Remus Lupin sat up in his bed, aching all over. He sighed, yawning. There were dark circles under his eyes and he was paler than usual. It was just two days away from the full moon, but something in the back of Remus's mind was telling him it would be a bad day – worse than those days that beheld full moons. He shook his head, making his light brown hair that was specked with gray go in all directions. He was delusional. What could be worse than the full moon? Well, the memory of James and Lily Potter dying. He blinked. What made that thought come up? He stood up and stretched, deciding that he just needed a cup of coffee. He quickly got dressed and took three Knuts off his bedside table as to pay the owl that brought the Daily Prophet.
Remus walked to the kitchen groggily. He yawned again, ignoring the dull pain that shot through his body every time he moved. All thought of a bad day left him, but a thought of a dreaded day came upon him as he spotted yesterday's Prophet turned to the Wanted Pages. He wasn't exactly jobless; Albus Dumbledore – headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – had offered him a job as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He had excepted it immediately, but didn't expect to stay at the school for a long time. He would probably stay for one or two years and then resign. When that came, he'd have to find another job. Why not start the pointless task of finding a company that would employ werewolves?
Remus Lupin was middle aged, though he looked much older than thirty-four. This was do to his being a werewolf. Not all werewolves looked older than they should, but he was one of those rare cases. He was tall, but not very tall, just barely above average. He was always pale and, when he was younger and got out more, he had a few freckles. But now, his face was just a sick, creamy color. He was skinny, but that had to do with a fast metabolism and the fact that he didn't eat much. He was glad that Sirius wasn't there, or he would've gotten on to Remus for that. There were some days Remus didn't eat at all. He was very busy in trying to find a job other than teaching a bunch of snot nose kids. He smiled slightly to himself. 'Snot nosed kids' was it? He remembered when he would have scolded any of his friends for referring to anyone younger than them like that. His eyes were as extraordinary as they always had been. Or, at least since he had become a werewolf. They were a dark brown color, but there was a small, golden ring around the pupils in each eye, and a lighter color brown in the middle of the iris.
He was just taking out a coffee cup when a brown, tawny owl tapped on his window. Remus hurried to open it and the owl flew onto his table, sticking out his leg. On the leg, a small, black, leather bag was attached. Remus unzipped it and put in the three Knuts. He took a paper from it and closed the window as it swooped off to deliver the other papers. Before looking at the paper, he went back to get his coffee cup, but he had no sooner picked it up and turned back to the paper when he gasped. In his surprise, he dropped the cup and – ignoring the mess – grabbed the paper and looked at it, holding tight to it with trembling hands. He pushed a chair from under the table with his foot and collapsed into it.
Staring back at him was a picture of a man. The man was blinking up at Remus, the small hint of a mad glint in his sunken eyes. The man's dark hair was long, dirty, and matted. It was nothing like what it used to be: semi-long, clean, and well groomed. His skin was tight against his face, giving him a skeletal appearance and was waxy. But there was no mistaking it (especially because the headline above the picture confirmed it); this was a picture of Sirius Black.
Remus stared, horrified, at the headline, 'Black Escapes Azkaban.' Remus couldn't believe it! How did he escape? Sure, Sirius was smart, but escaping Azkaban was impossible! There was no way he could have done it. Remus tried to convince himself that this was a horrible, sick prank someone was playing on him. But he didn't know anyone else, unless you counted his childhood rival, Severus Snape – but Snape wouldn't do anything like this, not at thirty-five. But he knew it was true. He had to get away from his house – and quick. If Sirius came around here, Remus could be in serious danger. He told himself that he needed to get a quill and some parchment to write the Leaky Cauldron and reserve a room, but he couldn't move. His hands were shaking. Sirius had killed Lily, James, and Peter. Remus was the last of his once close friends.
Thoughts rushed through Remus's head. Then his worried thoughts slipped away, to be replaced by anger. Let him come! Remus thought. I hope he does, because when he gets here, I'll blow his head off his shoulders. Remus shook the thoughts off almost immediately. What was he thinking? He wouldn't do that. He knew he wouldn't have the heart, guts, or skill to do anything like that. He knew nothing of killing, unless you counted the rampages he went on as a werewolf, but he had never killed anyone because once he was bitten, he always found a place that kept him away from other humans. But, on the other hand, Sirius had caused him so many problems and pain. With this in mind, Remus decided he'd stay here, at his house. If Sirius came around, he wasn't sure what he'd do, but he was certain of one thing: he would not run from him. If Sirius came to kill Remus, so be it. At least he'd die, knowing he wasn't a coward.
He stood up and went to get the dustpan. While he was cleaning up the mess of the broken coffee cup, he tried to keep his mind off of his old friends and Sirius who had escaped from the 'impossible to escape' wizard prison. Although, no matter what he tried, the picture of Sirius on the front of the paper kept coming back to Remus. And no matter what he did, he couldn't keep from shaking all over. He did not want to die. Not by the hands of Sirius, anyway. But the thought still haunted him, and he tried and tried but failed to push the thought of Sirius away.