Saturday 9th January 1982
A lunar eclipse went one of a few different ways, and Remus never knew which it would be until the moon rose. Because that was the rule, when the moon was above the horizon the wolf was in charge until the moon set. Sometimes if it had been behind cloud, he had a little while longer before the change it, sometimes it didn't.
What changed was how the wolf felt.
Tonight, Remus could feel the edge of his consciousness, he was still there, inside the wolf's mind and watching through the wolf's eyes. Normally he would disappear, no longer being Remus shape thoughts at all, even though he would remember bits and pieces. But tonight…
The werewolf paced the dirt floor of the cellar. He had torn through the wall and part of the roof over there two moons before, and now it was repaired. Stronger even. The man part had done it, he knew that. He could smell the wizard form and his magic everywhere. The wolf growled.
Nothing was right here. He had hated the big pack. Tens of werewolves all together, it was wrong. There was so much fighting, and his injuries had been bad. Neither he nor the wizard managed to stay out of fights. Always rubbing other werewolves the wrong way, no matter what form they held.
It had been nearly two years since his pack had run all together. More than a year since Padfoot had been at his side under the moon. He growled. Where was his pack? Something had happened. Something terrible. It was when the wizard had been in charge of the body they shared. Something to do with the pack, with the dog and the stag and the little grey rat. It hurt his soul, and he threw his head back and howled.
Inside, he could feel the wizard. Awake and aware. The wolf growled, not impressed by the imposition.
Nothing happened.
He shook his fur and sniffed the air. The moon was up, that was a certainty, but its pull seemed weaker, which explained the man.
The wolf began to pace.
Padfoot jumped off the cot, landing all four paws in the fresh snow under the cell window. The great black dog peered up at the sky, the bright orange moon, huge and glowing, shone down on him. He wanted to howl at it. Howl for his alpha, out there somewhere and alone. But Padfoot had learnt silence.
This was the third time he had woken as the dog, not the man. Somewhere in his subconscious he had realised that the Dementors couldn't reach him so badly in here, wrapped in fur and scents – most were awful, but distracting – and sounds. Besides, the memories that came with the dog shape were good memories for the most part.
He rolled over and over in the fresh snow. His fur stank, he stank. And the cell itself wasn't much better. But the snow at least offered a chance to wash some of the filth from himself.
He ran his tongue over another fresh tattoo. They were not visible in his fur, the black ink become more black fur. The injured flesh however, remained. This latest was on his side, it drew his attention to the way his tongue bounced over the dog's ribs. The dog whined softly. He knew he hadn't eaten in a while. Since before the Crouch boy was brought in. His screams had echoed everywhere, along with Bella's manic cackling. She had been delighted when she saw Sirius through the bars. He knew he hadn't eaten since then. The bowls came and went intermittently, but he didn't bother to keep track.
Hunger was a constant. He had been hungry before Hogwarts, hungry in the holidays that forced him back to the hell. Hungry when the darkness inside Sirius was too much to bear with a full stomach. He knew where he stood with hunger.
Padfoot sniffed the air. The snow was a blessed relief, a sharp clean smell that covered the smells from inside the prison, the rotting humans locked in their cages.
It was warmer too as the dog, his fur thicker than the parchment thin prison robes. The bed was tempting, but sleep was not. Even as he felt his head nod with exhaustion. He stood up and began to pace.
Remus woke to blinding agony.
Blearily he raised his head, drying blood matting his head to the dirt floor. The cellar seemed mostly intact. That was good. He tried to push himself up on one elbow, and bit back a scream. At a single glance he knew his right arm was shattered, he could see bone poking out. He slumped back and let unconsciousness take him.
It was too bright.
Lily screwed her eyes shut at the white light that stabbed into them. She took a slow measured breath, where was she?
Heart thumping, she remembered the high-pitched voice, the laugh, the flashes of light as she tried to duel being forced back and back. The bars of the cot behind her.
Lily sat up, ramrod straight and fumbling for her wand, 'No! Not Harry! No!'
Her bright green eyes shot open and she tried to draw in breath against the rising panic, no wand. No crib, no nursery.
Where was she?
Her surroundings filtered in, layering confusion over her panic.
The smell of clean linen and fresh herbs as much as the beds and mint green walls told her it was St. Mungo's. A familiar shape lay so very still in the bed across from hers. Lily threw off the sheets and tried to stand, but her legs wouldn't hold her. She hit the floor hard, with a bang and tried to crawl, 'James?' Desperation filled her voice as she struggled toward the hospital bed.
'Lily!'
She did not spare a glance for Dorcas. Pulling herself up by the chair next to the bed, Lily clung on and stared down at the love of her life. James' tan skin was pale against the white sheets. A puckered scar ran from his neck down under the clean pyjamas and disappeared.
Dorcas took her arm, 'Lily, please you should be in – '
'What happened? Where is Harry?'
Dorcas firmly sat her in the chair next to James' bed, 'Harry is safe.'
Lily looked her in the eye but saw no lie there. She let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding, 'Thank Merlin. What happened?'
Dorcas glanced over her shoulder towards the ward doors, 'You should be resting.'
'Tell me Dorcas Eloise Meadowes, right the fuck now.'
She sighed, 'You Know Who came to your house. He attacked you and James, the house was… well it's being rebuilt now.'
'What about Harry? How bad?'
Dorcas shook her head, 'I don't really… it's complicated. Harry is fine. Honestly, he was just fine. Voldemort tried to kill him, that's what Dumbledore said.' She raised her good hand to stop Lily from exploding, 'But he's fine. He had a little cut but that's all. Dumbledore said he will be okay. Please, will you let me examine you?'
Lily nodded, slowly, 'Yes. Alright. And James?'
Dorcas shot a look at the prone figure, 'He was pretty bad. We think You Know Who must have thought he was dead –' Seeing the look on Lily's face she rushed on, 'But he will live. He's really heavily sedated, for the pain, but we started weening him off it today so he should wake up soon.'
Lily closed her eyes and let Dorcas wave her wand over her.
'Alright, you seem to be okay. But I want you to rest, please.'
Lily shook her head, 'Can you owl Sirius, please. I need to see Harry – what is it?'
Dorcas puckered her lips, steeling herself before saying, 'Lily… Harry isn't with Sirius.'
Lily felt the cavern in her stomach open again, the same fear that she felt for her husband and son blossomed once more. Sirius was a brother to them. 'Please no. They got him?'
Dorcas nodded, 'Yes,' She took in the distress on her friend's face, 'Don't worry. He's in Azkaban now, you'll never have to – what are you doing?'
Lily had pushed herself out of the chair. Of course they would suspect Sirius.
'I need clothes, and my wand.'
'What do you mean? You aren't well Lils.'
Lily shot her a look that was all fire, 'Sirius wasn't our fucking secret keeper.'