"A Periwinkle Ribbon"
Evening came quickly and relentlessly in winter, with horribly-distorted
shadows that looked even more misshapen against the chain link fence around our
yard. When I saw the silhouette against the fence, I thought it belonged to a
much smaller animal, and I stumbled awkwardly around the corner of our flat to
see what it was.
The animal did not see me at first. He was sniffing around the rubbish
bins across the street, and I watched him for some time. He appeared to be a
very large dog of some sort. This was good news; as a child I had had a great
fondness for dogs. Before I was born my parents had gotten a beagle puppy as
a wedding present, but she was hit by a car before my first birthday, and my
mother had decided then that it wasn't fair to keep a dog in the city. I
decided that if I could only get this large dog to come to me, I would show him
to my parents, who would agree to keep him. I stepped out from behind the corner
of our flat and whistled softly. Unfortunately, no sound came out; I was
only around three and had yet to learn to whistle properly, but the dog sniffed
the air briefly, then whirled around and faced me. His jowls were flecked with
dried blood, and he looked far larger than I had assumed him to be. His ears
were pricked and his coat was thick and grey. He gave a low, barely audible
growl, and began to walk towards me.
Panic seized me. This was no beagle, this was another species entirely,
and I had no desire to make the animal my pet anymore. I began to run,
panting and sweating, but I did not have to look behind me to know that the
animal
had quickened his pace, too, and had almost reached the front of our flat.
I ran; if I was lucky, I could reach our door and lock it. If I wished
hard enough, the animal would disappear. In its place would be a silver stone,
or a star-shaped leaf; something I could place by my cot at night and
remember the horrible dream I had, the one that took place in the evening, in
front of the flat, where the animal chased me to the far corner of the yard –I could
almost reach my mother's hand, I could hear her saying softly, kindly, It was
only a dream, Remus, only a dream – The chain link fence rose before me,
iron-toothed and threatening, yet far friendlier than the breath of an animal a
few paces behind – I threw myself upon it, tearing my palms open, cutting my lip,
smelling blood and fear from every side – up, up, it was safer there – sweat and
blood were coating my fingers, I felt my lungs sear with pain as I fell to the
ground, eyes rolling madly, the creature looming above me, my legs had turned
watery, the dead grass was welling with a dark liquid, and the animal screamed
in triumph and lowered his face to mine, and he had the eyes of a man.
There was blood in my eyes, and everything was hazy, but I could still hear
the animal ripping me apart with his fangs, howling and crying, but it was my
mother screaming, or was I screaming? When I shut my eyes the world glowed
red. Someone was lifting me up, and the pain intensified. Then there was a
rush
of wind, and I was waking up surrounded by white walls, my head ringing.
I always referred to the incident as "the bite," but it was a mauling,
really. Everyone thought I was going to die - my parents, the healers, and the
other patients in my ward. No one had any hope for me. I spent the month or so
I stayed in the hospital in a state somewhere between sleeping and waking. I
heard snatches of conversation as I dreamed of running through dark woods.
Once I heard a healer tell my parents that it might be better if I died. I
could not hear what their answer was, but I could hear them crying.
When did they know for sure that I was a werewolf? I think it was several
weeks into my stay at St. Mungo's. I was recovering slowly, not without a great
deal of strange dreams, which grew repeatedly stranger as the full moon grew
nearer. Finally, the evening arrived. I could see the moon, pale and round,
rising above the rooftops of London like a bad omen surfacing. When I closed
my eyes, I could still see it. While I slept, it hung in the corners of my
dreams. When my parents came to talk to me and hold my hand, I saw it floating
like a ghost across the room. The sky grew darker, the moon rose higher, and
my new life begun.
I had thought I knew what pain was. Pain had divided my life into eras -
the first being the time when I recognized pain as stubbed toes and cold
hands, the second the attack of the animal and its repercussions. Now I entered
a
third dimension of suffering.
The pain that comes from changing from man to wolf was a hundred times
worse than the pain I experienced when the werewolf attacked me. I was
screaming so loudly every healer in the hospital came running to my ward. They
tried stunning me, but it had no effect; I was writhing on the bed and howling in
agony, my eyes were turning from grey-blue to a poisonous yellow, every tooth
growing into a fang was sending a fiery twinge through my body, I had a snout,
ears, a tail, and paws, convulsions were racking my body, but I could no longer
scream anything intelligible – my mother ran screaming from the room, my father
fainted, the healers were strapping me to the bed, I tried to bite them, my
teeth were longing, aching to bite – there was nothing to bite but myself, so I
tore at my fur and ripped through my skin, trying to get to the bone, growling,
tearing, crying in sheer anguish, spasms racked my body and I tried to run –
I was released from St. Mungo's a week or so after this. I awoke one morning
in my hospital bed to the sound of my parents speaking in low voices.
Phrases like tried everything, nothing more we can do, said – just be
careful,
and never forgive myself were audible.
I made a great show of opening my eyes and stretching so that my parents
would realize I was awake. My mother leaned over and kissed my forehead.
"We're going home today, Remus," she said, in too hearty of a voice. Her
hands were shaking slightly, and I could tell she had been crying very hard
for a very long time. My father had the same washed out appearance, and he
didn't even make an attempt at conversation.
I dressed, tied my shoes, and went to say goodbye to the other patients
in my ward, most of whom were too seriously injured to respond. The conscious
patients returned my farewells, but they looked a little bit scared of me, and
at first I was not sure why. Then I remembered the pain, and the agonizing
transformation.
My mother came back into the ward and took my hand. "Ready to go, then?"
she asked, sounding happier.
"Yes," I said. We walked downstairs. Some of the healers waved goodbye
to me, others looked down as I passed.
We met my father on the steps of the hospital lobby. He took my other
hand and we walked out of St. Mungo's together.
What would you like to do today? my mother asked as we crossed a street.
I thought about the things we did before the evening I had seen the wolf
by the rubbish bins. Swings, slides, the monkey barsâ |all sounded appealing.
Can we go to the park, Mum? I asked.
Of course, she said.
We found a small park fairly close to our flat. We spent several hours
there, balancing on the teeter-totters, making ourselves sick by spinning about
on the tire swing, laughing so hard we were hoarse by the time we left and
started to walk home.
"Wait a minute," said my father. "We're going to get supper, aren't we?
What would you like, Remus?"
"Ice cream," I said without hesitation.
"That," said my mother fervently, "is an excellent idea."
We bought cones from a Muggle shop and walked back to our flat in the
growing dark. My parents ate theirs instantly, but I licked my vanilla cone in
circular fashion, making it last as long as possible.
