Little Red Cloak

Summary: "Oh yes, Remus Lupin knew, better than most, better than any boy of eleven should have to know, that the greater evils were not hidden by the darkness of the night, but by the darkness within the human heart." Sirius tells a scary story. Marauders era one-shot. (Technically part of the "Full and New" 'verse, but can stand on its own.)

Warnings: a creepy rendition of your favorite childhood tale, gruesome fairytale violence, Sirius Black being a prejudiced jackass.

A/N: Just a little "scary" story to get you in the October mood! Hope you enjoy!

It was raining again. It rained even more in Scotland than it did at his home in northern Wales, which made Remus Lupin rather happy; for as long as he could remember, he had always loved the rain. Part of this was a bias; even at the young age of eleven, Remus was an avid reader, devouring any book he could get his hands on. This caused him to be a bit of an indoor boy, and wet weather usually meant his mother's well-intentioned scheming to get him outside was easily foiled. But his love for rain went beyond his prejudice against outdoor activities; the gentle patter against the dormitory windows and the roll of thunder in the distance soothed his nervous nature, lulling him into a state of sleepy content.

His roommate, however, did not agree.

"It was a dark and stormy night," proclaimed a young boy by the name of Sirius Black, throwing himself down on his bed with relish. "This is the sort of thing horror stories are made of, lads. Four boys, locked up in a haunted castle during a storm– and in the middle of October, too!" Black was a spirited boy, very much given to flights of fancy– well, whenever he wasn't being sullen. Remus and the others had seen quite a lot of that during the first few weeks of term, and though they were pleased by the shift of attitude, they found it a bit much to handle at times.

"Come off it, Black; we're hardly locked up!" another scoffed. That was James Potter, as charming and charismatic as Sirius was energetic; one smile could make you feel as if you really belonged, one word of affirmation as if you were truly someone special in his eyes. For Remus, who had never really had a friend, it was both addicting and disconcerting.

Peter Pettigrew, the fourth in their little collection of contradicting personalities, merely sat down on the edge of his bed and watched the exchange; he was nearly as quiet as Remus himself, but generally a cheerful fellow, and seemingly as intrigued by the two black-haired cousins as was the tawny-haired boy in the far bed.

And of course, Remus had taken the far bed. Because it rained a lot in Scotland, and he liked the rain, and the window by the far bed offered a lovely view of the mountains and the forest, which looked lovely when all covered in mist and clouds. It was also because he was somewhat uncomfortable around these boys, especially the two loud ones, and he thought it best to distance himself, be as unnoticeable as possible. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of his roommates; their moods seemed to change on a whim from happiness to anger to mischief, whereas his moved more slowly, from quiet contentment to deep sorrow to unspeakable terror–

But it was a nice, rainy night, and the full moon was two weeks away, so he didn't need to think about that now.

The first three weeks of term had been miserable, at least for the four boys in the Gryffindor first-year's dormitory. It had been miserable for Remus because the full moon had fallen on the first Sunday after term began, and he was terrified that the other three would find him out (they hadn't, thankfully, but he was still on guard). It had been miserable for Sirius because, as everyone could tell by the Howler that arrived the next morning, his parents were none too pleased with having their eldest son and heir fall into Gryffindor house. This had made it miserable for James because, although his mother Dorea had been a Black, the Potters were somewhat estranged from the rest of the family due to his father's pro-muggle sympathies. Sirius, in an effort to prove to everyone (and to himself) that he was as Black as they came, had been rather insulting towards his cousin's family. And it had been miserable for Peter too, because the timid boy hated fighting. Thankfully, in the end, it had (mostly) worked out due to Remus's careful mediation, and life in the dormitory had settled into a relative peace.

"Relative" being the operative word, for as earlier mentioned, Sirius could be a rather enthusiastic person when he wasn't brooding. This had led to outbursts of pranking and play-wrestling whenever the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black felt life in Gryffindor tower was getting a bit too quiet. At the moment Remus was quite tired, and he hoped that such an episode wouldn't occur tonight.

