You forgot to take your Potion tonight
Chapter 2: Remus Lupin
He'd regained consciousness – human consciousness – at dawn, but for a long time he'd just lain on the ground, curled up into a ball, soggily trying to puzzle out where he was, and he could tell that it had been a particularly bad transformation from the way that he felt - it was something like being concussed, and something like being very, very hung-over.
At first he'd wondered why he wasn't in his cellar, his dank, smelly, secure cellar, wearing his chain and his muzzle – the muzzle was necessary because if he broke his chain, if he broke through the trapdoor of the cellar, he'd still be safe, he'd still be unable to bite - and then he'd remembered that he was at Hogwarts, and he should be curled up under the desk in his office. He should be feeling OK, he should be feeling fine, just a little tired, because the Wolfsbane Potion is marvellous stuff, it's a real breakthrough in the treatment of Lycanthropy - for those lucky enough to be able to get it, because there are only half a dozen wizards in Europe capable of brewing the stuff. If he's taken his Portion, he shouldn't be feeling like crap, and he shouldn't be lying on the ground in the Forbidden Forest, with the taste of blood in his mouth.
The Forest! He'd struggled to his feet at once when he realised that he was in the Forest because even in his post-transformation daze he'd known that the Forest was no place for a wizard without a wand, it was infested with Acromantula, for a start - and Centaurs, and they didn't like werewolves, transformed or not transformed. So he'd blundered around for a bit, until he'd found the edge of the Forest, and he wasn't far from Hagrid's hut - and Hagrid had been standing outside, rattling a bucket and calling, "Bucky, Bucky, where are yer boy, c'mon, Bucky, Bucky ..."
When Hagrid had seen him, Hagrid had looked anxious – which surprised him, because Hagrid was one of the very few people who knew that he was a werewolf, and weren't afraid of him. Dumbledore wasn't afraid of him - he couldn't imagine Dumbledore being afraid of anything; and Mad-Eye wasn't afraid of him – but Mad-Eye would put him down without hesitation if he ever ran amok while transformed, if he was ever out under a full moon and the Aurors were called, Mad-Eye would kill him, and the Avada Kedavra kills a werewolf just as effectively as a Muggle silver bullet; and Hagrid wasn't afraid of him – Hagrid was strong enough to break even a werewolf's back if he had to.
Hagrid hadn't minced words when he'd limped up to the hut, he'd come right to the point and asked, "Did you eat anythin' last night, Professor Lupin?"
He'd puzzled over that for a moment, he could taste blood in his mouth and there was blood on his finger-nails, but he didn't feel full, he didn't feel as if he'd fed, quite the reverse – he was starving. He must have attacked an animal in the Forest, but it had got away ... so he'd said no, and Hagrid had beamed, and insisted that he come in, and have a cup of tea and some breakfast.
He'd sat at Hagrid's table, sipping his sweet, milky tea and thinking that Hagrid looked like he'd been out at the Three Broomsticks last night, Hagrid looked the way that he felt – really seedy. He'd watched Hagrid cooking up what had been in the bucket – a tangle of sausages and some bacon – with plenty of eggs and fried potatoes, and although he mostly just felt hungry, he'd also felt a bit edgy, because if he was roaming the Forbidden Forest the morning after a full moon, something had gone wrong – had he forgotten to take his Potion? But nothing too bad could have happened, if he'd attacked a student the place would be crawling with Aurors by now, and Hogwarts seemed its usual quiet and sleepy pre-breakfast self ...
He'd wondered what had happened, eventually his memory would come back, but it was like trying to find a lost object, you have to retrace your steps ... so what had he been doing, what was his last clear memory of the previous night?
He could remember being in his office, brooding over his coming transformation - the Wolfsbane Potion stops him feeling the pain and lets him keep his mind, but he still has all the other problems, the hypersensitive nose, for example, and he really doesn't need that. It tells him more than he wants to know, especially about pretty Cho Chang, Cho is just a girl, she's only just turned fifteen, but she smells like a woman, and a very desirable young woman, too. But it didn't do any real harm, did it, just to think about her? It was only a harmless fantasy, because he'd never touch any of the young Hogwarts witches - that would be wrong, and he would never, never betray Dumbledore's trust - but what was he supposed to do? Hell, women never looked at him from one year to the next, women never looked at a tatty, unemployed werewolf who was on the wrong side of thirty-five - and here he was, surrounded by gorgeous teenage witches, and some of them thought that he was sweet ...