"If you eat it in big bites," said my father, "you enjoy it most." My
mother nodded in agreement.
"That's silly," I said. "If you savor it, it seems like you have more."
I didn't know why this statement made my mother burst into tears, but it
did. She sobbed the rest of the way home. I finished my cone and took her
hand in my own small, sticky one.
"Would you like my shirtsleeve, Mum, to wipe your nose on?" I asked.
"Oh, no thanks, Remus, sweetheart," she said, and began crying harder.
That night, I asked as I usually did to sleep in my parents' bed, next to
my mother. She generally declined this, saying, that I needed to become
accustomed to sleeping on my own, but tonight she and my father read to me out
of a large storybook with a picture of a fat orange cat on the cover, and I was
allowed to sleep between them.
When I was four I learned to read. I read everything from children's books
to the Daily Prophet to my parents' complex novels. I was still not certain
what was happening to me every month when the moon was high, why it hurt so
much, why I clawed at the locked door of my room and howled, why I tried to bite
myself when it was so painful, why my mother's face was deathly pale for nights
afterwards - but I could read better than most grownups. After a
particularly agonizing transformation, where I had chewed down to the bone in my
arm and
had to go to St. Mungo's again, this time for blood transfusion, I returned
home determined to find out what had happened to me. I knew my parents wouldn't
tell me, so I would have to rely upon books.
We had a very extensive library in the living room of our flat, including
a set of encyclopedias called Magical Studies. Volume Five of this was
entitled "Care of Magical Creatures, Dark and Beneficial." I flipped through to
"D" and looked up Dog. There were a few interesting pages about phantom dogs,
supposed bringers of bad omens, called Grims, but I knew I wasn't turning into a
phantom dog. I flipped to W for Wolves, and found it. On page 897, my life
was laid out for me.
The Werewolf (Homo Lupis)
One of the most infamous dark creatures of all time, the werewolf is defined
as a man who turns into an extremely dangerous wolf at each full moon. A man
will become a werewolf only if he is bitten by a werewolf, which leaves us
with some doubt as to how the first werewolf originated. Unfortunately, there
is
nothing to be done once a man has been bitten, save from locking him up in a
confined area when he transforms. The transformation is intensely painful.
Friends of the werewolf may want to leave some possessions they care little for
behind in the room when the werewolf is making his transformation, or the
werewolf will bite himself - in certain cases, this has resulted in a werewolf's
death.
There followed a list of some of the more "infamous" werewolves. Would my
name ever go on that list? I felt suddenly ill. Now I knew why the neighbors
glared at me. Now I knew why I had no friends.
When I was very young, before I had been bitten, my parents had told me
stories about the school they had gone to, and met at. It was called Hogwarts
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They told me about their many friends, the
best teachers, the worst teachers, the school ghosts, the giant squid in the
giant lake, their exploits, the Quidditch matches between the four houses,
Christmases and Halloweens spent there - the list went on and on. They had
always ended these stories by saying, "And, one day, you'll go there, too."
But would I? They had not mentioned Hogwarts to me since the bite. I
was thinking much more logically about things now that I was nearly nine, and it
occurred to me that Hogwarts was a place where they would teach you how to
protect yourself against werewolves. A werewolf certainly wouldn't be welcome
as a student there. Perhaps, I thought, I could be a sort of prop. They'd let
me live in one of the cupboards. When the Defense Against the Dark Arts
students studied werewolves, they'd take me out and let everyone hex me.
Dismally, I resigned myself to a life of suffering.
It was when I turned ten that a letter arrived. Although it was
addressed to my parents, I kept it and have it still.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Lupin,
I am writing in response to the question you posed to my predecessor,
Headmaster Dippet. Although he told you firmly that under no circumstances
would
your son, Remus J. Lupin, be allowed to attend Hogwarts - as he had been bitten
by a werewolf and thus became one - I happen to have a difference of opinion.
I feel as though your son should not be deprived of an excellent magical
education for a reason as trivial as this one. Not many would regard being a
werewolf a trivial condition, but, as long as we take sufficient safety
measures, there is no reason why your son should not be allowed to attend
Hogwarts.
If you would so kindly meet me in my office at Hogwarts next Thursday
evening, I would be delighted to discuss matters with you.
Best wishes,
Albus Dumbledore
"Discuss matters?" I asked my mother, who chose not to answer me. I was
watching her get ready for their meeting with Dumbledore. She was applying
makeup carefully, and she was wearing an expensive woven straw hat with a periwinkle
ribbon she had purchased at a hat shop in Diagon Alley. My father was
wearing a suit. I could not remember ever having seen my parents dressing so
scrupulously for any occasion before, which filled me with pride and fear.
"Remus," my mother said as she kissed me goodbye, "I want you to lock
this door behind us. Don't open it for anybody, do you understand?"
"Mum," I said. "I'm a werewolf. I can look after myself."
"I know you're a werewolf, sweetheart," she said, smiling sadly. "If you
weren't one, we'd be staying at home tonight, doing crossword puzzles and
eating Chocolate Frogs until we're sick."
"I can still do that, right?"
"Well, no. You have a glass of milk and go to bed."
"This is a bit unfair!" I said.
"Be it as that may," said my father, "we have to go now."
I waved to them out of the window until they Apparated and were gone.
Then I went into my bedroom and sat on my cot. I was reading a very thick book
now about troll rebellions, and another very thick Muggle book called The
Arabian Nights. Sometimes I read aloud to my mother, who always made me skip
the parts about seductive Moorish men jumping out of trees and kidnapping sultans'
wives. I read from both books for awhile, then went downstairs and poured
myself a glass of milk. Outside I could hear a few boys my age playing soccer
in the street. I hadn't spoken to any children for quite some time, and I
wondered if I had gotten out of practice.
The first stars came out as I was reading next to my window, so I shut my
eyes and wished for a best friend of my own. If I shut one of my eyes and
turned my head, I could ignore the moon, which was half-full now. If I took one
look at it, it would be floating in my dreams all night long.
My mother looked happy, but she was crying. She fixed the collar of my shirt
several times and insisted that my father take a whole roll of film's worth
of pictures.
"His first day of school!" she sobbed.
"It's not as though I'm leaving permanently," I protested. My mother
began to kiss me again, and I didn't jerk away. I wouldn't be seeing my parents
until Christmastime.
We took the Underground to King's Cross Station, where I shut my eyes and
walked through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. The Hogwarts
Express loomed before me. Students were calling out to one another, other
beaming parents were kissing their first-years goodbye, and I was both deliriously
happy and nervous enough to wet my pants.
