh, and the writing style will not be like this all the way through, just for the first chapter.
Chapter One: Rain on Asphalt.
The boy didn't remember it. When he tried to cast his mind back it got…hard, as though he were wading through treacle. Everything became distorted, dissonant. He was sure he'd had one once, he must of, but that had been Before and that no longer existed for him.
Whenever the boy was asked 'Where's your home?' the speaker crouching, hand on his shoulder, face filled with concern and a hint of distaste, he would look at them blankly before turning and running down the busy street. He did this on instinct; the people at the Scary Place had looked at him like that too. Maybe these people worked for them; maybe they'd try to take him back there.
There wasn't really a lot that the child did know.
He knew that he'd been bitten and that he'd been someone different before that.
He knew that the people who were probably his parents hadn't wanted him to come with them, come away from the Scary Place.
He was a curiously intelligent child and he also knew that the parent people hadn't lost him on the way to the home place but that they had abandoned him here.
And so he had been alone on the unfamiliar streets of Paris for three of the changes now. He'd been in the Scary Place for the first of these and he knew that those changes were bad.
They hurt. Alot. But that wasn't why they were bad. They were bad because the other, the one that fully emerged in those times needed to hurt people, which the boy knew was wrong. They were even worse because he knew that some small part of him enjoyed it when the other took over.
The men at the Bad Place had called him a werewolf. He'd never heard of them before, then again, he was only five.
The parent people had not taken him to the home place but he did not wish to return to the Bad Place either so he'd stayed where he'd been left, on the streets, or, more precisely, under them. He'd found a small hole that lead into a collapsed and disused tunnel system. The way in was big enough for a child to enter but too small for the wolf to leave. It was relatively dry and he had, thus far, been undisturbed by other vagrants.
He'd survived occasionally by stealing but more commonly by begging. He was a beautiful child; people pitied the beautiful ones. 'Waif' and 'Street Angel' he'd been called, he didn't care what he was called, he got to eat. The ugly ones starved.
The men at the Bad Place had been amazed that he'd even survived at all. No one that young ever survived the bite let alone the transformation. They'd called him their werecub. They'd laughed, apparently it had been funny, the parent people hadn't thought so though. 'How can you laugh? How can you say that his mind is untouched? He doesn't remember anything, not even us!'
The big doctor man had tried to calm them. 'It is miraculous that he lives at all, be thankful for that much. As for his memory, it is not uncommon for one so young. He has undergone incredible psychological trauma. Everything before the incident was erased in order to cope with the new personality that has taken hold.'
The woman had looked uncertain. 'His personalty seems the same…'
'And so it would, his mind is still basically humanoid, just as he is, at this time, basically human. He can remember all that he has been taught. To read and write, to do simple sums. His factual recall and analytical abilities are brilliant for a five-year old; he could have gone far, this one. A pity. But remember he is not human, not any more. There will have been changes to his character, small but they will become increasingly noticeable the nearer it is to the full moon.'
'What…what do we do?'
'That will be arranged in due course. In the mean time we have been presented with a unique opportunity. There's never been a werewolf this young before. There are so many questions that your boy can answer for us. How do werewolves undergo puberty? In one changed before puberty, how does the beast's sexuality develop? Why, by the time he reaches maturity he will have been a werewolf for most of his life. He won't know what it is to be human. Such a chance for research! He will become a true werewolf, not one of those sad creatures mourning their humanity, trying to ape people. He will, naturally, live with you for the majority of the time but we must study him.'
The boy, in his subterranean hideaway, moaned quietly and wrapped his arms around him as he slept, surrounded by the scent of rain on asphalt coming through the drains from off of the streets. A scent that, while pleasant to some, would for him only ever signify loneliness.