He'd thought, stoutly, there's nothing wrong with it, it's normal, it's a healthy outlet, and every wizard does it, it's nothing to be ashamed of. And then he'd thought - a little bitterly - and it doesn't make hair grow on the palms of your hands, if it did, I'd have hairy hands all month, not just at the full moon ...
That damned full moon, it would be rising soon, and he'd known that he really ought to go down to the dungeons and take another goblet of Potion – but he'd shrunk from facing the malevolent genius who lurked in that gloomy office full of nasty things pickled in jars. To be brutally honest, he didn't like being alone with Severus because when there was no one else around, Severus never let up about the Marauders - he never stopped taunting, now that you're back at Hogwarts you must be missing your old friends, Potter and Black and Pettigrew. He'd thought, miserably, Severus never misses an opportunity to stick the knife in, though I think Albus must have warned him against saying anything in front of Harry ...
Harry! And it had hurt to think that Severus distrusts him so completely ... Severus is convinced that he must be helping Sirius, is convinced that he can't be trusted with Harry – and he'd known that Severus had gone straight to Dumbledore the day that Severus had found him alone with Harry, pretending that he was showing Harry his Grindylow. And then he'd thought, Severus is more of a wolf than he knows, as far as Severus is concerned, he's the beta male of this pack, and it's going to stay that way - he's so jealous and suspicious, the way that he guards his place at the table, close to Albus, and his favourite armchair in the staff room, he's like a dog guarding a bone ...
And it had hurt even more to think of that other dog, to think of Padfoot – and even after all that's happened, even after Sirius broke into Gryffindor Tower and got as far as the third year boys' dormitory, it was still agony to know that Sirius was the traitor. Sirius had loved James, loved him as a brother – loved him more than a brother, because he'd loved James more than he loved his brother Regulus. And it was a mystery past fathoming as to why Sirius had gone over to Voldemort, why he'd taken the Dark Mark – that was something that had come out after the fall of Voldemort, when the Aurors had some prisoners to interrogate – why Sirius had allowed that repulsive brand to be burned into his arm.
He could understand why Severus had joined Voldemort - given who his friends were, his notorious interest in the Dark Arts, and, to be frank, his thoroughly unpleasant personality - it would have been more surprising if he hadn't. The mystery here was why Severus had returned and why the Headmaster trusted him, but Dumbledore absolutely refused to be drawn on that topic – and it was clear that Severus' behaviour towards Harry and Neville wasn't up for discussion, either. Severus' harshness towards Harry he could understand – Severus had hated James, and Harry was the living image of James – but his nastiness towards Neville was a puzzle. Neville was a bit of a bumbler, he struggled in all of his classes except Herbology, but that didn't seem enough to explain why Severus felt the need to terrorise Neville ... and the Boggart lesson was unfortunate, Severus had been really humiliated, but honestly he'd brought it on himself – the way that he brought most of his misfortunes on himself, because he hadn't changed at all, he was still the same nasty Slytherin bastard that he'd been when he was a student.
And then he'd thought, Severus can't point the finger at me, sure, I'm a werewolf – but Severus was a Death Eater, and Mad-Eye has dropped a few hints about what's in his Ministry file, some very unpleasant things indeed ... and he chose to become a Death Eater, he did that to himself! I didn't choose to be bitten by Fenrir Greyback, and can Severus imagine what my life was like before I came to Hogwarts, I had no friends, none at all ... but those Slytherin pure-bloods always stick together, he always had his little gang, Lucius Malfoy and the rest, most of whom turned out to be Death Eaters – half of them are still in Azkaban ...
Thinking about Azkaban had given him a jolt - no one has ever escaped from Azkaban, so how had Sirius managed it? And how is Sirius getting into Hogwarts?
He'd remembered the night that Sirius talked his way past Sir Cadogan – and when he'd seen that the one-eyed witch's passage remained unguarded and unblocked, he'd actually gone to the Headmaster's office, ready to make a full confession. He'd lost his nerve, though, when the oak door with the brass knocker in the shape of a griffon had swung open and he'd seen Severus standing there, bristling with hatred and contempt - because Severus was not going to give him a chance to speak to Dumbledore alone if he could possibly help it, and he couldn't bear it, he couldn't bear confessing everything while Severus gloated and sneered.
