Sirius Black, one could say, was too bright for his own good. He absorbed knowledge easily, and since he didn't need to work hard in his classes, he rarely did. Why waste brain power by studying, when you could instead use study time to pursue one's personal interests? Whether it was looking up engravings of naked witches having sex with goat-footed devils in a medieval book on demonology, or researching how to build a better dungbomb, Sirius Black only exerted himself for extracurricular pursuits.
Now he had a new subject to which he bent all the prodigious power of his bright young mind: werewolves. In particular, a specimen known as Remus J. Lupin.
His research started out by testing theories about werewolves through a series of experiments. Hypothesis: Silver harms werewolves. Experiment: He snuck into the kitchens and stole one of the fine silver forks, which he proceeded to jab into Remus's arm while sitting next to him at breakfast. Result: a yelp and a glare from Remus, a gleeful round of laughter from Peter, and a scolding from James. However, no serious injury could be detected beyond what one could expect from jabbing a fork into someone. Conclusion: Silver does not harm werewolves.
Hypothesis: The herb known as wolfsbane is poisonous to werewolves. Experiment: Sirius pilfered a vial of wolfsbane extract from the Potions professor's stock and added two drops to Remus' tea. Result: Remus threw up all over Sirius' robes and ran a fever for a day. Conclusion: Wolfsbane does harm werewolves. Corollary: When conducting an experiment, be sure to remove oneself from the vomiting range of the test subject.
Some of Sirius' study consisted of field observation, rather than experimentation. For example, the books claimed that werewolves in human form were extra hairy, with one long eyebrow, and an elongated face like a snout. But all Sirius had to do was look at Remus to discover that he did not have any of those characteristics. Remus did, however, seem unusually strong for a boy his size, a conclusion Sirius reached after a series of ambushes and wrestling matches in which he would pounce on Remus and attempt to pin him. Remus wasn't much of a fighter, and he didn't enjoy roughhousing, but he could always manage to throw Sirius off him. Sirius concluded that this must be due to preternatural strength, as there was no way that a runt like Remus could defeat him otherwise.
Testing Remus' hearing and sense of smell proved to be trickier, though Sirius was more than up to the task. The tests involved close observation, wherein Sirius had to watch Remus' face carefully to see if he reacted to the subtle scents and quiet noises that Sirius launched in his presence. Sirius discovered that Remus could hear his name being whispered all the way across the library, and he seemed to have an unlimited range when it came to detecting orange marmalade.
But Sirius learned other things during his field observation, things that didn't have anything to do with lycanthropy. For example, he discovered that Remus seldom made eye contact with anyone other than one of the Marauders. When he walked by himself through the halls, he hunched his shoulders and kept his chin down. He held his books in front of him, clutched to his chest, rather than to the side. He ate almost twice as much food as the other boys, yet invariably finished first. And his smiles had a peculiar way of starting out on the left side of his mouth, as if making sure it was okay to appear, before crossing over to the right side and encompassing his entire face. Sirius further noticed how a smile could transform Remus from a forlorn, solitary creature to a normal thirteen-year-old boy.
But appearances could be deceiving, and Remus was never really a normal thirteen-year-old boy. One day Sirius was following his subject at a distance as he walked the halls to class. Very few students were in the hall, and when a pack of Slytherins rounded a corner, heading toward Remus, Sirius slipped behind a statue of Uric the Oddball to observe. Remus hunched his shoulders and lowered his head, skirting close to the wall in order to avoid the other boys, but they stepped directly into his path, cutting off his escape. Remus stood silently in their midst as they began to taunt and tease him, his eyes fixed on the floor, but he refused to answer back.
Sirius' blood boiled at how meekly Remus took the Slytherins' abuse. He couldn't understand why Remus refused to stand up for himself, why he never fought back. The taunts escalated, the boys' body language became more threatening, and just as the abuse was about to turn physical, Remus raised his head and looked straight into the eyes of the ringleader, defiant and proud. And in that moment, Sirius realized that Remus wasn't afraid of them.
As shocked as he was by the revelation, he wasn't about to let Remus get a pounding for it. He bolted out from behind the statue, grabbed Evan Rosier by the back of his robes, hauled him around and punched him in the nose, sending him sprawling.
Grinning madly, he drawled, "And of you other boys want to take me on?"
