{1} The Marauders and the Whomping Willow ✔️

Chapter 1: The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Mr. and Mrs. Lupin of number thirteen, Wolf Street, were proud to say that they were perfectly strange, thank you very much. They were the first people you'd expect to be involved in anything weird or mysterious. At least in the eyes of the muggle-born.

Lyall Lupin was a world-renowned expert on Non-Human Spirituous Apparitions and a member of the Ministry of Magic. He was a clever shy man, tall and lanky with a pale face, light brown hair and soft green eyes.He had just returned home from a day's work at the Ministry to be greeted by his wife, who as lively as ever took his bag off his tired shoulders.

Her periwinkle blue eyes gleamed with the very thing which she was named for. Hope.

"Any luck?" She asked.

Lyall knew she wasn't talking about workings at the ministry. Ever since Fenrir Greyback had escaped under the noses of the Ministry (a grand oversight on their part) he devoted every spare minute in tracking him down. The ministry had no maintained the Werewolf Registry, thus they did not recognize the rogue werewolf. In fact, Greyback's filthy clothing and lack of wand were sufficient to persuade two overworked and ignorant members of the questioning committee that he was telling the truth, but Lyall Lupin was not so easily fooled.

He recognized certain telltale signs in Greyback's appearance and behavior and told the committee that Greyback ought to be kept in detention until the next full moon, a mere twenty-four hours later.

He could still remember them, pompous faced men laughing. Laughing at him.

Orion Black, a handsome man, a coward came forward and smiled pleasantly at him.

"Lyall, you just stick to Welsh Boggarts, that's what you're good at."

That was when he had snapped.

"You don't understand!" he had cried. "These creatures are the bane of our existence. They will do anything to satiate their hunger. Have you not heard the stories of children being bitten or eaten alive. I have a son and every time one of those stories come up on Prophet I see him. Don't you have two sons Black? You should understand my thoughts at a double. Think of what the kinds of him will do to them. Werewolves are soulless, evil, deserving nothing but death."

The committee practically ordered Lyall out of the room, the head of the committee (as he later heard) apologized to the 'Muggle tramp' and Greyback was released.

He shook his head and sighed.

"Remus hasn't been able to fall asleep." Continued Hope changing the subject as she adjusted sash on her white bathrobe. Lyall's eyes lingered on her. What he wouldn't give to have one night with her. "He insists on staying awake until you come home. He wants a story."

Lyall grinned. 

"Cheeky bugger!" He exclaimed making his way up the rickety old staircase to Remus's small bedroom that overlooked the sea.

Remus's bright green eyes looked back at him.

"Papa." He whispered. "There is a monster next to my window"

Lyall frowned. Remus had been saying that for a whole month. But there was no evidence of any monstrous presence. A childish fancy, Lyall had concluded.

"Remus there is nothing at the window." He said with finality. "Come one let me tell you a story."

Lyall was far too tired to notice the petrified expression on his son's face as he sat down at the edge of his son's bed and started.

"There once was a shepherd boy who was bored as he sat on the hillside watching the village sheep. One day he cried out 'Wolf! Wolf! The Wolf is going to eat me!'

Remus glanced back at the window and cowered under the covers. Lyall didn't notice.

"The villagers came running up the hill to help the boy drive the wolf away. But when they arrived at the top of the hill, they found no wolf. The boy laughed at them and the villagers left grumbling. The next day the boy called out again, 'Wolf! Wolf!' Once again the villagers came running.

Remus was still now a gleam of anger in his eyes. He recognized the story from the first time he tried to convince his father there was a dragon in the attic.

"When the villagers saw no wolf they sternly told him to stop lying. But the boy laughed at them.The next day he saw a real wolf prowling about his flock. Scared, he called out 'Wolf! Wolf!' But the villagers thought he was trying to fool them again, and so they didn't come.But at sunset, everyone wondered why the shepherd boy hadn't returned to the village with their sheep. They went up the hill to find the boy. They found him dead."

The story ended.

"Papa I'm not lying." Said the young child. The moral of the story had not gone completely over his head.Of course, it wouldn't have. He had heard it before.

"There is no monster! Go to sleep!" His voice was so stern and harsh that Remus clamped his mouth shut, his eyes watering with frightened tears.

Lyall wiped his son's tears away and soothingly he said:

"I'm sorry Remus. I've had a bad day. You know what since tomorrow is your birthday we'll go down to the bakery and you can pick out any pastry you want."

"How many am I allowed?"

"How old are you turning?"

"Five!" Exclaimed the little boy holding up five knobbly fingers.

"Five pastries it is then!"

"All to myself?"

"Yes all to yourself."

Remus gave a large grin before settling back comfortably into bed. Satisfied Lyall left the room.

———

There was a shatter of glass and ear-splitting scream mingling with the rough growls of a creature unknown. Lyall jolted out of bed, clutching his wand he raced up to his son's room. He kicked open the door and all he saw was his son's blood and the silvery grey fur of a werewolf. He didn't think twice.

"Crucio!" He cried.

It was unforgivable. But the force of it seemed to crumple the werewolf.

He raced towards his son with every spell he knew that would prevent the eventual lycanthropy. 

He heard another scream. The was another scream behind him. It was Hope.

Remus was unconscious and as the wolf slipped out of the window Lyall could feel his self-control slipping.

"St. Mungos," he said. "We need to get him to St. Mungo's."