My parents kissed me goodbye for the umpteenth time. I said, "I'll just
go and get on the train, then." I dragged my suitcase. Some of the students
had owls, but I came from a poor family. Secondhand robes and spell books
were the most I'd hoped for.
I was stepping onto the train when I caught a glimpse of my parents
behind me. I had never been away from them before, seeing as I had no friends'
houses to go to, and I realized there was a very large lump forming in my
throat. I raced back to them and hugged them both, then ran back to the train,
waving behind me. They continued to wave as the train pulled out of the
station. I stood in the corridors, wondering whether to cheer or cry.
Giving a sudden lurch, the train began to move faster. I found myself
lying flat on the floor, my suitcase piled on top of me. Deciding I ought to
find a place to sit, I hurried down the row of seats. Most of them were filled
by people who looked very much older than I was. I looked for short and
nervous children who weren't in large groups and weren't laughing menacingly.
It was hard work. I found two children who fit this description in one cab - a
pale, scrawny boy with greasy black hair and a green-eyed girl with bushy red
hair - who were being towered over by several brawny boys who were threatening
to punch their faces in if they didn't give up their seats. The girl was
talking heatedly to them, the boy had held out his wand and began muttering
quickly under his breath. I moved on, feeling a bit more nervous than I had before.
The last cab was almost empty. There were two boys that looked about my
age in it, talking loudly about Quidditch and laughing as though they hadn't a
care in the world. They weren't the sort of boys I would feel comfortable
around, I could tell that right off, but remembering the black-haired boy and
the redheaded girl, I decided that they were a fairly safe choice of seatmates.
So what if they didn't like me?
Er – is this seat taken? I asked.
The boys didn't look up. One of the boys, who had glasses and messy
black hair, waved his hand carelessly at me.
Right, I said. I sat down. They were still talking enthusiastically
about Quidditch.
– shame first years aren't allowed on house teams, said the boy with
glasses. The other boy, who was rather tall and had long dark hair, nodded in
agreement.
Then they looked up and saw me.
Hello, said the boy with glasses. R. J. Lupin, eh?
My name had been stamped on my suitcase by my mother, who worried that it
would get lost.
Yes, I said, yes, that's me –
First year, too? said the boy with long dark hair.
"Yes."
"Sirius Black," said the same boy, without extending his hand.
"James Potter," the boy with glasses declared.
"Remus Lupin," I said, trying to take on their declaring tone.
"Play Quidditch at all, Remus Lupin?" the boy called James Potter asked
brightly.
I paused. If I said what was true, that I had never been near a
broomstick, even, then they would dismiss me as of no importance whatsoever. If
I lied, I could become one of them.
"Yeah," I said airily, "I played quite a lot, actually."
"What position?" Sirius Black asked. "Keeper? Seeker?"
"Seeker," I said. I liked the way it sounded.
"You gonna try out for the house team?" James Potter asked me.
"I might, second year," I said, amazed I was carrying on a conversation
with these two. "It's abysmal that first years aren't allowed to play at all."
"Abysmal?" smirked James Potter. He exchanged a raised-eyebrows look
with Sirius Black, and for a minute I was afraid I had blown it all.
"It means appalling, I said. Incomprehensible.
There was more exchanging of looks between the two boys.
Brainy, are you? said Sirius Black shrewdly.
Not really, I said, feeling that there was nothing I could do anymore,
but compared to this lot – I suppose so. I was feeling too stupid to care as
to whether or not they would take this as an insult.
Honestly said Sirius Black, and I was surprised to hear him speaking
in a voice that conveyed how much he quite agreed with me. Half the people on
this train can't even spell their own names, judging by their looks!" James
sniggered.
"Hey, what house d'you think you'll get in?" I asked them, trying to get
back onto familiar territory.
"My mother was in Slytherin," said Sirius Black. "She's a twisted old
bat, though – I rather think Gryffindor sounds like fun.
The Hufflepuff Quidditch team won the cup last year, though, James
Potter pointed out. My father was in Hufflepuff. My mother was in Gryffindor,
though.
My parents were both in Ravenclaw," I said. "It sounded all right,
except that from the way they talk about it, it was all about studying for the
end-of-the-year-exams."
"That's what I hear about Ravenclaws," said Sirius Black seriously, "they
don't care for anything but good marks."
And he and James Potter exchanged a look that said in an instant how very
tragic they thought this was.
"Awful, isn't it?" I said, trying to use a word I thought they'd know.
"It's perfectly abysmal," said Sirius Black.
"Simply appalling, James Potter added.
They laughed, but it was a lighthearted laugh, an including sort of
laugh. So I laughed, too.
Hey, I said, watch your mouths – I have a couple of fists, and they work
about as well as the old brain does –
We laughed again. I hadn't felt this happy since – since this morning,
actually; I had been very happy this morning – but I hadn't laughed with a bunch
of boys my own age - ever.
The lunch tray came by a bit later. My parents had given me some
spending money, so I bought a few Chocolate Frogs. James Potter bought a large
bag of these; we spent quite some time trading the cards and laughing at Sirius
Black, who was eating Every Flavor Beans with exaggerated facial expressions and
groans. It was getting very dark now, and Sirius Black said he thought we
might be getting close.
And we were. It was very dark, but we could see the lights of Hogwarts
Castle gleaming at us from in-between the trees.
Everything happened very fast that night. We first years were ushered into
boats which rowed themselves across a very large lake. I was in a boat with
Sirius Black, James Potter, and a quivering, round boy who said he was called
Pettigrew. For the short time it took to cross the lake, we got very soaked.
Then we came inside the castle. There was a hat; it sang a complicated song
(could that have been right? Was I just half-asleep?) and someone was calling
names – I had my head on Sirius Black's shoulder and was nearly nodding
off – they had sorted, Abigail, Henry first, then Black, Sirius (who went to
Gryffindor; I was nearly too tired to notice this) but I had slept through most
of the B's, and the C's, they were sorting, "Daniels, Cornelia!" and "Dervish,
Ayden!" (Ravenclaw). They did an "Evans," a "Fodder," a "Grady," a "Harris" and
a "Hellmans." I think I had fallen asleep again, because James Potter kicked
me in the shins and I jumped.
"Lupin, Remus!"
I went from feeling very sleepy to very sick. It was a terrible feeling.
I wasn't sure my legs could function properly, but I went up to a chair with
a hat sitting upon it. My parents had told me that I would put this hat on
and it would tell me which house to be sorted into.
I stuck the hat on my head with shaky hands and waited for it to yell.
