At last the first of September rolled into view, and with it the Hogwarts Express. Since July, Sirius had counted down each hour to the moment when he would return to Hogwarts, and his nerves of anticipation had lingered just shy of their breaking point all throughout August. He could have skipped all the way to King's Cross station, if he had not been weighted down by his trunk. Indeed, he felt so lighthearted that he did not even mind his mother's offer of a thinly veiled threat in lieu of a farewell.
Upon catching sight of James, Sirius roared with delight and dashed across Platform Nine and Three-Quarters to greet him, leaving his father behind without a second glance. They shouted and laughed, danced and hopped and marveled at the fact that Sirius was now two inches taller than James. Before long Peter Pettigrew had joined the fray as well. Sirius looked around for Remus and jumped to see him standing a mere four feet away, looking over at the group shyly, as if unsure whether he was still welcome among them. When Sirius caught his eye he grinned uncertainly, and Sirius pulled him into a hug.
On the train, the foursome celebrated their reunion with their signature game of Exploding Snap. They admired James' new broomstick, jeered as Severus Snape passed their compartment with a red-haired girl Sirius was sure belonged in Gryffindor, exclaimed incredulously when they discovered that Remus had written longer letters to Sirius than to either of the others (to which Remus merely turned a delicate shade of pink and feigned deafness), and ate sweets until they felt near to bursting. As the sky outside began to darken Remus left their compartment to ask the conductor when they would be arriving.
"Be quick about it!" James called after him.
Evidently, however, Remus did not hear him, for he did not return quickly. In fact, he did not return at all for the remainder of the journey, and he was nowhere to be found on the platform when they disembarked in Hogsmeade.
"D'you think he's all right?" asked James uneasily, as the three of them trundled along in one of the horseless carriages that would take them up to the school.
"No," Sirius and Peter answered immediately. Whatever had happened to Remus, he most certainly was not all right. And what worried Sirius perhaps even more than Remus' absence was the fact that he had so obviously and so easily lied to them. For whatever reason he had left their compartment, it had not been to ask the conductor when they would arrive. Why did Remus think he could not trust his friends?
The funny thing was, even last year Remus had developed a habit of disappearing without notice. It had been one of his more infuriating qualities—one of his only infuriating qualities, to be sure, but infuriating nonetheless. Every so often, he would simply disappear from their dormitory, from the common room and from his classes, and then turn up again just as suddenly a couple days later, claiming to have been off visiting his ailing mother. However, Remus' friends could not help noticing that he always seemed rather off-color himself whenever he returned. Perhaps his mother's illness was slightly contagious—or perhaps he was hiding something.
"Did either of you think he looked a bit . . . odd?" James asked.
Peter merely shrugged.
In his current state of anxiety Sirius was in no mood to talk, but he nevertheless realized that James did have a point. Now that he thought about it, Remus had seemed a bit out of sorts. Though Remus had greeted them all warmly enough, and played Exploding Snap with due enthusiasm, Sirius also remembered his pallid complexion and his darkened, bloodshot eyes. How could Sirius have been so stupid, to have seen it and not said anything? Just as he opened his mouth to respond to James, however, the carriage rounded a corner, and despite their worries there was a collective intake of breath as Hogwarts Castle loomed magnificently into view across the lake, bathed in the brilliant light of a full moon.
"Where the bloody hell have you been?" James demanded, as Remus rejoined them at last during lunch on the second day of term.
"We thought you'd fallen off the train and died!" Sirius yelled. "Next time you decide to run out on us, at least leave a note, why don't you? We were about to go searching the moors for your corpse!"
Remus looked miserable, unwell and exhausted. If Sirius had not been so frustrated with him, he would have hexed anyone who dared to shout at Remus in such a condition. As it was, Remus had left him worried for two days, and Sirius wanted to ensure that it would never happen again.
"Sorry," said Remus meekly. "I—wasn't feeling well . . . took ill when I was walking down the train . . . Madam Pomfrey . . . wouldn't let me leave until . . ." his voice trailed off, and he began shoveling food into his mouth as an excuse to stop talking.
/ / /
Once September had receded into October, Remus vanished again. This time, however, his friends were determined to uncover the truth. First they scoured the castle, checking each of Remus' favorite haunts to ensure that he really had gone. They then headed up to the Hospital Wing, which was locked. Unfazed, James let them in using a handy unlocking spell he had read about over the summer, and they entered cautiously under cover of an Invisibility Cloak that had once belonged to James' father. However, they found the wing entirely deserted, apart from a lone Hufflepuff who had suffered a Venomous Tentacula bite a few days previously. Even Madam Pomfrey was absent from her office.
