10 November 1972
"Did you see that pass I made to Moran? I had to dodge both Bludgers! And did you see my incredible shot at the end? Hooper nearly killed himself trying to save it—!"
"Yeah, yeah, we get it—you're the best Chaser ever to grace the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch," Sirius told James in an exasperated voice, though he was grinning. "Gryffindor's going to flatten Ravenclaw tomorrow."
"Of course we are!" James exclaimed, puffing his chest out proudly. "We're going to wipe the pitch with their swotty faces!"
Remus laughed, shaking his head, as he followed his friends into their dormitory. He, Sirius, and Peter had spent the evening watching James and the rest of the Gryffindor team in their last practice before the first official match of the season. Remus didn't know very much about Quidditch, but he reckoned he didn't have to be an expert to know that the Gryffindor team was excellent—and that James was truly as incredible a flier as he'd always boasted. He was the youngest member of the team, but he outshone his fellow Chasers with a confidence and an ease that Remus could only marvel at.
"Who's up for a quick game of Snap before dinner?" Sirius asked, reaching into his bedside drawer and withdrawing his pack of Exploding Snap cards.
"I am," Peter said enthusiastically.
"Me, too," James grinned, tossing his cloak aside and kicking his mud-splattered trainers under his bed.
"You might want to try a shower first, James," Remus suggested dryly, shrugging off his own cloak. "You smell like you could be Professor Bletchley's son."
Sirius let out a bark-like laugh. Professor Bletchley was their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He was a very unpleasant man—and he emitted an equally unpleasant odor. James and Sirius were convinced that he was part-troll.
James pulled a rude hand gesture in Remus's direction, grinning good-naturedly nonetheless. Then, snatching his towel and bathrobe up from the footboard of his four-poster bed, he stalked off towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
"Are you playing, Remus?" Sirius asked from the rug in the center of the dormitory, where he was dealing the cards between himself and Peter.
"Yeah, I'll be right there," Remus called over his shoulder, neatly folding his cloak and tucking it into his dresser. Then, suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement on the floor between his and James's beds, and he looked around, frowning.
James's worn-out copy of Quidditch Through the Ages was lying open, face-down, on the ground; the wings of the Golden Snitch emblazoned on the cover were fluttering against the green backdrop. Remus smiled to himself. He had bought James the book as a birthday present in March, but it was only since joining the Gryffindor Quidditch team in September that James had begun poring over the Quidditch book at every available opportunity, fervently underlining sentences and scribbling notes into the margins. In all honesty, it was the most Remus had ever seen his friend read.
Shaking his head in amusement, Remus stooped to pick up the book, glancing down at the page it had been opened to.
His heart stopped.
An enormous, grizzly gray wolf with glittering amber eyes was lunging towards him from the page, its face twisted into a snarl.
Remus gaped down at the picture, his ears ringing painfully.
Hands shaking slightly, Remus began leafing through the book, desperately seeking out passages about Quidditch fouls and the British and Irish league—but phrases like 'cursed wounds' and 'the lunar phase' were glaring up at him from each chapter. Every single page was covered in notes and markings—and there was no doubt in Remus's mind who they belonged to. James's untidy scrawl was unmistakable.
Heart hammering against his ribcage now, Remus flipped the book to the title page—and terror jumped to the back of his throat like bile. It was called The Lupine Lifestyle: Understanding Lycanthropy.
James knew.
"Remus, what are you doing? Hurry up!" Sirius's impatient voice came from the direction of the rug.
Remus whirled around, opening his mouth—but he couldn't seem to form words. He opened and closed his mouth soundlessly several more times, the disguised book on lycanthropy quaking in his hands.
Sirius's sharp gray eyes landed on the book—and his face turned white. Next to him, Peter's expression melted into one of horror.
They knew, too.
"Remus…" Sirius spoke first—and the sound of his name was like a trigger. Still clutching the werewolf book so tightly that his fingers hurt, Remus tripped past his friends, towards the dormitory door—but in a flash, Sirius had leaped up from the rug and dashed across the room to stand between Remus and the doorframe.
"Remus—"
Before Sirius could say anything more, the bathroom door swung open and James stepped out in his red and gold bathrobe, freshly showered. Upon taking in the bizarre scene in front of him, he froze.
Then, he noticed the green book in Remus's hands and his jaw dropped.
And then, in a single, dizzying moment, everything came crashing down. The book slipped out of Remus's fingers and he stumbled backwards, covering his face with his hands and shaking his head furiously.
They knew. They knew. They knew.
He was going to have to leave Hogwarts.
But he couldn't leave Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore had put his job and his reputation on the line to allow Remus the opportunity to study magic—and the thought of disappointing the headmaster, after everything he'd done for Remus, caused a fresh wave of mingled shame and nausea to wash over Remus.
There was only one thing he could do—there was only one way he could possibly salvage this situation. Shaking from head-to-toe, Remus lowered his hands from his face and swallowed heavily. James and Peter had both joined Sirius by the dormitory door, and all three boys were staring at him.
There was a heavy, lingering pause.
Then— "I'll never come near you again," Remus whispered, trembling. "I'll—I won't sit with you at meals—or class—"
"Remus," James gasped, eyes widening. "What—?"