And if Dumbledore knew the full story, if he'd known that Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs had run free in the Forbidden Forest every full moon, when the werewolf should have been safely confined in the Shrieking Shack - what would Dumbledore think? Dumbledore had believed him and James when they said they hadn't known about Sirius' stupid idea of a joke in sixth year, the stupid prank that had nearly got Severus killed, but if Dumbledore knew about what they'd done, if the Headmaster knew how they'd deceived him - would Dumbledore still believe him, and would he still trust him with Harry? So he'd said nothing, he'd dithered – and when the Marauders' Map miraculously came into his hands the next Saturday afternoon, it had been an absolute godsend, because all he had to do was watch the Map, it would tell him how Sirius was getting into the castle ...
The Map, yes, the Map was important, it had something to do with what had happened last night ... he'd been in his office, checking the Map, because he didn't trust Harry and his friends to stay safe in the castle, not when Buckbeak was due to be executed – they'd try to sneak out to see Hagrid ... and that's something else that doesn't make sense, why had Hagrid been calling to his Hippogriff when the animal must be dead?
He'd asked Hagrid about Buckbeak, and Hagrid had looked blissful, and told him that the Hippogriff had escaped, he mustn't have tied him up properly, he'd been celebrating all night ...
So he'd gone back to munching on his breakfast and trying to pick up the threads of his memory - he'd been in his office, he'd been watching the Map ... and he'd seen something unbelievable, something that had caused him to run out of his office, down three flights of stairs, out through the Entrance Hall and across the grounds to the Whomping Willow. He'd scrambled down the tunnel as fast as he could, he'd burst into the Shrieking Shack, he'd heard Hermione screaming, WE'RE UP HERE, WE'RE UP HERE – SIRIUS BLACK – QUICK, and he'd raced through the bedroom door ...
And then it was a complete blank, he couldn't remember anything more, no, that wasn't true, he could remember fragments, he could remember Ron shrinking away from him, gasping, Get away from me, werewolf ... and then Ron shouting, HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!
It had started to come back to him, the rat writhing and twisting in Ron's hands, and the shock – the shock of recognising a wizard who supposedly had been dead for twelve years, and the shock of seeing Sirius again, he should have been ready, he should have been prepared - after all, he'd seen the wanted posters, he'd seen the photographs of the sunken-faced man with the long, matted hair on the front page of the Daily Prophet - but he'd nearly wept at the sight of Sirius. He'd been close to tears at the sight of the ghastly wreck of the man who'd once been so handsome, so full of life, so full of charm, because Sirius was irresistible when he set out to charm someone - friends, girls, teachers, he could charm them all ...
The kids had needed to be convinced of Sirius' innocence and he didn't blame them, Sirius had wanted to kill Peter on the spot, but Harry had a right to know, and Ron, too – he'd kept Peter as a pet – so he'd told them the whole story. He'd even told them the bits that he was ashamed of, how he'd said nothing to Dumbledore because he was afraid of losing Dumbledore's trust, and about the prank that had nearly cost Severus' his life – he'd edited that a little bit, said that Severus had only glimpsed him at the end of the tunnel, in truth it had been a lot worse than that, but he didn't want to frighten the kids, Harry and Hermione were Muggle-raised, they didn't really understand about werewolves, but Ron knew, and he was scared enough just being in the same room with a werewolf.
Severus, Severus ... he'd turned up at some stage, what had happened? Ah, now he could remember, Severus had appeared from nowhere, and he'd been so bloody aggressive, he just wouldn't listen, he'd said, two more for Azkaban tonight, and then he'd gloated over how it would look to Dumbledore. And it could be made to look bad, very bad - it could be made to look like a plot between a Dark creature and a convicted Death Eater to lure the Boy Who Lived out of the safety of Hogwarts, and to kill him in the Shrieking Shack.
He'd lost his temper with Severus then, he'd thought, why can't Severus just get over it? How can he still be holding a grudge, all these years afterwards? OK, what Sirius did was incredibly stupid, but how on earth could Severus think that it was a plot to murder him? Sweet Merlin, if he had killed Severus, it would have been expulsion for Sirius, and possibly a stint in Azkaban - and it would have been far worse for him, he would have been handed over to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures for execution. How could Severus possibly think Sirius wanted that to happen? And hadn't Sirius suffered enough, he was an innocent man and he'd spent twelve years in Azkaban!
So he'd said, Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban? But Severus still wouldn't listen, he'd gone berserk, bound him in cords, and then Severus had turned on Sirius, he'd pointed his wand straight between Sirius' eyes – and he'd thought, Severus is going to kill Sirius, it'll be the Avada Kedavra ... Merlin, I knew Severus hated Sirius – but this much?
Hermione had dared to say something about Severus making a mistake, and Severus had started shrieking at her, he'd looked quite deranged, and then Sirius had said that he'd come quietly provided that Ron brought his rat up the castle ...
