Y1: James is an Owl

"How's James, Sirius?" asked Remus at breakfast the next morning with a slight wink.

"I'm right here, you know," said James, but Sirius caught on.

"James keeps making these really annoying squawking noises," said Sirius, struggling to keep a straight face. "It's like he thinks he can sing. But we know the truth. He can't sing, and he most certainly can't fly."

Sirius was speaking very loudly: Remus was sure that half the table could hear. He glanced at James' face, which was the picture of annoyance.

"Does he have any friends?" Remus asked conversationally.

"No. None. Who would want to be friends with James? He bit me yesterday. Bit me! James bit me, right on the finger. Drew blood and everything."

James groaned.

"Yes, he does seem to get annoyed rather easily. You should trim James' nails tomorrow. They're getting too long for comfort."

"I'll do that, right after I give him a bath. Wish he could do that by himself."

A fourth-year's mouth fell open, and her red-haired friend started to giggle nervously.

"I wish he wore clothes, at least. But James always goes starkers in the dormitory. Has no shame."

"Okay, that's a bit of a stretch," said James. "It's not me! I promise, Sirius isn't talking about me!"

"I'm surprised no one has caught James flying on castle grounds with no clothes on," said Remus, somehow maintaining a deadpan expression. "Seems a little cold for that, but he seems to enjoy it. I imagine he'd bite us if we tried to dress him, so there's really nothing we can do about it."

By now, the Gryffindor girls had alerted the Ravenclaw table as well—who had alerted the Hufflepuffs—who had alerted the Slytherins—and by now, half the school was listening. Remus wondered why James wasn't saying anything to stop them.

Peter finally gathered the courage to cut in. "It would all be fine if James didn't eat mice. I'm rather fond of mice, and I hate hearing the crunching noises coming from the end of our dormitory."

Students were giggling, and James was furiously opening and closing his mouth. Remus wasn't sure if he was actually angry, so he decided to end it. "Look, Sirius, it's James! He brought you a letter!"

The owl post had finally arrived, and James landed on Sirius' arm. "Good boy, James," said Sirius, petting James the Owl slyly. Laughter broke out among the school, and Sirius, Remus, and Peter wore matching grins. Chaos felt good sometimes. Well, nice, controlled chaos—simple chaos that didn't hurt a soul. What was wrong with bringing a little happiness to Hogwarts? And Remus wasn't even breaking any rules doing it... this time. He was pretty sure that interfering with a detention, sneaking out after curfew, and spraying ink all over Sprout was against the rules. But no one would ever find out, so what was the harm?

"Why didn't you say something?" Remus asked James while they were on their way to History of Magic. "About the owl. You looked like you wanted to."

"Sirius Silenced me!" James said, pretending to be angry—but Remus could see the mirth in his eyes. He knew that James would enjoy being the center of attention. People would be talking about James Potter for weeks, and James was sure to love that. "I can't believe you managed to do that, Sirius."

"He... Silenced you? With a Silencing Charm?" asked Remus, stunned. That was fifth-year magic, at least.

"Sure did," said Sirius. "Good thing I did, too, else James would have ruined it. It was perfect. Remus, you were brilliant. You too, Pettigrew. That thing with the mouse was amazing." Peter beamed yet again; Remus was happy that Sirius was giving him a chance. Peter really was very nice, and Remus might not be around for much longer to be Peter's advocate and friend.

Even at the prospect of leaving Hogwarts, however, Remus knew that he'd be in a good mood for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, he had read enough books to know that ending a chapter segment with a sentence like that was sure to be negative foreshadowing.

In Transfiguration, McGonagall announced that they were going to be practicing Reparo again, seeing as not everybody had quite mastered it. James got it on the first try, and Sirius did it on his second. They messed around for the rest of class, making paper airplanes and Levitating them at each other.

It took Remus a while before he finally achieved the charm, but he managed it again... eventually. His plate wasn't as neatly mended as James' or Sirius'—a faint line was still visible where the plate had once been broken—but at least it was mended.

McGonagall was still avoiding Remus' gaze, but she wasn't going out of her way to avoid him like she had been doing last class. In fact, all of Remus' teachers since the previous morning had been warming up to him. Remus sincerely hoped that Professor Dumbledore had not spoken with them about werewolf discrimination. He hated the idea of people discussing him behind his back, no matter the reason. Though... he knew that it was unavoidable at this point. Of course they would talk about the werewolf. Remus was, after all, the first werewolf student in the entire history of Hogwarts—that was nearly a thousand years. He knew that he should probably feel proud or special or something, but he didn't.

It was easier, however, to focus when McGonagall wasn't treating him like he had the plague. Bit stupid, really—like he was going to bite her at any minute? Why would he do that?—but Remus knew all about irrational fears and couldn't say that he blamed her. He still couldn't sleep next to a window, for Pete's sake, and it had been six years.

McGonagall slowly paced rounds around the classroom, helping students when needed and giving advice. When she came to Remus, she paused. "You're getting better, Lupin," she said. "But it's not flawless. Try to focus. Confidence, remember." She picked up the plate to inspect the damage.

Remus nodded, not daring to look her in the eyes for fear of making her uncomfortable. A few seconds passed, and McGonagall didn't leave. Remus could hear her heart beating.

This was awkward.

Remus shifted in his chair, hoping that she would put his plate down and leave. McGonagall, who was still looking at his plate, seemed to be startled by the sudden movement and promptly dropped the plate.

Crash!

Remus blanched and looked up at McGonagall, who looked just as shocked as he was. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..." Remus mumbled.

"Why are you apologizing, Lupin?" said Professor McGonagall briskly. "I was the one who dropped it. If you don't mind mending it, please?"

Remus stared at the shards that McGonagall had just placed on his desk and raised his wand. "Reparo," he whispered, but nothing happened. He swallowed hard. "I can't," he said.

"That's quite all right. Keep trying. The goal is to do it reliably. You still get full marks for the day since you achieved it at the beginning of class." McGonagall walked away and began helping another student.

Remus must have tried a dozen more times before class ended, but his efforts did not yield anything. He could feel his friends' eyes on him the whole time, including Lily. He could not get the image out of his head of people fearing him—him!—even with his oversized robes, less-than-perfect magical potential, pet toad, and odd hobbies. He was skinny, he was covered in scars, and he was completely powerless thirty days a month. He hated hearing the teachers' hearts speed up in the presence of him, he hated trying not to move so as not to startle them, he just wanted to go home...

And at the same time... he didn't.

Emotions, Remus thought, are entirely too confusing for my taste.

"What happened?" Peter asked Remus, yanking him back into reality. "Your face is all red."

Remus shook his head as if to clear the redness. It didn't seem to be working. "I just... I'm not..." Well, he didn't know how to explain this one away.

"You're worried that you're not good at magic." said James, and Remus thanked him internally for the wonderful excuse.

"Yeah," he whispered, trying to sound ashamed. It wasn't hard. "I can't focus when people are watching me. What if I'm never good at it? I've studied, I know all the incantations, I know the wand movements and the history and origin of the spell, but I can't... do it. Not when it matters."

"You'll get better," said Sirius dismissively. "It's only, what the second week? There's plenty of time. Just relax. McGonagall won't get mad at you for not being perfect."

"Thanks," said Remus. "I'm sure I will. Can't help but worry, though. Are you all ready for the History of Magic test today?"

"What?" Peter's eyes snapped up. "There's a test?"

"Yeah. On the textbook reading. Did you... read it?"

Peter shook his head, eyes wide. "I forgot! I was going to do it this morning!"

"It's all right; I'll summarize. It was only on the founding of Hogwarts. Four founders: do you know their names?"

"No!" Peter was getting more and more panicked by the second.

"How thick can you be?" said Sirius. "Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin. The Houses were named after them."

"Did you do the reading, then, Sirius?" asked Remus. "I didn't see you doing it this week at all."

"No. But I know this stuff. Easy."

"What year was Hogwarts built, then?" Remus almost wanted to see Sirius as panicked as Peter. It would serve him right, after all, after teasing Peter so.

"No one knows exactly. Tenth century." Sirius said proudly, puffing out his chest in a very Pureblood way. "Look, I know Hogwarts. I don't need to study. My family's chuffed to be Slytherins, and they taught me all about this."

"So Hogwarts was built in Scotland because..."

"Wizard persecution. From Muggles. Ask another one."

"Which founder came up with the name 'Hogwarts'?"

"Ooh, trick question. No one knows. According to popular tradition, it was Ravenclaw. Pretty quirky, she was. All of 'em are."

"You're right," said Remus, a little disappointed. "Don't worry, Peter, I'm sure you won't have to know all that. You know more than you think you do. Which founder liked to cook?"

