Dreary lamplight washed over a bed containing a too-thin fifteen-year-old lying flat on his back, left leg steepled, right leg perched across it bouncing rhythmically. His brow was creased in concentration, his eyes alight, focused on the slick comic book in his hands. If just for a few more minutes, he could continue to forget his own coming horror and brave the hazardous wastelands of Transylvania in the guise of super-wizard Eldon Ironwood, Vanquisher of Demented Evils. Utilizing his handmade magical gadgets and otherworldly powers, he'd terrorize vampires gone rogue, deathly pale monsters sinking their fangs into unsuspecting muggles to create bands of mindless minions under the control of Count Nightshade.
The stylized comic drawing moved, Eldon Ironwood brandishing the Circlet of Holy Light and punching it through a vampire's gullet. A white speech balloon appeared as he finished up with a shot from his wand—Back to the Darkness, monstrous abomination! He stole into the temple, emptied of lackeys, and into its very center. A svelte feminine figure clothed in white writhed on a dais. No! Not his love. Not his darling. Not Misty Goldheart. A screeching bat dived in from the left of the current frame, hovering in front of the altar. Its form morphed and another bubble popped up—Ha ha ha! You are too late! The transformation completed and Count Nigthshade rushed to the dais, his mouth open wide, fangs protruding. Misty screamed. Eldon Ironwood shouted a spell and grew larger, muscles bursting from his shirt, a shining white glow spiraling around his body, eyes shooting yellow, burning beams. He launched himself across the distance…
Remus dropped his bouncing leg and sat up, the comic he'd been reading falling to the bed, closing to reveal a cover boasting a red robed wizard slamming an electric stake through the heart of an ethereal fanged creature. The shudders had started minutes ago, but a burning pain originating from his stomach had jolted him upright. He cursed and jumped up from the bed, yanking his shirt over his head, throwing off his trousers, and finally flinging his pants onto the clothing pile. He swiped his wand off the nearby dresser and raced across the room, uncomfortably naked in its chill draft, then bounded into the hall, twirling round to slam shut the door to his private sanctuary. "Colloportus!" he muttered, and the entrance sealed with an odd squelching sound. He shoved his wand behind an iron knight in the hall. The statue, being bolted to the floor, could withstand any assault and had protected his wand the last four years.
Remus hurriedly took the stairs to the lower floor, rushing through a room that had once resembled a fashionable parlor until it had been bashed and smashed, every piece of furniture bearing signs of vicious assault. He skidded to a halt in a room meant to be a dining area, though it contained neither table nor chairs. Even so, it bore signs of destruction as well—ripped, striped rose wallpaper, gouged and scratched wood flooring, boarded up windows. Rumors of ghosts inhabiting the house had begun only two months after he'd first come here, but there was only him. Always him.
Remus slowly spun, taking in the shredded room. Each month he did this. Here, and in the parlor, and all over the house. Early on he'd tried his best to clean up afterwards, use any spells he knew to eliminate the evidence, but after a time gave up. What was the point? He'd just destroy it all again the next time.
Another jolting pain and his bones began to ache. Remus sank to his knees and screwed his eyes shut. It was always the same, the monster emerging, howling with laughter as it ravished his body to fill its own bloodthirsty desires. Just once, couldn't he transform into the hero instead of the villain? Just for tonight? Please?
His bones cracked. He whimpered, doubling over, forehead to the floor. They never broke, not usually, but that sound, the fracturing, it rang in his ears each time. He pinned his lips together and clenched his teeth as his bones stretched, twisted, and popped, rearranging human flesh. Fur sprouted, jutting pinpoints of fire bursting through sensitive skin. Remus writhed, rocking forwards and back, fighting not to let the beast win this time, not to hear the inevitable moaning call. He seized, quivered, flailed for a few more seconds, then failed. An anguished howl pierced the night. All fear dropped away.
The beast that had swallowed him whole rose to its four paws, shaking out the last vestiges of ache, and paced hungrily back and forth. It inhaled a huffing, salivating breath. Humans. Out there. Must have! Must bite! NOW!
The beast leaped for a barred window, barking and clawing, running back, rushing forth, barreling into the wood planks, barely registering the shocking pain after each attempt. It redoubled its efforts, the obstacle igniting furious rage. Sharp teeth raked deep marks into wood and the beast spat out shavings.
