The Marauders Year Five Part 2 #Wattys2017

Regular Children

Regular Children

Remus sat on the steps of Newt Scamander's workshop in his briefcase, watching Bradley, who was sitting on the ground colouring with wax crayons, scribbling out abstract-looking shapes in bright colours to represent the creatures that were roaming about inside the case. The Niffler stared from her nest, her bill twitching as she watched Remus carefully, interested in trying to snatch the Prefect's pin stuck to his chest at her first opportunity, her claws clenching. Bradley was drawing a loopy occamy, a long blue figure eight with purple squiggles along the back. He'd already drawn several stick-figure versions of Newt Scamander and Tina that were recognizable by their squiggled hair... Remus was sifting through the pictures when he came across one with people he couldn't tell who it was. He held it up, "Who's this one, Bradley?"

Bradley looked up. "Mummy and Da," he replied.

Remus looked over the picture again, "They look really nice."

Bradley nodded. He paused in colouring, putting down the purple crayon, and looked up at Remus. "I don't wanna talk about them."

"That's okay," Remus said, "I understand. I don't like talking about my mum and dad, either. It hurts to."

Bradley asked, "Are your... are they... are they dead, too?"

Remus nodded. "They were killed by bad wizards."

Bradley picked at the paper label on one of his crayons, ripping it off the little wax piece, and he said, "Mummy used to say wizards don't a zist."

"Don't exist?" Remus hugged his knees, "Well. I mean, a lot of mug-- people... a lot of people don't know we do." He studied Bradley for a few minutes, "It's sort of a secret."

Bradley looked up at him, "Are werewolves 'posed'ta be a secret, too?"

"Well. Most people don't believe in them, I guess. Sort of the same as they don't believe in wizards. Usually they're kept a secret because --" he paused. "I dunno, some of... of them... us... can be scary."

"Like a monster?" Bradley asked. He paused. "Am I a monster?"

Remus stopped talking. He stared at the little kid staring up at him with big round eyes and puffy little pink cheeks and he said the words he'd never heard when he was that small - hadn't heard, really, until Sirius Black. "No, Bradley. You aren't a monster."

"Are you?"

Remus looked away, unable to answer. He could see the shadow of Dougal, the demiguise, moving about in the hollowed out tree a few feet away. Dougal was being invisible. Remus wished suddenly that he could be, too, and he understood James's tactic of pulling the cloak over his head when he was upset and he made a mental note not to try to make him come out until he was ready to in the future.

Bradley finally got tired of waiting for an answer and he said, "My Da believed in werewolves."

Remus asked, "Oh?" His voice came out funny.

"Yup. Them woods is fulla werewolves!" He said this last bit in a voice like he was imitating his father. "Mummy didn't believe in them at first. But da did a whole bunch. Told lotsa people 'round the village a'cos my da, he saw the werewolves! He saw them over the river and da told people they was coming to the woods and the village people thought he was funny. Mummy was a'scared'a the wolves after that. We had lotsa 'tection on our house and they came anyway." Bradley looked sad.

Remus realized then that Bradley was sort of the same sort of victim as he, Remus, was. A father who spoke out against werewolves, resulting in a child with a halfmoon bite and a future controlled by the lunar cycle. His throat caught.