Lupin, eh? said the hat, quietly and shrewdly. I put your folks in
Ravenclaw, both of them – and you would do well there, too, no doubt – Smart,
very smart, one of the most intelligent people I've sorted this evening,
actually – You're a nice kid, can tell that right off – So here we have a smart
boy, a good boy – have you ever disobeyed your parents? No, I don't think you have – this is quite difficult – I've narrowed it down to two choices, where you ought to
be – tricky – all right, I've made up my mind –
And the hat shouted, GRYFFINDOR
I was very tired and slightly relieved. Recalling that Sirius Black had
also been placed in that house, I scanned the tables and saw him whooping from
one of them at me.
After me there was a "Madison," but I dozed off again and didn't wake up
until the P's, "Pettigrew, Peter" and "Potter, James!" both became Gryffindors
- Sirius clapped and banged his fist on the table, but I was too tired to
notice much of anything anymore - "Rowy," they called, then "Samuels," "Snape,"
"Stouffer," and "Tierance." The last name they called was "Zane, Arianna,"
then there was a speech, and food appeared from out of nowhere, and a prefect
girl with long black hair wound back in a bun was showing us the way to the
common room. There were beds there. I picked the one next to the window,
without thinking. The moon was crescent-shaped, and it appeared innocent enough, but
that night I awoke quaking with nightmares of a leering giant with shiny white
teeth. None of the other boys heard me tossing and turning, so at least this
was something to be grateful for. Right then and there, however, I made a
vow to myself - I would never let my classmates know I was a werewolf. It was
something to be deeply ashamed of, something best left concealed. No matter
how many lies I would have to come up with, I'd never let the truth surface. I
stared out of my window at the setting moon, barely a sliver of light above
the horizon, turned over, and went back to sleep.
I was twelve years old, midway through my second year at Hogwarts, and it was
almost Christmastime. My first year at Hogwarts had been the best time of my
life, and this one was going to be even better, by the looks of it. Although
I did miss my parents, I was so elated about my new best friends that my
mother and father's absence was more than bearable. Sirius Black, James Potter,
Peter Pettigrew, and I had spent every minute at school in each other's
company. Sirius and James were extremely popular - they were clever, athletic,
and always joking around - and it was a very good thing I was friends with them,
because otherwise I probably never would have had any kind of a social life. I
was, as Sirius had predicted, very brainy - I got excellent marks in all my
classes, I knew the answer to every question my teachers proposed to me. I did
extra homework and studied for hours before exams. Most importantly, I never
passed notes with Sirius and James during classes. Because of this, I was
quite the teachers' pet, something James and Sirius were forever teasing me
about. But I had adjusted to friendships with other boys my own age, and was
even comfortable enough to admit that I'd never played Quidditch in my life after
James decided to try out for the Gryffindor team at the beginning of this year
and asked me if I wanted to try and be a Seeker. There was one thing,
however, that I would never have told my best friends about. It was getting
difficult to come up with new lies to tell them every month. I had used the
"folks are ill/injured" excuse too many times already, and the "forgot a textbook at
home" justification was becoming old as well. In actuality, every time the full
moon rose, I would walk down to an extremely violet tree called the Whomping
Willow, accompanied by the Hogwarts nurse, Madam Pomfrey. There was a small
button one could push at the roots of the great tree, which would open an
underground tunnel. I would walk down the tunnel into a small, unoccupied shack
in the village of Hogsmeade not far from the school. There I transformed, there
I stayed until I was human again, whereupon I would walk back to the school,
think up a few fabrications to satisfy my friends with, and think nothing of
until next month.
I was up in the boys' dormitories, hastily tidying my bed before I was
due to leave with Madam Pomfrey, when Sirius and James came up to me, catching
me off guard.
"Mum's ill," I said quickly, although I had said it the month before last.
James and Sirius sat on either side of me. James clapped me on the back
and Sirius slung a casual arm around me. We sat like this for a little while.
I was feeling quite nervous, which was completely uncalled for - these were
my two best friends, after all. Then James began to speak.
Your mum's not ill, Remus, he said quietly.
I had begun to sweat. Yes she is She told me – I got an owl – last
night
Remus, said Sirius, speaking slowly, "we know she's not ill. We know
you didn't forget One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi at your house last
month."
"What are you talking about?" I said, in a higher voice than I had
intended.
Sirius looked at James, who looked back.
Er, said James. You – being a werewolf. We know.
I knew if I sat where I was, I was going to hit him, him and Sirius both.
I stood up and ran to the far side of the dormitory.
It's all right, Remus, Sirius said. He might have been talking to a
lost puppy.
"C'mon," said James. They got up and started walking towards me.
"Get away from me," I said in a whisper. I was startled and horrified to
discover that tears were forming in my eyes.
Sirius and James looked very concerned now. "What? What is it?" said
Sirius, biting his lip.
"So I'm a werewolf," I said. I was crying now, but found that I didn't
really care. It wasn't as though we were going to be friends now, anyway; why
should I try to act tough around them? "So you guys worked it out.
Congratulations, first of all. Although I guess my excuses weren't that hard to
see
through.
Come on, Remus, said James, but he stopped there, as though not certain
how to finish.
Go I sobbed. Go tell the entire – f-fucking school!" While Sirius and
James were avid swearword users our second and third years, I always
refrained from saying profanities. This was my first real cuss, and I should
have felt
good. Instead, I felt worse, if possible, than ever.
"What?" Sirius said. "What would we do that for?"
I sank to the ground and buried my face in my hands. I didn't want to
watch them leave. I thought I would go completely to pieces after the first
friends I had ever made walked out on me.
"We're not going to tell anybody James said indignantly.
I have to go, I said. I have to go – I'm a werewolf You don't want to
be in the same room as me Go
But I didn't leave, and neither did they.
Remus, said Sirius seriously. Listen to me. Please."
I looked up and wiped my nose on my sleeve. Finally, I nodded.
"Me and James here are the best kind of friends there are," he said.
"The best," James added.
"Which means we don't rat you out," Sirius continued, "we don't avoid you
like the plague, and - most importantly - we stay your friends."
"That last part was a tad corny," James said, "but it's true. We're your
buddies - what d'you think, we'd send you into exile?"
"Well, yeah," I said. I had stopped crying, but my voice was still
shaky. "I'm a werewolf! They're dangerous dark creatures!"
"No, they're not," said Sirius, who was now smiling. He came and put his
hand on my shoulder very gently and kindly, and I looked back at him through
puffy red eyelids.
"You might like to be thought of as an dangerous dark creature," Sirius
continued, smirking, "but the fact remains that you're a teachers pet, you have
the best marks of anyone in our year, and you're an all-around
goody-two-shoes."
Here I should have laughed, or pretended to sock Sirius, or something to
that extent. Instead I started crying again. James came over and said, in
tones of mock sentiment, "Group hug, everybody!"