Sirius, James, and Peter expended every resource they could dream up, even going so far as to spout a stream of random words at the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office, in a desperate attempt to reach Dumbledore—all to no avail. Everything ran into a dead end. Ultimately they were forced to admit defeat and return to the common room.
"It doesn't make any sense!" James burst out.
"I know," Sirius grumbled, his face in his hands.
"There has to be something we've missed."
"But what? We've been through it all a million times."
"Last year he kept saying he had to visit his mother—"
"But always looked like he was the one who had been ill—"
"He looked ill on the train last month—"
"And he looked ill this morning—"
"But he's not in the hospital wing."
"He's not anywhere, as far as the teachers are concerned."
"And he doesn't want us to know . . ." All of a sudden James clapped a hand to his forehead. "Of course!"
"What?" Sirius yelped, startled.
Without answering, James sprang to his feet and bolted to a window.
"What?" Sirius repeated, as he followed James across the common room. The expression on James' face made him uneasy.
Again James did not speak, but answered by pointing grimly out the window. Sirius followed his index finger out across the dark grounds, over the Forbidden Forest, and to a bright full moon shining just beyond the shadowy silhouettes of the tallest trees. Sirius gasped. Realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. Of course!
"I don't get it," said Peter flatly.
Ignoring Peter, James turned to Sirius, looking stunned. "I don't know why we didn't realize it last year. That he always disappeared—"
"At the full moon," Sirius finished. "It explains everything: the scars—"
"—why he seemed ill—"
"—why he lied to us."
"But what's the moon got to do with anything?" Peter asked, bewildered.
"Honestly, how thick can you get, Peter?" James snapped. Clearly agitated, he glanced around the room to ensure that no one else was near, and then lowered his voice. "What happens to . . . certain people . . . every month, at the full moon?"
"I don't—"
"Lycanthropy, Peter."
"Lyca—what?"
"Lycanthropy!" James' eyes flared angrily. "He's a werewolf."
Peter gave a terrified squeak. "But—but what should we do?"
"What do you mean, what should we do?" Sirius retorted.
"Well—he does have a point, Sirius," James conceded grudgingly. "I mean, you know what they say . . . lycanthropes are dangerous . . ."
"Do you hear yourselves?" Sirius cried, incredulous at his friends' newfound reservations about Remus. Having already renounced the biases of his parents, Sirius perhaps found it easier than Peter or James to reject other Wizard prejudices. "This is Remus you're talking about. Remus! The little bookworm who didn't know how to play Exploding Snap! And all of a sudden you think he's out to rip your head off?"
Sirius' words were having a visible effect on James. He seemed to shrink where he stood, and his face reddened at his own shallowness.
"What is it you're suggesting we should do—abandon him now?"
"I—no! Of course not, that's not what I meant," James promised hastily. "I know it's rubbish to think that of Remus, it's just—blimey . . . A werewolf."
When they returned to their dormitory, Sirius could not sleep. Again and again his eyes were drawn to Remus' empty four-poster next to his own, consumed by the thought that somewhere out there, on the grounds or in the forest at that very moment, his friend had transformed into a monster. Turning over so as to block it from his mind, he saw that James also lay awake in the bed to his other side. When their eyes met, James whispered, "But maybe we're wrong. You know?" There was a note of pleading in his voice. "It could be something else entirely. We could be wrong. Right?"
Though he did secretly share James' desperate hope that their conclusion was incorrect, Sirius knew that indulging in denial would not change the truth.
"We're not wrong."
/ / /
Having decided to afford Remus the honesty he had never granted them, Sirius, James, and Peter cornered him as soon as the opportunity arose.
"Er—Remus?"
"Hm?" Remus took out a roll of parchment and started rifling through Magical Drafts and Potions in an effort to make up for the homework he had missed.
"How's it going, mate?"
"Fantastic." Remus' sarcasm was halfhearted, and his shadowed eyes narrowed in suspicion without rising from his book.
"We—ah—were thinking the other night."
"Were you." Still Remus did not look up from his book.
"And we rather surmised you might have a bit of lycanthropy."
Remus dropped his book, but his face remained impassive. He forced a weary laugh as he stooped to pick it up. "That's the most ridiculous rubbish I've ever heard. And coming from you lot, that's saying something."
"You can be honest with us, you know."
"I have been honest with you." His hands were shaking. "Hand me that quill, will you, Sirius?"
Remus was good. However they tried to badger, prize, or trick it out of him over the next month, he never failed to put them off, masterfully steering them away from the subject. When the full moon drew near again, Sirius and James resolved to end this game of Blind-Wizard's Buff once and for all (Peter had told them in no uncertain terms that he would not be accompanying them).
