Hi everyone! I just wanted to thank those of you who read the (very short) prologue and commented. I always love getting reviews and knowing that people are reading/enjoying my stories. Thanks! I hope you like this next part too! (BTW - this story was written before the HBP came out so if there are things that contradict that book, that's why.)
Sirius:
Wearily, I strolled into the dormitory I shared with my three best friends. My Potions exam had been grueling. It was as if the fumes from all the different concoctions we had prepared had sucked all the energy from me. I had no idea how I was going to make it through the full moon tonight. I didn't even want to think about getting through my classes tomorrow.
I glanced around the quiet room. James and Peter were in the library, studying, but Remus was sitting on his bed. I was about to greet him when I noticed that he was holding something to his lips. It was mostly concealed by his hand but it looked like some sort of flask. Judging by the expression that contorted his face, whatever he was drinking tasted vile.
"What's that?" I asked when Remus set the now empty jar behind him on the bed.
If Remus was surprised by my presence, it didn't show. "Perhaps the worst-tasting brew to ever be created," he smiled.
It was an evasion. He didn't want to answer so he called upon an irrelevant response in hopes that it would satisfy me. Or, if nothing else, that I would simply let the matter drop. Normally, I would have. Remus was a private person and I understood that there were many things he didn't share with me even though we were very close friends. A twisting in my gut prevented me from doing that now.
If the potion had been given to him by Madam Pomfrey to cure some injury or sickness, he would have told me. If it was part of some assignment for one of the classes we didn't share, he would have told me. His avoiding an honest answer could only mean one thing.
I crossed the room in two strides and reached around him to pick up the flask. A black sticker ran down its length. It was labeled with only one word: werewolf.
Worried and annoyed, I met Remus' cool gaze. He had shifted on his bed so that he could lean back against the wall. His pose was deceptively relaxed; I could see the slight tension that wracked his frame. Being considerably less impulsive than me, he didn't rush to take the small container back or chastise me for having invaded his privacy. He simply held out his hand.
Sighing, I returned the jar. "Tell me this isn't what I think it is." I demanded, sounding angrier than I intended.
Remus didn't respond, not verbally anyway. His eyes shifting downward was answer enough.
Was he trying to get himself killed? "Damn it, Remus!" I exclaimed sharply, "Don't you remember what happened the last time you took a potion that was supposed to counteract the madness of the wolf?"
"Of course I remember," he spoke with deliberate slowness, emphasizing each word.
"Then why are you taking this?" I gestured towards the flask in his hand. Why was he doing something so reckless? I was the one who was supposed to do brash, idiotic things. Remus was the calm, rational one. He was the one who always thought everything through and never took any unnecessary risks.
His eyes fluttered shut briefly. "You've been there for almost every full moon for nearly seven years, Sirius. You know why."
"Remus, I realize that it's hard and painful but this isn't the answer. It's foolish to take a potion that is supposed to help you but has never actually been tested on werewolves before. You have no idea what it could do to you!"
"I see. And you're obviously an expert on doing the logical, safe thing," he replied, a hint of cynicism creeping into his tone.
"That's the point!" He was infuriating. "Doesn't it mean something if even I think it's reckless?" He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep risking his life on the hope that an experimental potion might lessen the pain or lunacy of his transformations, not when the consequences could be so destructive.
"All right!" he snapped, surprising me with his sudden outburst. Taking a deep breath, he collected himself and proceeded more sedately. "All right. It's…not exactly the soundest or most intelligent thing to do but…Sirius, I have to. Having you and the others there is… I can't even describe how much it's helped me, how much you've helped me. But…" he shook his head, "it still hurts so much and it's still so difficult. I just…want it to stop."
I settled myself across from Remus on the bed. "I understand that you're desperate, Remus," I softened my tone to a whisper, "but you can't keep putting yourself in jeopardy like this. Last time–" I swallowed. "Last time you drank a potion your transformation into Moony took nearly forty minutes. You were screaming the entire time." I shuddered at the memory. "I-I've never seen you in such pain. Then–" my throat tightened and my voice wavered.
"Sirius–"
"Then you just lay there, curled into a tight ball, the entire night. When you changed back you practically went into convulsions. Your skin was clammy and burning. I thought – I thought you were going to…" –die. I had thought he was going to die. As James and Peter had helplessly looked on, I had drawn his head into my lap and tried to rouse him. He had grabbed my wrist and choked out my name before losing consciousness. Madam Pomfrey had kept him in the hospital wing for three days while he recuperated.