And we embraced.
Evening came quickly and relentlessly in winter, with horribly-distorted
shadows that looked even more misshapen against the chain link fence around our
yard. When I saw the silhouette against the fence, I thought it belonged to a
much smaller animal, and I stumbled awkwardly around the corner of our flat to
see what it was.
The animal did not see me at first. He was sniffing around the rubbish
bins across the street, and I watched him for some time. He appeared to be a
very large dog of some sort. This was good news; as a child I had had a great
fondness for dogs. Before I was born my parents had gotten a beagle puppy as
a wedding present, but she was hit by a car before my first birthday, and my
mother had decided then that it wasn't fair to keep a dog in the city. I
decided that if I could only get this large dog to come to me, I would show him
to my parents, who would agree to keep him. I stepped out from behind the corner
of our flat and whistled softly. Unfortunately, no sound came out; I was
only around three and had yet to learn to whistle properly, but the dog sniffed
the air briefly, then whirled around and faced me. His jowls were flecked with
dried blood, and he looked far larger than I had assumed him to be. His ears
were pricked and his coat was thick and grey. He gave a low, barely audible
growl, and began to walk towards me.
Panic seized me. This was no beagle, this was another species entirely,
and I had no desire to make the animal my pet anymore. I began to run,
panting and sweating, but I did not have to look behind me to know that the
animal
had quickened his pace, too, and had almost reached the front of our flat.
I ran; if I was lucky, I could reach our door and lock it. If I wished
hard enough, the animal would disappear. In its place would be a silver stone,
or a star-shaped leaf; something I could place by my cot at night and
remember the horrible dream I had, the one that took place in the evening, in
front of the flat, where the animal chased me to the far corner of the yard –I could
almost reach my mother's hand, I could hear her saying softly, kindly, It was
only a dream, Remus, only a dream – The chain link fence rose before me,
iron-toothed and threatening, yet far friendlier than the breath of an animal a
few paces behind – I threw myself upon it, tearing my palms open, cutting my lip,
smelling blood and fear from every side – up, up, it was safer there – sweat and
blood were coating my fingers, I felt my lungs sear with pain as I fell to the
ground, eyes rolling madly, the creature looming above me, my legs had turned
watery, the dead grass was welling with a dark liquid, and the animal screamed
in triumph and lowered his face to mine, and he had the eyes of a man.
There was blood in my eyes, and everything was hazy, but I could still hear
the animal ripping me apart with his fangs, howling and crying, but it was my
mother screaming, or was I screaming? When I shut my eyes the world glowed
red. Someone was lifting me up, and the pain intensified. Then there was a
rush
of wind, and I was waking up surrounded by white walls, my head ringing.
I always referred to the incident as "the bite," but it was a mauling,
really. Everyone thought I was going to die - my parents, the healers, and the
other patients in my ward. No one had any hope for me. I spent the month or so
I stayed in the hospital in a state somewhere between sleeping and waking. I
heard snatches of conversation as I dreamed of running through dark woods.
Once I heard a healer tell my parents that it might be better if I died. I
could not hear what their answer was, but I could hear them crying.
When did they know for sure that I was a werewolf? I think it was several
weeks into my stay at St. Mungo's. I was recovering slowly, not without a great
deal of strange dreams, which grew repeatedly stranger as the full moon grew
nearer. Finally, the evening arrived. I could see the moon, pale and round,
rising above the rooftops of London like a bad omen surfacing. When I closed
my eyes, I could still see it. While I slept, it hung in the corners of my
dreams. When my parents came to talk to me and hold my hand, I saw it floating
like a ghost across the room. The sky grew darker, the moon rose higher, and
my new life begun.
I had thought I knew what pain was. Pain had divided my life into eras -
the first being the time when I recognized pain as stubbed toes and cold
hands, the second the attack of the animal and its repercussions. Now I entered
a
third dimension of suffering.
The pain that comes from changing from man to wolf was a hundred times
worse than the pain I experienced when the werewolf attacked me. I was
screaming so loudly every healer in the hospital came running to my ward. They
tried stunning me, but it had no effect; I was writhing on the bed and howling in
agony, my eyes were turning from grey-blue to a poisonous yellow, every tooth
growing into a fang was sending a fiery twinge through my body, I had a snout,
ears, a tail, and paws, convulsions were racking my body, but I could no longer
scream anything intelligible – my mother ran screaming from the room, my father
fainted, the healers were strapping me to the bed, I tried to bite them, my
teeth were longing, aching to bite – there was nothing to bite but myself, so I
tore at my fur and ripped through my skin, trying to get to the bone, growling,
tearing, crying in sheer anguish, spasms racked my body and I tried to run –
I was released from St. Mungo's a week or so after this. I awoke one morning
in my hospital bed to the sound of my parents speaking in low voices.
Phrases like tried everything, nothing more we can do, said – just be
careful,
and never forgive myself were audible.
I made a great show of opening my eyes and stretching so that my parents
would realize I was awake. My mother leaned over and kissed my forehead.
"We're going home today, Remus," she said, in too hearty of a voice. Her
hands were shaking slightly, and I could tell she had been crying very hard
for a very long time. My father had the same washed out appearance, and he
didn't even make an attempt at conversation.
I dressed, tied my shoes, and went to say goodbye to the other patients
in my ward, most of whom were too seriously injured to respond. The conscious
patients returned my farewells, but they looked a little bit scared of me, and
at first I was not sure why. Then I remembered the pain, and the agonizing
transformation.
My mother came back into the ward and took my hand. "Ready to go, then?"
she asked, sounding happier.
"Yes," I said. We walked downstairs. Some of the healers waved goodbye
to me, others looked down as I passed.
We met my father on the steps of the hospital lobby. He took my other
hand and we walked out of St. Mungo's together.
What would you like to do today? my mother asked as we crossed a street.
I thought about the things we did before the evening I had seen the wolf
by the rubbish bins. Swings, slides, the monkey barsâ |all sounded appealing.
Can we go to the park, Mum? I asked.
Of course, she said.
We found a small park fairly close to our flat. We spent several hours
there, balancing on the teeter-totters, making ourselves sick by spinning about
on the tire swing, laughing so hard we were hoarse by the time we left and
started to walk home.
"Wait a minute," said my father. "We're going to get supper, aren't we?
What would you like, Remus?"
"Ice cream," I said without hesitation.
"That," said my mother fervently, "is an excellent idea."
We bought cones from a Muggle shop and walked back to our flat in the
growing dark. My parents ate theirs instantly, but I licked my vanilla cone in
circular fashion, making it last as long as possible.
"If you eat it in big bites," said my father, "you enjoy it most." My
mother nodded in agreement.
