The feast itself went well enough. Nothing ever tasted as it should on the evenings before moonrise, but he knew that if he did not eat now, he would be ravenous in his wolf form, and weaker than usual tomorrow. The potion would not only slow the change, but possibly cause him to sleep through his time as a wolf - a heretofore unknown experience for Remus. But if he was hungry tonight - Locked in his rooms, he should be no danger to anyone, but he might make a mess of the place out of frustration. Better to eat now, even if it did not taste quite right.
During the Hogwarts ghosts' hilarious reenactment of Nearly-Headless Nick's near-beheading, he felt the tingling sensation start to spread, and began planning his escape back to his rooms. He knew from long experience that the change in sensation meant that he might have as little as half an hour left before the transformation was upon him. He might make it to the end of the feast; things seemed to be wrapping up.
The ghosts' show ended, and all the students applauded. Remus could see Nearly-Headless Nick beaming with pride at his part in the performance, and bowing to the audience, carefully holding his head in place.
The students rose and began filing out of the hall and toward their respective house dormitories. He waved to Harry, who waved back and leaned to whisper something in his friend Hermione's ear. She also turned to look at Remus, then realised he was watching them, and waved awkwardly.
He was just beginning to think he should make a quick exit out a side door, instead of waiting for the students to clear the hall, when a breathless first year came bursting back in through the crowd. He saw Remus, and grabbed the sleeve of his robes urgently.
"Professor Lupin, Sir, have you seen Professor Dumbledore?" The boy squeaked, clearly excited about something. "He's needed right away at Gryffindor!"
The boy scanned the crowd frantically, looking for the silver beard, half-moon spectacles, and comforting face of Albus Dumbledore. Remus had the advantage of height, and caught sight of the headmaster much more quickly. He pointed him out to the boy, then followed to see what could be so urgent that a first year - usually so meek and easily cowed - would seek out and speak to the headmaster.
He caught up with the boy just as he was saying, "- slashed clean in half, Professor. I saw it, Sir. Me and Aurelia were the first ones there, and I came straight back down to find you, Sir."
Professor Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Thank you, Julius, you did the right thing, coming to me."
They were already walking toward the stairs that led to Gryffindor tower. Remus's legs were long enough to keep pace with the headmaster, but Julius and several other curious students were having a hard time keeping up. Remus followed Dumbledore up the stairs, and saw out of the corner of his eye that Professors McGonagall and Snape were hurrying after him.
The crowd of students at Gryffindor tower's entrance seemed to part easily before the headmaster, but Remus and the rest had to push their way past. When he finally saw what all the excitement was about, he went pale. The portrait that guarded the entrance to the tower was slashed to ribbons, its occupant vanished.
His blood pounded in his ears, drowning out all other noise. The tingling was spreading down his back. He had to go. Now.
One phrase floated to his ears out of the hubbub, as he turned and hurried away down the corridor.
"Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."
Once he was out of sight of the students, he almost sprinted back to his rooms. He wanted to stop, just for a moment, to try and understand what this latest incident meant, but he could feel the change coming.
Remus slammed the door behind him and fumbled for the lock, shrugging out of his robes at the same time. With Snape's potion in his system, he might not be a danger, but he didn't want anyone seeing him like - that.
He rested his forehead against the door, breathing hard. Any minute now. His abnormally keen senses were becoming even sharper. Vision, hearing, smell.
Suddenly, he knew he wasn't alone in the room. He whirled around, and just had time to register the huge black dog lying on the bed, staring at him with big, pale eyes, before the change took him.
Light. Sunlight. Light falling across his eyes, waking him. He had dreamed - No.
He opened his eyes wide enough to squint, putting up a hand to block the dawning daylight streaming into his room. He lay naked on the cold stone floor, comforter dragged over him, the room in disarray. He sat up.
A full moon last night - yes, that was it. It was coming back to him, slowly. He remembered taking the potion. Harry had been there for that. It must have some narcotic compound in it that was making his brain so fuzzy. He remembered the feast somewhat less clearly. Things became even more confused after that. But he knew there was something important - something he must remember.
Eyes. Pale eyes looking at him. No, that must have been a dream.