As soon as Remus left them, under the pretense of dashing a book back to the library, James pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag and threw it over himself and Sirius. Together they followed Remus down corridor after corridor, as he glanced left and right to ensure that he was alone and then turned, not toward the library, but toward the Hospital Wing. Just outside it he met Madam Pomfrey, who greeted him cordially before locking the door with a flick of her wand.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
Remus shrugged and muttered something they could not hear.
"Here," said Madam Pomfrey, taking a small dose of potion from her robes. "This should help a little, at least until the sun sets."
Remus took it, and they set off through the castle, with James and Sirius trotting along silently in their wake: down to the Entrance Hall, out the oak front doors, and across the grounds to the formidable-looking Whomping Willow, whose branches swayed threateningly as they approached. Using a levitation charm, Madam Pomfrey directed a stone to touch a knot on the tree's trunk. Immediately the willow froze, allowing her and Remus to disappear through a gap between its roots.
Before Sirius and James could reach it to follow them, however, the tree sprang to life again. A thick branch swung around and knocked them to the ground. Blinking back stars, Sirius scrambled to his feet, and James dragged him out of harm's way as another branch hurtled towards them. Time and again they tried to magically hurl rocks and sticks against the tree trunk, but neither could aim precisely enough to hit the knot upon its bark. Eventually, however, Madam Pomfrey reemerged from the gap between the roots, and when she pressed the knot to ensure her own safe departure, Sirius and James raced down into the passage.
It led to a long, low-ceilinged, earthy tunnel, but the pair did not stop to marvel at its existence; they needed to find Remus. They ran for what felt like hours, counted out by the ever-quickened beating of Sirius' heart. Then, at last, the tunnel began to slope upward. As its ascent leveled off, they found themselves in what appeared to be a dismantled drawing room—and there was Remus, settled into a shabby chair with his head resting against a boarded up window.
He wiped his eyes and shifted slightly, his face a pale green. Sirius had never seen Remus looking so terrible, and he did not like it at all. Had he and James not agreed to remain under the cloak and never reveal themselves, he would have been at Remus' side in an instant. To stand such a distance away, watching coldly, unable to do anything while Remus suffered, was agonizing.
Remus' breathing became irregular, and he screwed up his face against the pain. Then he began to tremble from head to foot, and Sirius could stand it no longer. Before James could stop him, he had bolted out from under the Invisibility Cloak.
"Remus."
Remus jumped, looking around wildly. When he saw Sirius, his eyes widened in horror and despair. "Sirius," he breathed, "no . . . get away . . ."
"It's okay! Remus, we know that—"
"You need to leave." In a panic, Remus leapt out of the chair and started throwing pieces of furniture in front of himself, trying to form some sort of barricade between himself and Sirius. "Please . . ." he wailed, "Sirius . . . I don't want to hurt you."
"But—"
"Get out of here!"
James began tugging at Sirius' sleeve from behind. "Sirius. We need to go."
But Sirius ignored him. Instinctively he started toward Remus again, who had gone rigid just beyond the pile of furniture.
"GET OUT!" Remus screamed. His limbs began to shake violently. In one last, great effort, he stumbled away from Sirius, down a hallway leading off the drawing room, and halfway up a flight of stairs before collapsing in a cry of pain. Claws burst from the ends of his fingers. Fur sprouted down his neck and arms, and his face elongated into a snout.
"SIRIUS, GET BACK HERE!" James bellowed.
At the noise, Remus' head snapped around to glare at Sirius through eyes that were not his own, and in that moment Sirius jolted to his senses. James grabbed his arm, pulling him backward, and they hurtled back down through the tunnel. Once they had burst out into the fresh air and were well beyond hitting range of the Whomping Willow, James yanked the cloak off, and they both fell, gasping for breath, onto the grass.
"Are—you—mental?" James panted. "Bloody hell, Sirius . . . I know it's Remus, but you can't just lose your head and try to chase a werewolf. Or you will literally. Lose. Your. Head."
Sirius did not respond. Night had fallen completely. Above them the full moon hung low in the sky, reflecting off the glassy lake. In the distance, a wolf howled. After a while they threw the Invisibility Cloak back over themselves and returned to their dormitory.
Sirius slept only fretfully. He felt numb. The image of Remus' agonizing transformation seemed burned into his brain, torturing his waking moments and haunting his dreams.
At last dawn broke, and Remus still occupied Sirius' thoughts. The same image still consumed him, the same numbness, and he found himself unable to swallow a bite when he went down to breakfast with James and Peter.
"It's not like starving yourself is going to make him feel better," Peter reasoned, as he stuffed a boiled egg into his mouth.
"I want to go see him," said Sirius. "Let's go see him."
James frowned into his plate, his brow furrowed. "Not that I don't care about Remus—I want to go see him as much as you do—and not that I don't disdain punctuality . . . but we have Potions in fifteen minutes! And Slughorn did say he'd give us detention if we didn't hand in his essay today, and that'll be on top of the detentions we've already got from McGonagall and Flitwick . . . we keep this up, and we'll have spent more time in detention than out . . ." His voice trailed away beneath Sirius' quelling look.
"Fine," Sirius said. "Go to Potions then, if it matters so much to you. I don't care about detention; as we've already had so many I doubt one more will make much difference. I'm going down to see Remus."
With that, he rose from the table and set off along the Great Hall. A couple of exasperated groans issued from behind, but he did not look back. When he stepped outside into the chilly November air, he broke into a run. He did not even try to press the paralyzing knot on the Willow's trunk, but dodged its flailing branches as well as he could, and plunged headlong into the gap between its roots.
The room at the end of the passage was in even more disarray than when Sirius had left it the night before. The barricade of furniture had been strewn across the floor; several chairs were broken, and lay in scattered pieces. He found Remus upstairs, returned to his human form, curled up on a large four-poster bed and sobbing uncontrollably. A sizable block of chocolate lay on the table to his left, evidently left there by Madam Pomfrey earlier that morning. It had not been touched.
Apparently consumed by his own anguish, Remus had not noticed Sirius enter the room. Sirius broke off a chunk of the chocolate and knelt beside the bed, offering it to Remus.
"You look like you need some of this."
Remus lifted his head, looking stricken. "I'm s-sorry!" he gasped. "I should have known you'd f-figure it out eventually, but I k-kept telling myself that if I just put you off long enough you'd give it up, and I never thought—never wanted—that—you—" For a moment he struggled, trying to contain his emotion, but ultimately he gave up and crumpled back onto the bed in a fresh wave of misery.
"Well, of course we'd figure it out! We're not stupid," Sirius replied. He wished more than anything that Remus would stop crying. He could see no reason for such a display. Neither he nor James had been hurt during last night's escapade—on top of that, it was hurting Sirius to see Remus so distraught. He would have thrown himself off the Astronomy Tower if only it would have made Remus smile.
"Here, eat this at least." Sirius made to shove the piece of chocolate into Remus' hand, but accidentally ended up slipping his own hand into it as well. As he did so he noticed the blood trickling from several cuts on Remus' forearm. "Can't Madam Pomfrey mend those?" he asked.
"No," Remus mumbled. "There's no cure for werewolf scratches. There's nothing she can do."
There was a pause. Then Remus' exhausted, tearstained face looked up at Sirius in bewilderment.
"I don't understand."
"What d'you mean?" asked Sirius, hastily removing his hand and leaving only the chocolate in Remus'.
"I—just—why are you still here?"
Now it was Sirius' turn to look bewildered. "Why wouldn't I be here?"
"You—you're still going to be my friend?"
"DON'T BE RIDICULOUS, OF COURSE I'M STILL GOING TO BE YOUR FRIEND!" Sirius exploded, startling Remus so much he nearly stopped crying.
"Yeah, exactly how stupid do you think we are?" came an indignant voice from the doorway.
Spinning around, Sirius saw James and Peter standing there, both slightly out of breath, Peter clutching at a stitch in his side.
"Aren't you supposed to be in Potions?" Sirius asked sardonically.
"Well," said James, shrugging, "we figured, one detention more or less—what does it matter?"
Sirius beamed at him.
James went on. "Shall we tell him now, then?"
"Definitely."
"Tell me what?" Intrigued in spite of himself, Remus sat up a little, wiped his eyes, and began nibbling absentmindedly on the chocolate Sirius had given him.
"You may have noticed that we've been spending a bit more time than usual in the library lately."
"You see, we've been doing some research this month," Sirius explained.
"Ever since we found out about your—ah—furry little problem," James added.
"We wanted to see if there was some way we could manage to break a few more school rules—"
"Not to mention some Ministry regulations—"
"And make your monthly transformations a little more enjoyable for all of us."
"From what we've been able to work out, werewolves are only dangerous to humans."
"We haven't been able to find any instances of a werewolf hunting, attacking, or behaving aggressively toward animals."
"So . . ."
"The three of us have decided to become Animagi."
The last word rang throughout the little house in the stunned silence that followed. In utter shock, Remus seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. He opened and closed his mouth several times, looking from Sirius to James and back again. Then he launched himself at Sirius, who was nearest, and caught him in a bone-crushing embrace.