"Um... Hufflepuff?"

"Yep, and which one was Gryffindor's best friend?"

"...Hufflepuff?"

"Slytherin."

"I refuse to believe that," said James. "There's no way Gryffindor could have been friends with a Slytherin. They're all vile. No offense, Sirius."

"Why would I be offended?" Sirius guffawed. "I'm not a Slytherin. And you're right. They're vile, the lot of them. Even Slughorn. Did you know that idiot invited me to the Slug Club last class?"

"Me too!" said James, "although I'm not surprised. You were invited too, right, Remus?"

Remus nodded slowly. "I don't think I'm going." He didn't see how he could, seeing as Slughorn had invited him just because he was a werewolf. He understood curiosity... but it was a secret. What if Slughorn wanted to talk about it? Besides, Remus didn't exactly feel like he deserved it. Getting himself bitten by a werewolf did not seem to be the criteria that Slughorn was looking for.

"Nonsense," said James. "We've got to have someone else to keep us sane. I'm guessing you weren't invited, eh, Pettigrew?"

Peter shook his head, clearly feeling left-out.

"S'alright, Peter," said Remus. "I don't want to go. I'll stay in the dormitory with you. It's this Saturday, right?"

"Come onnnn, Remus!" begged James, but Remus held fast.

"I'm not going. We'll discuss this later. Right now we should talk about the test, seeing as I'm the only one who did the reading."

"I skimmed it," protested James.

"No, you didn't."

"You're right. I didn't. Fine, keep summarizing."

Remus summarized as much of the chapter as he could before class began, hoping sincerely that Peter wouldn't fail—but he knew that he was hoping in vain as soon as Peter said that Hogwarts was a school in England.

Remus knew by the look on Peter's face as they left class that Peter had failed. And Sirius kept talking about how easy the test was, which didn't help matters.

When they finally reached the dormitory, Peter drew his curtains shut and retired to his bed. Remus was a little bit worried. "Peter... are you all right in there?" he called. He listened to Peter's breathing with his sensitive ears—it was ragged and hitched. Peter did not answer the question.

"Er... Quidditch tryouts are in a few weeks," Remus mentioned nonchalantly, and, sure enough, Sirius and James bounded out of the room to practice like someone had stuck a pin to their seats. Peter did not follow, and Remus was even more concerned.

"Peter, I'm really sorry it didn't go well," he said, but there came no answer. "I... could help you revise your notes if you'd like. For the next one. Or you could borrow mine—I write rather quickly." Still, no answer—only irregular breathing. "Do you want me to go?" he finally asked, because he knew that he'd want to be alone if something awful had happened to him. There still came no reply, so Remus picked up Bufo to take him to the grounds and get some fresh air. Maybe he'd watch James and Sirius for a bit. "Just let me know if there's anything I can do..."

"Don't go," Peter finally said in a watery voice. Remus nodded and pulled back Peter's curtains hesitantly.

"May I sit down?"

Peter nodded and moved over to allow Remus some room. Remus sat down and placed Bufo gingerly on his lap. Bufo didn't make a noise.

There were a few moments of silence, and Remus considered patting Peter on the shoulder or something. All at once, Peter started talking. He was a little like a wind-up doll that had just had its string pulled, Remus thought.

"I'm bad at magic, even worse than you are," started Peter (which seemed rude, but Remus ignored it). "And I'm also bad at memorizing and focusing and reading and joking, and there's nothing I'm good at and James said he'd be my friend but I'm not included in anything because I can't fly and I wasn't invited to the Slug Club and you all are good at something but I'm not good at anything, and Sirius and James still call me Pettigrew sometimes and act like I'm some dumb kid following them around even though we're 'friends', and everyone likes you so much more than me and I won't ever have any friends ever."

Remus felt a little overwhelmed. "I... see." he managed to say before Peter started talking again.

"And I want to be around them because they're so much fun and they're interesting and they're going to be popular, but they're braver than I am and the Hat told me that I didn't really fit into any of the Houses, and I have no good qualities and I'm stupid and I have barely any hobbies, even, and I'm trying not to be jealous of you because I know your mum's ill and all that but you're so good at things and you say you're not but you are!"

Remus was a bit uncomfortable. He wanted to nod to show that he was listening, but he was also worried that nodding would signify that he agreed with Peter... which wasn't what he wanted at all. "Peter..."

"No one wants me around. I'm just a burden. I'm not good at anything, Remus! Name one thing I'm good at!"