At that moment, a new scent intruded, and the beast whirled around, nose in the air, scrunched and sniffing. Humans… Not humans… But humans… No. A deep-throated growl rumbled in its breast and it stalked from the dining room to the parlor, then pulled up short with a confused yip. The smell's source faced it from across the room, humans, not humans, familiar, different. It sniffed out the three invading creatures, dismissing the grey-haired twitching ball with a wormlike tail whipping the floor, passing a four-hooved form bearing ungainly branches on top of its head, and honed in on the most threatening, a large, furry, black mound, lips pulled back in a frightening, feral grin.
The beast thrust its snout in the air, howled, and charged.
The black creature held its ground, but the beast didn't even reach it. A flash out of the corner of its eye and the hooved animal's bowed antlers plowed into its chest. The beast crashed backwards, roaring in pain, slamming into a wall, and crumpling at its base. Agony spasmed along its chest and it whined, licking the throbbing wound. Snarling, it glared across at the creatures. The hooved one braced itself in front of the black mound and the ball of hair sheltered itself behind its back leg.
The hooved animal clacked a hoof on the wooden floor. The black creature made to move round it, but the animal blocked its way. A series of barks and grunts passed between the two until the black creature pushed forcefully past and approached the beast.
The beast cowered, tail tucked close to its body, muscles quivering, wanting to attack, fearing being hurt again. The black creature stopped, whined plaintively, then bent down to snuffle the beast's snout. Rage diminished, replaced by confusion, then curiosity, and finally, peace. It flattened, letting the black creature rub its head from cheek to ear. The creature then lay down, snuggling close to it. The hooved animal tapped close and slowly settled down next to both. The haired ball pattered forwards, froze, pattered again, froze, made a dash for the hooved animal and hunkered in on its side. Silent gazes passed between them all, and for the first time in so long, the beast closed its eyes and slept without nightmares.
Remus awoke in a typically foggy haze. His body ached and throbbed as it always did the day after, but he ignored the pains for the time being, sorting through snatches of memory in a morbid ritual of penance that served more to punish himself than anything else. The images were usually few and jumbled, intermixed with long blank stretches. Still, the torn-up shack and clawed scratches all over his body were enough evidence of the horrors he'd undergone even if he couldn't remember most of the night.
He squinted behind shuttered eyelids, fighting a residual headache. He felt…different this time, more…content. And the images weren't normal. He didn't recall just bursts of raging through the house but the presence of other living beings. He squeezed his lids tight trying to capture whatever hid in his brain. There was something small, running parallel to him, a…rat? And a large, black, shaggy thing, with a snout and lolling tongue, panting like a…dog?
Remus rubbed at his scalp. Weird dreams most likely, except…ouch. Out of all the aches and pains, one panged sharply, raising gooseflesh along his arms and legs. He groaned, dragging his eyes open and sitting up to take stock of himself…and gasped. A huge bruise the width between his nipples and length of his sternum decorated his chest, accented by three puncture marks. He gingerly laid fingertips on the injury and yelped at even the light touch. How had he ever managed this?
A sudden snore caused Remus to jump and whip his head around in terror. Oh, Merlin! He'd finally done it. Escaped and hauled someone back and killed them…but, no, they were making noise and… He pulled himself to a stand, gritting his teeth against the pain, and stumbled over to a figure that looked familiar even from behind. He walked around to view the face and his eyes rounded. It was Sirius! All rumpled and mussed but sleeping as soundly as he did in the dorm.
A rustling drew his attention to another person across the way with hair sticking up at odd angles and glasses askew, readjusting in his sleep. James, too! And on the other side of him, a heftier teen—Peter. What the devil?
He blinked and leaned back into a living room wall, torn wallpaper crinkling behind his back. This wasn't a dream. He was here and they were here and they were alive and he was… He looked back down at his stark-naked body, clawed less than usual, but that bruise…
Memory slammed into him like the Hogwarts Express. He leaped towards a large black dog and a stag rammed its horns into his chest to prevent his attack. Merlin… they'd done it. They'd talked about it for so long, worked on the spells, trying to make it happen. They'd finally succeeded, and they'd come to find him.