The debate between the two cousins was still ongoing. "–The ghosts aren't really haunting though, are they?" James argued, arms crossed. "They're just sort of here; it's not like they're actually trying to scare us."

"Oh really?" Sirius retorted, arching an eyebrow in an aristocratic manner that no prepubescent first-year should have been able to pull off. "Then how's about you go to the Bloody Barron and tell him, 'Oh excuse me, Mr. Barron Sir, can I call you Bloody? Well, Bloody, hate to be a downer and all, but the truth is old buddy, you're just not that scary.'"

"Maybe I will," said James arrogantly. "I'm not scared of him, anyhow."

"Oh please, you are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not! Gryffindors are brave, aren't they? Well I'm here, and I'm a Gryffindor! I'm not afraid of an old ghost!"

But now Sirius's grey eyes had acquired a wicked gleam. "Oh you're brave, are you?" he taunted. "I bet I could scare you."

James snorted. "You? You're three inches shorter than me."

"Two and a half!" Sirius snapped, and then recovered himself. "I meant with a ghost story."

Now Peter spoke up, voice uncertain: "A ghost story?"

"Yeah– well, a scary story, anyhow. I don't know any about ghosts."

"I know a few," said James thoughtfully. "I bet they're scarier than yours."

"Then it's settled. We'll all go around the room and tell scary stories. Best one wins."

"But we've got class tomorrow," Remus said uncertainly. He didn't think it was a good idea, but he also didn't want to upset the others.

Sirius raised the other eyebrow. "Scared there, are you Lupin?"

"No!" Bookish or not, Remus was still a boy, surrounded by boys, and that meant admitting to fear was absolutely out of the question.

"Then get over here and think up something scary. You too, Peter."

The chubby boy scurried over as quickly as he could, while Remus approached uncertainly, sitting down on James's desk chair. "I-I don't know any scary stories," he stammered. It wasn't exactly true– he could think of one tale, at least, that was sure to scare the socks off the other three– but there was no way he was telling that personal little anecdote, not when he didn't even like thinking about it himself.

"You can go last then," James reassured him. "I have one about a ghoul; I think it's pretty good. Peter?"

"N-not yet."

"Alright. Sirius?"

"I'll go first," Sirius said eagerly. "Okay, rules: first person to scream, cry or run away loses."

The others glanced around and nodded, and he waved his wand at the lights, which flared and went out, leaving only the burning candles on the desk. Peter let out a little shriek of surprise, and then looked around at the others, blushing in the golden glow. "Th-that doesn't count."

Sirius smirked, leaning forward in the darkness. "I bet I get all three of you before I'm even finished," he vowed, "because this is the scariest story you will ever hear." Lightning flashed, and thunder reverberated through the stones of the ancient castle. "This is the story of Little Red Cloak."

Peter immediately let out a whimper. "N-not that one," he pleaded. "That's too scary."

"That's the point of the story, idiot," Sirius countered, rolling his eyes.

"Little Red Cloak? Is that like Little Red Riding Hood?" Remus asked, confused. He wasn't particularly fond of the story- the 'wolf' bits made him a tad uncomfortable- but it wasn't exactly a scary story, considering that it ended happily.

"That soft muggle story? 'Course not; the wizarding version is way scarier. My cousin Bella told it to me when I was six; said it all really happened, too." He shuddered. "Bella's a foul piece of work, but I have to admit, she knows how to tell a spooky story."

James still looked hesitant. "I dunno. I don't think-"

"What? Don't tell me you're scared, Potter," Sirius taunted. "I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave, or haven't you got the stomach for it?"

"'Course I do!" James retorted indignantly. "I'm not scared of some silly story!"

"Prove it, then. First one scared is a rotten flobberworm," Sirius grinned evilly, the expression seeming all the more sinister as the light of the candles flickered on his face. Involuntarily, Remus shivered.

