Once Harry, Ron, and Hermione were inside Hagrid's hut, they were too closely clustered to make much sense of what might be happening there. Remus wished that he could see where the Hippogriff Buckbeak was, but animals did not show up on the Marauder's Map like Animagi did. He cast his eye about the map, knowing that he was looking for Sirius, but the grounds were so vast, the details so intricate, and the people so many that it was difficult to find one name among them without some idea of his location.
Maybe he's gone, Remus thought hopefully. No one has so much as glimpsed him since February. Perhaps he's given up and gone into hiding.
After a few moments, he saw Dumbledore and his Ministry entourage exit the castle and head down toward Hagrid's hut.
The kids had better be gone by the time they get there, or there will be trouble, he thought.
He continued to watch, silently urging the trio to leave before they were discovered. Just as the Ministry officials arrived at the front door of the hut, Remus saw the children emerge from the back. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, silently chiding himself for being silly enough to get caught up in the small moment of drama.
When he opened his eyes and looked at the map again, his mind went numb with shock. At first, he could not make any sense of what he was seeing. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still clustered together, but now that they were out in the open, he was able to read their names clearly, moving away from the hut and up the slope toward the castle. He was also able to read a fourth name, labeling a dot almost on top of the other three: Peter Pettigrew.
It can't be, he told himself. There must be something wrong with the map. But it was too curious a malfunction to dismiss. Maybe it has something to do with the bit of Peter's personality that was bound up in the map when it was created, he tried to reason.
Suddenly, the dot labeled "Peter Pettigrew" broke away from the others. That could just maybe still have been a malfunction of the map. But when Ron's dot gave chase, Remus knew it must be something more; the children were interacting with the Pettigrew dot.
Out of nowhere, a thought drifted across Remus's mind. The boy with the rat.
His brain simply froze.
Rat, it said again. Rat, rat, rat.
He knew it meant something, but he could not make himself think what.
On the map, Harry and Hermione had lit out after Ron, who was still following the mysterious dot. Ron's dot eclipsed the one labeled "Peter Pettigrew", and Harry's and Hermione's were soon on top of them again. Still Remus sat, frozen.
A movement near the children caught his eye, and his entire body twitched as he saw a fifth dot, labeled "Sirius Black", emerge from the Whomping Willow. It was heading toward the other dots at an alarming rate.
As suddenly as it had frozen, Remus's mind became utterly clear. He did not understand what the map was showing him, but he knew it was showing him something important. Something he had been missing.
This means something, he knew. Answers.
On the map, the dots representing Sirius, Ron, and Peter were moving into the Whomping Willow passageway.
Without another thought, Remus was on his feet, out of the office, and hurtling through the twisting corridors of Hogwarts castle. Staff and students alike stared openmouthed after him, but he barely noticed them. He half-registered a startled Dumbledore and shocked Cornelius Fudge as he passed them, flying around a corner, but was not about to stop. When it felt as though he had been running forever and would never emerge from the castle at all, he suddenly found himself bursting through the main doors of the Entrance Hall.
As he pelted down the castle steps and down the slope toward the Whomping Willow in the gathering darkness, he thought his heart might burst.
If I live just an hour more, that will be enough, he told himself. I'll know something more than I did. And then, God, I hope I don't break my neck!
He pulled up short at the Whomping Willow, forced to stop and think about how to get past the lethal, flailing branches. Casting about frantically, it was only seconds before he found a stick long enough to prod the knot that would still the tree's movements, but to Remus's racing mind, it seemed to take years.
Harry - Sirius - Peter - Answers! his brain was screaming at him.
He was lucky. His shaking hands managed to hit the knot on the first try, before the tree could break the branch he held. As soon as the Whomping Willow's motion subsided, he practically dove into the hidden opening between the roots.
Come on, come on! he urged himself, trying to run at a crouch in the meagre space allowed by the passage.
The thought that there was something happening in the Shrieking Shack - something important - and that he was missing it, was maddening. He felt he had aged ten years in the time it took him to reach the shabby floorboards of his destination.
