Chapter Twenty-Five

Summer Before Seventh Year at Hogwarts

~ Sariah Alycone ~
I closed my eyes, wished with all my heart, concentrated with all my brainpower, turned in a miniature circle on the spot, and got . . . nothing. No sense of being forced into a tube, no compression of my breathing, no zapping through space and time. Nothing.

I opened my eyes, and stared across the lawn at the house. I hadn't even budged.

I mean, I was thankful that I hadn't splinched myself, but if it meant that I had moved, even if it was only half of me. . .

I looked up at the sound of a faint pop! Then Remus's father emerged from the clearing where he had been showing off, smiling faintly at me, with a very unusually disgruntled Remus in tow. From that, I surmised, Remus had failed to Apparate as well. Even worse was when Remus's father turned slightly and they vanished and reappeared right next to me.

Of course, by now, I was used to this.

Remus and I had both turned 16 before the end of the sixth year, but his parents had decided it would be best for us to be trained outside Hogwarts. That way less awkward questions would turn up if and when Remus missed practices. Here, if his father and mother trained us, it was a lot easier to conceal his disappearance at the full moon, and we could go be licensed without having the Ministry workers staring at or making rude remarks about us.

"It didn't work, did it?"

I sighed. "I didn't even splinch myself."

Remus raised an eyebrow as he tucked his wand back into his pocket. "You want to splinch yourself?" he asked.

"At this rate, I'd be glad to know that I at least moved," I snapped back. "Even if it was only half of me. But this – this is so frustrating! I'm doing everything the manual said to, but nothing works."

"Calm down," Remus's father counseled, placing his hand on my shoulder. "You're less likely to move anywhere when you're upset."

"Noticed."

He smiled. "Here, why don't the two of you take a break? You've been going at it since breakfast."

When his father was safely inside, I rolled my eyes.

"Saw that."

"Oh, hush, Remus."

"Why?"

"Because some people do like to live without people making comments about every move they make," I said primly. "And when I say people, I do mean people."

Remus sighed, the laughter draining from his face. And from that I gathered that Moony was indeed making comments, as he had not yet gone away, even though the full moon was still two weeks away. Ever since he had drank that awful potion, Moony had been his constant mental companion, and Remus was hard put to control when and how he reacted to whatever the wolf sneered in his brain. He had already slipped up a few times, though thankfully no one had asked.

"He's talking again, isn't he?"

Remus bit his lip. "He says that wolves like running places better than Apparation. Which is why, in his opinion, I kept having so much trouble."

"How does that figure?"

He shrugged. "I'm not quite – Oh. He says wolves don't like to be, um, caged."

I stared at Remus for a long moment. He was telling the truth – that much I could see, but . . . Still. . . Moony was a powerful creature when he took control of Remus's body, stronger and faster than any human could possibly be – and he was claustrophobic?

"He's afraid of small spaces?"

Remus shrugged. "Apparently. . . I never was afraid of tight spaces though, so. . . I'm not quite sure what it's talking about."

"Maybe Moony just wants to taunt you."

"Maybe. It wouldn't be the first time."

I tilted my head. "Then what was the first time?" I asked curiously.

Remus reddened. It was hard to see, since we were in the shade and his face was shadowed, but there was a definite pinkish hue to his face that hadn't been there before. That intrigued me; Remus was rarely embarrassed in front of me, unless the Marauders were involved – but they weren't here, so I didn't understand what could have set them off.

"When he first spoke, I guess. He thinks of me as a pup."

"A what?"

"A pup."

"Like a wolf pup?"

"I believe so."

I stared, and then blinked and shook my head. That's impossible. "Now you're just teasing me."

"I most certainly am not."

"You're a Marauder," I said dryly. "Your word is always questionable."

Remus feigned disappointment and hurt, and the flush faded from his face as he slipped into Marauder mode. "You insult my honor, madam," he said, bowing as ostentatiously as he could without falling over. "I'm just an honest person trying to speak his thoughts; surely there is no crime for that?"

"Doesn't work on me," I reminded him.

"Pity."

~ Remus Lupin ~
"I've got a question for you, Remus."

"Hmm?"

