The Art of Hiding

Remus gazed up at the full moon rather disdainfully. Bloody thing. He'd cast a hex on it to make it fall straight out of the sky, if he could. How would the moon like things then, hm? Not too well, he suspected. Lousy moon. Why a giant ball in the sky controlled when werewolves had to endure transformations, Remus had no idea, but he wasn't about to cook up any farfetched theories. That sort of thing was not his forte, and it was something he truly preferred not to think about. Lousy bloody moon.

Maybe if there were no moon he wouldn't have to deal with this bullshit. He couldn't believe that those nice people at Hogwarts had built a house all for him, just for him to use once a month. Once he'd received the bite he could recall frenzied arguments between his parents, wondering how their little boy was going to be allowed to receive a proper education.

What Remus feared most was losing complete control of himself. He had to face his fears once a month, of course, and as a ten-year-old-boy he wasn't particularly fond of having to be locked up in the largest cage his parents could afford during his transformations. In a lot of ways, he thought, this new school would be preferable to home.

"We're not rich, Remus," his mother had tried to reason with him, sooth his sobbing outbursts of protest. "Ssh, dear, please," she said, rubbing her son's back. He was six years old at the time. Not one minute of that occurrence had slipped or faded from his mind. "We're not rich, sweetie. This way you won't get hurt, and you won't get lost." They lived in a muggle neighbourhood, the houses closely-knit as gingerbread houses and covered with a layer of crisp snow.

"I know it was an accident. I know, sweetie," Mrs. Lupin had said, as soon as she had heard her son begin to whine about being sorry for wandering out that day in the cold. "You're not being punished, darling, it's only temporarily, only for a little while, and then you can come out when you're all better again."

Remus remembered his six-year-old self, sniffling at his mother's attempts at making him feel better. He smiled ruefully at recalling his slightly smaller frame brighten at the prospect of getting a few new chocolate frogs as a reward, which his father had mentioned later that evening. That truly had seemed to improve things, at the time. But now, at eleven years old, Remus John Lupin knew that chocolate would not help things, it would not change things. It might ease the pain for a few moments, sure, but in the end... it did not change his condition. He was what he was, despite how much chocolate he ingested.

The chocolate route was never a bad one, though. Not a bad route at all.

Remus smiled in what could only be called a nostalgic manner. He was lucky that his transformation was sooner rather than later, and, for once, he didn't have to be bribed to crouch inside that little cage his parents had so lovingly reserved for him in their unfinished basement. He didn't want to have to transform within the first two weeks of term, having to deal with a completely new place at the same time as aches and pains of the change. One thing at a time, he thought. He could handle that.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sound of his mother's voice, calling him from the lower level of their house. Remus' bedroom was upstairs, upstairs with a perfect view of the moon. In the basement in his cage he couldn't see the moon, but that didn't seem to make much of a difference. He still changed.

When he was younger, he tried to hide from the moon. He thought that maybe, if the moon couldn't see him, he wouldn't change. Remus hid behind pillows, under beds, in cupboards, all to no avail. All he ever seemed to achieve was ruining the things that his parents had worked so hard to afford. The hiding had become less frequent with age, and within the past few months Remus' panic attacks before the transformation were deteriorating. Soon, he would be out of that cage. Things would be so much better, he thought. At Hogwarts, everything would be so much better.

"Remus, sweetheart, it's time for you to come down to the basement," Mrs. Lupin called.

He glanced out his bedroom window at the round, white shape of the full moon. The Harvest Moon. Wasn't that what they called it in August? He would have to check that.

"Remus!"

After stealing one last glance at the moon, Remus hopped off of his bed.

"Coming, mum," he said.

Remus had decided not to hide anymore.