"I'll even stop sleeping in here if you want," Remus continued in a strangled voice. "I—I can start sleeping in the common room. Just please—please don't tell anyone—"
"Remus," James said again, taking a step towards him—but Remus shook his head, stepping backwards.
"Please," he repeated in a hoarse whisper. "Please don't tell—please—"
"Remus, we've known for six months," Sirius interrupted loudly. "If we were going to tell someone, don't you think we'd have done it already?"
Remus's mouth fell open. He blinked at Sirius in shock, several times. His mind was refusing to process what he'd just heard—six months…six months—since May…
"We've just been arguing about how to break it to you," James added softly, taking another step towards Remus—and this time, Remus found that he couldn't bring himself to back away. "We—we were trying to give you a chance to tell us yourself."
Remus stared at James, too dumbfounded to speak. Fortunately, it seemed that his friends were nowhere near running out of words.
"Around March, we started noticing something weird about the days you chose to visit home," Sirius said quietly. "It was always around the full moons—we learned the dates in Astronomy."
"And you'd always come back looking ill and tired," Peter chimed in. "It didn't make any sense—your mum was the one who was supposed to be ill, not you."
"So, we started giving you opportunities to tell us the truth," James said, smiling slightly. "We lied and said that Cat Deverill saw you in the Hospital Wing—and I gave you that plate of fudge in September to try and guilt you into coming clean."
"We even pretended to plan adventures for the full moons," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "But you always found a way to excuse yourself."
"Because I didn't want you to know!" Remus exclaimed, his voice strained. "You—you weren't supposed to—no one is supposed to know! D'you have any idea what people think of werewolves—?"
"Yeah, I do," Sirius said shortly. "My parents hate werewolves—"
"Your parents hate everyone," Peter interjected.
"—and they're wrong," Sirius finished harshly. "It's a stupid prejudice, just like everything else my parents believe in—!"
"No!" Remus interrupted in a strangled voice, shaking his head. "No—they're dangerous! I'm dangerous—!"
"Remus, what if the roles were reversed?" James interrupted fiercely. "What if we were werewolves? Would you stop being friends with us because—because we got a little furry every month?"
"I—no, but—"
"Then, can you imagine how we're feeling?" James continued earnestly. Bending down, he retrieved the werewolf book that Remus had dropped to the floor. "We've been doing research for weeks, trying to learn what it's like—what you go through each month—because…because we didn't want you to go it alone anymore."
It took several moments for the impact of these words to settle over Remus—and when they did, the corners of his eyes stung. Pressing his lips together, he turned and stared at the floor.
Sirius cleared his throat. "When did it happen?" he asked softly. "I mean—how old were you?"
Remus glanced up, swallowing. "I was four," he whispered. "I don't know who the werewolf was, or—or how it happened." He paused. "I almost feel bad for him," he continued quietly. "He probably had no idea what he was doing—you don't have any control over your mind during the full moon."
There was another silence.
Then— "Is it scary?" Peter blurted out.
Remus looked at him, frowning. "What?"
Peter flushed pink, looking embarrassed. "Turning into a werewolf," he whispered. "Is it—is it scary?"
Remus averted his gaze again, clenching his jaw.
"Where d'you go?" James asked hesitantly. "What…what exactly happens on the full moons?"
Remus could tell from the way that Sirius and Peter both perked up slightly at the question that they had all been wondering this for a long while.
"I go down to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey takes me to the Whomping Willow," Remus explained in a low voice. "There's a tunnel in the trunk that leads to a shack in Hogsmeade—that's where I transform. I'm the reason the tree was planted."
There was a stunned pause.
"Are you telling me," James said slowly, "that you've known about a secret passageway to Hogsmeade since last year and you never told us?"
And then, in spite of himself—in spite of everything—Remus gave a strangled laugh; James grinned at him.
"I wish we could come with you," Sirius said in a rueful tone. "On the full moons, I mean."
Remus stared at him. "Have you got a death wish?"
Sirius snorted. "No, I just…I hate the idea of you being all by yourself."
Remus's chest constricted with emotion. Swallowing heavily, he shook his head. "How…" he whispered, "how can you not…mind?"
His words were greeted by a loud chorus of groans.
"I'm not going to explain this again," James said firmly, rolling his eyes.
"Mate," Sirius breathed, his expression incredulous, "how many people can say that they've got a werewolf for a best friend? This is bloody brilliant!"
It was the casualness with which Sirius said the words—best friend—that finally drove the point home. Suddenly, it hit Remus, all at once—they were still his friends—he was still their friend. There they were—standing in front of him, united in their support, rallying behind him, refusing to treat him any differently—tears sprung to Remus's eyes before he could stop them and he began blinking rapidly.
"Oh, great," Sirius complained, though he was grinning. "Now, he's going to start blubbering like my cousin Cissy does when her stupid boyfriend doesn't write her back."
Remus roughly swiped his hand under his nose and glared at Sirius, opening his mouth to retort—but before he could say a word, Sirius bounded forward and seized him in a painful headlock. And then, a second later, James and Peter were there, too—and together, they tumbled to the floor in a senseless mass of tangled limbs and hysterical laughter.