I looked up, tugged out of my Potions book by Sariah's voice. She was sitting right next to me, her own books in her lap and piled around her, but she was staring off into the distance, clearly distracted by something.

Or someone.

Shut it, I growled at the wolf.

"What is it?"

Sariah turned to me. "Why is that you always refer to Moony as 'it' and not him? Or by name?" she asked. "Moony is part of you, isn't he?"

"Well . . ."

I floundered for a response, caught off-guard. How can I possibly respond to that? And stay at least semi-intelligent? Or even give a decent response made of words, for that matter?

Why not tell the truth? the wolf suggested. She speaks well, the human.

Her name, I snarled, is Sariah.

Whatever, pup.

I took a deep breath. "Well . . . I guess I never really thought of it that way," I admitted. "I've always called the wolf 'it'. As has everyone else."

"Hmm. You also call yourself a monster – not a human." Sariah picked moodily at the grass in front of her, tearing off the stems with a frown on her face. "So you believe, like everyone else, that Moony is a monster as well, rather than a living being whose life is just as worthy as everyone else's – and yours?"

"No!"

Sariah's eyes bored into me. "Then why do you call Moony 'it'?"

"Well . . . I . . . I don't it's true name."

You did it again, pup.

Fine! What is your name? I demanded.

The wolf sent the equivalent of a mental shrug, barking in its usual laugh. I have none. We are named by our soul-brother or soul-sister – like you. And since your friends have deigned to label me Moony, it is Moony that I am, I guess.

So I call you Moony?

No, the wolf said. You call me "it".

For one second, I felt the full force of self-pity and sorrow from the wolf. Moony was a dangerous animal; he would tear even Sariah to pieces if she crossed him during the full moon. And yet, he felt sorry like all the rest of us, and he was even more dependent on me, his host, than I had thought. He was part of me, in a way.

Yet still we fought, every full moon, for control and for power.

I must rise, or die, the wolf whispered. It is our way. . . And if I should die, so should you, we share life.

No. I cut the wolf off with as much dignity as I could. No, we do not. There must be a cure.

The wolf snarled, abruptly angry, and the sorrow dissolved.

"Remus?"

I sighed. "It says to call him Moony."

Her eyes brightened. "You're still talking to him? I would have thought you would have shut him out, at least as much as possible. . ."

"If only."

"He is part of you, Remus. You can't deny that."

I can try.

Then you will fail. Each and every time, pup, you will fail. To deny me is to deny your nature, and therefore forfeit your life – you should listen to the human.

She does not understand.

Have it your way then, pup.

I groaned and pushed my book out of my lap. I was making no headway with anything now – my book, my argument with Sariah, or my fight with the wolf. Time for a strategic retreat.

"I'm going to try one more time," I announced.

"Go ahead," Sariah murmured absently, already bent over her book.

The wolf snickered.

What? I demanded, irritated, as I laid out of destination, current and future, in my mind and turned my concentration towards the task at hand, lest I splinch myself and be in a rather awkward, unable-to-go-anywhere position for a hour or so until the Ministry wizards or my father could fix up the mess and reattach my wayward body parts.

She's rather pretty, isn't she?

I closed my eyes. Oh gods. . . First my father, then my mother, then the Maruaders, and then the wolf. Who next?

The human herself?

No!

The wolf snickered again in the most superior fashion. Mark my words, pup – we share the same host and have different souls, but what influences one influences the other. He let that sink in until he delivered the final, horrible part of it. And since you care for her, my affections are similarly turned.

I do not . . .

The wolf snarled. You do.

But she'll never care for me, ever.

One day, pup.

Never.

But I did like Sariah. And the wolf acknowledged that. And if we were part of each other, not quite one and the same, but close enough, then even if the wolf hated being confined to small spaces, perhaps . . .

I spun on the spot.

And rematerialized, gasping, on the other side of the clearing, shaken by the experience.

"Remus! You did it!"

Yeah. Yeah, I did, I thought, straightened and getting ready to do it again.

You like her, pup. The wolf barked out a taunting laugh. In fact, you just moved because we both do, and it is only upon common ground that we can work together for something one of us hates so deeply. You cannot deny your affection for the human girl any longer.

Shut up, Moony.