I felt a hand on my arm. "Sirius, look at me."
Reluctantly, I raised my gaze and met his expressive emerald eyes. They were filled with understanding, gratitude, annoyance, and an abundance of emotions I couldn't put a name to.
"I'm sorry that I worried you. I'm sorry. I just–" he bit his lip, "I can't read about these potions in the paper without testing them. Because…what if one of them actually works?"
"And what if one of them actually kills you?" I countered.
Remus didn't have an answer for that. At least, not one he cared to share. Instead, he just silently stared at me, conviction and stubbornness blazing in his eyes. I wasn't going to talk him out of this. Not now, not ever. His mind was set and there was no reasoning with him.
It just filled me with such anxiety. Not having any idea how he would react to the potion was frightening. I didn't want anything to happen to him. "You must promise me one thing," I entreated. "Next time you take one of these potions…tell me. Last time, part of what made it so horrible was the fact that we didn't have any idea why you were–"
"I promise," he interrupted me, tightening his hold on my forearm for a second.
"Thanks," I paused, floundering for something to say. "Where did you get the potion?"
He lowered his hand. "The only place I could afford it."
Frustration surged within me once more. That meant he had gone to the cheap side of Knockturn Alley. No wonder he hadn't joined James, Peter, and I at Hogsmeade last weekend. "If you're going to buy these potions you at least need to be sure they're made properly," I seethed between gritted teeth.
He didn't respond. It went without saying that he didn't have the kind of money that took. His family was quite poor and, for obvious reasons, he had had trouble finding a summer job.
"If you had asked me I would have given you the money." I had saved up quite a bit from my last employment.
"I know," he assured me, "but I don't want your charity."
Damn it. Why did he have to be so stubborn? I was trying to help him. "I don't care if you want it!" I exploded, startling the both of us. "You'll take the money anyway. If you insist on using these potentially unsafe potions then I'm going to insist that you buy them at reputable stores."
Remus opened his mouth, clearly intent on arguing, but I cut him off. "This is not up for debate," I stated firmly, getting up and quickly leaving the room. I needed some air before Remus came at me with his rebuttal. I needed some air before I was forced to watch the effects that potion would have on his transformations. I was too worried and annoyed to wait inside. What if it was worse than last time? What if it really did kill him?
Sighing deeply, I jogged away from the Forbidden Forest. Usually, strangely, standing at its edge and staring into the darkened mass of gnarled trees soothed me. Tonight it did nothing. I was just as apprehensive going into this full moon as I had been leaving the dormitory an hour earlier. My worry for Remus' wellbeing was not easy to forget or push out of mind and thought.
"Sirius! Wait up!" Coming to an unwilling stop, I turned to see Jeremy running towards me. He seemed to have come from out of the Forbidden Forest; perhaps he was returning from an errand for Hagrid.
Jeremy Mikkena had recently arrived from America. He was a Squib that had been born into a very…prosperous and proud family. They, like my own delightful parents, were great supporters of the belief that only pure-bloods should be allowed to practice magic. According to Jeremy, they had been shamed to have such a 'defective' son and had effectively disowned him. Having very little money he had worked his way to England in hopes of 'starting a new life', as he put it. As fate would have it, he had chanced to run into Dumbledore who had offered him a position at Hogwarts.
Jeremy grinned as he caught up with me. "You're troubled again," he noted, forgoing a greeting, as usual.
I smiled faintly. "And you, shockingly, are not." It was one of the things that had first drawn me to Jeremy. Honestly, he was a rather homely looking young man. He had short black hair, small brown eyes, and a thin, drawn face. Faint scars ran down both his cheeks, a permanent testament to the brutality of his father. He was, however, always smiling, always happy. No matter what obstacles life directed his way he accepted them cheerfully and without complaint. It was refreshing to meet someone who simply took things as they came and made the best of them.
"Life's too short to spend it brooding," he reminded me, eyes bright. "What's wrong this time?"
I waved a dismissive hand, trying to pretend it was a minor irritation. "I'm just worried about a friend."
"Hmm. Remus?" he surmised.
I frowned. That was eerie. "How did you know?"
