Sticky Symptoms
The alarm clock blares, digging knives into Remus’ ears. In an attempt to halt its blaring his arm spasms in the vague region of the clock. Smashing it to pieces.
He hears it more than he sees it smash into various sections. Slowly, he peels the duvet away from his head and his eyes land on the destruction of the used-to-be alarm clock.
Then it all comes flooding back to him.
He just about managed to stumble back to his street, eyes blurry and skin soaked in sweat, causing him to swiftly remove any and all outer layer of clothing, and immediately collapsed into his bed.
His eyes feel heavy and everything is way too loud: The kids downstairs, the people outside and the birds on the roof. For some strange reason he can hear the feathery flap of each of their individual wings.
Remus blinks.
He quickly comes to a conclusion; this is not normal.
Some weird cold this is.
Remus all but falls out of bed, landing in his pile of disregarded clothes from last night. As his eyes focus he spots a spider.
A spider curled up, unmoving, connected to the hem of his shirt.
Remus extends a hand and gingerly transfers the spider to the palm of his hand. It’s unlike any spider he’s seen here before at the orphanage. With long skinny black legs and an almost hazel brown body. Covered in… fur?
This day just keeps getting weirder.
Remus places the peculiar spider in a random vial he found in his desk. Still dissecting it when a shout from outside snaps Remus back to the present agender. He shoves the vial into his pocket. Wondering what the hell is going on, Remus decides to go to the one place he always goes to when in doubt of knowledge. The library.
Surely some book will reassure him that this is all a mundane reaction to the winter. Probably some rare variant of cold he caught from school.
School. That’s where he needs to be. Right.
Trying his best to act like nothing is amiss, Remus speeds through his mental list of school morning activities and makes his way hastily to the familiar gates of Hogwarts High School.
Approaching the buildings entrance he spots Sirius, James and Peter perched on a bench adjacent, huddled around a chess board.
He tries to speed walk past them but to no avail Sirius waves him over.
Remus grimaces as he nears, watching Peter absolutely demolish James and Sirius’ joint queen.
“Remus please help us.” James begs in his direction.
“Do not help them, its cheating.” Peter argues.
“You’ve already beaten us four time why does it need to be five.” Sirius moans. He turns to face Remus. “Please Remus help me would you. Your better at this game than me.”
“I’m only better because I practice more. If you played more you’d learn… maybe.” Then under his breathe, “You never know with you.”
“Thank you Remus.” Peter wins for a probable fifth time in a row, with a smile on his face. “Checkmate.”
“Right that’s it,” James declares, all three of then pick up their bags in synchronization. “Let’s get to Tutor.” Pete frantically packs up the chess board as James and Sirius start heading off without him. Remus rolls his eyes and reluctantly helps Peter with the pieces.
Remus calls out to their retreating backs, “Wait, guys. I- I haven’t done the homework for Flitwick yet, and it’s due first, so I’m gonna head to the library.” Sirius stops in his tracks.
“Your skipping tutor to do homework.” He asks incredulously, tying his black hair into a low ponytail.
Remus watches as Sirius reveals the alabaster skin of his neck. He wonders what Sirius would be doing in this situation. If that spider had fallen victim to the irresistible curve of Sirius neck instead.
Wait. No. What’s the spider got to do with this? Remus has just got some incredibly unique cold. And the books in the library are going to confirm that and then kindly inform him of the cure.
Remus realises he’s space out staring as Sirius’ neck. “Uh- um, yes.” He stutters to late.
James comes and pats Remus on the shoulder. He looks up at him as though he’s scanning for something. “Are you sure your feeling ok Remus? You still look slightly peaky.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just make some stuff up about me being late of something.” He shoos them off with his hands. Slowly backing towards the direction of the Library.
The last thing he see’s is each of them staring directly at Remus with faces mixed with confusion and… worry. Though Peters doesn’t last long as the chess board falls on his foot after attempting to shove it in his bag without looking. Remus winces as the sound of the wood colliding with the marble floor reverberates through his ears.
Once Remus gets to the serenity of the School Library he heads straight for the section on illness’. After collecting anything winter-related and rare he dumps his bag along with his stack of books on the table at the back of the Library. One shrouded by many shelves and is obstructed by carts of random books.
Remus opens the first book as the bell rings, causing his to jump and a sharp pain to flash through his forehead. He sighs, and begins searching for answers.
After an impatient fifteen minutes Remus rests his head, gently, against the current open book. Nothing even remotely links to his strange array of symptoms. It’s then, when he subconsciously puts his hands in his pockets when he feels it. The glass of a vial. He lifts his head and pulls out the vial. Staring at the spider, then back at the display of books spread out in front of him.
He supposes a little skim won’t hurt.
Remus replaces all the illness books and wanders wearily over to the animal section, then the insect subsection. He picks up one on spiders and flicks through until he sees one that looks similar to the one in his vial.
CAPULUS ARANEAE
The Capulus Araneae is a rare species of arachnid native to the dense wilderness of Scotland and Wales. Typically found beneath large tree roots or hidden amongst dead foliage, these small predators are easily recognized by their coffee coloured hourglass bodies covered in sensitive bristles [almost appearing fluffy], thin black legs and its two principle retinas as the front of its head leading to it’s four secondary eyes.