The Slytherins glanced at each other. There were four of them, even without Evan Rosier clutching at his bloody nose and blubbering on the floor. Wordlessly deciding that the odds were in their favor, they roared and piled onto Sirius, who cackled with glee and swung away, every blow connecting with a tender portion of Slytherin anatomy. The fight didn't last long before he heard Remus sing out, "Professor McGonagall's coming!"
Bloodied and bruised, the Slytherins scampered away down the hall, leaving their wounded trailing behind to fend for themselves. Someone grabbed Sirius' arm, and he lashed out, barely stopping himself in time from decking Remus.
Remus didn't even flinch. "Come on!" he urged, tugging on Sirius' arm. They ran through the halls and ducked into one of the classrooms.
"That was close!" Sirius panted, bending over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Still, I think I got each and every one of those buggers."
"Yes, and each and every one of them got you back," Remus replied, wearing that funny lopsided grin of his.
"Not Rosier, though. He was too busy crying. Am I bleeding?"
Remus made a quick inspection. "No. You're getting a black eye, though. And a black jaw. If there is such a thing."
Sirius shrugged it off. "I got them worse than they got me. Do you think McGonagall's gone yet?"
"She wasn't really coming. I just said that to drive them off."
Sirius scowled. "What, you didn't think I could handle them?"
"Oh, I knew you could. I just didn't want you to get detention if any of the teachers *did* come along."
Sirius considered this and decided it wasn't a threat to his honor. "Thanks. You've got to learn to stick up for yourself, Remus. What would have happened if I hadn't been there?"
Remus only shrugged. "Believe me, it couldn't have been worse than what I go through every month. I'd have survived."
Sirius shook his head. "You are the wimpiest were- *achoo*!" He sneezed violently, six times in rapid succession, before the fit finally passed.
When he recovered, he saw Remus grinning at him. This time the grin stretched across his entire face. "One would think you might have learned not to say 'wolf' by now, what with that sneezing hex James put on you."
"It's not fair!" Sirius griped. "What if we have to talk about --." He stopped himself just in time. Carefully rephrasing his thoughts, he continued, "What if *that subject* comes up in one of our classes? I won't be able to say anything. I can't even write the word without sneezing."
"Serves you right, though. You do tend to talk about it too much. And I'm *very* glad you can't call me 'Wolfgang' any more."
"Bloody ingrate. I just saved your life, and here you are, scolding me."
"I'm sorry. And I really am grateful that you stepped in." But he was still smiling.
Sirius decided he rather liked Remus' smile.
*****
After that, Sirius realized Remus could occupy a special role in his life. He already had a younger brother who had started school that year, but Regulus had proved to be a disappointment when he was sorted into Slytherin. He chose family honor over Sirius' brand of defiance. But Remus could be the admiring little brother who would worship Sirius as was his due.
Sirius also already had a follower. Peter eagerly did whatever Sirius proposed, always laughed at his jokes, always thought he was brilliant. But following was in Peter's nature. Where was the virtue in Sirius having an admirer who would attach himself to any dominant personality? But Remus had an independent streak in him. He was a werewolf, accustomed to surviving on his own. So to woo Remus into obedience, to secure his loyalty, that would be an accomplishment.
And Sirius already had a best friend. James Potter was the boon companion of his dreams, his perfect equal in temperament, in zeal, in desire for mischief. James was his soulmate, his other half. But as perfectly as they fit together, James did not truly need him. He had parents whom he loved, and if anything ever happened to end their friendship, James was charismatic and charming enough to find plenty of other friends to replace Sirius with. But Sirius wanted to be irreplaceable. He wanted to be needed.
And Remus needed friends. He was alone in the world, a pauper, an orphan, and a freak. Sirius could be everything to him: protector, guardian, friend, brother - god. It was the ideal match.
*****
But he could not be everything to Remus until he knew all of Remus' secrets. What he really wanted was to see Remus transform into the wolf. By now enough time had gone by that the thought of the wolf appealed to him. But while his imagination had forgotten the terrors of that night of discovery, his bones had not, and something about the light of the full moon still caused his knees to knock.
The days of the full moon, however, were another story. There was nothing to fear by day, only the lure of hidden things, the excitement of the forbidden. So one day, when the full moon had just set in the west, and the sun risen in the east, Sirius crept out of the castle and approached the Whomping Willow, pressing on the knot that he had looked on with longing many times, and descended into the secret tunnel.
