All characters are JK Rowling's, etc.
In the end the night was uneventful, as far as full moons went. It was a cloudy night with some gentle rain and little of the harsh direct moonlight that especially aggravated his symptoms and drove him desperately to hunt, but nevertheless his wolf form was hungry and "gently" gnawed at himself for much of the night.
Remus's memory did not work as normal during this time, but when the moon had set and the beams of full daylight forced their way between the slats of wood blocking the windows of the Shrieking Shack, Remus woke to human consciousness and the inevitable aches, bruises, and scratches- though luckily no deep cuts or fractures. There were bite marks on his arms and swallow scratches on his leg, probably from falling against the rough wood walls of the Shack during transformation, but nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix with a little standard disinfecting potion and a Cushioning Charm.
Madam Pomfrey came to unseal the door mid-morning, a couple hours' grace after moonset and the break of day. She was less cheerful than usual and seemed tired. Still, according to procedure she gave him the full inspection; after retrieving him from the Shack, she led him discreetly through the emergency passages of the school and tucked him once again into an examination cubicle in the hospital wing, well out of view from the general recovery room. Once he changed into the gown she handed him, she joined him behind the curtain to check the surface of his skin and run her wand over his limbs to detect any hairline fractures and correct them as necessary. In his first year Remus had been embarrassed by this intimate and sometimes invasive procedure, but after more than 20 full moons at Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey's sense of calm and clinical thoroughness gave him a sense of security. Every step was specifically designed to ensure maximum secrecy and health post-transformation. And he was grateful; after all, how many times had she caught and treated wounds he would have never noticed until they became painfully infected? The full moons themselves were as unpleasant as always, but since coming to Hogwarts he had noticed the aftereffects were never as bad.
Finally, she handed him a small cup of Invigoration Draught to boost his energy. "Drink," she commanded. As he did, she reminded him: "You're welcome to shave at the sink; just clear everything out of the drain when you're done, please. Merlin knows I'll be glad when you decide you're old enough to have a beard."
Maintaining a discreet human appearance was as much a part of re-entry as the medical examination. The effects of lycanthropy on Remus's human form mimicked testosterone as he entered puberty; he had a low voice and thick body hair well before he ever boarded the Hogwarts Express. Excessive body hair, thought Remus, who was self-conscious about how thick it was. While by now some of his classmates were beginning to sport fuzzy shadows on their chins, Remus was the only third year capable of growing a full beard. Paranoid of anything that made him stand out in a lupine way, he accepted the offer, took up the razor, and set to work removing the centimeter of growth that had accumulated in the Shack.
Remus was vaguely aware of some hurried footsteps coming from the doors, but figured it was just someone coming to announce another uncommon accident amongst the Hogwarts population. However, when Mdm Pomfrey stepped out into the recovery room to meet the messenger, Remus heard the cheerful voice of Lily Evans explain, "McGonagall sent me to fetch Remus Lupin. She said he was here?"
Remus's stomach fell. McGonagall wanted to see him, and he was reasonably certain he knew why. And what did he expect? He was sometimes surprised by how much could transpire in the 18 hours or so he spent in the Shack, but most of the time he returned to a world exactly as he left it, with the same consequences waiting for him. 18 hours was plenty of time for his Head of House and Madam Pomfrey to have had a lengthy chat about his failure to meet their established deadline for safe passage to the Shack.
Remus quickly unfolded the neat bundle of clothes Madam Pomfrey had brought into the examination room, pulling on yesterday's shirt, jumper, and trousers. They still smelled of the autumn air from yesterday, though not without a musky dose of body odor thanks to his grueling run. He noticed the sleeve he had been holding to his running nose had some crusty substance on it—he could guess what—and with a grimace he tried to rub it off on his pants before emerging from the examination cubicle.
He walked slowly towards the two women and Lily's eyes fell on Remus and brightened in understanding. Oh, you ARE here! Remus hoped she didn't dwell on this too much. He liked Lily and admired her intelligence, but not when it risked her discovering his secrets.
