Midnight Thoughts
August 31st, 1971
That night, sleep eluded Remus. He lay in his small bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling as shadows from the trees outside danced across it. The room felt stifling despite the cool night air wafting in through the open window. His mind wouldn’t quiet, no matter how tightly he pulled the blanket around himself.
What if they hate him? The thought crept in like a whisper, but it settled like a stone in his chest. What if he slipped up and something went wrong? What if they figured it out?
The questions spun in endless circles, tangling with fears he’d carried for years. The faces of children he’d never met appeared in his imagination, filled with scorn and disgust as they pointed to the scars criss-crossing his arms and hands. He could almost hear the jeers: Monster. Beast. Dangerous.
His parents had always told him the world wasn’t kind to people like him. That was why they’d kept him so secluded, shielded from the whispers and stares of those who wouldn’t understand. He had never been to school, unlike other children. His lessons were given in the quiet safety of their home, far from curious eyes or prying questions.
He wanted to believe it was enough, but it hadn’t stopped him from longing for something more. In stolen moments, when no one was watching, he’d imagined himself surrounded by friends—laughing, talking, being part of something bigger than himself. He’d imagined what it would feel like to belong. But that dream always crumbled under the weight of reality.
They’d figure it out, eventually. How could they not? Sooner or later, someone would notice the days he vanished without explanation, the nights when he returned pale and trembling, his clothes crumpled and torn. They’d see the scars on his face and hands, the way he flinched at the touch of silver. The truth would come out—his truth—and they’d recoil in fear. Or worse, they’d hate him for it.
He turned onto his side, curling in on himself as if he could block out the thoughts clawing at his mind. He tried to focus on the faint rustle of the trees outside, the soft creak of the old house settling in the night. But it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm in his head.
He could still hear his mother’s words from earlier in the evening: You deserve this, Remus. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. She’d meant them, he knew that much, but believing them was another matter entirely.
Because deep down, he didn’t think he deserved it. Not the letter, not the chance to go to Hogwarts, not the possibility of friends or happiness. How could he, when the wolf inside him was always waiting, always lurking beneath the surface, ready to destroy whatever good might come his way?
His hands clenched the blanket tighter. Hogwarts was supposed to be a fresh start, but what if it wasn’t? What if it only ended the same way everything else did—with him alone, hiding from the world because the world wouldn’t have him?
The thought lingered, heavy and unrelenting, as the hours slipped by and the sky outside his window shifted from deep indigo to the faintest shade of gray.
Tomorrow would come, no matter how much he dreaded it. The train would take him to Hogwarts, to a world he’d only dreamed of—and a world he feared might never truly accept him.
For now, though, he stayed in the safety of his bed, eyes open and heart heavy, as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon.