Ephemeral

Remus thought about his mother. She wasn’t like anyone you’ve ever met. She was like a young woman trapped. Hope was an attractive woman who had aged prematurely, her face was soft but littered with lines of worry. Her hair had flecks of grey that disrupted the smooth mousey waves. She could have been an actress or a model but she gave her life to Remus’ father. 

He saved her life once. She used to tell a young Remus the story of how they met. His father played the hero but he was a disease killing her from the inside out. They were poor and happy and in love. A wedding down at the courthouse and the pub round the corner for a celebratory ale. Then soon after came Romulus, their baby boy. Now they were a proper family. Walks in the park pushing the pram, fish and chips on the sea front. Just a year later, baby number two. Everything Remus wore was a hand me down, but babies don’t know the difference. Walks on the beach, Sunday dinner in the local pub. Then it all just sort of crumbled. Romulus was still only little when he drowned in the garden pond. Hope hadn’t even seen him go out. But there he was, face down in the murky water. She’d asked her husband to fill it in months ago. That was the first piece he took from her. After that, she wasn’t performing her wifely duties and, as the man of the house, he took action. He thought the shocks would cure her depression. Twice a week she would go and return. Each time, another little piece is missing. Things got a little better, she finally started to recover and then Remus was bitten. That night, Greyback nearly took her second son. After that, Lyall became a drunkard who beat the woman he said he loved. He took everything she had left. Until he hung himself out of guilt. A gift and a curse. Hope discovered her husband swinging from an attic beam. Every fibre of her was gone. Hope did her very best to look after Remus. Even on a full moon she would do everything she could. But she was too weak. 


Still, she loved him and he felt safe around her despite outgrowing her at 12. There was a brown paper packet titled ‘summer of 71’ in her handwriting. They were good times, he thought, sliding out of the thin stack.



*A crumpled photo of Remus and Hope at the beach*

Hope drove a poxy 1965 Morris Mini-minor. It was the only car she could afford because it was large enough for the two of them. Remus had only been in a car a couple of times, usually his taid John’s when they came to Cardiff for a visit. Hope had moved into her parents' house while Remus was at Hogwarts. It was an old miners' cottage for which the mine had long since collapsed. Driving down the winding lanes, he thought about how he never got to say goodbye to his childhood bedroom. “I’ve been doing it up all nice”, Hope began. “My old room is yours, you remember it don’t you, from when you were little, I’ve put up new curtains and blue wallpaper, is it still your favourite colour?” She pushed his hair behind his ear.

“Of course Mam”, he smiled. It was actually purple now and he hadn’t been to that house since he was newborn, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“And I’m in your Nain and Taid’s room, it’s a lot nicer than the flat”, she told him. He never liked the flat. They moved there after his brother died. It was cold and dodgy. It was all Lyall could afford but it was still home, he never got to say goodbye. “And I’ve got a job”, she added, turning the corner into the village.

“Doing what?”, Remus inquired. Hope had been an accountant before she met her father and threw her life away. She was clever, but in recent years she could never find work. They lived off benefits and food stamps.

“Looking after the church”. Hope was a proper Catholic and she enjoyed working there. She was learning to play the organ for Sundays. Her life had been starting to come back together since he had gone. With him at Hogwarts, a burden had been lifted. “Look now, here it is”. She pointed to the only house that stood alone against the rows of new houses in front of him, as if he could have possibly missed it. They looked rather pleasant despite being so packed together. The doors and windows were painted different pastel colours on each house. Theirs was all stone and cracking in the corners. She mounted the curb and parked next to their iron gate. Remus got out of the car and ran to the boot to get his trunk.“I can take that”, she offered as he heaved it out.

“I’m alright Mam”,he stated. Reasuring her, “Promise”, they walked up to the gate. The front garden was overgrown and the path full of weeds. Inside the house it was bright and warm. He was immediately met by a coat hook in the hallway. Hope led him through the whole house. The front room furniture was all old and musty, the wood rotting, but the fire made it feel homey. The kitchen was small, very small, but it suited him fine. His bedroom wasn’t a box room like the last one. For once, he had a real room all to himself. His mother had done her best to make it nice. In the centre of the room there lay a light brown rug on the floor. His bed was adorned with brand new blue pinstripe sheets. It was much smaller than the one at Hogwarts, but it was still comfortable. The room had a small window facing the garden and an oak desk beneath it. Stacked high were all his taid’s books, his taid knew the best stories: old welsh folk tales, religious fables, adventure books, stories from the the great war.

“Do you like it cariad?”, Hope asked. She was looming in the doorframe watching him unpack his things. He said nothing, just stood up to hug her. She took him in her arms, wrapping him up tightly. Hope kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back. Her baby had been gone for so long, she lived and breathed for that boy. “Remus”.

“Yes Mam”.

“I think you’ll have to teach me the owls”, he laughed at this last remark, but it was a relief that he would not have to leave her again. 

That night she walked him to the butchers and pointed out every significant thing along the way. The cafe she visited on Mondays. The green grocers. The ice cream shop with every flavour you could imagine: vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, coffee, cherry, banana, cinder toffee. “Look Remus, there’s the church, I’ll take you tomorrow”. The butchers was compact and the counter spanned the whole front of the shop. She bought a 5 pack of sausages and half a kilo of ham. The butcher himself was a man called Gareth. He had the sleeves of his bloodied, white shirt rolled up, exposing the thick matt of hair covering his arms. It seemed as if it had come to life and he crawled from the top of his head to rest there. When he handed Remus’ mother the parchment parcel he took an extra moment to rest his hand on hers. Remus scowled at the man, noticing the gold band around his finger. Remus thought of Lyall and the women he would flirt with, while his mother sat at the table watching her husband’s tea go cold back at the flat. “Mam, I’m hungry”, Remus complained. It wasn’t technically a lie, he was in fact starving, but I’m that moment with that man he would have said any excuse to leave.