He pulled himself up through the hole in the downstairs room and followed the imprints in the dust through the door and to the foot of the stairs.
"WE'RE UP HERE!" called a girl's shrill voice, desperate with panic. "WE'RE UP HERE - SIRIUS BLACK - QUICK!"
Remus pounded up the stairs and threw himself at the door across the landing, shouting "Ianuam apertio!" His wand showered red sparks with the force of the spell as he burst through the door.
Time seemed to stop as he halted, taking in the tableau played out before him. Ron, white-lipped with pain from an obviously broken leg, sitting by the bed. Hermione crouched near the door, holding two wands. Harry standing, staring at him, wand pointed at a crumpled and bleeding shape on the floor - a shape dressed in filthy rags, with tangled black hair, Hermione's cat on its chest, and long-lashed gray eyes staring into his own.
In that moment, Remus learned that years of suspicion, mistrust, and doubt are no match for instinct. All he knew was that, guilty or not, Sirius was hurt, Sirius was in danger, and needed his help. That being so, there was only one thing Remus could possibly do.
"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, slashing his wand at Harry and Hermione.
The wands they were holding leapt from their hands, and he snatched them out of the air. His eyes never left Sirius's.
The eyes are the windows to the soul, his mind whispered, and he still has mine. But I need to know. About Peter. Peter is the missing piece in all this.
In a voice that shook, though it was as calm as he could make it, he spoke for the first time in thirteen years, not in a dream or drunken stupor, to the man who had been his lover.
"Where is he, Sirius?"
Sirius did not speak. His eyes still held Remus's, but after a moment, he slowly, almost painfully, lifted a hand and pointed at Ron.
"But then -" Remus began, only half hearing what he was saying, "- why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless -"
Suddenly the pieces began to fall into place. He remembered vividly the scene in the Muggle marketplace so long ago - the moment his world had crumbled. He heard again the echo of Peter's words. But if Peter was alive - alive, and in hiding - it could mean only one thing. Not Sirius; Peter. The enormity of it was making Remus lightheaded, making his heart beat faster.
"- Unless he was the one - unless you switched - without telling me?"
Sirius nodded, eyes bright with tentative hope.
Harry was speaking, but Remus did not register what he said. Only one thing mattered now. Without a word, he walked across the room, took Sirius's hand in his own, and pulled him into a warm embrace.
"Sirius! Oh, God! Sirius -" he whispered, arms tight around the bedraggled, shockingly-thin body.
I'll never let go again, he swore to himself.
"Forgive me, Moony," Sirius murmured in his ear. "I tried to tell you."
"I'm so sorry, Padfoot." Another moment and he would be weeping. "I should have listened to you. I never gave you a chance to tell me."
"Not your fault, Moony," Sirius was saying into his shoulder. "Oh, Moony, Moony, I lo-"
"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione's shrill voice went through them both like an electric shock.
Remus spun around, moving instinctively to put himself between the girl and Sirius - to defend his mate.
Hermione sat near the door, wild-eyed with anger and fear. "You - you -"
"Hermione -" he began, putting a hand out to her.
We have to explain, and quickly, before someone else gets hurt.
He noted abstractly that he was the only one present without blood on him. He could smell them all; blood and sweat and fear.
"- you and him!" Hermione was stuttering.
Oh, God! She's not going to -? I don't think I'm up to explaining us tonight on top of everything else. "Hermione, calm down -"
"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you -"
"Hermione, listen to me, please!" Harry should hear it from me - from us. "I can explain -"
But now Hermione's anger had infected Harry as well. "I trusted you," he shouted, eyes blazing, "and all this time you've been his friend!"
"You're wrong," Remus tried to tell Harry. Whatever I have been to Sirius all these years, there was no friendship in it. "I haven't been Sirius' friend for twelve years, but I am now - let me explain -"
"NO!" Hermione's voice was still shrill. "Harry, don't trust him," she begged. "He's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too - he's a werewolf!"