"That's silly," I said. "If you savor it, it seems like you have more."
I didn't know why this statement made my mother burst into tears, but it
did. She sobbed the rest of the way home. I finished my cone and took her
hand in my own small, sticky one.
"Would you like my shirtsleeve, Mum, to wipe your nose on?" I asked.
"Oh, no thanks, Remus, sweetheart," she said, and began crying harder.
That night, I asked as I usually did to sleep in my parents' bed, next to
my mother. She generally declined this, saying, that I needed to become
accustomed to sleeping on my own, but tonight she and my father read to me out
of a large storybook with a picture of a fat orange cat on the cover, and I was
allowed to sleep between them.
When I was four I learned to read. I read everything from children's books
to the Daily Prophet to my parents' complex novels. I was still not certain
what was happening to me every month when the moon was high, why it hurt so
much, why I clawed at the locked door of my room and howled, why I tried to bite
myself when it was so painful, why my mother's face was deathly pale for nights
afterwards - but I could read better than most grownups. After a
particularly agonizing transformation, where I had chewed down to the bone in my
arm and
had to go to St. Mungo's again, this time for blood transfusion, I returned
home determined to find out what had happened to me. I knew my parents wouldn't
tell me, so I would have to rely upon books.
We had a very extensive library in the living room of our flat, including
a set of encyclopedias called Magical Studies. Volume Five of this was
entitled "Care of Magical Creatures, Dark and Beneficial." I flipped through to
"D" and looked up Dog. There were a few interesting pages about phantom dogs,
supposed bringers of bad omens, called Grims, but I knew I wasn't turning into a
phantom dog. I flipped to W for Wolves, and found it. On page 897, my life
was laid out for me.
The Werewolf (Homo Lupis)
One of the most infamous dark creatures of all time, the werewolf is defined
as a man who turns into an extremely dangerous wolf at each full moon. A man
will become a werewolf only if he is bitten by a werewolf, which leaves us
with some doubt as to how the first werewolf originated. Unfortunately, there
is
nothing to be done once a man has been bitten, save from locking him up in a
confined area when he transforms. The transformation is intensely painful.
Friends of the werewolf may want to leave some possessions they care little for
behind in the room when the werewolf is making his transformation, or the
werewolf will bite himself - in certain cases, this has resulted in a werewolf's
death.
There followed a list of some of the more "infamous" werewolves. Would my
name ever go on that list? I felt suddenly ill. Now I knew why the neighbors
glared at me. Now I knew why I had no friends.
When I was very young, before I had been bitten, my parents had told me
stories about the school they had gone to, and met at. It was called Hogwarts
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They told me about their many friends, the
best teachers, the worst teachers, the school ghosts, the giant squid in the
giant lake, their exploits, the Quidditch matches between the four houses,
Christmases and Halloweens spent there - the list went on and on. They had
always ended these stories by saying, "And, one day, you'll go there, too."
But would I? They had not mentioned Hogwarts to me since the bite. I
was thinking much more logically about things now that I was nearly nine, and it
occurred to me that Hogwarts was a place where they would teach you how to
protect yourself against werewolves. A werewolf certainly wouldn't be welcome
as a student there. Perhaps, I thought, I could be a sort of prop. They'd let
me live in one of the cupboards. When the Defense Against the Dark Arts
students studied werewolves, they'd take me out and let everyone hex me.
Dismally, I resigned myself to a life of suffering.
It was when I turned ten that a letter arrived. Although it was
addressed to my parents, I kept it and have it still.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Lupin,
I am writing in response to the question you posed to my predecessor,
Headmaster Dippet. Although he told you firmly that under no circumstances
would
your son, Remus J. Lupin, be allowed to attend Hogwarts - as he had been bitten
by a werewolf and thus became one - I happen to have a difference of opinion.
I feel as though your son should not be deprived of an excellent magical
education for a reason as trivial as this one. Not many would regard being a
werewolf a trivial condition, but, as long as we take sufficient safety
measures, there is no reason why your son should not be allowed to attend
Hogwarts.
If you would so kindly meet me in my office at Hogwarts next Thursday
evening, I would be delighted to discuss matters with you.
Best wishes,
Albus Dumbledore
"Discuss matters?" I asked my mother, who chose not to answer me. I was
watching her get ready for their meeting with Dumbledore. She was applying
makeup carefully, and she was wearing an expensive woven straw hat with a periwinkle
ribbon she had purchased at a hat shop in Diagon Alley. My father was
wearing a suit. I could not remember ever having seen my parents dressing so
scrupulously for any occasion before, which filled me with pride and fear.
"Remus," my mother said as she kissed me goodbye, "I want you to lock
this door behind us. Don't open it for anybody, do you understand?"
"Mum," I said. "I'm a werewolf. I can look after myself."
"I know you're a werewolf, sweetheart," she said, smiling sadly. "If you
weren't one, we'd be staying at home tonight, doing crossword puzzles and
eating Chocolate Frogs until we're sick."
"I can still do that, right?"
"Well, no. You have a glass of milk and go to bed."
"This is a bit unfair!" I said.
"Be it as that may," said my father, "we have to go now."
I waved to them out of the window until they Apparated and were gone.
Then I went into my bedroom and sat on my cot. I was reading a very thick book
now about troll rebellions, and another very thick Muggle book called The
Arabian Nights. Sometimes I read aloud to my mother, who always made me skip
the parts about seductive Moorish men jumping out of trees and kidnapping sultans'
wives. I read from both books for awhile, then went downstairs and poured
myself a glass of milk. Outside I could hear a few boys my age playing soccer
in the street. I hadn't spoken to any children for quite some time, and I
wondered if I had gotten out of practice.
The first stars came out as I was reading next to my window, so I shut my
eyes and wished for a best friend of my own. If I shut one of my eyes and
turned my head, I could ignore the moon, which was half-full now. If I took one
look at it, it would be floating in my dreams all night long.
My mother looked happy, but she was crying. She fixed the collar of my shirt
several times and insisted that my father take a whole roll of film's worth
of pictures.
"His first day of school!" she sobbed.
"It's not as though I'm leaving permanently," I protested. My mother
began to kiss me again, and I didn't jerk away. I wouldn't be seeing my parents
until Christmastime.
We took the Underground to King's Cross Station, where I shut my eyes and
walked through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. The Hogwarts
Express loomed before me. Students were calling out to one another, other
beaming parents were kissing their first-years goodbye, and I was both deliriously
happy and nervous enough to wet my pants.
My parents kissed me goodbye for the umpteenth time. I said, "I'll just
go and get on the train, then." I dragged my suitcase. Some of the students
had owls, but I came from a poor family. Secondhand robes and spell books
were the most I'd hoped for.