"Once upon a time," Sirius began ominously, "there was a little witch named Little Red Cloak. Little Red Cloak lived with her mother on the edge of a little village. On one side of the village there were cliffs dropping down into the sea; on the other, deep, dark forest, filled with all sorts of frightening creatures." Remus could picture it: a tiny muggle village on the coast, with a small wizarding cottage at the edge of the forest. It sounded just like his childhood home "She was a very pretty, sweet little girl, but she had one fault: she was also very foolish. What her real name was no one knows, but she always wore a red witch's cloak that her mother had made for her, and for this reason, everyone called her 'Little Red Cloak.'

"One day in the late fall, Little Red Cloak's mother told her that she was to go visit her grandmother in the forest. Little Red Cloak's mother was a very good potions-mistress, and she had made a special potion for the grandmother, who was sick in bed with the pixie pox. 'You must go straight to grandmother's and back,' her mother said, 'and be quick about it, too. You mustn't talk to strangers, or stray from the path. And you must return home before dark, for tonight is the harvest moon.'"

Remus felt his heart skip a beat. The harvest moon, a full moon. A wolf. A little girl who had to be home before dark. Pray as he might that it was not true, he knew where this story was going.

"The little witch promised her mother that she would be good, and then set off for her grandmother's cottage in the woods. It was a lovely fall afternoon, and at first, Little Red Cloak followed the path just as she had been told. Halfway to her grandmother's cottage, however, something caught her eye: a beautiful clearing, and in the center of the field was a ring of magical toadstools. She hesitated, remembering what her mother had said, but she thought, 'I will only dawdle for a moment. Then I will go on to grandmother's cottage with plenty of time to get home."

Stupid girl, thought Remus despairingly, foolish girl. You mustn't play games with the full moon.

"So Little Red Cloak went to play in the field and the ring of toadstools. What she had not realized, of course, was that this was a fairy ring, and in fairy rings, hours seem to pass like minutes. When at last she left the clearing, she realized that dusk was falling, and now the forest was covered in shadows. She began to hurry along the path, anxious to reach her grandmother's cottage before dark.

"As she was going, she spotted a man some ways off the path. She remembered what her mother had told her about talking to strangers, but by now it was growing dark, and she was frightened and alone."

Don't, the werewolf thought to himself thickly, but of course, Little Red Cloak did not listen.

"'Excuse me, sir!' she called, and the man turned. Then Little Red Cloak became very afraid. This man did not look at all like the friendly sort of people who lived in her village. He had long, white teeth. He had long, sharp nails. He had big, yellow eyes, as yellow as the coming harvest moon. He smiled at her with an ugly, leering smile. 'Yes, little girl?' he said, and his tone was like the sound of claws on a chalkboard."

Peter let out a squeak of fright. Even James looked disturbed. Remus's heart was in his throat.

"'Excuse me, sir,' said Little Red Cloak, now not quite so cheerful, 'I am going to see my grandmother at her cottage down the path. But it is so very dark and frightening, and I was wondering if perhaps you would not walk with me? I do not like being alone.'" Sirius lowered his voice. "'Hmm… a cottage down the path, you say? No, little girl, I will not go with you. I have, er, business to attend to. But hurry along to your grandmother's house, and I am sure she will be happy to see you.' The man disappeared into the woods, and Little Red Cloak was again quite alone.

"Now feeling very frightened, she began to run to her grandmother's cottage. In the night sky, the yellow harvest moon began to rise. Little Red Cloak remembered what her mother had said about the harvest moon, and dashed the last few leagues of the trail to her grandmother's cottage. She was very much relieved to see that the candles inside were warm and glowing with light, and she knocked on the door."

Run, Remus thought desperately. He wanted to cover his ears.

"'Come in!' called a high voice, and Little Red Cloak opened the door. There sat her grandmother in her bed, dressed in her nightgown and sleeping cap. 'Hello, grandmother,' she said. 'I have brought your potion for the pixie pox.' 'Oh, never mind that! Come closer, dear!' grandmother called. 'Let me have a good look at you!' And Little Red Cloak drew closer.

"'Why, grandmother!' she exclaimed. 'You do not look at all well! Your nails are so long and sharp!' 'The better to comb your hair with, my dear,' her grandmother replied. 'But grandmother! Your eyes are so big and yellow!' 'The better to see you with, my dear.' 'But your teeth! Your teeth are so long and white!' And now grandmother growled, 'The better to eat you with, my dear!' And with that, the wolf gobbled Little Red Cloak right up!'"

