— CHAPTER EIGHTEEN —

Remus Revealed

"I have to go," said Remus instantly. He knew he couldn't go to Dumbledore right now. For one, it was too late, and he didn't know the password to the Headmaster's Office. What was he going to do—break open Dumbledore's office? The whole issue with the Clickers had also become more complicated; the magical insects were Whispering Jewel into helping them or something. And there was the matter of the map and the dot named Jiminy Jewel, about which Remus didn't know what to think.

All he knew was that Jewel wanted something from him. It had to do with his lycanthropy, surely, or his Whispering. Nothing else made Remus special. Whatever it was, Remus knew it involved him and thus it was his obligation to deal with it. He had enough guilt swirling in his stomach on a daily basis—he didn't need to add a crazed, brainwashed Professor to the list.

He launched himself off his bed, shoved the map gracelessly into his knapsack, and picked up James's Cloak off the ground.

"What?" said Sirius. His eyes were wild. "That's all you have to say, after all that? Remus, what in Godric's name just happened?"

"Take me with you!" squeaked Ruby, whom Remus ignored.

"Don't follow me," he said, already halfway out the door.

"Like Hell we won't—"

"I'm really sorry about this," said Remus, twisting back. "Flipendo!"

Sirius went flying. Remus didn't turn back to look at what happened, but as he sped down the staircase, he heard noises of shock and outrage from his fellow Marauders.

Lily was still there in the common room. Her expression flooded with relief when she saw Remus running down. "Remus, I saw Jewel go up after you, and then he just ran out, looking furious—"

"I'll see you later, Lily," said Remus, heaving open the door to Gryffindor Tower and rushing away.

As soon as he was outside the Tower, he pulled James's Cloak over himself. "Lumos," whispered Remus, lighting up the inside of the Cloak which gave him a very limited view of his surroundings. It wasn't ideal but he didn't want to be caught out at night. With his left hand, he took the map. It told him Jewel was still somewhere in the sixth-floor corridor, pacing around. He didn't believe it. Whoever had just threatened him had left a few minutes ago. So he knew to be quiet, furtive.

"Who's there?" demanded the Fat Lady, but through a yawn; he'd woken her up.

As he descended the staircases, he had half a mind to pinpoint exactly where the dot was on the map and confront Jewel himself. But what would he do then? It's not like Remus could duel the man, who was a Defence teacher, who was savage enough to want to set fire to a rabbit. He wasn't sure how he'd snap Jewel out of being Whispered; after all Remus only knew how to start Whispering, not end it. He had to do what he did best; learn, research, gain the upper hand.

So Remus reluctantly descended further into Hogwarts, an ill-lit journey down staircases and past hallways. After agonisingly anxious minutes he finally found himself in the second-floor corridor in front of Jewel's office. He checked the map again; Jewel was apparently nowhere nearby, still on the sixth floor.

"Alohomora," he whispered, and the dual doors swung open.

Thankfully nobody was inside. The torches in the office flickered hauntingly. The window had been shut tight. Remus quietly closed the door behind him, pulling off the Cloak. He didn't know what he was trying to find, but he tiptoed around the room, throwing open suitcases, upending the sofa and its cushions and blanket, rifling through useless papers, a book on Portkeys, heaps of clothing.

Then, Remus turned to the door at the end of the office, the one Jewel had kept looking at the first time Remus had entered this office. Anticipation spiked in his chest as he pointed his wand, casting, once more, "Alohomora," and watching the door swing open menacingly.

He was let down. Inside was merely Jewel's living quarters: a messy bed, a drawer by its side, piles of books. Nothing noteworthy.

Feeling as if his late-night adventure had been for nothing, Remus trudged out of Jewel's bedroom, eyes on the floor. This made him spot one of Jewel's smaller trunks, tucked underneath his desk. Remus hadn't gotten to it yet and realising what it was excited him.

He unlocked the latch with fast fingers and Pester the pixie emerged, flying and squeaking loudly.

"Be quiet, Pester," hissed Remus. He realised he'd unintentionally put some of his Whisper into it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to Whisper you. Just, stay still and stay quiet, okay? I need to ask you some questions. I'm not going to Whisper you, just be quiet."