I was stepping onto the train when I caught a glimpse of my parents
behind me. I had never been away from them before, seeing as I had no friends'
houses to go to, and I realized there was a very large lump forming in my
throat. I raced back to them and hugged them both, then ran back to the train,
waving behind me. They continued to wave as the train pulled out of the
station. I stood in the corridors, wondering whether to cheer or cry.
Giving a sudden lurch, the train began to move faster. I found myself
lying flat on the floor, my suitcase piled on top of me. Deciding I ought to
find a place to sit, I hurried down the row of seats. Most of them were filled
by people who looked very much older than I was. I looked for short and
nervous children who weren't in large groups and weren't laughing menacingly.
It was hard work. I found two children who fit this description in one cab - a
pale, scrawny boy with greasy black hair and a green-eyed girl with bushy red
hair - who were being towered over by several brawny boys who were threatening
to punch their faces in if they didn't give up their seats. The girl was
talking heatedly to them, the boy had held out his wand and began muttering
quickly under his breath. I moved on, feeling a bit more nervous than I had before.
The last cab was almost empty. There were two boys that looked about my
age in it, talking loudly about Quidditch and laughing as though they hadn't a
care in the world. They weren't the sort of boys I would feel comfortable
around, I could tell that right off, but remembering the black-haired boy and
the redheaded girl, I decided that they were a fairly safe choice of seatmates.
So what if they didn't like me?
Er – is this seat taken? I asked.
The boys didn't look up. One of the boys, who had glasses and messy
black hair, waved his hand carelessly at me.
Right, I said. I sat down. They were still talking enthusiastically
about Quidditch.
– shame first years aren't allowed on house teams, said the boy with
glasses. The other boy, who was rather tall and had long dark hair, nodded in
agreement.
Then they looked up and saw me.
Hello, said the boy with glasses. R. J. Lupin, eh?
My name had been stamped on my suitcase by my mother, who worried that it
would get lost.
Yes, I said, yes, that's me –
First year, too? said the boy with long dark hair.
"Yes."
"Sirius Black," said the same boy, without extending his hand.
"James Potter," the boy with glasses declared.
"Remus Lupin," I said, trying to take on their declaring tone.
"Play Quidditch at all, Remus Lupin?" the boy called James Potter asked
brightly.
I paused. If I said what was true, that I had never been near a
broomstick, even, then they would dismiss me as of no importance whatsoever. If
I lied, I could become one of them.
"Yeah," I said airily, "I played quite a lot, actually."
"What position?" Sirius Black asked. "Keeper? Seeker?"
"Seeker," I said. I liked the way it sounded.
"You gonna try out for the house team?" James Potter asked me.
"I might, second year," I said, amazed I was carrying on a conversation
with these two. "It's abysmal that first years aren't allowed to play at all."
"Abysmal?" smirked James Potter. He exchanged a raised-eyebrows look
with Sirius Black, and for a minute I was afraid I had blown it all.
"It means appalling, I said. Incomprehensible.
There was more exchanging of looks between the two boys.
Brainy, are you? said Sirius Black shrewdly.
Not really, I said, feeling that there was nothing I could do anymore,
but compared to this lot – I suppose so. I was feeling too stupid to care as
to whether or not they would take this as an insult.
Honestly said Sirius Black, and I was surprised to hear him speaking
in a voice that conveyed how much he quite agreed with me. Half the people on
this train can't even spell their own names, judging by their looks!" James
sniggered.
"Hey, what house d'you think you'll get in?" I asked them, trying to get
back onto familiar territory.
"My mother was in Slytherin," said Sirius Black. "She's a twisted old
bat, though – I rather think Gryffindor sounds like fun.
The Hufflepuff Quidditch team won the cup last year, though, James
Potter pointed out. My father was in Hufflepuff. My mother was in Gryffindor,
though.
My parents were both in Ravenclaw," I said. "It sounded all right,
except that from the way they talk about it, it was all about studying for the
end-of-the-year-exams."
"That's what I hear about Ravenclaws," said Sirius Black seriously, "they
don't care for anything but good marks."
And he and James Potter exchanged a look that said in an instant how very
tragic they thought this was.
"Awful, isn't it?" I said, trying to use a word I thought they'd know.
"It's perfectly abysmal," said Sirius Black.
"Simply appalling, James Potter added.
They laughed, but it was a lighthearted laugh, an including sort of
laugh. So I laughed, too.
Hey, I said, watch your mouths – I have a couple of fists, and they work
about as well as the old brain does –
We laughed again. I hadn't felt this happy since – since this morning,
actually; I had been very happy this morning – but I hadn't laughed with a bunch
of boys my own age - ever.
The lunch tray came by a bit later. My parents had given me some
spending money, so I bought a few Chocolate Frogs. James Potter bought a large
bag of these; we spent quite some time trading the cards and laughing at Sirius
Black, who was eating Every Flavor Beans with exaggerated facial expressions and
groans. It was getting very dark now, and Sirius Black said he thought we
might be getting close.
And we were. It was very dark, but we could see the lights of Hogwarts
Castle gleaming at us from in-between the trees.
Everything happened very fast that night. We first years were ushered into
boats which rowed themselves across a very large lake. I was in a boat with
Sirius Black, James Potter, and a quivering, round boy who said he was called
Pettigrew. For the short time it took to cross the lake, we got very soaked.
Then we came inside the castle. There was a hat; it sang a complicated song
(could that have been right? Was I just half-asleep?) and someone was calling
names – I had my head on Sirius Black's shoulder and was nearly nodding
off – they had sorted, Abigail, Henry first, then Black, Sirius (who went to
Gryffindor; I was nearly too tired to notice this) but I had slept through most
of the B's, and the C's, they were sorting, "Daniels, Cornelia!" and "Dervish,
Ayden!" (Ravenclaw). They did an "Evans," a "Fodder," a "Grady," a "Harris" and
a "Hellmans." I think I had fallen asleep again, because James Potter kicked
me in the shins and I jumped.
"Lupin, Remus!"
I went from feeling very sleepy to very sick. It was a terrible feeling.
I wasn't sure my legs could function properly, but I went up to a chair with
a hat sitting upon it. My parents had told me that I would put this hat on
and it would tell me which house to be sorted into.
I stuck the hat on my head with shaky hands and waited for it to yell.