Below ground it might as well be midnight, and when he lit his wand, the shadows on the earthen walls looked all too familiar. It gave him a bit of a thrill to feel the old fear, as if he were doing something dangerous, as if he might be facing a monster at the end of the tunnel, instead of Remus, the boy who refused to fight back against bullies.
He quickly arrived at the shack, where the living scent of mold was replaced by dry dust. Even though it had been two months since that night, he still remembered where to go. He turned down a hall and found the door covered with locks. Some of them were simple bolts. He grasped the topmost one, and it slid back easily. These locks weren't here to keep people out. They were here to keep Remus in.
He made short work of the locks. Even the two padlocks fell open with a simple "alohamora." He gripped the door handle and twisted. The door cracked ajar, and he poked his head into the room, whispering, "Remus?"
There was no answer. He pushed the door open and stepped into a room as rundown as the rest of the house. Only a thin, grey light managed to penetrate the thick crust of dirt on the windows, which were heavily barred. The wallpaper was peeling badly, and it appeared to have been ripped off in some places. What little furniture was in the room - a small table, a couple of chairs, a crumbling wardrobe - had been knocked over. The legs of the chair were chewed up, and the upholstery ripped open, spilling stuffing everywhere.
A narrow bed stood in the center of the room, moth-eaten sheets askew, holes gouged in the mattress. Sirius wondered if rats might have nested in it. The rumpled sheets bore rust-brown stains, and he wrinkled his nose, not sure he wanted to think about what kind of mess some unknown critter had made in that bed.
Then it hit him: this was Remus' bed! Sirius recoiled in disgust, backpedaling so fast he stumbled over a rip in the carpet. How could anyone possibly expect Remus to sleep in such a vile, disgusting bed? Even a Slytherin deserved better. Horrified, Sirius glanced around the room, seeing it more clearly, not as a place of adventure, but as a prison cell where a young boy was banished every month. The room held no comforts of any kind. The fireplace had clearly not seen a fire in years. The books tumbling off the shelves were old and crumbling. There was no place to sit or sleep comfortably, not even a decent blanket to keep one warm. It was May, yet the nights were still chilly. Sirius couldn't imagine Remus having to spend a winter night in this cold and dreary place.
He looked around again, but Remus was nowhere in sight. "Remus?" he called. "Where are you?"
Still no answer. He toed his way through the rubbish on the floor, skirting around the bed. There, huddled in a corner on the floor, lay Remus. Stark naked.
"Bloody hell!" Sirius exclaimed, rushing to Remus' side. He pulled his jacket off and spread it out over Remus, but not before seeing numerous fresh scratch marks on the boy's legs and arms.
Remus appeared to be sound asleep, and Sirius shook him by the shoulder. "Oi, Remus. Wake up!"
Remus stirred and opened one eye. "Lemme sleep. 'S too early for breakfast." The eye closed again.
"Remus!" Sirius shook him again. "No breakfast. You're in the Shrieking Shack."
Both eyes opened this time, with a bit more comprehension between them. "What? Sirius!" he rasped as he struggled to prop himself up. His arms trembled and threatened to buckle beneath his weight. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you, mate."
"But Madam Pomfrey --." He managed to sit up, and the jacket slid off his shoulders. He looked down at it in surprise.
"When does she come?" Sirius asked.
Blinking wearily, Remus glanced around the room as if expecting to see her hovering nearby. "She usually comes around nine."
"Oh, that's all right then. It's nowhere near nine." Sirius pulled the jacket up over Remus once more. "Lie down. You look like hell."
But Remus didn't lie down. The fatigue in his eyes was beginning to give way to alarm. "Sirius, you've got to go. If you stay here, you'll get caught."
"I won't get caught."
"You'll get in trouble." Remus clutched at Sirius' arm, his fingers cold. "*I'll* get in trouble! You have to go!"
"I'm not going anywhere," Sirius protested. "Remus, you're a mess. Look at you, you're all cut up. And they just leave you here, without even a blanket?"
Despite Remus' panic, Sirius could see he was struggling to stay awake, and at last Remus gave up trying to argue. Pointing to a high shelf on the wall, he said, "There's a blanket up there. We keep it out of reach."
Sirius scrambled to his feet and snagged a corner of the blanket, pulling it down off the shelf. "Why in the hell would you keep it up there?" he demanded as he shook the blanket out and wrapped it around Remus.
