The Seven Deadly Sins of Remus J. Lupin

The Seven Deadly Sins of Remus J. Lupin

Greed:

There is no snare like folly.

There is no torrent like greed.

"My father's built me a tree house," were the words that started it all.

They were spoken by Flavian Inglewood, a bossy ten year old who, superior to his friends by one year, considered himself much the wisest of the group. Listening to the words was the group in question: Fillip Inglewood, Flavian's younger brother, and a small, quiet boy called Remus Lupin.

The trio had spent the summer together and now in the last few weeks of the holiday were looking for new occupation. Flavian, always keen to extend his knowledge, had got his hands on several Muggle storybooks. His favourite of which documented the exploits of Muggle school children and from them he had learnt the joys of a 'Midnight Feast'. Keen to try out this strange tradition and having newly acquired the perfect place in which to situate it, Flavian now proposed the idea to his friends.

"Mum will kill us if she finds out," Fillip said. "There'd be an awful row."

"Well if you're too chicken..." Flavian replied.

This method of persuasion was always effective. Fillip, only eight, would forgo any terror to prove to his older brother that he was not "too chicken".

Flavian turned to Remus.

"Whadda you say Reams?"

Remus shrugged with a heavy heart. Then, despite all his misgivings, nodded.

"All right."

--------

It had been three months ago that Remus' father had forbidden him to go out after sunset on the night of a full moon. The reason, he'd explained, was simple; it was not safe. What Remus did not understand was why it was not safe. Throughout his childhood he'd heard tell of men who became wolves when the moon was full, but these creatures had never roamed the paths of his village before and he couldn't see what would bring them here now.

It all stemmed, Remus decided, from the day his father rushed home early from work. His mother and father had gone into the kitchen and shut the door. Sitting outside Remus had only been able to hear his father's grim, "He found out," and then his mother's muted gasp of, "Jonathan, no..." before all conversation continued at a whisper.

When his parents emerged at last, it was clear that the discussion was over. In the following days awkward silences and anxious glances descended on his house and Remus took to spending more and more time in his bedroom.

It was around this point that his father solemnly informed him that it was no longer safe for him to go out after dark. It was also around this point that his mother reverted to an old habit of ruffling Remus' hair absentmindedly whenever he was within reach. It was a habit he found most disagreeable. He was of the opinion that nine years was much too mature an age to permit to having one's hair constantly ruffled. However when he'd voiced his concerns to his mother she'd only smiled and told him that he was nine going on ninety, and then absentmindedly ruffled his hair.

This mollycoddling quickly began to stifle Remus and the constant stream of visitors his father received only heightened his sense of unease. He watched as his father greeted each and every one with that same anxious hopefulness and he saw, after they left, the same tired despondency lining his father's face as he came down for dinner.

And so with his mother's distracted pampering and a house filled with closed doors, it was not really surprising that, despite his father's constant warnings, Remus Lupin agreed to a Midnight Feast on the night of a full moon.

--------

The sky was darkening as Remus slipped out of bed, the moon not yet risen in a cloudy sky. Dressed in striped pyjamas, he pulled on a thick sweater for extra warmth and, collecting the stash of pilfered goodies from under his bed, slid his feet into stout walking boots.

Flavian had instructed him to escape the house the way they did in the stories, climbing out of the window onto thick vines and then sliding the rest of the way down via a drainpipe. But as Remus' windowsill was old and cracking and the window opened out, disappointingly, onto neither vines nor drainpipes, he had decided to leave the house through the back door instead.

But he was able to carry out the second part of Flavian's plan. Climbing stealthily over the Inglewood's garden fence he collected a few pebbles from the pathway and dutifully threw them up in the direction of Flavian and Fillip's bedroom. Most hit the brick wall around the window, but a few rapped sharply against the glass pane and a minute later Fillip's head, hair still tufty from sleep, appeared and grinning excitedly he waved down at Remus.

Soon the two brothers spilled sleepily out of the back door in a bundle of sweaters and carrier bags. It seemed the Inglewood's bedroom windows did not open out onto vines or drainpipes either.

The tree house was built in a sturdy oak at the bottom of the garden, a good distance from the house. A rope ladder ran from the ground to its entrance, and Flavian, it was decided, was to go up first. The other two then passed the food and drink to him before climbing up themselves. They left their boots at the bottom of the ladder.

Once the lamps were lit and all three were comfortably lodged in the available space, the refreshments and beverages were produced. Butterbeer was a substitute for the old Muggle favourite ginger beer and they ate Fizzing Whizzbees instead of tinned sardines.

Munching happily and curling up his bare toes Remus was filled with a glorious sense of mischief. There was something wholly satisfying, he decided, about eating chocolate in one's pyjamas.

When the majority of the food had been consumed Flavian brought out his prized possession of Muggle stories and, voices low, they tried out some of the choicest phrases. When Fillip remarked for the third time that the feast was "jolly wizzo", Flavian hit him over the head with the largest book and Remus, laughing till his stomach hurt, had spluttered out Butterbeer all over himself ("golly gosh, you awful prig").

Later, when even Fillip had grown weary of the words and had leant his head on Flavian's shoulder, Remus suggested that it was time to go home. Too tired to clean up the empty bottles and sticky crumbs they decided they would destroy any incriminating evidence tomorrow. They made their way wearily down the ladder, their limbs heavy with sleep. Jamming their cold feet into colder boots and saying their goodbyes at the bottom, before the two brothers set off to walk the short distance to their back door and Remus, a longer journey across the fields to his house.