"Well, James has been insanely happy ever since he got together with Lily. I can't see why you'd be worried about him," he shrugged. "Remus is your closest friend after James, I'd say."
How perceptive. "He's just doing something I'd rather he not," I explained vaguely. I was glad that Jeremy and I were friends but I wasn't about to elaborate regarding Remus.
He nodded. "Hopefully everything works out there." Wonderful, he wasn't going to probe. "I'd better get going now. There's a lot I need to get done for Dumbledore tonight. He needs this…mushroom pileus…thing jarred so that I can send it to someone in New Zealand the day after tomorrow. Any idea what it is?"
I smiled. "We use it certain potions. You'll be at the Quidditch game tomorrow, right?" I had invited Jeremy to sit with Remus, Peter, and I. He had very few friends and I thought they'd take well to him.
"Wouldn't miss it," he promised. "I'll see you then." Having said that, he turned and ran towards his hut, which was near the forest.
"Bye!" I called after him. Looking up at the sky I realized I needed to be going as well. Moonrise was in less than ten minutes and I had to meet James and Peter in the dormitory so that we could sneak out to the Whomping Willow under the Invisibility Cloak.
Turning, I sprinted towards the castle.
"What do you suppose is wrong with him?" James asked.
Placing my hand on Remus' heaving chest I stayed close as he was overcome by another fit of violent coughing. "He took another potion today," I explained to Prongs and Wormtail, smoothing back my shaking friend's tangled and sweat dampened hair.
I should have known that my relief had hit too soon. Remus' transformation had passed without incident; it had been no more painful or horrific than usual. As a wolf he had behaved no differently than I had come to expect over the last seven years. With moonset approaching fast, we had returned to the shack and I had allowed myself to think that we had gotten lucky and that the potion had had absolutely no effect on Remus whatsoever. It wasn't until his body had twisted itself back into human form that I realized something was wrong.
Instead of falling into a quiet daze as he usually did post-transformation, he had started wheezing frantically for breath. Then tremors had seized his body as he coughed and tried to curl into himself. Every so often he would quiet down but just when I thought the sickness had passed he'd start up again.
"Remus," I murmured just to ensure he knew I was here. I wasn't certain he had heard me, though. His face was red and his eyelids were quivering but never quite shutting entirely. Darting frantically about without settling on anything, his pupils were glazed and abnormally dilated. I could barely see a sliver of emerald green surrounding them.
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. He would be fine. This wasn't nearly as bad as the result of the last potion. He wasn't screaming or convulsing. Soon, this fit would pass and he would be fine. Maybe he'd even recover normally and be able to go to the Quidditch match with us. If he didn't, maybe he'd be well enough for me to stay in the dormitory with him and-
"S-Siri…?" he tried to gasp my name but was cut short by a ragged cough. Suddenly, he groaned and rolled away from me. Using unsteady hands to lift himself slightly he sputtered and vomited onto the already filthy floor.
My friend sagged back down. Scooting forward, I settled my hand on his shoulder. His breathing had evened out and he wasn't shaking anymore. A hint of healthy color was livening his cheeks and he had even closed his eyes.
I felt my heartbeat return to normal, or at the very least, stop pounding. He was going to be all right. Until the next time he reads about a new potion that he has to 'test', a voice inside my head reminded me.
I shook away that nagging concern and instead asked, "How are you doing?"
A hint of a smile teased the corners of his lips. "Better now," he croaked faintly. "I suppose I have an 'I told you so' coming."
Frowning, I shook my head. "No. Of course not. You know I want–"
"Do you guys hear that?" Peter interrupted suddenly.
I fell silent and cocked my head to the side. There were several sets of loud footfalls approaching and…voices. I couldn't make out any words but they sounded agitated. "Something's wrong," I muttered, feeling a pulse of uneasiness clench my chest. I turned towards James and Peter, who were hovering behind me. "Get under the cloak. Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore still don't know about you. No one should see you here."
James nodded and picked up the Invisibility Cloak. Fortunately, he had already retrieved it from the cupboard. Peter stepped close to him and, sharing a worried look with me, my best mate spread the silvery material over the both of them and vanished from my sight. Moments later, a tumult burst through the opening that led to the Whomping Willow in the form of at least seven witches and wizards, a very frantic Madam Pomfrey, and a troubled Dumbledore.
