Remus was scared. Only a few hours of daylight remained before the full moon would rise on the darkened night sky, illuminating the path to control for the beast within him.
Hurrying through the forest towards the distant cabin, he felt more alone than ever before. Tonight there would be no James, Sirius and Peter to keep him company and stop him from losing his mind, there would be no Lily to bring them breakfast and heal his wounds in the morning.
Instead James and Lily lay in the cold, unforgiving earth, buried in a centuries old graveyard in the heart of Godric's Hollow, the village that should have been their safe hiding place. Betrayed by none other than James's best friend, Sirius Black. Remus shuddered when he thought about what Sirius had done to Peter only a few days after enabling the murders of the Potters. One finger was all that remained, only one finger. The rest of Peter had coated the street in a mess of blood, bones and tissue.
They said he had laughed while cursing Peter, laughed maniacally while killing a man who should have been his friend, a man who still had his whole life before him. The laughter echoed through Remus's head still. He had heard it often enough, out on assignments for the Order of the Phoenix, fighting and capturing Death Eaters; Sirius's laughter had always accompanied his moments of triumph.
And now, killing Peter was one of them.
Why, Sirius? Why?
Lost in his grief, Remus had reached the cabin. The small wooden dwelling had served him well since graduating from Hogwarts, but it lacked the warmth of James and Lily's cottage, the chaos of Sirius's London flat and the comfort of the Pettigrew household, the knowledge that someone cares for and looks after you. Peter was the only one of them who hadn't gotten his own place after graduation and, although Sirius and James had often teased him about it, Remus envied him his mother's pampering.
Biting cold greeted Remus when he entered the cabin's main room. He stared longingly at the fireplace, but didn't move closer to it. Tonight he wouldn't light a fire for fear of burning himself while transformed. He had no idea if the wolf knew about the dangers of coming too close to an open fire and couldn't risk the whole cabin burning down during the night.
A clock on the mantelpiece showed him that there was roughly an hour of daylight left, time to start taking precautions.
He extracted his wand from his robes and cast the strongest locking charm he knew on both the door and the two windows of the cabin, then did the same with the bathroom door, at the same time effectively hiding the pile of dirty clothes littering its floor. Not yet satisfied that the wolf wouldn't get out, he cast several more charms on the windows, one of them making the glass unbreakable. He cast a second, weaker locking charm onto the main door for good measure before collapsing into one of the threadbare armchairs in front of the fireplace.
As if magically drawn to it, his gaze drifted to the old Daily Prophets strewn across the coffee table. Sirius glared up at him from the topmost edition while two Azkaban wardens held him fast. Beneath was a caption of the Muggle street they had apprehended him in, a gruesome scene of murder and mayhem. The blood spattered on the buildings lining the streets looked like a big, obscene graffiti. Once or twice, Remus had been sure to see actual images painted on the walls, not just a random red pattern. He had gazed at the pictures for hours, revolted and afraid he was going to be sick and yet not able to tear his gaze away from them..
Why, Sirius? Why?
The front page of another Daily Prophet showed Peter as he had been during graduation, while a smaller shot featured his mother accepting the Order of Merlin for his sacrifice.
Remus's heart constricted as he looked at the frail, old woman in the picture. He had not yet been to see her, afraid of the questions that would invariably pour out of her. Questions he himself couldn't answer.
Why, Sirius? Why?
He was a coward, he thought, afraid of some stupid questions, when all his friends were dead, but he couldn't help it. His mind still hadn't wrapped itself around the truth. Every day he expected an owl, telling him to come to dinner in Godric's Hollow or for a drink to some obscure London pub. Visiting Peter's mother would mean accepting his friends' deaths, accepting that he was the last one left. Sirius in Azkaban was as good as dead; maybe he was even worse off than James, Lily and Peter.
But he deserved it, didn't he?
In the loneliness of his remote cabin, Remus wished nothing more than to talk to him, to ask him the question that was burning inside him, scorching his mind and killing all rational thought.
Why, Sirius? Why?
Suddenly excruciating pain ripped through him. He could feel his bones shifting, his body changing. Groaning, he fell to the floor. His open eyes stared blindly ahead, fixed on the menacing, full moon hanging outside his window.
**
The wolf sniffed the air cautiously before rising into a low crouch. Only the smells of the cabin and the forest beyond permeated the air; he could smell no other presence, neither animal nor human, not even that of the hybrids who had helped cage him inside the human's mind for so long. The cabin was empty. There was no one to keep him from roaming tonight and he couldn't feel the human in his mind, not even the tiniest inkling of his presence fighting for control. He was finally free!
The wolf howled with relish. The gnawing hunger in his belly would be sated tonight. He would hunt again and he would kill!
The wolf started running, jumped … and bounced off the magically reinforced glass of the window. With an angry growl he tried again and again, switching his focus from one window to the other and even to the door, but none of them gave way.
He was trapped, trapped and hungry. A burning rage swept through the wolf's veins. The human had defeated him again! Not by taking control from him, but by locking him into this godforsaken place without a way out.
Consumed by rage, he tore into everything the human kept inside the cabin, intent only on destruction and causing pain.
**
Remus woke the next morning, bruised and aching. From where he lay on the floor in front of the overturned coffee table he could see the marks of the wolf's rage. Shards of porcelain dishes covered the floor, interspersed with silverware and shreds of his sheets. The two armchairs were torn apart and the newspapers ripped to shreds. Only the wooden chest in which he kept his few belongings stood in its corner unchanged, not even the wolf's strength had been enough to displace it.
Warmth engulfed him and dulled the pain as he looked upon the chest. He was grateful for it perseverance and unchanging nature. Amidst all the chaos, it was the only constant, holding all his memories of better times. It would always be there, the memories would always be with him. He carried them within himself, the only proof he needed that his life hadn't always been filled with grief.
His features twisted by pain, he slowly sat up. It was time to get his life back in order, to rid the cabin of the wolf's rage-filled mementos. He grabbed the torn newspapers, looking down into Sirius's snarling face once more before throwing them into the fireplace. With a swish and flick of his wand and a muttered, "Incendio!" he watched Sirius's face burn merrily until nothing was left of it but ashes.
His heart considerably lightened, he set to work on the rest of his cabin.