The magic hold on Pester disappeared but he begrudgingly hovered in the hair. "Fine."

"Please, tell me about Jewel." He was practically begging. "I know he's been plotting things with these monsters called the Clickers, or they've been Whispering him, or something."

Pester hummed in agreement. "Yes, Pester has been stuck in that all year," he said, pointing one of his fleshy blue fingers at the trunk on the floor, "so Pester has heard everything. Jewel is deranged, always talking to himself, arguing with himself at full volume, calling himself names, disagreeing on plans."

Remus felt a frown form on his face.

"From what Pester gathers, those Clickers have been telling Jewel what to do even since before he taught at Hogwarts," the pixie said. "The Clickers are always ordering him around. Sometimes Jewel wants to do it. Sometimes he doesn't. The Clickers want to escape, so they can eat. They are so, so hungry. Pester thinks they've been stuck here even longer than Pester has. Maybe centuries. The Clicker Queen keeps telling Jewel to make craters into the ground to find her, but all he ended up doing was attracting unwanted attention."

So Jewel had been the one making all those holes, exploding the ground so as to try to find the Clickers. It didn't fit together so nicely in Remus's head—didn't match up so well—but it made perfect sense that the Clickers and their Queen had been what was beneath Hogwarts.

"What about today?" Remus pressed. "What happened with Jewel today?"

Pester squinted, taking a moment to recall. "Jewel argued with himself again. A huge row. Pester thinks the Clickers were telling him today is the last day. They've found an escape route, finally. They've infected enough people with the Clicker Cold. They gain strength from it, Pester thinks. Now the Queen is strong enough to leave and eat. She wants Jewel to help her. And … you, Pester thinks. They're looking for a stronger Whisperer."

The Queen? Looking for him? The thought made Remus shiver. No wonder Jewel had come looking for him. "But how is the Queen going to get out? I thought Jewel failed at—well, making the chasms. Finding a way out for the Clickers. Why are they stronger now?"

Pester shrugged. "All Pester knows is that it wasn't Jewel who figured out how to save them. Someone else did. I heard him talking about it recently, that the route to the Queen is now clear."

A horrible thought occurred. "Pester, where is the route?"

"The rubbish bin, Pester thinks he said. The big one."

Remus swore. The Bottomless Pit! It had been clogged, for years now. No wonder the Clickers hadn't already eaten them all alive yet. No wonder the infections—of the Clicker Cold, or whatever Pester had called it—had increased lately. Remus had fixed their problem for them, given them free rein to kill the rest of Hogwarts! Professor Jewel didn't need to create any new chasms, now that the hole of all holes was clear.

"Okay, thank you for your help, Pester," said Remus, trying to shove down the growing guilt. The list titled "Things Remus Lupin Felt Horrible About" was expanding exponentially. "I really appreciate it."

"You aren't going to put Pester back in there, are you?" The pixie was looking apprehensively at the trunk which he had called a prison since Remus's first day.

"What? No," said Remus. For the third time that night, he cast, "Alohomora," this time unlocking the window. He wrenched it open. The night air was bitingly cold, like an exposed secret. "You're free, Pester. I'm sorry he stole a year of your life, and I'm sorry I couldn't save you sooner."

Pester looked blankly at Remus; not as if he'd been Whispered, but as if he were extremely surprised. "Pester thanks you," was all Pester said before he flew away into the cold night.

No sooner had Pester left than Remus heard footsteps and the unmistakable growl of Jewel's voice nearby. Remus almost began panicking—but he reasoned that if Jewel were here, that meant he wasn't busy unleashing the Queen on Hogwarts.

He swept on the Invisibility Cloak and bolted before he was caught.

Remus made his way back to his Gryffindor Tower. He didn't know what else to do, or where else to go. He had to wake up the Fat Lady, murmuring, "Boysenberry," again and again until she jolted awake.

"Well, I never—"

"Apologies," he mumbled on his way in. Nobody was in the common room; Lily had gone to bed.

When he returned to the dorm, the Marauders were still awake. Peter sat uneasily next to Sirius on his bed, with James pacing the room, his dark face wearing a serious expression. Sirius was cradling his shoulder, and when he caught sight of Remus, glowered at him through black eyelashes.

