On Thursday, Remus was staring at the clock anxiously. He was allowed to leave at five-fifteen to get ready for supper (as long as he ate plenty). The minute hand inched forwards.
Five-thirteen.
Five-fourteen...
Five-fourteen and a half...
Five-fifteen!
"Bye, Madam Pomfrey! Thank you ever so much!" He left as quickly as he possibly could on his injured leg and nearly bumped into Professor Questus.
"Ah! Sorry, Professor! I didn't see you there!"
"I'm surprised, what with your werewolf senses... oh, relax, there's no one around."
"I wasn't paying attention."
"Just wanted to tell you that I've told all the teachers about your friends' punishment. Your friends believe you were in class every day this week, and all the teachers will vouch for you. Here's a list of what each teacher taught during their period in case they ask... but I suspect they won't. Anyway, that should throw them off the scent for a while. They'll be coming back after supper. Enjoy your day."
Questus stalked off before Remus could even say thank you, which was just as well. Frankly, he was eager to get back to the dormitory.
He did the Knock-thing before stepping inside, even though his friends were still with the Slytherins. Then he inhaled.
The scent of Sirius' extremely expensive shampoo. Remus the Rock. Ink and parchment and books. The scents of James, Sirius, and Peter were there, too, though a little faint since they hadn't been in the dormitory in a while. His friends. His own scent was there. Everything was exactly as he'd left it.
It was glorious, being out of the Hospital Wing.
He went to supper and tried to ignore Madam Pomfrey's watchful gaze. It was odd, eating alone, but not as odd as it had been during Christmas. There was a boy there named Neil, and Remus talked a bit with him (since neither of them had anyone to talk to).
"Where are your friends?" Remus asked. "Mine are..."
"Oh, yeah, everyone knows!" said Neil. "That thing Questus made them do! Their detention, being with the Slytherins. Oh, they're so cool, aren't they? My friends are eating later today; they all have to catch up on homework. But I like to eat early."
Neil was chatty, which Remus was thankful for. All he had to do was nod and smile when it was appropriate. Soon enough, he finished his meal and managed to escape Neil's chatter with grace.
Sometime that evening, while Remus was reading in the dormitory, his friends entered without even Knocking. In fact, they nearly battered the door down as if it were made of glass.
Remus jumped and dropped his book on his stomach, which hurt. "What are you—?"
"I hate John," fumed James. "That horrid, awful, evil person. How could he? I hate him!"
"So how did it—?"
"It was awful! They kept teasing us and smirking at us and they hexed us! The older Slytherins hexed us! It's not fair; we're smaller than they are..."
Remus tried not to laugh at the irony of the statement. Then he realized that there was no reason to hold back laughter, so he erupted into peals of giggles. "You idiots! That was the whole point! Professor Questus was trying to show you what it was like to be helpless under the influence of unfriendly hexes... without actually using magic on you and being sacked. This is exactly what you do to the other first-year students and the Slytherins!"
"No! We're the same age."
"Yeah, but you're brighter and more popular. You have the upper hand."
"But it was in fun! They did it in... mal... what's the word?"
"Malice," Sirius supplied. "They did it in malice."
"Nope, I was thinking of malevolence," said James, and Sirius threw a pillow at him.
"The first-years don't know about your intent unless they're Legilimens. You three are so stupid!" Remus shook his head in exasperation, and James threw the pillow at him. Remus, who had been practicing his reflexes with Professor Questus for a while now, caught it expertly. "So how did everything else go?" he asked.
"He split us up," said Sirius. "We sat on opposite sides of the classroom, we ate meals separately in our rooms, we slept separately... It was awful!"
"Mm-hm. Like a lot of first-years who don't have friends yet... and then get hexed by the most popular people in the school. Sounds terrible."
"That's besides the point! Hexing a few people isn't a big deal! They were harmless!"