Peter coughed, sniffled, and began to hack. He often did that in the morning. Something about excess phlegm. The ugly noise caused James to mumble and his eyelids fluttered.
"Go back to sleep, pillocks!" Sirius slurred, throwing an arm over his still closed eyes. "It's Saturday."
Remus bolted. He took the stair steps two at a time and had just made it to the hall on the second floor when he heard James ask through a yawn, "Where's Remus?" He dashed to the iron knight, snatched his wand out from behind it, and murmured "Alohomora!" to opened the door to his room. Once inside, he slammed the door shut, turned the lock, and slid to the floor. His breath came short and shallow, and he was shaking, hurting even more after the exertion. Footsteps pounded the stairs, then down the hall.
"This one's shut! He must be in here." James. The doorknob turned, stopped, jiggled. "Remus?"
A rapid series of knocks and Sirius called out, "Mate?"
"Maybe he wants to be left alone. I would." Peter, actually guessing how he really felt at the moment.
"Remus, come on!" A hefty thump on the door followed James' plea.
They wouldn't go away. He'd have to see them, talk to them… He crawled to his clothing pile and dressed in reverse order—pants, trousers, shirt. He didn't fear them seeing him in his birthday suit, it was more that bruise. He had to cover it. It would kill them to know how badly they'd been forced to hurt him.
He stepped to the door, sucked in a deep breath, flipped the lock, and pulled it open. James smiled cockily at him, Sirius grinned, and Peter peered palely from behind both.
"You did it," Remus breathed out.
James and Sirius nodded in unison, eyes twinkling with delight.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Wanted to surprise you," James said.
"Surprise!" Sirius shouted.
Remus didn't smile. "Did I hurt anyone?"
"You tried," Sirius said, stepping past him into the room and wandering its perimeter, taking it all in. "James stopped you."
"You were the dog."
"Guilty."
"And…James is a…"
"Stag." James entered the room as well. "So, this is dorm away from dorm, huh? Cozy." He made his way to the bed.
Remus stared at the last of them lingering in the hallway. "And that means you're…"
"Rat, yeah," Peter mumbled, looking a bit sheepish.
"Needed our help just to become that," Sirius chuckled, peering into dresser drawers mostly empty except for a few changes of clothes.
"But he can avoid the Whomping Willow and touch the knot, so there's that," James added, picking up a thin paper book and flipping through it.
"That's how you got in," Remus murmured.
Peter nodded and finally shuffled through the door, moving quickly to the bed and sinking down onto it. "You're scary."
James shoved Peter in the arm and looked back at Remus. "But nothing we couldn't deal with." He held up the book. "You still read these? It's juvenile tripe."
Remus glared. "I like it."
Sirius had moved back over to him and flung an arm across his shoulders. "Nothing like a good comic book." James rolled his eyes.
Remus resisted a wince as Sirius squeezed him tight. "I really didn't hurt any of you?"
"You didn't, mate!" Sirius assured.
James walked towards them. "Thought you'd be glad to see us. Not acting like a wet blanket."
"I am," Remus insisted. "I just… no one has ever seen me when… well, except my parents."
James stopped in front of him and grinned lopsidedly. "You didn't do anything to us. Just that first try and then you settled down like you trusted us or something."
Remus whooshed a relieved breath and Sirius let him go with a shoulder shake. "I did feel…better this morning." Mentally, anyway.
"See?" James said. He tousled Remus' hair and laughed. "No problems. And you'll never have to go through it alone again."
Three days passed and it was soon apparent how much everything would change now that his friends were animagi. James and Sirius were almost insufferable in their pride at having achieved something no one else in their year could possibly imagine, and the triumph was made even sweeter by its secrecy. They wrote notes to each other, addressing each other as "dog" and "stag" and snickering every time they unfolded a parchment. Peter was less enthusiastic and kept staring at Remus looking a little terrified, until James and Sirius swore Marauders' oaths they would never let Remus get anywhere close to him in werewolf form. Remus smiled thinly at Peter, and he smiled back and sighed, and that seemed to be the end of that.
