Memory of a Wolf

Memory of a Wolf

Chapter 1 - The Decision

Remus Lupin walked out of the Whizzing Whiskey Store, a small and crowded shop in which different kinds of whiskey were sold, into Diagon Alley. Life is so unfair, thought Remus miserably. No one would ever trust a werewolf. No one would care for a werewolf. Well, except for certain people. Professor Dumbledore was one of them. He was the first headmaster who allowed a werewolf to go to Hogwarts. Remus smiled at the thought. He could make friends in his own house tool. James, Peter and Sirius were the ones who did not stay away from him after they had found out what he was. Remus' eyes darkened and his mouth drew back to a snarl when the man, named Sirius, came into his mind.

That bastard! How could he do such thing to James and Lily! Because of him, all true friends of him were dead. Remus was glad that Sirius Black was thrown into Azkaban without a trail. A maniac who was crazy enough to kill his three best friends and thirteen innocent people! The murderer was probably more insane after he had spent four years with the Dementors. Serve him right, Remus thought bitterly.

"What are you staying for? Get out of my sight! You filthy werewolf!" Mr. Gilman shouted in disgust.

He was furious that Remus had not told him that he was a dark creature, and he had to figure it out on his own. It was not difficult to identify a werewolf, as long as you kept a close eye on the suspect's lifestyle. Remus often asked for sick leaves once a month. Therefore, our dear Mr. Gilman decided to pay his employee a sudden visit two days ago. The result was that the shop keeper practically fled after he heard a wolf's howling. He made a mental note that he would fire Remus the next time he saw him.

When Mr. Gilman was yelling, several people in the alley turned their attention towards the shop owner and Remus. They began to murmur with others softly and were throwing suspicious glances at Remus.

Remus quickly got out of the shop keeper's sight. He could not help feeling hurt. When would these people learn? Werewolves were at least part-humans! The dark creatures had feelings. They were sad, at the same time angry, because they could not stop themselves from turning to the horrible foul creatures once a month. Their minds were taken over by animal instincts once they turned to werewolves, and they knew nothing but to hurt and kill other living creatures. If they were not able to hunt, they would bite and scratch themselves instead. Remus winced as he unconsciously touched the self-inflicted wounds on his arm. It was a terrible memory. Waking up with a body that all ached over, and very torn clothing which could only be described as rags. Then the werewolf would find that numerous bite marks and scratches were present all over his limbs. And the worst of all, there were blood and bits of fresh inside his mouth.

Remus left Diagon Alley quickly, but he held his chin high even when people were throwing him disgusted looks. After all, werewolves were more superior to vampires. Vampires were soulless creatures. The soul of the human was somewhat twisted into a demon during the transformation. The demon was trapped inside the body forever, unless the body was destroyed. The vampires would do nothing but drinking blood. They simply thought that devouring life forces of organisms was extremely entertaining. The soulless creatures had never tried to resist the blood lust. Remus, being a werewolf, was at least a soul-containing creature. Although all he had was a shattered soul, Remus had tried not to hurt others. He locked himself in a secret place during the full moon. The outcome was dreadful, but he would rather hurt himself than biting other people's legs off.

***

A month had passed and Remus still had not found a job. After the incident in the Whizzing Whiskey Store, a lot of people knew that Remus was a werewolf. Whenever Remus asked for a job, he often got negative answers. Some polite shop keepers would say that he did not meet the jobs' requirements, while others just told him to get lost, and glare at him as if he was pest.

Remus ran a frustrating hand through his short, brown hair. He was running out of money! He did not fancy hunting in the woods- making him feel like his humanity was slipping away. He hated that feeling. The young man picked up the muggle newspapers he bought an hour ago, and began to read it carefully. He was going to find a new apartment to live in. the house owner had discovered what Remus was, and she had been raising the rent to force the werewolf to leave. Remus felt his lips curled into a smile when he found what he wanted. He used a quill to underline the important words, put the newspapers onto the sofa and started to pack his belongings.

The fresh ink shone brightly in the candle light. It highlighted the tiny paragraph very clearly:

A two-storied, 2500-sqare-feet house in Surrey ready for rent.

Location: Willow Drive, Little Whinging

Garden: included

Rent: 200 pounds per month

For those who are interested, please contact Mr. Green by phone (xxxxxxxx)

Muggles did not believe werewolves. They thought werewolves were only fantasy creatures.

No one would know his true identity.

He could start a new life in a muggle village. It was perfect.

Remus grinned to himself. He checked whether he had missed his own properties before he flicked his wand, changing the walls into a disgusting pink color. He was under so much stress recently, and he deserved to release it a bit. A sudden thought came to his mind. He had not done anything crazy since he was graduated from Hogwarts. He still remembered that he was the most inventive prankster among the Marauders. May be a little prank won't hurt a lot, he thought wickedly. He conjured a basket of green paint, and began to write some chosen words on the wall, using a rather large paintbrush.

IT FEELS LIKE SHIT WHEN I CHANGE MY FUR INSIDE THIS BLOODY HOUSE!!

Remus admired his work, but jumped a foot high when the front door clicked. The house owner there was trying to 'persuade' Remus to leave again.

Remus' eyes gleamed with mischief. He grabbed his bag in his left hand, and busied himself writing a note, which stated that he would never be back again. When the house owner entered the living room, the werewolf greeted her innocently, "How are you, Mrs. Smith?"

Mrs. Smith was shocked at seeing the sickly pink living room. Remus chuckled and waved his wand again. All the furniture and Mrs. Smith's hair sprouted sunflowers at an alarming rate.

"I send my best wishes to you, sweetheart," the young man said playfully, and disapparated as quickly as he could.

The last thing he heard was the angry shriek of a pissed-off woman.