Drawing the blanket close around his neck, Remus said, "So I can't get it. I mean, at night. Otherwise I'd tear it up. My clothes are up there, too."
Sirius started to get up to retrieve the clothes, but Remus grabbed his sleeve. "Don't bother. This is fine." Wearily he lay back down on the floor, closing his eyes.
Sirius stared at the boy. He looked just awful, and he moved stiffly, as if he were in pain. This was not what he had expected to find. He reached out, brushing the hair back from Remus' forehead. "How'd you get all cut up?"
Remus kept his eyes closed. "It's kind of rough sometimes. I guess I get a little crazy," he mumbled.
"What, you mean you do that to yourself?"
Remus nodded. "It's okay. I heal fast."
"Holy shit," Sirius murmured. "Are there any bandages around here?"
"Madam Pomfrey takes care of me when she comes."
Sirius silently swore and looked around the room. "Any food and water?"
"She brings that, too."
"And then what happens? Does she take you to the infirmary?"
"No, I just stay here."
"All day? For three days?!"
"Two days," Remus corrected. "And three nights."
"But - but, all by yourself? And you're injured?" It was unbearable. How could Remus live like this? He looked at the fireplace. "Don't you ever have a fire?"
Remus wearily opened his eyes, but he didn't meet Sirius' gaze. "It's all right. I'm fine. This is the way it has to be."
Anger boiled through Sirius, threatening to overflow, and he stood up, wanting to smash some furniture. But it was already smashed. "This is an outrage!" he seethed, clenching his fists in frustration. "How can they treat you like this? Like - like an animal!"
"I *am* an animal," Remus quietly pointed out.
"No you're not!" Sirius shouted. "You're a boy! And they lock you up in this horrid old house with no clothes and no food and no fire! That's just wrong! Does Dumbledore know about this?"
"Of course he does. It was his idea."
Sirius froze. He couldn't believe it. For all that Dumbledore was Headmaster, he seemed like a pretty nice fellow. It couldn't be possible that he would allow Remus to be treated this way, that he would have been the one to decree it. "Well, fuck that!" Sirius fumed, kicking at one of the broken chairs. "I'm not putting up with this! I'm going to go give Dumbledore a piece of my mind. And then I'll punch him in the nose!" He smacked his fist into his open palm. "How dare he!"
"Sirius," Remus cautioned, sitting up.
"And I'll report him!" continued Sirius. "He can't treat you like this. Believe me, I will *not* let him get away with it."
"You can't report him!" Remus said.
"Just watch me!"
"If you report him, I'll be expelled! Please, Sirius, don't!" he begged.
Sirius stared down at him, slowing down a bit. "You shouldn't be treated like this."
Remus gazed up at him, his eyes large and imploring, and Sirius looked away, unable to bear his expression. "Sirius, I'm a werewolf. I shouldn't even be allowed here at school. But Dumbledore worked it out so I could be here." He glanced around at the room. "I know it doesn't look very nice, but I'm safe. And all of you are safe from me. I don't mind staying in the shack as long as it allows me to go to school."
But Sirius didn't want to give up his indignation. "It's still not right. I should at least talk to him."
"You can't! If you do, then he'll know you know, and I'll get in trouble. It has to stay a secret."
Sirius frowned. None of this was working out. He was supposed to be Remus' protector. He ought to go smashing the nose of everyone who made Remus stay in this miserable place. But instead of being grateful, Remus begged him to do nothing. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be, him doing nothing while Remus lay alone in a haunted house, naked and cold and injured.
"Please," Remus begged. His voice was watery, as if he might cry, and Sirius couldn't bear to look at him, couldn't bear to hear his desperation. "Please don't tell anyone. You can't let anyone know, Sirius. I'll get in so much trouble." He was almost weeping, shivering in his blanket. "Please don't tell, Sirius. Please!"
Slowly Sirius knelt down next to him, wrapping his arms around Remus. The boy trembled, and he didn't know if it was from cold or misery. "I won't tell," he assured him. "I promise. But I'm not going to do nothing, either. I'll take care of you, Remus. You'll be all right."
"You'll get caught," he protested.
"No I won't. You know how careful I can be. I promise."
And Sirius made a silent vow, to himself as much as to Remus. This was the role he would play in Remus' life. He would be the Guardian of the Secret. He'd take care of Remus the way no one else would. It would be a special secret, just between the two of them. Not even James and Peter would know. Their secret. His task.
He could do that.