The Stigma of the Werewolf
People looked in disapproval and shouted angrily at Sirius as he ran down the street, past all the market awnings that lined the main road, under the long clothing lines that stretched from balcony to balcony... His breath burned his lungs, but he wasn't about to slow down until he was certain that nobody was following him. His knuckles were white as he clutched tightly to the handle of the briefcase.
Finally, after running what seemed like eons and eons, Sirius stopped and dropped to the ground behind a very large dumpster, which smelled like rotting food, down a back alley. Sinking to his bum on the dusty ground and leaning back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath, the briefcase on his lap. He'd been there a few minutes when there came a knocking from inside the briefcase and he flicked the lock and it popped open just a teensy bit. Remus's eyes peered out, comical looking in their odd juxtaposition. Sirius couldn't help but laugh.
"What?" Remus asked.
"Your eyes."
"Glad to know you find my eyes funny."
"No, just... the way you're peeking out of a suitcase. It's rather funny."
Remus pushed it up a bit further and stuck his whole head and torso out, his arms resting on the frame of the case. "You've done it, haven't you? You got us away from that place." He looked around in awe, then smiled at Sirius, "Bloody hell, you're incredible."
Sirius shrugged, "It was nothing." But he couldn't help but swell up somewhere in his chest at the look of absolute pride and awe Remus Lupin was giving him.
"Yeah. Nothing. Right. Professor Veigler's already told us about the three centaurs you faced."
Sirius grinned. "Well. I mean..." his eyes sparkled and he shrugged, "Really, that was the Niffler that's saved the day against them..."
"We've already given the Niffler loads of shiny things as a reward," Remus replied, laughing.
"The Niffler gets a reward? What do I get?" Sirius asked.
Remus laughed, "I suppose you get me, seeing as I'm alive still and all."
"Best reward ever." Sirius leaned forward and kissed Remus as deeply as he dared, knowing Remus was balancing on a ladder and all. He ran his hands over his shoulders and cupped his face gently as he pulled away, "Absolutely the best reward ever."
Remus smiled.
Remus looked down, feeling Professor Veigler tapping on his leg and remembered what his purpose for coming out there in the first place was. "Oh. Right. Yeah. Sirius, Veigler wants you to trade places with him as he can disapparate us back to London."
"Right on," Sirius replied.
"Here." Remus got out the rest of the way so Veigler could emerge from the briefcase. Both of the werewolves looked very exhausted, their eyes bloodshot and dark rings beneath them, skin pallid. It was only a few days out from the real full moon and the effects of it had already been hanging over them but now after that moonstone ceiling it was much, much worse.
Veigler held onto the rubbish bin to support himself up. "Go on, the both of you... I'm afraid I'd splinch you if we disapparated together in this state, but the briefcase I can do." He waved for them to descend the ladder.
"You're sure you have strength enough?" Sirius asked, concerned.
"I must," Veigler replied, smiling sadly. "Besides. After all the bravery you've show already today, I think disapparating us all home is the least I could do."
Sirius said, "Really. It was nothing." He started for the briefcase, stepping onto the first rung of the ladder. Remus followed, but he tripped a little and Sirius flinched, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah..." Remus paused then, "You go on. I have a question for Professor Veigler."
Sirius hesitated.
"Go ahead, Padfoot, I'll be right there."
"Alright, Moons." Sirius ducked into the briefcase.
Remus turned to Professor Veigler, who looked tired, but interested, and sank to be sitting on the ground as Sirius had been before. Remus did the same, taking a deep breath. "Professor... I've been wondering about this a while now and I've only just thought to ask you..."
"Yes, Remus?"
"For awhile now, it's been getting harder and harder - the moon cycles. They make me weaker. Every moon is a bad moon, as my mum used to call it when I was little. And some of the cycles are even worse. I've nearly passed out on a couple of them... and it seems even on the waxing and waning my knees and bones ache if I'm in moonlight at all... Especially my knees and my jaw... and my eyes get so much darker than they used to..."
A sad smile crossed Veigler's face like flicker, "You're growing up, Remus."
"Growing up?"
"Yes," Veigler took a deep breath. "You see, when we're young, our bodies are still pliable, they're ready for change because they know we have changing to do. Our bones are softer, ready to grow and our skin is tight but flexible and our muscles are stretching and growing longer every day. Every day we transform, little bits at a time - even average, everyday people are changing everyday. So when the full moon comes, it's just one more change that our bodies make. The bones grow and the muscles stretch... we do things we're made to do then. Sure, it's painful, because they aren't made quite for what the full moon does to us, but they are made for changing. But then we grow up."
Remus stared at Professor Veigler with wide, worried eyes.