Remus acted as jovial as he could when they were around. He was glad that next month and every month after he wouldn't have to go it alone and hopeful the werewolf's contentment would hold when they accompanied him. But he also began to remember more, and it seemed he had gotten aggressive more often than they had let on, and James and Sirius had needed to bark and grunt and nudge into him to calm him down. And then there was the twinging bruise on his chest that he had to keep pretending didn't exist. His friends were so happy with themselves and their new animal forms, he didn't dare ruin it by revealing how badly he'd actually been hurt.
At the end of the third day on, Remus sat propped against the headboard of his bed in Gryffindor Tower, a book held close to his face, rereading the steps to create a Befuddlement Draught for the umpteenth time. He couldn't really concentrate, not with the music blaring from the wireless. If James hadn't shielded their room in a silencing charm, the entire house and probably all the Slytherins in the basement would have heard the racket.
"No, git! Like this!" Sirius wobbled his hips and strutted across the room, looking like a sloshed chicken, but apparently this was the "latest, most popular dance move."
"You look a right berk," James observed, but copied him anyway, swaying his own waist to the staccato beat of the Psychedelic Phantoms, a recent band that claimed to be "bringing the passion of disco to the wizarding world."
"Remus, come show James how it's done!" Sirius shouted over the noise.
"Like I know," Remus replied. "And I'm trying to study."
"Your nose has been buried in a book every day this week," Sirius complained.
"I have catching up to do, remember?" He always spent more time studying after a transformation. Becoming the wolf reduced his concentration for days.
A loud yawn sounded across the room, coming from Peter rubbing vigorously at his eyelids. "It's almost lights-out anyway."
"Killjoys," Sirius grumbled, but James slapped him on the back and waved his wand to shut off the wireless.
"To the sinks!" James declared, marching across the room.
Sirius followed in James' wake, snatching a flannel off a desk and stomping behind him. Peter raised eyebrows at Remus who closed his book and slowly exited his bed. Peter left before he'd retrieved his own washing kit. By the time he got to the bathroom, they'd pretty much finished. He dawdled as long as he could without raising suspicion and deflated when he found none of them in bed back in their room. Instead, it seemed they'd been talking and were just now dressing in their nightly attire. Remus slunk over to his trunk, pulled out his pyjamas, then stood by his bed.
"Now that we've managed animagi, we need to conjure patronuses," James was proclaiming as his head peeked through his striped pyjama top.
"We're not supposed to try those until seventh year," Peter mumbled, caught in the folds of his sleepshirt.
"We're unregistered animagi, Peter," Sirius drawled. "I mean, rat…ratty… Hm, not good enough… Long tail?"
"More like wormtail." James flung his trousers at Peter who had just managed to untangle his sleepshirt and chucked his pillow back in retaliation.
The fight was on, and within seconds, Sirius had joined James and Peter in lobbing pillows, clothing, cushions, and wadded up pieces of paper through the air. Wands came out, weapons of defense used to shield themselves or halt objects in midair.
The distraction was a perfect opportunity. Remus hastily drew the curtains around his bed, huddling behind them on one side and shimmying out of his clothes. He had just tugged on his pyjama trousers when the room went silent and all his curtains ripped from the top at once. They fluttered to the floor, revealing his grinning dorm-mates.
"You've been hiding behind those ever since the shack. What are you…" James cut off and lost his grin.
Peter sucked in a sharp breath.
Sirius whistled lowly. "Bugger me, mate. How did you…" James cuffed Sirius' arm to shut him up.
Remus had folded his arms across his chest to hide the black, blue, and yellow remnants of the bruise. "It's nothing. I'm fine"
"That must hurt," Peter blurted.
"It was me," James stated unequivocally. "When I hit you as the stag."
Remus swallowed hard, squeezing his arms against his chest. "It's okay… It…" But they were talking all over each other.
"I didn't mean to hurt you…"
"It was my fault. You went after me. I should have stayed back…"
"We should have told you we were coming. I told James and Sirius that, but…"
Remus' throat tightened and his eyes prickled. The undertaking to become animagi had been no small feat. His friends had started working on the plan way back in second year, not long after they'd sussed out his secret. The process they'd discovered was long and arduous; a million things could go wrong. If they managed it at all, they'd be unregistered, but even the risk of Azkaban couldn't hinder their determination to comfort him during his transformations. And now they were blaming themselves for the bruise, not the monster that drowned him in shame and guilt every month. He had never been so grateful and so unable to express it.