To Remus this dramatic announcement felt anticlimactic. The fact of his lycanthropy seemed the most insignificant part of the present situation. After all, he had had almost thirty years to get used to the idea.
Still shocking for the children, though, I suppose.
Everyone was looking at him. Sirius had not looked away since he had entered the room, but now the three children all stared at him as well. Ron's look was confused, Harry's eyes asked him to deny it, Hermione's dared him to do anything but confess. It was in Sirius's eyes that he found peace.
It doesn't matter, he thought calmly. Sirius is innocent. Nothing else matters.
It made him feel lightheaded and giddy, and just a wee bit reckless.
"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," he said at last. He was slightly worried that he might start giggling hysterically at any moment. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle," unless you count by not mentioning to Dumbledore that he's an Animagus. "And I certainly don't want Harry dead -" the hysterical giggles nearly got away from him. He took a breath to recompose his features. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."
It was unbelievably hard to say. He was so used to keeping his secret, and he had not spoken so openly about it with anyone in a dozen years. But now that it was out, he remembered how liberating it felt to be able to just say it. He saw the ghost of a smile twitch at the corner of Sirius's mouth.
He still knows exactly what I'm thinking, he realised. His throat felt tight.
Apparently the effect of his revelation on the children was anything but liberating. Ron was struggling to stand, despite the obvious pain of his leg. When he collapsed, Remus put out a hand to help him, but the boy cried, "Get away from me, werewolf!"
He froze, hand still extended. He hoped desperately that the vehemence of Ron's rejection was due to the pain he was in, rather than the usual Wizarding prejudice against werewolves.
"How long have you known?" he asked, turning to Hermione.
"Ages," Hermione whispered, not meeting his eyes, tongue flicking out experimentally to taste the blood on her split lip.
She was frightened of him and he could smell it on her. She would have realised by now that a werewolf trying to hide his nature is far safer company than a werewolf with his cover blown.
"Since I did Professor Snape's essay -"
Bastard. Got just exactly what he wanted. You'd never get him to admit out loud that she's a clever one - clever as Lily ever was! - but he knew she'd figure it out.
Remus pursed his lips. "He'll be delighted. He set that essay hoping someone would realise what my symptoms meant. Did you check the lunar chart and realise I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realise that my Boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"
"Both," Hermione said softly, still looking down.
Not entirely Severus's fault, I suppose. The clues are there for anyone who cares to see them.
He laughed humourlessly. "You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione."
"I'm not," she whispered, finally turning terrified brown eyes upon him. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are."
Of course you should have. Whatever might have happened then, at least now you wouldn't be stuck in a room with a werewolf, a convicted mass-murderer, and no wand in your hand, eh?
He allowed himself a slightly smug smile. "But they already know. At least the staff do." Bitterly as it may gall some of them.
Ron gasped. "Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf?" he asked incredulously. "Is he mad?"
Now, there's a question. "Some of the staff thought so," he admitted. "He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy -" Or at least that I wouldn't bite Severus in his sleep. Too greasy.
"AND HE WAS WRONG!" Harry had finally regained his ability to speak for the first time since Remus's revelation, and was using it to capacity. "YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!"
He was pointing at Sirius, who was now sitting on the edge of the four-poster, face in one shaking hand. Remus got the distinct impression that, had Harry still had possession of his wand, there would have been nothing left of the other man but a scorch mark.
Remus gazed at his former lover a moment, and thought he saw droplets of moisture running between his fingers, dripping from his knuckles. But Sirius almost never cried. He longed to go to the man - to put his arms around the bedraggled figure and offer what comfort his presence could provide. But he could not. Not just now.
Instead, Crookshanks jumped into Sirius's lap, purring and butting his head against the thin chest. Slowly, Sirius's other hand descended onto the cat's head, and he patted it gently. Ron, still seated on the bed as well, looked askance at the pair of them and edged farther away.