One of the wizards, flanked by two others, approached Remus and I. He was an elderly man with graying shoulder-length black hair and piercing blue eyes. My stomach flipped unsettlingly when I recognized him. Barrington Vladimir Beechcroft. The Minister of Magic. What was he doing here? He wouldn't have come unless something was seriously wrong.
Automatically, I positioned myself in front of my friend. Remus was strong, stronger than James and I sometimes gave him credit for. He was, however, unarguably at his most vulnerable directly after a transformation. I wouldn't let them overwhelm him.
Seeking reassurance, I glanced at the Headmaster. I couldn't catch his eye, though. His gaze kept flickering back and forth between Remus and the Minister, seeming to grow more somber with the passing of every moment. I swallowed, my apprehension mounting. I had never seen him this grave before. Not even when I had explained why I had told Snape how to get past the Whomping Willow.
"Remus J. Lupin?" the Minister looked past me as if I wasn't even there. I didn't like the disdainful glimmer in his eyes or the contempt in his voice. He was behaving as if it was repulsive to merely be in the same room as my friend.
"Yes," Remus replied, sounding remarkably collected.
"Registered werewolf since the age of five?" his eyes narrowed.
"Yes." I felt him inch closer to me, no doubt in an unwitting search for support.
Beechcroft smirked. "You're under arrest for the murder of Evelyn Milay. You are to accompany us to the Werewolf Confinement Center at the Ministry of Magic. If you resist we will use any amount of force necessary to subdue you."
Remus remained completely silent and motionless behind me but I was unable to contain a startled gasp. Murder? Evelyn? Remus? The words swarmed my thoughts before settling into a concept that I could grasp. Even then, even with the Minister of Magic standing no more than five feet away from me, I wanted to disbelieve what was happening. They were arresting Remus for murder? This had to be someone's idea of a twisted joke. And 'any amount of force necessary to subdue' him? An image flashed in my mind, an image of Remus on the floor, clutching his stomach as he was pounded into unconsciousness.
Feeling as if I would be violently ill, I swallowed past the dryness of my throat.
Wait. Dumbledore was speaking. What was he saying? "...have no evidence that proves he is connected to this tragedy. You–"
"He is a werewolf!" the Minister yelled without even glancing at the Headmaster, "that is all the evidence we need. Get up," he ordered Remus in an unpitying tone.
"I'll have to check him over first," Madam Pomfrey protested shrilly, "he might need–"
"You will do no such thing. Get up," he repeated coldly.
Such hate. They were treating him with such hate. It was one thing to know that the law had very little regard for people with his condition. It was quite another to witness it. Dazedly, I climbed to my feet and turned around. Remus was lying on the floor staring at the Minister and the witches and wizards that flanked him. His eyes were wide and his face was pale. He was frightened.
Mustering a reassuring smile, I extended my hand. When Remus gripped it tightly, I helped him stand. "His clothes are in the cupboard," I said, squeezing his fingers for a moment before releasing him. "I'll get them."
"He's a werewolf. He doesn't need them," was the sneering response.
Spinning to face him, I was quick to defend my fellow Marauder. "Remus is my friend, he's not–"
"Sirius," I was stopped by both Dumbledore and Remus uttering my name in a warning tone. "Do not concern yourself," the professor continued, "I will accompany Remus and these…gentlemen – and women – to ensure that your friend is not harmed." He watched the Minister avidly as he said the last two words.
Disconcertingly, Beechcroft's smirk returned.
I wanted to throttle him for treating Remus as if he had already been convicted of this murder. God, he was treating him even worse than that! Even convicted felons were shown more respect than this! Remus was not a monster! He was not some mindless demon who was going to devour the wizarding world in its sleep.
I held my tongue and glared balefully at the Minister. It was safe to assume that at that moment I felt as much hatred for him as he did for my friend.
"Seize him," the Minster ordered with a flick of his hand.
Two of the wizards immediately stepped forward and approached Remus, one on either side. One of them roughly grabbed my friend's arms and yanked them behind his back as the other pulled out his wand and muttered a charm that would keep Remus' wrists bound together.
Then they pushed him with such force that Remus had to stumble forward a couple of steps to prevent himself from falling. Two witches separated themselves from the rest and hastened to walk in front of my friend as he silently and calmly approached the exit of the shack. Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, and the Minister of Magic and his remaining wizards followed.
Helplessly, I watched them lead my naked and restrained friend away.