"You're a good friend," said Remus firmly. Peter tried to interrupt, but Remus stuck Bufo on his lap to shut him up. "You're fantastic at empathizing with people. That's why you care so much about what James and Sirius think of you. And you got Reparo before I did. And you were much more confident and braver than me when we arrived at Hogwarts. You're a great storyteller, and you have a lot of patience for others—even James and Sirius when they're being annoying. You really are more clever than you think, and your jokes make me laugh. You would have done quite well on the test if you had done the reading, I think. Maybe you're not a good leader, but you're a great follower—which is nothing to be scoffed at. You don't feel the need to be the leader all the time and that's admirable in itself. You can feel however you want about yourself, but I for one am very glad to have you around."

Peter didn't say anything, and Remus thought for certain that he had done something wrong. It had, after all, been a very sappy speech. And who was he to be saying such things? He had nearly exactly the same feelings as Peter. All the teachers were wary around him, no one would like him when they found out what he was, everyone thought he was funny and clever but that had been luck, probably, and they'd all find that out soon and hate him.

Even Peter would hate him someday. None of this was going to matter soon. Peter might admire him now, but Remus felt guilty knowing that the admiration was only skin-deep. He was quite literally a monster, masquerading as human and apparently doing a good job of it. Peter may have thought himself to be talentless, but Remus was dangerous, and a liar, and Dark, and a real burden—everyone was going out of their way to do things for him that he didn't deserve—really, who was he to even be sitting next to Peter?

He took Bufo back and stood to leave, but Peter grabbed his arm. Remus felt even more guilty. Peter wouldn't be touching him if he knew. McGonagall was skittish around him, and she was a fully-fledged witch and professor. "Do you really think so?" Peter asked quietly. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Yes," said Remus in a low voice. "Trust me, Peter, you're a much better friend than I could ever be." Remus hadn't meant to make the conversation about himself. He pushed down the squirming knot in his chest and directed the attention towards Peter again. "You're good at a lot of things, and you're only eleven. You'll find some hidden talents, just you wait. Like... I dunno, maybe you're good at juggling or playing the oboe or... tying knots."

"Thank you, Remus," said Peter, and Remus felt worse. Peter held such a terrible view of himself and such an inflated view of him—for the first time, Remus almost wanted to tell him his secret. So there, Peter, you're not an awful human being. I am. Don't hate yourself, hate me instead. Goodness knows I deserve it. "For the record, I think you're pretty amazing too," said Peter, and Remus felt mildly horrified.

"I'm not," he said. "I'm not. Don't say that." Ugh, was he trying to give away his secret? Just thank him and be done with it, Remus, you idiot...

"Well," said Peter, reaching for Bufo and placing him on his lap again. "You helped me, so I'll help you. Sit down. Tell me all about it." He stuck his nose out in an impression of Madam Pomfrey. "What seems to be the problem, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus laughed a little too hard as he sat down. He couldn't tell Peter everything, obviously. He decided to be as vague as possible instead, knowing that Peter probably wouldn't push it like Sirius and James.

"Erm... I... look, Peter, I'm not really that clever. I've just been getting lucky. And I'm not... a very good person. Deep down. I've done some things." I turn into a bloodthirsty monster every month. I'm a financial and emotional burden to those around me. I lie. How will they feel when they find out that the Remus they know never existed? "And I... just... you don't know me very well," he finished lamely.

"Then tell me!" said Peter. "What did you do? Did you accidentally kill someone or something?" What rotten luck. Peter was pushing it, after all.

"No. I... I'm sorry, Peter. I can't be your friend. I can't be friends with any of you. I don't deserve you; you think too highly of me... I need to go."

Remus grabbed Bufo and his bag, and then hightailed it out of the room. He knew that he had probably left Peter feeling dejected and awful. He knew that Peter didn't want to lose the Remus that he thought he knew. He knew that he was about to feel lonely and sad for the rest of his life if he kept pushing people away. But Remus couldn't keep pretending.

Lying was so exhausting. It was messing with his emotions; he was overthinking things and feeling needlessly guilty. He couldn't be himself. He had to carefully weigh everything that he wanted to say. He wasn't even feeling like himself anymore. Secrets were so tiring, and Remus just... needed a break. Yes, that was all. A break.

So much for good moods.

AN: New chapter update schedule: every other day! I'd update every day but my perfectionist self can't edit that fast LOL