The Incident
Fenrir Greyback was a notorious stalker-serial killer that haunted the northern midwest. Everyone knew of him, his mug shot broadcasted daily on national news. Remus, in high school and preparing college applications, had heard of the man but didn’t take much notice. New York was far away from Greyback’s hunting grounds.
The stories were horrifying, and he sympathized with the victims and their families, but beyond that it felt like another reality. One that couldn’t possibly reach him.
It started small—a busted up car following him a little too long on his drives to school or work. Then, movement at night in Remus’ backyard, shielded by the forest that he disregarded as deer. Next, the neighbor’s dog began barking at 2 in the morning.
Then, Remus started noticing someone. They were always too far to identify, wearing a hat and hood that shielded their face. He’d catch them standing off in the distance as he walked into school, or leaning against a building as he drove passed.
A rational part of him knew it was a small town and visitors stuck out like sore thumbs. He didn’t need to make something out of nothing.
Odd scratches started appearing on the sides of his car. His cat, usually laidback, started jumping at loud noises and hissing at the darkened windows of his home.
Then, the notes began.
At first, they were harmless—falling out his locker when he opened the door or pinched under his wipers. The first few he disregarded as someone’s juvenile attempts at a crush. He’d even confronted Sirius, James, and Peter about it, convinced one of them were pranking him.
“Oooh, Moony’s got an admirer!” James said, sing-song. “‘You look pretty in the sunlight’, well, that’s awful sweet.”
“It’s weird.” Remus insisted, snatching the note from him. “Why don’t they just say it to my face?”
“Well, you are a little scary to approach, Moons.” Sirius grinned at him.
“I am not!”
“Please, you’re outrageously tall and scowl all the time. Any crush would be terrified by the idea of telling you personally.”
“I’m not mysterious.” Remus grumbled. “I don’t do anything.”
“I’ll bet it’s Conrad Creevey.” Peter chuckled. “He’s taken a few too many photos of you for the yearbook this semester.”
Remus groaned as his friends laughed.
——
Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew were his best friends. They met in their freshman year of Hogwarts Academy of Arts. The three of them came from wealthy families, and all had their own dreams of becoming artists. Sirius was in the painting course, James was studying acting, and Peter was in architecture. Hogwarts was for elite families, in which the cost of tuition was chump change.
Remus, however, was not of those families. His mother, Hope, had been a secretary at a law office before her death when he was thirteen. His father, Lyall, was a mechanic. They lived on the poorer side of town in a one floor house that sat along the edge of the forest.
Remus got a full ride to Hogwarts for his ceramic work, and the moment he was old enough, started working at the local library to help his father with bills.
Lyall didn’t approve of his son going into the arts. It was a risky career path with a stereotype of struggle. The only reason he’d allowed it was because Remus could network with people who could put him in good standings and steady jobs.
Lyall didn’t like it, and never showed much interest in Remus’ passions, but he kept his opinions to himself for the sake of their relationship. The two of them butted heads on a good day—Hope had been a calming presence, and with her gone there was nothing keeping the two of them from arguing over everything.
Remus met Sirius, James, and Peter while he was still reeling from the loss of his mother. They’d barged into his mournful world and breathed life back to it with their boisterous laughter and lighthearted pranks. It was after meeting them that he started smiling again.
All throughout high school, they were never apart except for classes. They ate lunch under the willow in the courtyard, spent the afternoons at one of their houses (except Sirius’). They spent so much time in each other’s presence that Remus felt like he’d known them for decades instead of a few years. They were inseparable.
And in that time, he started falling for Sirius. He’d known he was gay since he was a child. Hope had always been supportive and Lyall never said anything against it. Hogwarts, being an art school, had a thriving queer community where bigotry was squashed either by professors or the student body.
Remus knew he friends didn’t care. Peter was an ally, James was bisexual, and Sirius was the most flamboyant gay man Remus had ever known. Partly in rebellion against his bigoted parents, but also because that was just the way he was.
His loud and courageous ability to be himself was what made Remus fall for him. He carried a torch for him throughout high school, never able to muster the courage to tell anyone. Instead, he flirted lightly with different people, never getting too serious with anyone, but enough to leave them smiling after. Remus liked brightening their day.
He used to.
——
The notes were sparse for a while, and innocent enough that Remus didn’t take them seriously. A few weeks passed before his admirer started taking things a little far.
After school, another note was wedged under the wipers—this time, with a photograph.
His annoyance turned to shock when he saw what it was.
It was a bit blurry, and clearly taken through the window of Remus’ house. Sirius, James, and Peter had come over for a movie night, and Sirius had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Remus remembered the butterflies in his stomach, holding perfectly still so as not to wake him.
Scrawled on the paper were words that sent a chill down his spine.
He shouldn’t get to touch you like that.
Remus knew all of this was getting extreme. He still had no idea who could’ve been sending him the notes—Creevey had gotten transferred to a photography school in California and left weeks ago.
He only showed Sirius the latest message and the photograph. This time, he didn't tease him.
“Alright, that is weird.” He agreed. “And creepy.”
“What should I do?” Remus asked. “Whoever this guy is, he knows my car and my house.”