The image of the slashed portrait came floating to the surface of his mind. Sirius. Sirius had been in the castle last night, trying to get into Gryffindor tower. And he had been in this room. On Remus's own bed. He turned so quickly that it made him mildly dizzy.
He half-expected to see the big black dog still lying on the bed, pale eyes taunting, tongue lolling in the sardonic doggy grin he had once known so well. But the bed was empty. Like everything else in the room, it was in a state of complete chaos; the blankets, sheets, and pillows torn off, bunched up, or strewn about the room. It looked almost as if - He cut the thought off with a guilty shock.
No. Surely not.
Shakily rising and picking up the comforter from the floor, he drew it back across the bed, over the crumpled sheets, hiding them from view. Smoothing the comforter into place, Remus found a scattering of shiny, coal-black hairs clinging to it. Instinctively, he reached out trembling fingers to touch them, cursing himself all the while.
It was not fear or anger or hatred that caused his trembling, and he knew it. Love still owned him, and the longing to touch the one still beloved in spite of all ran deep with Remus.
He traced the curve of a single hair with the tip of his finger. Then he lay down on the bed, wrapped the comforter around his shivering body, buried his face in its folds, and wept for Sirius - for his love and his betrayal - one more time, until the relief of sleep found him again.
Much later that morning, Remus knocked on the door of the headmaster's office. A cheery voice from within invited him to enter, and he did so, closing the door behind him. The Dumbledore sat at his desk, Professor McGonagall seated across from him.
"Remus, dear fellow!" exclaimed the headmaster. "I trust you're feeling better today? You seemed not quite yourself yesterday evening, but I suppose that's to be expected."
"Yes, thank you, Professor. I'm much improved today." He attempted a weak smile.
"Dear boy, you really must start calling me 'Albus'. You're not a student anymore!" He beamed at the younger man. "I've just been having a chat with Minerva about one of our young wards. I think you'll know the one." He winked at Remus.
Lying on his bed after he woke for the second time, Remus had thought a great deal about what he planned to say to Dumbledore.
The whole school already knew Sirius had been in the castle the night before. The halls were buzzing with whispered gossip this morning, and the students kept glancing nervously over their shoulders, as if they expected armed madmen to pop out from behind every statue. Just on his way here, Remus had heard a dozen whispered theories about how Sirius had gotten past the Dementors and into the castle.
Was there really any need for him to inform the headmaster of his unexpected visitor the previous evening?
On the one hand, he was ashamed. Everyone - well, the staff, anyway - already knew of the former close association between himself and Sirius. And if anything had - happened - last night, he would frankly rather no one found out. But in the balance, there was Harry's safety, and that was the reason he had finally made himself come to see Dumbledore this morning.
"He must be told the truth," Remus informed the headmaster in a firm voice. "Harry deserves to know all of it. We're all walking on eggshells around him, because of - well, because of how things are right now. But he needs to know that Si - er - that Black is after him." He looked pleadingly from Dumbledore to Professor McGonagall. "I have every confidence that, if he only knew the danger he might be in, he wouldn't intentionally put himself in harm's way. He should be on his guard. Surely you can both see the wisdom in that?"
Dumbledore nodded. "I was just saying something very similar to Minerva. You are absolutely right; Harry must be told. Not all of it - that would be folly. The boy does have a history of finding trouble as soon as he knows where to look for it. I've known only a few students in my time with such a nose for trouble." His eyes twinkled over his half-moon spectacles.
"As the head of his house," said Professor McGonagall, "it is my responsibility to inform the boy. I'll be sure to tell him only as much as I think it is prudent for him to know."
"In that case, Minerva," said Dumbledore, "I leave the matter entirely in your capable hands. I have never found myself to be in the wrong, trusting in your good judgment. Does that satisfy you, Remus?"
"It's all I can ask," he replied, wondering exactly what McGonagall would think it "prudent" for Harry to know regarding himself. "I only want him to be safe."
Remus prowled the deserted corridors of Hogwarts. No students were allowed to wander the halls unescorted or without good reason, following the incident with the portrait. It made the castle seem an unusually quiet and lonely place. He turned up one corridor and down the next, no real goal in mind, allowing his mind and his feet to wander. It took him nearly an hour of pacing the echoing corridors to realise what he was doing.
He was hunting. He was looking for Sirius.