Lupin, eh? said the hat, quietly and shrewdly. I put your folks in
Ravenclaw, both of them – and you would do well there, too, no doubt – Smart,
very smart, one of the most intelligent people I've sorted this evening,
actually – You're a nice kid, can tell that right off – So here we have a smart
boy, a good boy – have you ever disobeyed your parents? No, I don't think you have – this is quite difficult – I've narrowed it down to two choices, where you ought to
be – tricky – all right, I've made up my mind –
And the hat shouted, GRYFFINDOR
I was very tired and slightly relieved. Recalling that Sirius Black had
also been placed in that house, I scanned the tables and saw him whooping from
one of them at me.
After me there was a "Madison," but I dozed off again and didn't wake up
until the P's, "Pettigrew, Peter" and "Potter, James!" both became Gryffindors
- Sirius clapped and banged his fist on the table, but I was too tired to
notice much of anything anymore - "Rowy," they called, then "Samuels," "Snape,"
"Stouffer," and "Tierance." The last name they called was "Zane, Arianna,"
then there was a speech, and food appeared from out of nowhere, and a prefect
girl with long black hair wound back in a bun was showing us the way to the
common room. There were beds there. I picked the one next to the window,
without thinking. The moon was crescent-shaped, and it appeared innocent enough, but
that night I awoke quaking with nightmares of a leering giant with shiny white
teeth. None of the other boys heard me tossing and turning, so at least this
was something to be grateful for. Right then and there, however, I made a
vow to myself - I would never let my classmates know I was a werewolf. It was
something to be deeply ashamed of, something best left concealed. No matter
how many lies I would have to come up with, I'd never let the truth surface. I
stared out of my window at the setting moon, barely a sliver of light above
the horizon, turned over, and went back to sleep.
I was twelve years old, midway through my second year at Hogwarts, and it was
almost Christmastime. My first year at Hogwarts had been the best time of my
life, and this one was going to be even better, by the looks of it. Although
I did miss my parents, I was so elated about my new best friends that my
mother and father's absence was more than bearable. Sirius Black, James Potter,
Peter Pettigrew, and I had spent every minute at school in each other's
company. Sirius and James were extremely popular - they were clever, athletic,
and always joking around - and it was a very good thing I was friends with them,
because otherwise I probably never would have had any kind of a social life. I
was, as Sirius had predicted, very brainy - I got excellent marks in all my
classes, I knew the answer to every question my teachers proposed to me. I did
extra homework and studied for hours before exams. Most importantly, I never
passed notes with Sirius and James during classes. Because of this, I was
quite the teachers' pet, something James and Sirius were forever teasing me
about. But I had adjusted to friendships with other boys my own age, and was
even comfortable enough to admit that I'd never played Quidditch in my life after
James decided to try out for the Gryffindor team at the beginning of this year
and asked me if I wanted to try and be a Seeker. There was one thing,
however, that I would never have told my best friends about. It was getting
difficult to come up with new lies to tell them every month. I had used the
"folks are ill/injured" excuse too many times already, and the "forgot a textbook at
home" justification was becoming old as well. In actuality, every time the full
moon rose, I would walk down to an extremely violet tree called the Whomping
Willow, accompanied by the Hogwarts nurse, Madam Pomfrey. There was a small
button one could push at the roots of the great tree, which would open an
underground tunnel. I would walk down the tunnel into a small, unoccupied shack
in the village of Hogsmeade not far from the school. There I transformed, there
I stayed until I was human again, whereupon I would walk back to the school,
think up a few fabrications to satisfy my friends with, and think nothing of
until next month.
I was up in the boys' dormitories, hastily tidying my bed before I was
due to leave with Madam Pomfrey, when Sirius and James came up to me, catching
me off guard.
"Mum's ill," I said quickly, although I had said it the month before last.
James and Sirius sat on either side of me. James clapped me on the back
and Sirius slung a casual arm around me. We sat like this for a little while.
I was feeling quite nervous, which was completely uncalled for - these were
my two best friends, after all. Then James began to speak.
Your mum's not ill, Remus, he said quietly.
I had begun to sweat. Yes she is She told me – I got an owl – last
night
Remus, said Sirius, speaking slowly, "we know she's not ill. We know
you didn't forget One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi at your house last
month."
"What are you talking about?" I said, in a higher voice than I had
intended.
Sirius looked at James, who looked back.
Er, said James. You – being a werewolf. We know.
I knew if I sat where I was, I was going to hit him, him and Sirius both.
I stood up and ran to the far side of the dormitory.
It's all right, Remus, Sirius said. He might have been talking to a
lost puppy.
"C'mon," said James. They got up and started walking towards me.
"Get away from me," I said in a whisper. I was startled and horrified to
discover that tears were forming in my eyes.
Sirius and James looked very concerned now. "What? What is it?" said
Sirius, biting his lip.
"So I'm a werewolf," I said. I was crying now, but found that I didn't
really care. It wasn't as though we were going to be friends now, anyway; why
should I try to act tough around them? "So you guys worked it out.
Congratulations, first of all. Although I guess my excuses weren't that hard to
see
through.
Come on, Remus, said James, but he stopped there, as though not certain
how to finish.
Go I sobbed. Go tell the entire – f-fucking school!" While Sirius and
James were avid swearword users our second and third years, I always
refrained from saying profanities. This was my first real cuss, and I should
have felt
good. Instead, I felt worse, if possible, than ever.
"What?" Sirius said. "What would we do that for?"
I sank to the ground and buried my face in my hands. I didn't want to
watch them leave. I thought I would go completely to pieces after the first
friends I had ever made walked out on me.
"We're not going to tell anybody James said indignantly.
I have to go, I said. I have to go – I'm a werewolf You don't want to
be in the same room as me Go
But I didn't leave, and neither did they.
Remus, said Sirius seriously. Listen to me. Please."
I looked up and wiped my nose on my sleeve. Finally, I nodded.
"Me and James here are the best kind of friends there are," he said.
"The best," James added.
"Which means we don't rat you out," Sirius continued, "we don't avoid you
like the plague, and - most importantly - we stay your friends."
"That last part was a tad corny," James said, "but it's true. We're your
buddies - what d'you think, we'd send you into exile?"
"Well, yeah," I said. I had stopped crying, but my voice was still
shaky. "I'm a werewolf! They're dangerous dark creatures!"
"No, they're not," said Sirius, who was now smiling. He came and put his
hand on my shoulder very gently and kindly, and I looked back at him through
puffy red eyelids.
"You might like to be thought of as an dangerous dark creature," Sirius
continued, smirking, "but the fact remains that you're a teachers pet, you have
the best marks of anyone in our year, and you're an all-around
goody-two-shoes."
Here I should have laughed, or pretended to sock Sirius, or something to
that extent. Instead I started crying again. James came over and said, in
tones of mock sentiment, "Group hug, everybody!"
And we embraced.