Peter let out a small scream; James had gone pale. Remus wanted to throw up.

"Now you might think that, having eaten both Little Red Cloak and her grandmother, the wolf would be full. But this was no ordinary wolf, no: this was a werewolf, and a werewolf can never eat his fill of human flesh! So the werewolf went out and began to prowl through the forest, looking for his next victim."

Stop. Stop it. I don't want to hear any more. But Sirius continued.

"Presently, he came across a man walking down the path. 'Aha!' he thought. 'This one is a large human, tall and lean! He will make a good meal!' And he prepared to attack. But what the werewolf did not know was that this man was, in fact, a wizard. The wizard pulled out his wand and conjured up a silver axe. Chop! Off went the front paws! Chop! Off went the back! Chop! Chop! Ch–"

"That's enough!"

Remus started; for a moment he thought it was he who had spoken. Then he realized it was neither he nor Peter, but in fact James Potter.

Sirius blinked. "What's your problem?"

"That story is disgusting," James said angrily. "And you shouldn't be telling it."

"You didn't have a problem when I started out," Sirius pointed out.

"Yeah- well- well, I didn't realize you were going to tell it like that!" The other boy had gone pink. "Chopping him up- that's repulsive! Why couldn't the wizard just kill him normally?"

"You can't kill a werewolf normally; everyone knows that," Sirius scoffed.

"Well, there's no need for it to be so- so-" James struggled for words; in the end, he gave up and said, "Besides, you're frightening Remus and Peter!"

Remus glanced over to Peter; the boy had gone white as a sheet and was trembling violently. He knew he'd gone pale, as well, and his stomach felt like it was tying itself into knots. Sirius regarded them coolly. "Well? Are you lot scared?"

Peter squeaked. Remus nodded and swallowed, not meeting the Black's eyes.

Sirius was indignant. "Fine," he said testily. "Fine. Way to ruin a good story, Potter." He stood up.

"Where are you going?" James demanded, suddenly a bit frantic.

"To take a shower– if I can manage that without your criticism!" Sirius crossed the room and slammed the door shut, leaving the other three in silence.

"I think I'll go take a shower, too," Peter said quietly, and scurried from the room, leaving Remus and James alone.

Remus sat on the bed, unable to speak. His thoughts whirled blackly in his mind. You can't kill a werewolf normally; everyone knows that. And the poor little girl-

"Hey. Hey, Remus. Mate, you alright?"

He looked up, startled. James Potter was frowning at him. "You don't look well, Lupin. You okay?"

Remus nodded thickly. "I- um- I don't like scary stories." It wasn't even technically a lie.

James nodded. "Neither do I." His expression was disturbed. "That was horrid. I should never have let him tell it…"

"I've heard every wizarding fairytale in the book," Remus said lowly. "Even the Warlock's Hairy Heart. But I never... my parents never told me that one."

"I'm not surprised. It's not exactly a fairy tale, is it? It's a horror story." James shuddered. "I only heard it myself two years ago when I went to a summer camp… it was nowhere near that violent, though. I can't believe cousin Bella told him that when he was six." He grimaced. "Can you imagine ever doing that? Even to a werewolf?"

"No," Remus replied hollowly. "I couldn't." He hesitated. "In the muggle version- the woodcutter, he saves the little girl. Does the wizard…?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he cuts open the wolf's belly and pulls the girl and her grandmother out. Even so, when I heard it, the wolf was already dead."

The pair fell into silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Remus was feeling sicker by the moment. For all of Sirius's mistaken beliefs, he'd actually started to like the boy. But now… He swallowed and hugged his arms around himself. Sirius Black could never find out that his roommate was a werewolf. Ever.