"We grow up and our bodies think we're done with the changing. Our bones harden as they reach their full potential and our muscles get tired of stretching too much. Aches and pains are typical for any grown person. There are loads of them that come - the back, the shoulders, the neck (oh the neck is a killer, invest in a good pillow, Remus). So when the full moon comes, Remus, it changes our bodies that aren't meant for changing. The moonlight disturbs joints and muscles and it wrecks havoc upon us."
Remus asked, "So it... it gets worse?"
Veigler sighed, "I'm sorry, Remus."
"Do werewolves ever... die... from the transformation?" he asked, fearful.
Veigler said, "I've never heard of one that had, but I would reckon you get old enough... very, very old, I mean... and I would imagine that kind of stress... Although I knew a werewolf once, in Fenrir's pack... he was seventy-six, a muggle man before his transformation... He was the Omega before I was. Fenrir didn't change him - he was changed when he was only eight, many many years before Fenrir Greyback was even born - but he'd fallen into Fenrir's grasp and was stuck there, much the same as I was. He was one of the only ones I trusted there. He was the only person I knew that understood me and that I could talk to about... my werewolfishness. I was so very, very thankful for someone who knew, who could understand, who had answers to questions I never thought I'd get answers to."
Remus said, "That's how I feel about you, Professor."
Professor Veigler smiled. "I'm very glad to be able to pass on the blessing, then."
Remus nodded. Then he asked, "What will become of the Charkorais birds now?"
Veigler replied, "I reckon Newt will take them back to Mr. Patra himself another time, once he is feeling better. He'll be wanting to apologize for the kerfluffle there today and patch things up with his friend as well."
Remus looked horrified, "He can't! He can't bring Burt and Ernie to that horrible man!"
"Mr. Patra isn't a bad man - no, rather he is a very, very good man who was raised in a culture that had very misguided understandings of people like us," Professor Veigler said. "It's very common in people his age, unfortunately. Not that it makes it right, mind you, but if every person who was prejudiced against werewolves were a horrible man, there would be no good men left in this world... As you know, Mr. Scamander once shared Mr. Patra's views - as did your father. That is how the Restriction Act got passed. It's how all the old laws got passed."
Remus shivered.
"That's the stigma of the werewolf, isn't it? Prejudice against werewolves was so ingrained in the past generations that you can hardly hate them for being misinformed; for that's what it is. Rather, we must press on, forgive them, and try, try, try to make the next generation better, try to heal the wounds of the past, and raise a generation of open minded hearts... Remus, one day, if enough of us try and believe and work really, really hard, the world will get better... and perhaps, by the time your children are old enough..."
"I don't intend to have any children," Remus said. "I'm not passing on this horrid curse to any children... I'm not. I could never forgive myself if I did. What a terrible inheritance!" Besides, he thought, It isn't as though Sirius and I could have children anyway. Bit impossible, that is.
Professor Veigler's eyes went very sad, "Oh, Remus, my boy... Please, don't deprive the world the blessing of having a bit of you alive in the world with them. Have many, many children, my dear Mr. Lupin, even if you must adopt them, and allow others to have the chance at experiencing the genuine goodness of your heart. That is what your children will inherit from you, Remus. Your heart."
Remus looked down at his feet.
Veigler ruffled his hair gently and Remus looked up at him. "May your love be passed on many generations."
Remus smiled.
"Now. In you go, into the briefcase. Your boyfriend's waiting rather impatiently, I'm sure, and I've got to get us back to London."
"Yes, sir."
They both got up and Remus climbed over onto the ladder and Ned bent down to close the briefcase. He'd nearly done it when Remus popped back up, "Wait. Professor Veigler?"
"Yes?" Ned asked.
Remus looked up at him sincerely, "Thank you."
"You're very welcome."
Remus disappeared into the briefcase and Ned Veigler locked it up and picked up the case by the handle, taking a deep breath, leaning back against the stone wall behind him, listening to the sounds of bustling city life echoing down the alley from the street. People going about their daily lives, oblivious of the drama that had taken place, unaware of magic and werewolves among them. Sometimes, Ned Veigler wished he was like them - blissfully ignorant. But then again, he thought, if it wasn't for his condition - the furry little problem, as Remus and his mates called it, he corrected himself with a small smile - then he never would've met some of the most extraordinary people... never would've met Newt Scamander or Remus Lupin... in some ways, he was thankful for his stigma.
He thought of that old werewolf, that man whose name he never knew - he knew him then simply as The Omega - and he thought of the hope that man had given him by understanding. He thought of the flush to Remus's face as he'd stared up at him with gratefulness just now... It only made the desire to make Fallengundur a real place... a place for misfits like himself, like Remus, a place that they could fit in... a place to bring hope.
There was a shout out on the street... and Veigler recognized Mr. Patra, pushing his way through the crowd toward the alleyway. He doubled his grip on the briefcase, hugging it to his chest and disapparated long before Mr. Patra could get close enough to see him there at all.