James stopped walking when he entered. "Remus!"

"Thanks for the Cloak," said Remus, handing it back to him briskly. He set down his knapsack beside his bed.

"All right, mate?"

"You ran out really fast," Peter piped up, "and…" Then he trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to finish.

Sirius had no such inhibitions. "Then he Flipendo'd me."

Remus looked down at the carpet floor. "I'm sorry I did that. I really did need to go do something on my own, and I couldn't have you follow me." He paused. "And yeah, I'm good, James."

"That's great," James said, putting on a smile. "Look, it's been a long night, boys. Why don't we just head off to bed?"

"Cut the shite," said Sirius, glowering. "We said we'd do it today, so we're gonna do it today."

Peter coughed.

James ran a hand through his hair. "Sirius—"

"Do what?" asked Remus warily.

"I'm gonna go ahead and say it since you lot are such wusses," said Sirius, then looked Remus dead in the eye. "Lupin. We know you're a werewolf."

Once, as a child, Remus had climbed up on one of those Whomping Willows near his home, back when they were still sleepy and stationary. He'd been bored and wanted to observe the view from high above, but had fallen asleep mistakenly. Sure enough, he'd been sent hurtling to the ground, landing square on his back. The wind had been knocked out of him. He'd been unable to wheeze out a whisper of a word, unable to move any of his little limbs, unable to do anything but lie there.

This was how Remus felt right now. He felt like he'd lost his grip on his world, that they seeped through his fingers like acid rain, leaving caustic wounds in their wake. He felt like an invisible person had their hands wrapped around his throat, crushing his airways until he could no longer breathe. He felt like he was falling forever, that he was being forced to relive the dread of landing over and over again. He felt like the full moon had suddenly manifested and shone its evil glow on him, that he was transforming into a werewolf right before their very eyes. Because these things were far more believable than what was happening right now.

"What?"

Remus forced the word out, careful to swallow down any bile that threatened to rise.

Sirius was nonchalantly annoyed. Annoyingly nonchalant. "Don't bother trying to make excuses. We figured it out. Well, I did."

Peter made a noise. "Hey, I was the one who noticed all of Lupin's scars!"

Remus stared down at himself. Had it been that obvious, that he was a monster? Had his own body betrayed him?

"You just thought he got roughed up a few times, idiot."

"Hey, I noticed that one time Remus touched some silverware, and he got a nasty sting."

Sirius's scowl deepened. "You lot did nothing. I noticed his disappearances. I figured out they were every month, always on the full moon. I followed him that one time, just to see where he was going, and I—"

"Shut it," said Remus. He couldn't believe it. They were talking about him like he was some school project they'd worked on together, instead of a person or a dark creature. "All of you, shut it."

"Remus," James was saying, "it's okay."

"No, it's not!" Remus was acutely aware that his voice was bordering on hysterical, but he couldn't bring himself to care. What did it matter? He was never going to see these people ever again. "You don't understand, and you never will."

"Remus—"

"N-n-now, I have to—have to go home. I can't go to Hogwarts anymore."

"What?" said Sirius.

"This is all your fault!" yelled Remus, but he didn't know whether he was speaking to Sirius or himself. He buried his face in his hands, which were now wet with tears. "This is all your fault."

"Remus—" James started again gently.

Why was he so nice? How could he be so nice, after finding out what Remus really was? In fact, Remus was bewildered as to how they could still stand to be in the same room as him, could speak to him without recoiling, without trying to put as much distance between them and the filthy werewolf as possible. Perhaps they wanted to ridicule him.

Yes, that was it, Remus concluded with bitterness. They were the peanut-crunching crowd, the circus-goers who wished to witness the filthy werewolf do his tricks for them, crack under their interrogations—one last time before they sent him away to live out the fate he deserved. After all, they'd damned Remus to a life of no education, no friends, hadn't they? Remus could envision the trajectory of his life now, his head reeling with his future of unemployment and loneliness, with nobody to keep him company but the monster within.

"No!" shrieked Remus. He stumbled backwards and did what he did best: run away.