And the full moon was only two weeks away…

Remus looked over at James, whose back was now to him; he seemed to be looking for something in his trunk, though the werewolf wondered if it weren't merely a distraction to occupy his hands. It was clear that Sirius couldn't be trusted, but James… how would James react, if he knew the truth? With fear and disgust, most probably– but then, he'd stopped the story, hadn't he? And the things he'd said… was it possible, after all, that he'd found someone who wouldn't hate him because of what he was? Then again, Remus realized sadly, he'd never find out. It wasn't as if he could tell James any more than he could Sirius; it was simply too dangerous. No, better to remain apart, to keep his distance, going to school here was a big enough risk as it was…

"You're not a pureblood, are you?" James said abruptly, turning around.

Remus blinked, startled. "How did you-"

"My dad and yours used to work on the courts together. Mentioned that your mother was a muggle." He hesitated, biting his lip, and then said, "…If I tell you a secret, a really big secret, do you swear you'll keep it?"

Remus looked as if he'd never expected to be the confidant of a secret, as opposed to the confessor. "I swear," he promised eagerly, leaning forward. "What is it?"

James chewed his bottom lip and glanced about the room nervously. At last, he sighed and sat down on the bed. "The reason I cut Black off tonight," he said unhappily. "It's not because you and Peter looked scared."

The werewolf had gone pale. "Oh?" he nearly whispered.

"No… it's…" He swallowed. "It's just– I don't think my dad would like it, if I'd just sat there and listened to that."

"Oh." Remus relaxed an inch– just an inch. "Really? Why not?"

"It's- agh. Okay. Like I said, you can't tell anyone, but-" He glanced to the door again, as if checking to make sure Sirius wasn't coming up. "My parents, they're not… they're not like other purebloods, alright? They don't- I mean, my dad, he voted against that awful legislation about muggle-hunting, didn't he? And my mum, well, she'd scourgify my mouth if she ever heard me saying the sort of stuff Black did!" Now that he was speaking, it all seemed to come out in a rush. "And it's not just muggles and muggle-borns, either, if they knew I'd just sat there and listened to Black spout off about half-breeds and-" He sighed and ran a hand through his black hair. "Look, you can't tell anyone."

"I won't," Remus hurried to assure him, and then added hesitantly, "…but… why not? I mean, if your parents don't like that sort of talk-"

"Blimey, how thick are you!" James cried, clearly distressed. "My dad's head of the DMLE; my mum was a Black! If people ever found out they were true blood traitors…" He shook his head again and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "You've got no idea what it's like, up in those circles. They're already on the brink of witch-hunting my dad for his voting record as it is. I just don't want to make things worse…" He punched his pillow with a vicious scowl. "And of course, I get stuck in the same house as my dear cousin, who's probably planning to tattle back to his parents about the latest scandal to the Black name as we speak."

"You seemed to be getting along well enough on the train," Remus pointed out. "Maybe he'll leave well enough alone?"

James laughed hollowly and lay down on the bed. "You've got a lot to learn, Remus. Families like the Blacks never leave well enough alone."

Remus didn't know what else to say to that, so he merely pulled his nightclothes out of his dresser and headed for the bathroom. The door opened to let out a cloud of steam and a scowling Sirius Black, dark hair wet and already dressed in his green silk pajamas. He didn't say a word to either Remus or James as he climbed into bed and threw the curtains closed.

By the time Remus returned, the room was dark, three sets of four-poster curtains drawn. No one spoke, but by the absence of measured, peaceful breathing, he knew that no one was asleep. A brief squeak came from Peter's bed as Remus shut the door, no doubt still terrified by the story, but other than that, there was no noise save for the tempest beyond the walls.

Remus retreated to his own bed, closing the curtains on two sides but leaving the third open so that he could see the window. Outside in the pitch-blackness, rain lashed at the glass, and wind howled through the trees. Lightning crackled across the sky, thunder rolling under the hills. For the second time that night, Remus shivered. Frightening fables were one matter, but he knew better. Oh yes, Remus Lupin knew, better than most, better than any boy of eleven should have to know, that the greater evils were not hidden by the darkness of the night, but by the darkness within the human heart.

A/N: So in this story, as well as in my Full and New universe, I hold to the idea that James's mother was Dorea Black, making him and Sirius second cousins once removed.

What did you think? Please review!