--------

As he trudged through the darkness, feeling the onslaught of both stomach pains and a vicious toothache, Remus came to the decision that eating chocolate at night-time was not the great pastime that he had previously described. In fact, he thought, as the heavy nausea rolled through him again, it was a thoroughly bad idea.

He was just vowing never to touch the stuff again when the man blocked his path. Remus had been looking at his feet half sleep-walking and the shadow that fell across them had made him start in surprise. He was still sixty or so yards from his house and had expected to meet no one.

The man in front of him was not a comforting picture, stooped and gaunt with clawed hands and long fingernails. His matted hair fell over most of his face so that only one sharp glinting eye was visible. His clothes were ragged and ill fitting and there was something about his posture, his expression that reminded Remus of a wild animal. He remembered suddenly that this was exactly the kind of man they told tales of in the village.

The man regarded Remus slowly, a wide sneer revealing yellow, pointed teeth.

"You're Lupin's son?" his voice was deeper than any Remus had ever heard before, a rasping grunt, and the question it asked was sharp. But reassured with the knowledge that this man, at least, knew his father, Remus relaxed. He nodded.

The sneer widened and a tongue flicked out to moisten the lips, Remus could see the salvia glistening in the corner of the man's mouth and shuddered involuntarily.

"I've got a message for your father, boy. Do you think you could give it to him?"

Remus nodded again, but with less certainty. There was something not right about this man, he made the skin on the back of Remus' neck crawl and caused a sharp sinking in his stomach that had nothing to do with indigestion. Looking nervously over his shoulder he began to consider whether it would be possible to outrun this man if he sprinted away from him, back towards the Inglewood's.

But before he could move the man had stepped forward, placing one hooked hand on Remus' shoulder. The smell that rolled off him was overpowering that close, rawness and dirt and a bitter coppery stench that Remus couldn't quite place.

"You father's been a busy man this past year, been juggling a whole lot of balls. Looks like it's time for them to start dropping."

The man's breath came out in pants, hot putrid gusts straight into Remus' face. The heavy sickness in his stomach was now rising up his throat in a cold wave of fear. He couldn't help noticing the way the man kept on glancing at the night sky, the sharp eyes glinting upwards, but when Remus followed his gaze all he could see was a fog of black clouds.

"You see, your father's been meddling in things that shouldn't be meddled with. And I'm afraid you're going to pay the price. I want you to listen to what I tell you, boy, listen very close - this is the message I want you to give your father,"

The last words were accompanied by a sharp twisted smile, the eyes lit with a wild glow as the clouds parted and the man's face was bathed in moonlight. Before Remus' very eyes the man's form began to change, folding and stretching over itself, skin tearing over muscle that burst right through it. Already sharp teeth, elongating into fangs, nails into claws. And as the body ripped itself apart a voice came from its midst, a choking wolfish howl that hurt to hear.

"The message, boy: To Jonathan Lupin. Payback from Greyback."

The last name spilled into a howl so close and so terrifying that Remus had to cover his ears. Biting back sobs of fear he turned his back on the wolf in front of him and began to run. Blindly with no sense of direction, tripping over his own feet in his desperation to get away. And the whole time he could hear the pounding of clawed paws hitting the earth right behind him.

He could see a street lamp up ahead, surely if he made it to there then he could shout loud enough to fetch help. The pool of light was so close, a footstep away. And then he felt a rake of searing pain across his back as spiked nails ripped his skin. Something hot seeped down his spine and dripped to the ground, Remus rather thought it might be blood. He realised that he wasn't going to make it to the street lamp and that he wasn't going to shout loud enough to fetch help. But this was the last thing he thought before the weight of a wolf slammed into his chest and knocked him backwards.

Lying on his back, the air gone from his lungs, Remus began to drift away. Something had torn at his face and there was more of that hot liquid, dripping into his eyes and mouth, thick and bubbling when he tried to breathe. But he could look down and see himself beneath the animal, small and rather pale, face a mess of cuts and blood. It looked to him as though he was dying, but the good news was, he didn't really feel a part of it, he was... detached.

He could hear screaming and he understood that the noise came from him, he was not screaming words, he screamed pain and agony, sinking deeper and deeper into the sound until the blackness closed over him. The last things he saw was the wolf's head, angled towards his neck, teeth ripping and tearing at his throat.

--------

They found him in the morning, on the path behind his house, his blood pooled and congealed around him. He was taken to St Mungo's and stayed there for nearly a week. His father did not look at him for days and when he asked his mother why, she replied, "Shame."

One night, in the middle of his stay, Remus woke to see his father sitting on the end of his bed, and through the soft light of a burning candle he could see tears in his father's eyes, tearstained streaks lining his face. This man, who'd always taken suffering in his stride, sat at the foot of his son's bed and wept.

For years afterwards Remus believed that his father wept for himself, that Remus' injury, his ... condition, disgraced his family. He never spoke of it to his father and brought it up only once with his mother. She had told him,

"Yes, Remus, he wept but not because he was ashamed of you, he was ashamed of himself. He wept for the greed of a man that cost him the happiness of his son."

Remus never asked again.