He didn't know where he was going; he couldn't see much through his blurry vision; his feet worked where his mind didn't, taking him somewhere, anywhere but that claustrophobic dorm room with those three people he once called his friends; and he kept going until he slammed into someone, thinking, who could possibly be out in the Hogwarts hallways at this hour?

"Finally," Jewel said, his wand lighting his face up like a ghost. "I've been looking for you. Entering the office, did you think that was a smart idea?"

It was like Remus had been struck by lightning. His mind had jumpstarted. He was brought back to reality. He remembered everything he'd learnt about Jewel this long night.

Instantly, Remus tried to get away.

"Too slow," said Jewel behind him, and then Remus felt a jolt as a spell hit him in the back. He collapsed to the floor, losing any sense of feeling in his body. It was a frightening sensation—the lack of any—and he was about to scream for help before he realised no words came out. He couldn't move his limbs to lift himself up and keep running.

Without feeling anything, Remus's body was lifted and turned around by Jewel, who then stood over him. Cruel triumph glinted in his eye.

"You've been such a nuisance to me. Squandering the gift of your Whispering like that…" Jewel snarled quietly. "I wish I could get rid of you now … but we need you. Let's go."

Remus saw rather than felt that he was moving, his back sliding along the stone floor. He saw the high Hogwarts ceiling, and little else. He heard the clack of Jewel's shoes in front of him, leading the way. Remus knew where they were going and could do nothing to stop it.

Okay. Remus knew he couldn't just lie there and do nothing. He had to come up with a plan. He was confident his wand was still tucked into his robes, that it hadn't fallen out at some point during the physical altercation. And he knew that, at some point, Jewel's spell would either wear off or be removed, since they needed him for Whispering, and Remus couldn't speak right now.

As he racked his brains, Remus saw the angle of his vision shift, and though it was dark, he knew they were descending the staircase into the sixth floor. It was on the last few steps that Remus began to feel sensation again. The pain in his back from being dragged along the Hogwarts flagstones. The feel of his wand pressing against his thigh.

"Pretty please with a fairy on top," he heard Jewel say.

Shite. They were getting closer and closer to the Pit. Remus stretched his fingers as subtly as he could, desperately trying to find feeling in them again—

They were in the hidden corridor now. Remus twisted slightly, seeing the open doors to the study rooms, and was elated to feel pain as he craned his neck—

Jewel had stopped. Remus heard the clunk of the doorknob, of Jewel attempting to wrest the door open. It was now or never—

Remus leapt up from the floor as quickly as he could. "Expelliarmus!" he yelled. Jewel had his back turned to him, and he made a little sound of surprise when his wand flew out of his hand, straight into Remus's free one.

Remus immediately began to back up. "Stay back! I have two wands."

To his horror, Jewel began to laugh. "Stupid child, all alone. Come on, Jiminy, give it to him."

"I'm sorry about this, Remus," said a voice behind him, and for the second time that night, Remus felt the characteristic jolt of being hit directly by a spell. Both his wand and Jewel's hurtled out of his hands, and there was the added effect of Remus being slammed into the wall.

Remus yelped in pain, but he was used to it by now. As fast as he could, he crawled away, into one of the study rooms. Someone tried to lift him up, but Remus kicked wildly, hearing a satisfying, resultant shout as his leg was let go of. He grabbed onto a chair and pulled himself up.

"I'm sorry, Remus, I didn't mean to hurt you," someone was saying hurriedly. It was Jewel's voice, but it couldn't be Jewel because he was right—

There, in the doorway, haloed by the light of the fireplace, stood two men.

"What the—"

Remus tried to flee, but there was nowhere to run.

"Stupefy!" From one of their wands shot out a burst of red light, which narrowly missed Remus.

"Don't hurt him!" cried the other.

"Who are you?" demanded Remus, his hands clamped onto the back of a chair. It was his shield, his defence from Jewel, from whoever that was, whoever they were—

"He's right, we haven't properly introduced ourselves," said Jewel, grinning wickedly. "Come on, Jiminy, explain to him."

The man next to him, who looked identical to Jewel, down to the hair, the height, the moustache, sighed a deep sigh. "Remus. I'm Jiminy Jewel. And this is my twin brother, Janus Jewel."