Sirius and Peter continued to apologize, but James stopped talking. He'd always had this way of pinning someone with his hazel gaze and making you think he saw right into your brain. The scrutiny lasted less than a second before the glimmer in James' eyes retuned and he launched himself across the distance separating them. He viciously rubbed his knuckles against Remus' scalp, then wrapped his arms around his waist and threw him onto his bed.
"Bet you can't fight me off now either!"
Remus flailed, got his balance, and shoved James off. The git laughed, did a backwards summersault, and came to his feet to jump up and down. Sirius, never one to be left out of the fun, leaped onto the bed as well. Peter was close behind, beaming like a five-year-old at his own birthday party. James grasped his hand, pulling him up, and although Remus shook his head in exasperation, he joined them in turning his bed into a trampoline.
For about a minute, all was pure fun, reckless elation, the joy of pretending nothing more than being complete nutters mattered. Until… CRACK! The bed plummeted in the middle and a mess of legs and arms tumbled into the mattress' sunken center. After a good deal of squirming and wiggling, they managed to untangle themselves and crawl onto the floor.
"You broke my bed!" Remus yelled.
James glanced at him and started to laugh uproariously. Sirius echoed him, and Peter, who had at first looked shocked, giggled. James laid a hand on his shoulder and scanned the bruise on his chest. "Poor, wolf. We hurt you there then break your bed here."
Sirius wiped tears from his eyes. "We can't call you 'wolf.' Too close to the secret."
"Well, what do you suggest, dog?" James asked.
Sirius shrugged but tapped his chin. "Werewolves come out at night… When the moon is out… And…" He guffawed.
Remus cocked his head. "Sirius…"
"Moony," Sirius breathed, the corners of his mouth quivering with delight.
Remus stared. "Moony? Because I transform when the moon… Wait. Do you mean like flashing my bum?"
"Well, you're completely starkers when you turn into the wolf."
Remus blinked. James' lips were pinched tight and he was shaking hard with silent laughter. Peter flushed, yet grinned with all his teeth. Remus' lips turned upwards. It was funny, a double meaning that was all too accurate. "Fine."
Sirius's right eyebrow lifted in disbelief. "Really?"
Remus waved a hand. "It works, doesn't it?" And he chuckled at himself.
"Moony, wormtail, hmm…" James ruminated. "Padfoot."
"You have hooves," Sirius reminded him.
"No, you great pillock, you! You're always using cushioning charms on your shoes to sneak in late to class, and now you actually have pads on your feet."
Sirius extended his arm out to James and they shared a congratulatory handgrip. "And you?"
James leaned cockily against the broken bed, drawing up a knee and resting an arm atop it. "How do you come up with a nickname for an animal as regal as a stag?"
"Prongs." They all looked to Peter who was pointing at his head. "You know, the antlers, like a crown."
James' eyes shined. "That's actually clever." He shifted to his knees and held his hand out to them all, initiating a Marauder ritual. Each of them laid their own hands atop his. "Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail, Prongs. Marauders first, Gryffindors second."
Remus mirrored the chant along with Sirius and Peter. "Marauders first, Gryffindors second."
Remus finally snuggled into crisp bedsheets after he and James and Sirius and Peter had applied several reparo spells to his bedframe. He drifted off, exhausted but happy, contemplating the three other boys in his room. On the surface, his friends probably appeared the same as any other boys at Hogwarts—typically irreverent, prone to body odor, and exuding too much testosterone for their own good. But underneath was a glue, a cement, a permanent sticking charm borne out of loyalty and compassion and sacrifice—the sacredness of unconditional friendship.
He slept undisturbed until the witching hour when—CRACK—he woke with a start, sliding downwards as his bedframe gave way again. A chuckle, a snicker, and a giggle sounded from the three other beds. Remus groaned. Was it always going to do this now? "I'm going to kill you all." They just laughed harder.
Remus leaned back and grinned. Nothing would ever be the same again, not even his bed. And he didn't mind one bit.
Author's Note: Thanks to goldie24 for inspiring me to tell the story of this event mentioned in my previous fic, "Let It Be"! And thanks to MamaStreet for her awesome beta skills!