Diana: How can you defend a country where 5% of the people control 95% of the wealth?
Bruce: I’m defending a country where people can think, act, and worship anyway they want!
Clark: Hey, hey, hey, stop fighting. Now Diana, maybe Bruce’s right about America being a land of opportunity. And Bruce, Diana does have a point about the machinery of capitalism being oiled with the blood of the workers.
Imagine waking up from a nap on your couch to catch the empress of Dunwall crouch walking around your flat with an incapacitated woman on her shoulder and several of your kitchen’s finest food produce stuffed in her mouth
Shortly before Remus Lupin’s fifth birthday, as he slept peacefully in his bed, Fenrir Greyback forced open the boy’s window and attacked him.
Remus Lupin’s full bio, Pottermore.
This is a disturbing bit of information. A lot is said with so little, as is perhaps Jo’s hallmark, but imagine the implications here.
At this particular time, Remus is four years old. He is at the age where many children are sent to attend preschool, and he is able to finally play outside by himself, to eat his own food at the table without any help, and is highly intrigued by humor and makes “poo-poo” jokes just to be daring and self-confident–because he can, because he’s a big kid now. He’s at an age where he is less a toddler and more a true child. He’s more adventurous and daring, and begins to explore his own personality. Remus is a happy child who probably giggles a lot and jumps on the bed just because Daddy said no.
Many children do not remember things before their third or fourth birthday, but Remus is nearing five years old. Whether or not he would have remembered this event in it’s entirety, the event would have been lasting in his mind and Remus would be left with a glaring image that is neither complete truth nor total lie. For Remus, this event was almost surely the “beginning of his life.” In the strange way none of us remember anything before this breakaway point and “none of it happened,” Remus probably does not remember anything before this attack. This was both the literal and figurative birth of Remus Lupin, werewolf.
Moreover, the nature of the attack is clearly hinted at and the potential horror is astounding. Werewolves don’t force open windows. Paws cannot force open windows. This means that Fenrir Greyback had to have entered the Lupin household before moonrise, just prior to his transformation. He did it silently, because Remus fails to grasp at such a young age that the attack was purposeful. He wasn’t scared until the attack itself. But the noise level is irrelevant, because even if there was silence before once the moon rose it wouldn’t have mattered. Four-year-old Remus would be trapped in his bedroom watching a man transform into a murderous beast right in front of him, and although he screams as loud as he can if Fenrir had time to pry open the window he probably had time to block the door. Lyall can’t get to his son in time, whatever happened. And that kind of trauma is lasting. Whenever Remus goes to sleep now, he is terrified of the memory. He is plagued with nightmares. He is so sick because he’s so small, and he can’t possibly understand why.
Until it happens. Until Remus becomes the thing that haunted his dreams for a month, and nothing can fix that. Much of our personality is formed in these tender years, and the psychological impact of the attack would actually continue to affect Remus for the rest of his life. Not just physically, but psychologically, as well. More than nightmares and new fears, Remus must deal with the new reality of his parents constantly looking tired, constantly worrying, constantly moving around, constantly lying. And Remus can’t help but think it’s his fault, because he’s the sick one. If he wasn’t sick, everything would be better.
That one sentence in the expanse of Remus’ bio is as descriptive as much of the remaining text. And there’s something to be said in the end that Remus’ boggart was not Fenrir. It was not fear of the event that tormented him in childhood, but of his own lack of control during his loss of control. Whatever else the event could have continued to do to him, it didn’t dominate him. Being a werewolf was Remus’ life, of course. Everything he did came through that filter. But he did not hate Fenrir for what he was. He says that he pitied the man who bit him at first, knowing how it felt to transform. But Remus never openly hates Fenrir. He hates that he himself is a werewolf more than he hates the man who made him so, and that’s a huge sign of internal character. That’s who Remus really is when we cut through layers of stigma and self hate.