“I don’t know, Moons.” Sirius shook his head. “I don’t know if there’s anything you can do. Stalker laws are backward—you can’t do anything unless he does something to you.”
That made Remus nauseous.
“I’d make sure the doors and windows are locked every night.” Sirius told him. “And close the blinds.”
Everything got worse from there. ‘Pretty Boy’ was keyed into the side of his car, the screen door of the house was torn into. His father installed security cameras to try and catch the perpetrator, but had no luck until the fateful night.
——
Remus forgot to lock his window. It had been a surprisingly warm day for the back end of February, and he’d opened the windows to let fresh air in.
The notes and vandalism had stopped a week ago, which was why he put his guard down. His father patched over the words on his car and repaired the screen door. For that blissful week, Remus forgot about the situation entirely.
That night, he woke to the sound of someone shuffling in his room. Before he could turn on a light, a large fist struck him across the face, knocking him unconscious.
When he came to, he was lying in the forest. The damp ground was bitterly cold against his back. Remus realized was only in his boxers. His entire body was shivering. His head ached terribly.
“Mm, so pretty in the moonlight too,” a voice, rough and harsh, came from his left. Jerking away, Remus tried to stand but was knocked down by a heavy body. His kidnapper grabbed his flailing arms, pinning his wrists together in one large grip.
The hot smell of bad breath and sweat clogged his nose, making him gag.
“So sweet…so soft…”
“Get off me!” Remus screamed, thrashing and kicking. That was when he felt the cold tip of a blade against his throat.
“Keep screaming, and I’ll slice your throat.” The man snarled. Remus froze for a moment, stuck between compliance and resistance. The blade traced slightly over his skin, dragging down his chest and towards his abdomen. Then, the knife was back at his throat. His attacker set it on his chest, the point digging slightly into his chin.
Then it was a hand moving down his bare skin. Remus wanted to vomit. The man’s calloused fingers stroked as if he were a lover, with sick obsession and not faithful reverence.
He knew if he didn’t try fighting, this man was going to rape him in the middle of the forest. And Remus would rather die than let that happen. He refused to give this monster the satisfaction.
Just as the perverted hand was drifting towards the hem of his boxers, Remus sharply yanked at the grip on his wrists as he twisted his hips with more strength than he knew he had. The element of surprise on his side, the man became unbalanced, and he was able to rip his arms free.
Remus scrambled to his feet, slipping on wet leaves and tried to run. The man grabbed his ankle in the vice-like grip, and he fell back down on his front with a cry.
His attacker let out a roar of anger, and that was when the first wound happened. He felt the cold blade slice open his back, felt his skin split and his interior exposed to the brutally cold air.
Remus screamed. Another brutal cut, and another. Like he was a butcher and Remus a poor sheep.
He kept fighting, adrenaline racing through him. He kicked and crawled, the knife slicing through any part of him it could reach. At some point, he was flipped onto his back and the knife continued.
Remus kept screaming—he wasn’t in control of it anymore. The pain wracking his body was constant and blinding, but he never stopped fighting. He’d lost count of the wounds, he could barely feel the knife anymore even though he knew it was still hacking into him.
The last attack he did feel was the final one—he was overpowering his attacker somehow, and was wrestling him even as he felt his skin ripping open with every movement. In the pale moonlight, Remus just caught the glint of the knife before it struck him upside the face, deep and cruel, joining the others. He was knocked backward by the force, his bloodied back slamming into the ground.
Lit by the moon, his attacker stood above him, prepared to deal the final blow. Remus couldn’t feel his body anymore, he was beyond it. He closed his eyes, satisfied with the fight he’d put up.
Sirens.
When he opened his eyes, the man was gone.
Red and blue lights, shouting and the barking of dogs floated around his head. The adrenaline was fading as Remus faded. The trees above him were blurring into nothing.
His body, mangled and torn, lay under the moonlight. Cool rays danced over him in ghostly touches.
——
He was warm and whole. Ethereal white light danced around him, rimmed with a haze of color. Remus felt detached, separated from feeling and tangibility. The light reached for him quietly in the void, not pulling, just reaching. Waiting.
He took a step towards it.
The light changed. It was cold and clinical, florescent. The sharp smell of alcohol and sterility filled his nose. He was warm, but the ethereal light was gone.
Remus cracked open an eye. Everything was bright and hazy. Noises were distant—he was conscious and thinking, but still detached from his physical form.
“Remus?”
The voice rang louder than the rest, and the longer he was aware, the more sensations started filtering in. A hand was holding his, gentle and trembling. Moving his eyes hurt.
Lyall sat beside him, staring at him with wide, reddened eyes.
“—ad.” He croaked. It came out like a whisper. “Dad.”
Lyall let out a shaky breath, and held his hand tighter.
“It’s okay. You’re here. Safe.”
Nurses and doctors rushed in moments later, and the painful reality of Remus’ existence strengthened by the second.
Multiple wounds, internal bleeding, damage to the left eye, torn ligaments, stitches, physical therapy, does he had a therapist? Are they specialized in trauma? Here’s a list of contacts to consider…not sure of the side effects, painkiller every six hours, police wanted to talk…
To them, Remus was a broken body to fix.
But there was a part of him they couldn’t heal. There was no medicine to save a soul.