"Look, James, the thing about magic is that it renders people helpless—harmless or no." Remus remembered the nights he spent alone, watching, waiting, afraid and sick to his stomach. He remembered wishing with all his heart that it wouldn't happen, just this once, and he'd have a whole extra month to heal before the next full moon. He remembered burying himself into the corner as a five-year-old, thinking that maybe it was something real, something tangible that could catch him. He remembered hiding and trying to run, but there was nothing he could do—he couldn't escape the magic that resided inside of him—not even after a full night of clawing at his own skin. "Being helpless scares people. Not knowing what causes it scares them."
"But they're not hurt," argued Sirius. "It's funny! And it's not personal. Lay off, Lupin. You don't know what you're talking about."
Remus thought that he did. He knew what it was to be helpless. He knew what it was to be attacked by something far worse than a simple hex. But he couldn't tell Sirius that, and he didn't really want to. Besides, Professor Questus had said that his friends were good for him—he couldn't afford to lose them over a silly argument. "Fine, have it your way. You're not hurting anyone. But still, you've got to admit that it was a creative punishment."
"It was awful," James groaned. "It's so nice to talk to people who like me again. They weren't even impressed when Sirius and I could keep up with some of the lessons. We were so behind."
"Now you know how I feel," said Peter. "That's how I feel every class."
"Yeah, but we're brilliant. We don't deserve that."
"It's not as if you worked for your innate cleverness or anything," said Remus. "No one deserves it." Then he saw Sirius' face and shut up. "Are you... are you okay, Sirius? You've been kind of quiet."
Sirius pulled a fistful of letters out of his pocket. "Narcissa wrote Mum. Mum's not happy."
"Oh." Remus wasn't sure what to say.
"Yeah, she's so angry that my dad's writing the letters." Sirius pulled out a letter and handed it to Remus. "Here. Read."
Sirius Black,
The Black family has been around for generations. We are the paragon of wizarding virtue and grace. By definition—toujours pur—we are perfection. It is an honor to be a part of this family, and it is an honor that Mudbloods, half-breeds, and Muggles do not receive. We are a part of this family because we are called to be better: idols, the rulers of the wizarding world, and the beacon of hope in a world so often populated by creatures and animals of slime and filth. You are squandering the superior magical prowess running through your blood. You are taking the reputation that we have worked so hard to build and laying it before blood-traitors and Mudbloods. The wizarding world looks up to us as pure, true wizards, and now they will have nothing.
There is a hierarchy in this world for a reason, Sirius. Without it, the world will fall apart. People with superior blood have the responsibility to lead people with inferior blood. There aren't many Purebloods in the world today, and you, as our heir, should be treating what destiny has given you with a little more respect, not insubordination.
You are extremely lucky. You have Black blood running through your veins; therefore, you are responsible. Do you know what will happen if all of the Black heirs decide that their personal agenda is more important than the good of the world? The blood of Mudbloods will be the dominant gene, and the world will fall to ruin under their inferior intellect and magical skills. Your friends are living examples of this concept.
You are being selfish. It is time to stop acting childish and begin acting like the son you are supposed to be. You are breaking your mother's heart. You are throwing our household into ruin. We have worked so hard on your education, your appearance, and your diction. Narcissa has told me terrible things about the way you speak and dress. The company you keep is even worse. Lupin is affiliated with werewolves. Potter is a blood-traitor. Pettigrew is not one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. There are plenty of people with which you may affiliate, but not those three.
Being punished beyond detention and House Points is not a good sign, Sirius. You are well on your way to becoming a scorch mark on the Black Family Tree—and we do not do that lightly. Good behavior is important to us.
I am very disappointed.
—Father.
Remus looked up and made a face at the harsh words, and Sirius covered his face with his hands. "I usually call him 'Dad'. 'Father' means I'm either in public or in big trouble."
"I thought you didn't care about pleasing your family," said James.
"Yeah, I don't care about Mum. And I hate Dad. But... but at least he... he's usually nicer!" Sirius was yanking on a strand of his hair with his right hand in an expression of frustration. "I used to try to please him! He was always the calmer parent! More political, yeah, but... he sometimes tells jokes! He almost hugged me once! I'm immune to Mum's screeching by now, but Dad..."
Remus felt a little sick to his stomach reading the horribly manipulative letter. "Sirius, can I have this?" he heard James ask.
"Fine," said Sirius dully. "It's not fair of him, you know, to say that you're affiliated with werewolves, Remus. He was working a shift at the Registry the same day that your dad was. Had nothing to do with anything. That's a horrible accusation to make. And you're not a blood-traitor, James. That's not nice at all."
James nodded passively and pulled out a quill. "I'm gonna mark this up a little," he warned Sirius.
"What... what are you doing?"
"You'll see."
Sirius waved his hand, an expression of permission, and continued to rant. "I hate this. I hate it. I hate Questus. I hate my dad. I hate my mum. I hate my stupid family. And every single Slytherin hated me. This is stupid."
James nodded sympathetically.
"And I feel so guilty! Why do I feel guilty? I hate them, I don't want to be a Black, I want out. How is that selfish? It's not fair anyway!"
"It's not," said Remus. "You're not being selfish. Your father is. Muggles have just as much intelligence as wizards, and the world will not fall apart without Pureblood intervention. Look at Snape. He's talented, and he's only half-blood."
"Don't talk about Snape," Sirius said in a slightly growly tone. Remus flinched. "I hate him, too. He laughed at me. Smirked at me in the halls."
Remus could sense the conversation derailing to much more unpleasant places, so he tried to guide it back. "My point is," he said, "your parents only want you to behave so that they can stay in power. They're the selfish ones, not you."
Sirius nodded slowly. "Okay," he said. "I guess that makes sense. But I still hate this."
"Is there anything I can do?" asked Peter, and Sirius groaned.
"No, Peter, shut up."
"Don't tease Peter," said Remus instantly. Sirius made the growling noise again, and Remus flinched once more. "Stop that, it makes you sound insane," he said.
"Does it remind you of your mum?" said James, still writing on Sirius' letter, and Remus gave him a dirty look.
"My mum. Is not. A werewolf."
"Fine, fine. Oh, I finished. Do you all want to see it?" said James.
Remus nodded vehemently, eager for a change in subject. It was harder to be cool and collected than he thought when werewolves were mentioned. James handed the letter to Sirius. He'd crossed out about eighty-five percent of the words so that only a few were left.
Sirius _—
The Black family _ are _ Mud_. _ We are _ creatures and animals of slime and filth. -
- hierarchy -i-s. - d- - -u - m-b-.
You are extremely lucky. You have - blood running through your veins; therefore, you are - a liv- e- -.
You are being - childish - like - you are supposed to be. - your mother- Narcissa - werewolves. - There are plenty of people with which you may affiliate, but not those three.
_ pun-s- -, Sir-. - are -.
Good -.
I am very -.
—Fat-.
Sirius stared at the letter in horror for a few seconds.
And then, of course, he began to laugh hysterically. "That's so good, James! SO good! Oh, Dad would be furious. I am very. Fat." He started laughing harder. "Merlin's beard, you're a good friend. Nothing like Remus and Peter here. Remus, I am sad and I want to be comforted, not lectured. Peter, you're just useless all the time."
"Sirius!" said Remus, his face on fire. "Peter's not useless!"
"Ah, I'm only joking. Mostly. Even thought you're lecturing again. And you helped, Remus, you really did. That whole thing about being selfish. I worry about that sometimes." Sirius got quiet, and then glanced back at the letter and started laughing again. "James, half of this doesn't even make sense. You're the best."
Remus showed up to Astronomy class prepared. He'd made a very rough sketch of the moon, and he'd watched it and memorized its features before transforming. He'd made the necessary changes while in the Hospital Wing, and the sketch was, in Remus' opinion, very good. He turned it in with a smile, but Sidus did not smile back. His hands shook a little when he collected Remus' drawing. Ah, well, that was to be expected.
The week passed quickly. Remus was still awful at Transfiguration, but he was certainly improving. He reluctantly gave a point to McGonagall when she placed her hand over his to point out his incorrect wand movements and correct them, and she gave him one in return for not flinching when she did so. Well... not flinching too much. Remus wondered a bit why it was only now that she worked up the courage to do that—she'd been doing it to the other students since day one. But he couldn't blame her, really.
One night, as Remus was drifting off to sleep, James poked him in the shoulder.
He yelped and fell out of bed.
"Sheesh, Remus! I only touched you!" said James.
Remus rubbed his left shoulder and grimaced, remembering teeth sinking into it and broken glass all over his bed. "Sorry. What are you doing, waking me up at such an hour?"
"It's, like, eight pm. I don't know why you're asleep. Sirius and I wanted to ask you about this." James held up a small booklet that Remus immediately recognized.
"Give that back! That's mine! You can't be... that's not..."
James ignored him and started to read. "This Remus Lupin is a Marauder and friends with James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius. This Remus Lupin is a human who possesses human decency. This Remus Lupin is clever, witty, kind, and a good friend. This Remus Lupin never lies and does not spend hours and hours every month in the Hospital Wing. This Remus Lupin is... and then I guess you didn't finish, because there's no more."
Remus' face was red with something—anger? Fear? Embarrassment? He wasn't sure which. That was his Booklet—it was his private property!
"Why would you have to write all this down?" asked James. "What do you mean, this Remus Lupin? Unless..."
"You're lying," said Sirius, with an odd sort of finality. "Based on the wording, the Remus Lupin in this book must be different from the Remus Lupin in front of us. So you're lying. About everything."
James raised his eyebrows in smug triumph. "But if you're half-werewolf, then that would explain 'Remus Lupin is a human', and 'Remus Lupin never lies'," he said.
"Not to mention the whole thing about your mum being ill is in here, too. In the first paragraph, even," said Peter. "Are these really all lies?"
"They're not lies," said Remus. "I'm just... erm. Yeah. I'm writing an autobiography." In a moment of bravery, he pulled A Documentation of the Life of Remus Lupin out of his bag. "See? It's the truth. And I wanted to take notes."
James wrinkled his nose. "So what does 'this Remus Lupin' mean?"
"It's a bit complicated to explain," said Remus, scrambling for a lie. "You know... you know when..." Stay calm, he told himself in Professor Questus' voice. "You know when you're writing, and the character doesn't always come out like you want it to?"
"No," said the other three Marauders in unison.
"Well, it happens. And I wanted to remind myself of... you know, this Remus Lupin, not the one that I was writing that didn't feel like me at all."
"That's complicated," said James. His nose was still wrinkled. A little like a rabbit, Remus observed. "It's so much simpler if your mum is a werewolf."
"Just because my life is complicated doesn't mean it's fake," said Remus, even though his excuse hadn't made sense at all. His heart was beating wildly, and he couldn't quite take in air. Yep, he was toast.
But, instead of realizing the truth, Sirius merely sighed and turned to James. "His mum is not a werewolf," he said. "She can't be. Remus can't be half-werewolf."
"She is and he is," said James stubbornly, "and I'm going to prove it. What about the scars? We won't pretend we don't see them. And the scratches? You're bleeding half the time."
"Part of my illness," said Remus. "I bleed easily. And I really did get into a car crash. I'm telling you, half of these are from broken windscreen glass."
"Fine," said James. "Fragile china doll."
"I am not!"
"Yeah, you are. You're sleeping and it's only eight pm. That's china-doll behavior right there. Go back to bed now. Night." James' tone was rather sour. Remus wondered if he was disappointed that Remus wasn't half-werewolf. But that couldn't be right.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.
At least for now.
AN: I recently rediscovered the Schindler's List soundtrack, and it's been on repeat for the past three or so hours. John Williams is the greatest 3