Sirius had managed to get past the Dementors twice when no one else had ever managed it. Remus supposed it must have something to do with his being an Animagus. He knew he should inform Dumbledore of Sirius's unusual ability, but he could not bring himself to do it.
They had sworn, the four of them, never to tell. They had sworn it in blood and magic - as close as Remus had ever come to performing the Dark Arts himself - and they had taken that oath very seriously. If any one of them ever betrayed their secret to the detriment of one of his fellows - Remus did not like to think about what might happen.
Such a confession would also mean admitting he had betrayed Dumbledore's trust all those years ago. He had known the rules and restrictions the headmaster had laid down for his own safety and the safety of his fellow students, allowing him the chance to attend Hogwarts, and he had disregarded them for the sake of risk and adventure with his friends. How could he admit such a thing to the man who had done so much for him?
He knew that the school had been thoroughly searched the previous night, and that no sign of Sirius had been found, but this wandering investigation of the castle he was a means to assuage his guilt in a small way.
If they had only come to my rooms, he thought, what might they have seen?
He didn't want to think about it. Dumbledore had likely covered for him, preventing his rooms from being searched at such a highly inconvenient time. He was doing an excellent job of protecting Remus's secret, which only made him feel worse about keeping Sirius's ability and his Halloween visit from the headmaster.
He wondered how long Sirius had stayed. Remus had only seen him for a few seconds. He might have left right after the transformation, or he might have stayed the whole night.
He knew he could hide there, Remus thought savagely. It was the full moon; he knew I could do nothing, and that no one would dare check my rooms for him.
The man he had known would never have taken advantage of his weakness like that. But then, the man he had known would never have slashed a portrait to ribbons in a frenzied attempt to murder a child, nor would he have murdered a street full of people in cold blood.
A familiar tapestry echoed in his memory, and Remus realised there were other places in the school that no one would have thought to search: the numerous secret passages beneath the castle and the grounds. He was certain that, in his days as a student, the Marauders had been the only ones who knew about some of those hidden corridors, and they had kept them a closely-guarded secret. Was the one that opened behind the statue of the one-eyed witch still unknown? If so, it might not be guarded, leaving the way clear for Sirius to sneak in and out of the castle via Hogsmeade, without having to slip past the Dementors at the gates.
Remus turned down a side passage, ducked through a low doorway, and into a room filled with rusty suits of troll armour, then behind a tapestry, and up a rickety flight of wooden steps. He was amazed at how quickly it all came back to him. At last, he found the corridor he had been looking for.
No, no guards were posted around the innocent-looking statue - well, as innocent as any of the Hogwarts statues ever looked. He peered up and down the corridor, listening for footsteps. When he was certain that no one was coming, he stepped up behind the statue, tapped it with his wand, and whispered, "Dissendium."
The entrance through the witch's hump swung open, and Remus quickly ducked into the cold, dank, dark passageway.
"Lumos," he murmured.
The faint glow of wandlight illuminated his surroundings, but he knew at once there was nothing to see there. Even if Sirius had used the passage, he would have had no reason to hang about. Instead, he closed his eyes, breathing deep, giving his wolfishly keen hearing and sense of smell free rein.
Insects scuttled up the walls, and mice or rats scurried and gnawed further down the passageway, but apart from that, the place was silent as a tomb. It was his nose, as always, which told him the truth. Beneath the smells of damp and dirt and mildew, there was a sharply familiar animal scent.
Remus growled low in his throat. He had almost hoped that there would be no sign of Sirius in the air but ghost-scent from days long gone, but the canine scent hanging heavy in the air was recent and unmistakable. Sirius had been here, and no more than a few hours before.
For a moment, Remus stood, eyes closed, letting himself breathe the scent. But the cold, damp smells of the place dulled it enough that he was not undone by it as he had been by the warm canine smell that had found him in his bed that morning. His breath caught in his throat - the ghost of a sob - and with a will, he brought his wayward emotions back under his control.
Remus had learned all he needed to know, but still he crouched low to the ground, searching the damp earth. He found them almost immediately: paw prints circling, pacing, and finally leading away into the gloom.
He took a step to follow. What would happen if he did encounter Sirius there in the darkness? The knowledge of what he would have to do, and the fear of what he might do were too much for him. His courage deserted him, and he turned his face back to the school and safety.