The Marauders: Year Three | #Wattys2016

Remus

Remus

Lyall Lupin was at St. Mungo's within seconds of hearing the news. Tizzy the house elf spared no time in grabbing hold of his wrist and clicking her fingers and apparating them to the entrance to the hospital, squeaking and running through, shouting for her Master Remus, frantic. When Lyall, ashen-faced, followed Tizzy through the door of Remus's room, it was to find Albus Dumbledore seated next to the boy's bed in a chair, one hand holding onto Remus's as he slept and the other turning the pages of a levitating book. He looked up in surprize as Tizzy the house elf used Dumbledore's legs to climb up onto Remus's bed.

"Master Remus! Master Remus!" she sobbed, seeing the condition the boy was in, "You is hurting! Tizzy doesn't like it when you is hurting... Oh Master Remus, you poor, poor boy!" She wrapped herself around Remus's torso.

Dumbledore looked from the elf to Lyall in the doorway and the book dropped onto his lap neatly with a wave of his palm. Lyall's pale face was horrorstruck. "Dumbledore," he said, voice thick with shock, "What happened?"

Dumbledore answered, "It was a particularly potent moon cycle, it appears."

Lyall shook as he walked closer, setting himself down in a second chair that stood beside the bed, closer to the foot of it. Dumbledore started to move so that the father could be closer to his son and Lyall shook his head and stayed, stunned, further away. "He... he did this to himself?" Lyall asked thickly, looking at the thick, fresh scars where Fawkes's tears had mended the boy's skin as much as possible, including one scar that bridged Remus's nose.

Dumbledore nodded, "You know the nature of his condition. I've seen even worse attacks on oneself as a wolf... though it is rare. Only the strongest werewolves are able to resist a feeding frenzy on such a terrible moon cycle. Your boy is a strong boy, Lyall, that is what those scars represent."

Lyall's throat was tight with emotion.

A slight groan from Remus brought their eyes to his face. He was stirring a little - probably from the squeaky cries of the house elf on his chest - and his eyes slowly opened, heavily. Dumbledore squeezed Remus's hand reassuringly.

"Master Remus, oh Master Remus, Tizzy is here!" the little elf squeaked to him.

"So am I, Remus," Lyall announced, and now he shuffled with Dumbledore to have the closer position, rushing to grab hold on his son's hand the moment Dumbledore released it as he moved to the foot of the bed. "Daddy's here, Rey."

"Dad," Remus murmured thickly, his eyes finally focusing on the familiar face. He tried to move himself but the newly relocated shoulder was still stiff and one of his legs had been set into a thick white cast, like a muggle might have. He winced at the pain that shot up his spine from the movement. "What happened?"

"It was a bad moon rising," whispered Lyall.

Remus looked down at his chest at the sobbing little house elf. "Tizzy," he said thickly.

Tizzy heard her name and quickly sat up, crawling up to sit on the pillow beside Remus's head, her little hands on his cheek. "You should have called to Tizzy, Tizzy would have come!" she sobbed, "Tizzy would have helped her master!"

"I didn't think of that," Remus murmured, realizing that should've been the first name he called out when he had come to in the shack. Tizzy was the only one who would have heard him, and she was the only one whose name he hadn't thought of to cry out.

"Is you be thinking Tizzy could not help? Tizzy could help! Tizzy is a good elf, Master Remus, she is able to help you! From now on, if Master Remus is be needing Tizzy, he is be calling for Tizzy!" she exclaimed.