“Just a minute, love”, she replied, oblivious to his discomfort.

“Honey, he’s a growing lad needs his strength, but I’ll see you at mass”, the man chuckled. Hope smiled at him in a way Remus had never seen her before. It twisted his stomach into a knot that may never release. The walk back was quiet, Hope seemed to be in another world. Remus just felt angry, sweat collected in his balled up fists and he remained at least five paces ahead of his mother just incase she decided to speak to him. 

Remus stayed in his bedroom all evening. Hope called him down for supper; ham, egg and chips, but he took it up from downstairs to eat alone. It had been a long time since he had eaten by himself, there was no Sirius to correct his etiquette nor James to challenge him to an eating contest, nor Peter, who would sit and catch food in his mouth. Remus wiped his lips with his sleeve and left the empty plate on the desk. He skimmed the books looking for something to read. He regretted returning James’ book, for now one of his taid’s would do. The book he lifted was thick yellowed paper sandwiched between a leather-bound jacket. He skimmed through to find Gelerts story. It was always one of his favourites, Remus’, it was born right near here, in Beddgelert. Hope loved telling it to him as her father had told her. 

Gelert was a loyal and faithful hound to his master, Llewelyn, prince of Wales. One day, when Llewelyn went hunting, he entrusted Gelert to protect his baby. He returned home to find his infants cot upturned, the baby missing and Gelert’s mouth smeared in blood. The dog came bounding up to him excitedly. In a fit of rage and grief, he killed the dog. He pierced his side, the dog's yelp was answered by a child's cry. The prince then discovers his heir unharmed, near the great wolf, Gelert, attacked. But it was too late, the dog lay slain. Llewelyn was said to never smile again. Remus thought about the night he was attacked, how he wished he’d had a trusted friend to save him. Gelert deserved a happy ending. He did as he was meant to and saved the helpless child from the wolf. He fell asleep that night turning the pages of a story of an enchanted island invisible from the shore of Llyn Cwm Llwch.


Remus and Hope silently made up, no apologies or forgiveness, they just slowly slipped back into the regular routine. Remus met the priest in the church and went on walks in the woodland. On hot days, mother and son would get ice cream and people-watch. Remus met some of the village boys in church, they played rugby and took him swimming. Caernfon felt like home.

One Friday in August, Hope rushed home early. Remus tossed and turned in bed. His sheets were soaked in sweat. It would be his first full moon at home in a year. She ran him a cold bath and brushed his hair, but as the evening approached he became more restless, couldn’t even keep down food. “Love you’ve got to eat!”

“If I eat. I’m going to be sick again!” This argument was going nowhere. Remus was getting increasingly frustrated.

“Oh Remus darling,” she walked towards him, arms outstretched. Remus could feel the heat radiating from her. Pulsating and sickening. The beat of his heart echoed inside his head, banging side to side inside his skull. He could smell the blood beneath her skin.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Remus uttered. Hope recoiled. “I think. I think I have to go away now”. She wiped her hands on her dress, her anxiety was spiking at the thought of her son’s transformation. She led him outside in the pouring rain. There was a cellar beneath the house where Remus would spend the night. Hope opened the wooden hatch and the two were met with a foul smell. The stairs leading down were caked in a carpet of mud and there was at least an inch of scummy water pooled on the stone floor. “Shit Mam shit reeks”.

Hope clouted him around the ear, “Remus John Lupin should wash your mouth out with soap”. Remus dropped to his knees. He couldn’t respond. It wasn’t his mother's fault. Really it wasn’t, a strong wind could have blown him over. “Oh love I’m so sorry”. 

“It’s all good”. Hope heaved him off the floor and kissed his cheek, careful not to let their bodies touch. She left closing the hatch behind her. Her hands shook horrendously as she turned the key in the silver padlock. Before Remus had come home she’d purchased a thick chain and Remus suddenly felt very alone in the dark, damp, derelict shithole of a cellar. In the corner there was a rotting floral loveseat. He sat down to relieve the aches of his back, he rolled up his trousers, revealing a bloody welt on his knee. 

About half an hour passed and he began to feel the change. An intense burning started within him; first it was in his finger tips and toes, it crawled from his veins up into his legs and arms, it met in his centre. The fire melted through his skin to his bone. His eyes stung and his ears were ringing so loudly he felt as though they could explode. A cry of pain escaped him as the bones twisted and contorted. And then nothing. No pain or discomfort whatsoever. 

The wolf could see so well in the dark, the wolf could smell a rotting mouse in the corner, it could taste the prey who’s heart was beating just a meter above its head. It could feel power in every bone and muscle and fibre of fur. The magic radiated off it. The wolf felt good. 

The next day, Hope paid the fare to cross the Menai strait and they explored Anglesey. There was a lazy breeze meandering across the island. They picnicked on the beach and Hope even bought Remus a crabbing line. It was a brilliant day but by two o’clock he felt shattered. His bones felt like a quivering card tower. It was time to go home and rest. He stayed home for the rest of the week. Even when the boys knocked for him to come out and play. He didn’t mind missing out, they were nice, but they were not James or Sirius or Peter. And they most definitely were not Lily.