Draw Your Swords - a wolfstar fanfiction

Prologue

September 1st, 1971

He woke up in his dark room, a ray of sunlight crept through the small window above his bed. He looked at his hands and fingers to find himself back normal again.

As he got up from his bed, he flinched out of pain and let himself fall back onto his bed again. A harsh sting rushed through his head, he only just now noticed how exhausted he actually was.

The young boy walked up to the mirror and stopped right in front of it, tracing his scars with his index finger. Day by day there seemed to get more. His transformations seemed to get worse as time flew by. He tried to see past the scars and comb his hair, but he could barely lift up his own arm. He moved the sleeve of his pyjama's to find his arm scratched completely. The situation repeated itself monthly, it was truly appalling. Though he wasn't surprised of the newly, incoming scars, the sight of it was enough to make him gag. Blood always made him nauseous, which was ironic for his kind.

When footsteps came directly to his door, he quickly hid the scar underneath his sleeve again. It was his father who opened the door, making the darkness disappear and replaced with the hallway lights that filled the room.

'Why won't you ever put on a light or open a window in here?' He asked, playfully. His father opened the curtains and was shocked to find them taped together. He didn't dare to ask.

The brightness of the sunlight entering his room made the young boy's scars even more visible. Though he tried his best to ignore them for the day, he couldn't keep his eyes off of them. He believed that all the other kids would think he's a freak. At least, that's what he always thought of himself. A freak. And his repulsive face wouldn't stop reminding him of it. Not a day went by where he stopped feeling miserable for a moment, not even for just a second. Only a short amount of time was necessary for him to get some rest. To forget about it. All he ever wished for was to be a normal kid, with a normal life. But he wasn't.

He liked his room dark, so he wouldn't have to look at his scars first thing in the morning. Even in the afternoons he still wouldn't voluntarily open a window or even light a candle for that matter.

'Are you nervous?' His father asked him, looking a bit nervous himself.

'Just a little.' The boy responded. He lied.

He was incredibly nervous. From this day on, he wouldn't have the protection of his parents anymore, he now had to trust on complete strangers with his biggest secret, and also his biggest holdback. He never thought it was possible, a monster like him, attending a school as fancy as Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He got dizzy only thinking about it.

'Alright, son, it's completely normal to feel a little overwhelmed.' His father patted him on the back. The young boy still hadn't taken his eyes off of his own reflection.

Looking at himself in the mirror made it hard to realise there once was an innocent, four year old boy in there, unaffected by the consequences of the bite; who lived a happy and peaceful live without having to go through the monthly wars against himself, as the eleven year old boy had to now; A boy with a skin unobstructed by the scars that kept on reminding him what he was, what he had become, a disgrace. Locked away from others with no continence, as if he was forced to do this to himself.

'Ah, I see. Come here.' His father sat down on the bed and indicated his son to sit next to him. 'You know, Remus, I think your scars look really cool.'

His father stroked the hair out of Remus' face to find him slipping a tear. The bottoms of his eyes were still red, probably from the crying he'd done the day before, and the day before that. Remus had heard what his father said, he just didn't believe it, he couldn't.