Sirius Black is not angry. He is sad, but he will not cry. He knows now, why Remus will not accept him. It is too dangerous, not for Remus, but for Sirius. He is grateful for the worry Remus expresses, yet it pains him. There is a way around this, he tells himself. There is a solution. True, he cannot cure Remus, but perhaps there is something he can do to alter their situation. So, with his head hung low, eyes down cast, he turns his feet toward the library.
It takes him little over a week to find an answer to the question burning inside him. There, in a book half-hidden by a sheet of notes. It taunts him, telling him that it is too difficult, it will never be possible. Despite this, he takes hold of the book and slips it into his bag, pushing it beneath rolls of parchment and spare quills. It is his only hope.
Weeks pass, with no success. He will not give up, he tells himself over and over. He will endure the cramped muscles and scratched palms. He convinces himself that it is possible, that he will succeed. He has no choice, it is the only way.
He succeeds. It is not elegant, and it hurts. His muscles burn and his eyes water, yet there he is, completely different to what he used to be. He does it again, over and over, just to be sure.
Finally, the moon rises full. Instead of one shadow on the lawn, there are two. He has won.