Severus had threatened Sirius with the Kiss, and he'd winced, remembering the conversation that he'd had with Harry, when he'd told Harry what would happen to Sirius if the Aurors caught him - and Sirius had begged Severus to look at the rat, but Severus just wouldn't listen, he was beyond reason ... and then he'd said something about a Kiss for the werewolf, too.
But Harry had been wonderful, he'd strode across the room, blocked the door, looking grim and determined and more like James at the age of thirteen than ever, and Harry had spoken up for him, asked why, if he was helping Sirius, he hadn't attacked Harry when he got the chance? Severus had started shouting, looking madder than ever, but Harry had stood up to Severus, even when Severus had threatened him - and then three voices had yelled Expelliarmus! - there'd been a tremendous blast, and Severus had been knocked against the wall, knocked unconscious ...
Harry wasn't convinced that they were telling the truth, but he'd been prepared to listen – all three of the kids had been prepared to listen – he'd been able to persuade Ron to hand the rat over, and together he and Sirius had cast the Homorphus Charm, forced Peter to reveal himself, and he'd had nothing to say for himself – what could he say? Why would an innocent man choose to spend twelve years living as a rat?
And it had been horrible to watch, the oversized balding baby, blubbering and cowering, caught out in lie after lie ... Peter had crawled to Sirius, he'd dared to remind Sirius that they'd once been friends, and then Peter had turned to him, asked him why Sirius hadn't told him of the change in Secret-Keepers, and that had burned - Sirius hadn't told him because everyone thought that he was the spy, just because he was a Dark creature, a werewolf.
He'd rolled up his sleeves, because even if there had been no formal trial, Wormtail deserved to die, and he'd been given a chance to defend himself – which was more than Sirius had got, because Bartemius Crouch had sent Sirius to Azkaban without a trial. He and Sirius would kill the rat together, and it would be execution, not murder.
Wormtail had known what was coming, he'd scuttled to each of the kids in turn, begging and pleading – and when the disgusting creature had dared to crawl to Harry, it had been too much. They'd thrown him onto the floor, Sirius had accused him, point-blank, and he couldn't deny it, Wormtail couldn't deny that he'd sold James and Lily to Voldemort. He'd squeaked out his pitiful excuses, whimpered that he'd been forced to do it, whined that Voldemort would have killed him ...
They'd raised their wands, they'd been ready to do it – ready to use an Unforgiveable Curse in front of three children – and then Harry had done something splendid, he'd refused to let them kill Peter, he'd refused to let his father's best friends become murderers.
And he couldn't help smiling at the memory - Harry is so much like James, the physical resemblance is uncanny, but it's more than that, Harry has so much of his father in him, he has so much of the best of James in him. James had been a bit of an arrogant berk as a teenager, but he'd grown up a lot once he started going out with Lily, and he'd been a brilliant Auror ... James would have been so proud of Harry ...
He could remember splinting Ron's leg, Hermione had been fussing about Severus, but Severus was fine, he'd just been knocked out, and it was a lot easier to leave him that way than to deal with another round of shouting and threats. Severus would be livid when he realised that he'd made a complete fool of himself in front of Harry, and enraged when he found out that Sirius had been using his wand – and they needed to get up to the castle as soon as possible, they didn't have time for explanations and arguments ... so they'd manacled Wormtail, and set off back up the tunnel.
He couldn't help eavesdropping on Sirius' conversation with Harry as they edged their way through the tunnel, and he'd felt a little embarrassed, it wasn't exactly private but it was personal ... Sirius had told Harry that he was Harry's godfather, had offered him a home, and Harry had been so happy and excited, he'd asked, when can I move in?
He'd basked for a moment in that memory ... and then he'd thought, what happened next? Why was I in the Forest this morning? Why wasn't I in my office, curled up, a harmless wolf ... and where did the blood come from?
But it's a blank, he can't remember anything after they climbed out of the hole at the base of the Whomping Willow, his mind is a fog ... until a cloud shifts, he's bathed in moonlight and he can hear Hermione gasping, He didn't take his potion tonight! He's not safe!
And then he drops his knife and fork, leaps up from the table, shivering with the horror and fear and guilt of his worst nightmare. Is it Harry's blood on his fingernails, Harry's blood in his mouth? Or Ron's? Or Hermione's?
And what will he find in the Hospital Wing when he gets up to the castle? Three mauled, feverish, infected children - three new werewolves to credit to Fenrir Greyback's account?