Saturday 7th August, 1971
He woke up in the dark. It was too hot in the little room they'd put him in, being early August. Though he supposed that could be the fever. He always had a high temperature, the morning after. They used to put him in a room with a window, but a few months ago he'd been able to smash one of them, and if it hadn't had bars anyway then he'd have escaped. He'd heard them talking about restraining him as he got older. He tried not to think about it.
He remembered the feeling of hunger, so intense it transformed into rage. He remembered howling and keening for hours, circling the cell over and over again. Perhaps they'd let him off lessons today, and he could sleep. It was the summer holiday's anyway, and not fair that he had to do lessons when all the other boys were allowed to spend all day dossing about, playing football or watching telly. Sitting up, he stretched carefully, paying attention to every ache and pop of his joints. There was a fresh claw mark behind his left ear, and a deep bite in his right thigh.
He rubbed his hand over his scalp, where his hair was shaved very close to his head and bristled against his fingers. He hated it, but every boy at the children's home had the same severe buzz cut. It meant that when they were allowed out in town on weekends everyone knew they were St. Edmund's boys – which was probably the point. The shopkeepers knew who to look out for. Not that the boys themselves did anything to subvert expectations. They had been told so often that they were the dregs of society; left behind and unwanted – so why not cause a little havoc?
Remus heard footsteps at the end of the hall. It was Matron; he could smell her, hear her heartbeat. His senses were always amplified after one of his episodes. He stood up, pulling a blanket around himself despite the heat, and padded towards the door to listen harder. She was not alone, there was a man with her. He smelled old and somehow... different. A thick, iron scent which reminded Remus vaguely of his father. It was magic.
"Are you sure it's worth your time?" Matron was asking the stranger, "He's really one of our worst cases."
"Oh yes," The old man replied. His voice was rich and warm like chocolate. "We're very sure. Is this where you keep him during...?"
"His episodes." The matron finished in her clipped, nasal voice. "For his own safety. He's started biting, since his last birthday."
"I see." The man replied, sounding thoughtful, rather than concerned. "May I ask, madam, what it is you know about the young man's affliction?"
"Everything I need to know." Matron replied, coldly. "He's been here since he was five. And he's always been trouble – not just because he's one of your sort."
"My sort?" The man replied, calm and unperturbed. Matron lowered her voice almost to a whisper, but Remus could still hear.
"My brother was one. Haven't seen him in years of course, but he occasionally asks me favours. St Edmund's is a very special institution. We're equipped for problem cases." Remus heard the jangle of keys, "Now, you must let me see him first. He often needs patching up. I don't know why you wanted to see him after a full moon in the first place, if you already knew."
The old man did not reply, and Matron walked towards Remus' room, her patent leather heels clicking on the stone floor. She knocked on the door three times.
"Lupin? Are you awake?"
"Yeah." He replied, pulling his blanket tighter. They took his clothes off him to stop them getting torn.
"Yes, Matron." Matron corrected him, through the door.
"Yes, Matron." Remus muttered, as the key turned in the lock and creaked open. The door was plain wood, and he knew he could easily smash it during an episode, but it had been fitted with silver plating after the window incident. Just the smell of it made him feel queasy and headachy. The door opened. Light poured in like water and he blinked wildly. As Matron entered the room he automatically took a step back.