"I have not been helping Sirius," Remus said again, turning his eyes back to Harry. "If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look -" One by one, he tossed each of the wands he held back to its owner. Harry looked as startled, as if the wand in his hand had sprouted leaves, unbidden. "There," Remus said, looking down to tuck his own wand into his belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"
He was becoming impatient to hear what Sirius had to say. For nearly thirteen years, he had been waiting for answers, and now, if only these kids would be quiet for ten minutes -
"If you haven't been helping him -" Harry flashed a poisonous glance at Sirius, "- how did you know he was here?" His tone suggested the possibility seemed remote to him.
"The map," Remus replied. "The Marauder's Map."
At this, Sirius slowly raised his head and looked incredulously at him. Remus gave him a quick eyebrow raise. Yes, the tiny expression said. Harry had it. Imagine that! The corner of Sirius's mouth twitched again.
"I was in my office examining it -"
"You know how to work it?" Harry interrupted.
"Of course I know how to work it; I helped write it," Remus replied with an impatient wave. Harry's eyes widened. "I'm Moony - that was my friends' nickname for me at school."
"You wrote -?"
Remus cut Harry off, the infinite patience of Professor Lupin finally wearing thin. "The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his Hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?"
Well, Dumbledore was, he amended silently. He was now pacing from impatience.
He stopped and looked directly at the green-eyed boy who looked so like his old friend. "You might have been wearing your father's old Cloak, Harry -"
"How d'you know about the Cloak?" Harry asked, startled.
Same way Ron and Hermione know about it. We were bloody friends! I've said it often enough, haven't I?
"The number of times I saw James disappear under it -" he gestured impatiently again and resumed his pacing. "The point is, even if you're wearing an invisibility cloak you show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back towards the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else," he finished, rounding on Harry once again.
"What?" Harry was looking at him as if he were mad. "No, we weren't!"
Remus was getting tired of being interrupted by thirteen-year-old wizards who knew even less of what was going on here than he did. He ignored Harry's interruption and continued pacing.
"I couldn't believe my eyes," he went on. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"
"No one was with us!"
"And then I saw another dot, moving fast towards you, labeled Sirius Black -" he went on, eyes faraway as he tried to recall exactly the details of what he had seen.
I don't want to miss anything this time. I want to understand exactly what is happening.
"I saw him collide with you, I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow -"
"One of us!" This time the interruption came from Ron.
Remus finally stopped pacing and turned to look at the red-haired boy, pale and sweating with pain and sitting as far as he could from the other person on the bed.
"No, Ron," he said quietly. "Two of you." And there are six of us here in this room. Where is he? He looked Ron up and down. "Do you think I could have a look at your rat?" he asked finally, surprising himself with the coolness of his tone.
"What?" Ron looked startled. "What's Scabbers got to so with it?"
"Everything," Remus replied with conviction. "Could I see him, please?" he asked in his Professor voice; the one which did not anticipate a "no".
Ron knew the tone well and, given that his mother was Molly Weasley, his instinctive reaction to it was unsurprising. With barely a second's hesitation he reached into the front of his robes and drew out a large, bedraggled, and violently-thrashing rodent.
Remus moved toward Ron, holding his breath. Now that he had seen "Scabbers", there could be no doubt. To most men, one rat looks much like another, but Remus had no trouble recognising the face and markings of his old friend.
What a shame I didn't catch a glimpse of him on the train last September, he thought ironically. It might have saved us all a lot of trouble.
"What?" said Ron again, rather sharply, and Remus realised he had been staring at the squirming creature for nearly half a minute. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"
"That's not a rat," Sirius's voice sounded odd, partly from lack of use, and partly because it was shaking with some strong emotion. He, too, was staring at the animal in Ron's hands.
"What d'you mean - of course he's a rat -" Ron might have been quelled by the intensity of the twin gazes from the alleged mass-murderer and werewolf, but he was too busy clutching at his pet, trying at once to make him hold still and shield him from the two men who were looking at him almost hungrily.
"No, he's not," Remus said softly. "He's a wizard."
"An Animagus," said the ragged voice close beside him, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."