Though it’s majorly docile, if provoked the Capulus Araneae will use its bacteria infected fangs. Studies show once pierced, the bacteria quickly spreads throughout the bloodstream. If not treated quickly the infected may be subject to intense flushes, hallucinations, heart palpitations, rapid breathing which can ultimately lead to paralysis and in some extreme cases death.
The way in which the bacteria does this is by -------- ----- -- --- --- ----- ----
In a sudden panic Remus stops gripping the book, but it doesn’t fall. He takes a deep breath and slowly turns his hands over. As he suspected, the book stays unwantedly glued to his palms. He waves his hands around willing the book to fly off at any second. Luckily it does after the fourth or so swing, unluckily it seems to have, what seems to be, white string splattered across the front cover.
Now fully in a state of shock Remus switches between staring at the book and his hands. As he moves he feels something sticky under his sleeves. Moving at a snail’s pace, he lifts his right sleeve up and the blood rushes from Remus’ face. The same white substance is trailing out of his wrist. Out of a hole in his wrist. He pulls up his left sleeve only to find another string-trailed hole.
Fully disgusted Remus yanks the sleeves of his sweater down and begins to march back to his table. That’s when another non-hurtful-but-now-actually-possible-shocking idea pops into his head.
This all started happening after the trip to Lumos Labs.
Remus halts in front of the business section of the library and skirts around looking for the L’s. After some shuffling he finds it ; LUMOS LABS RESENT RESEARCH.
The sound of approaching people draw Remus’ attention. He decides its best if he reads this and has any more revelations he should do it back at the orphanage. So while he sneaks back to collect his back he avoids James, Sirius and Peter walking in and whisper-shouting for him.
With the book tucked in his arms Remus slips out into the corridor unnoticed.
With the book shoved inti his backpack, it’s all a rushing blur of shapes and colours, the frantic walk back to the orphanage. The swirling thoughts cease to stop. All Remus wants to do is go back to normal. Whatever normal is.
It’s eerily quiet when he creaks open the front door. Without hesitation he rushes up to his room and shuts the door.
He sighs deeply, running his hands through his hair.
Remus slowly sits on the oak floor, avoiding the prior mess of this morning. He mentally prepares himself for more chaos, if that’s possible.
The book surprisingly has little useful information, its main subject is that of its anti-virus developments, or it’s work to help those who are missing limbs or deal with other illnesses that effect functions within the body. Remus is starting to lose hope when he turns to the last couple pages. COMING SOON – LUMOS’ STUDY AND RESEARCH ON ARACHNIDES.
He rereads that last sentence, then the last word. Arachnid. To anyone else that might just seem like a unknown fancy word, but, after today’s research, to him that word translates to something else entirely.
Spider.
Just that subtle click in his mind opens the door for realisation. He is symptom of an incomplete investigation that even the top scientists have yet to understand. He is an anomaly that is isolated, left to question what will come of this supernatural occurrence, and how it will affect his body, spirit and even soul.
🕸
Moments pass by, whether swift or slow Remus doesn’t know. Sat in the centre of his nest, he sits. Unmoving, ruminating. His eyes stuck on a small eight-legged creature skating across the adjacent wall. It’s so ironic Remus almost lets out a dry laugh. Almost.
A fraction of a second goes by before an impounding pain exploits his head, practically subsequently a rapt banging erupts from his door.
The utter shock that jolts through Remus causes him to quite literally jump to the ceiling. He gazes as his hands stick to the cheap plaster. Some falls into his eye as it breaks away.
It’s not only the pounding in his head that brings his back, but the pounding coming from his door.
“Remus John Lupin you open this door right this second!” Comes the sweet but firm voice of Mistress Pomfrey.
“Um-Just a second.” He quickly responds, tugging on his hands. His feet dangle as he desperately pulls. It’s with a deep breathe he stops, only then does his feet crash back to the floor. He groans.
“Remus what was that? Are you alright? Open this door.”
“Will do- Just- Putting some clothes on.” He rushes around his room hiding books under sweaters and fixing his composure. With one last glace around his room, he opens the door. Arms crossed and hip leant against the door frame, he asks sarcastically, “Is your fist alright after all that knocking?”.
His feeble attempt at playing it cool is painfully obvious by Mistress Pomfrey’s face. Her eyebrows drawn together in suspicion. She tilts her head to peer round Remus’s lanky body.
As she barges past she questions, “Why aren’t you in school?”. Her face seems placid but Remus knows underneath is a simmering rage ready to boil. Hiding it behind the calm action of folding his t-shirts. It’s one thing he admires about her. The façade of calm.
She stops her rummaging and faces him. “Are you drunk?”
“What- No- Of course not.” He splutters.
“Then you have no excuse to not be in school.” She raises her eyebrows at him. Combined with the hands on her hips he can tell she’s not impressed. “Unless you can tell me a plausible reason.”
This is her being kind, she doesn’t do that often. Giving him an opportunity to explain himself. If Remus has any common sense he would explain everything to her right now.
His mouth opens to begin, but his eyes focus back on the spider on the wall behind her. So he stands there, mouth hanging open, secrets staying secret.
Pomfrey sighs, her face falls with something akin to disappointment. After gently placing his folded shirts upon his bed, she glides past him, muttering a small, “I’m going to the market.”
With that she takes her leave. Leaving Remus to sullenly contemplate whether that was the right decision. His head falls back, bringing his attention to the missing paint splotches that are coincidently shaped like his hands on the ceiling. He winces.