"Where does she want to meet me?" he asked, revealing he had already heard. Lily should know that much, although he hoped that she didn't know why.
"She said to meet her in her office, in the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower," she explained. "She just said to come as soon as I found you."
Remus looked to Madam Pomfrey if this was possible. She conceded with a nod. "You need nothing more from me here. But I want you to take a shower when you're done speaking with her, and really scrub to make sure those scrapes on your legs aren't infected. Doctor's orders."
"Are you alright?" Lily asked as they walked together towards the doors, clearly curious as to why she had needed to collect him from the hospital wing.
Thanks to Madam. Pomfrey she already knew about his legs, so he quickly lied. "Oh, when everybody was rushing down to celebration the win last night, I lost my footing on the stairs—tore my trousers a little and everything," he lowered his voice and winced for realism. "This morning it didn't look so good, like maybe it was infected, so I had Madam Pomfrey look at it." He'd grown so accustomed to lying about the full moon that he kept a straight face and didn't even feel an ounce of guilt for it anymore. He spent so much time preparing potential explanations for concerned classmates, tactically spacing them out so he didn't repeat similar excuses too close in succession, that it was more like reciting a script than anything else. Anyone would be shocked to know he had years' worth of distant relatives' sudden illness and deaths planned in his mind.
Lily's large green eyes showed sympathy, but she also gave him a cheeky grin. "So is that why they call you Moony, then?" she asked. Remus hoped nothing in face gave away his surprise; James, Sirius, and Peter really could be more discreet about his nickname. "Maybe you ought to start buying larger trousers if you're bursting them open so easily."
Remus couldn't think of anything clever to say in response and only laughed. James was better at keeping up with her, though their conversations inevitably escalated into outright argument. It was strange the dramatic effect they had on each other.
Lily took her leave back towards Gryffindor tower, no doubt having plans for her Sunday. Remus, however, could focus on nothing but the conversation awaiting him as he took the steps to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, rehearsing the possibilities of how it might go.
"I'm very sorry Professor; I completely lost track of time!"—oh, it sounded awfully irresponsible and it wasn't entirely true . . .
"I was watching the time, but I thought the match would be finished by 3:00"—no, that was worse, as if he'd deliberately ignored his instructions.
He still hadn't settled on his defense by the time he pushed open the heavy oak door to Professor's McGonagall's study, and saw something that knocked all the words out of his head anyway. Sitting at McGonagall's desk, just to her left, was his father.
Remus was startled to see him, though in his heart of hearts he was not truly surprised. 18 hours was plenty of time not only for Mdm. Pomfrey to speak to McGonagall, but for her to have sent an owl to his parents and received his father's reply requesting an approved visit via Floo. His father would want to be informed and involved in something like this. He had spent more than a decade the sole charge of Remus's safe concealment during transformation and even now he still felt responsible. He also looked very angry.
Adrenaline flooded Remus's veins and the sudden jump in his heart rate made him feel lightheaded. His blood pressure and blood sugar were clearly low, since he had had nothing to eat since lunch on Saturday. The bits of his own flesh and blood he ingested in the Shack didn't exactly count. He approached the near side of the desk slowly, keeping his hands demurely behind his back.
"Please have a seat, Remus," McGonagall instructed, gesturing to the wooden chair before it. There was no particular anger or disappointment in her manner, but with his father beside her Remus felt anything but steady. He was grateful to sit, although in some deep recesses of his mind he was nervous about not being able to flee readily.
"Madam Pomfrey told us you failed to meet the deadline she set for safe passage to the Shrieking Shack last night," McGonagall said calmly.
"Yes, I did," he said quietly, heart hammering against his chest. "But it- it won't happen again. I'm very sorry." It came out sounding trite, but he truly meant it.
His father's eyes were boring hard into him, looking unconvinced by this apology. "And why on earth, with months advance planning, did you run late?"
Remus's eyes darted slightly to McGonagall, as if there were some chance she might defend him. She would appreciate the importance of yesterday's match, wouldn't she? "There was a Quidditch match in the afternoon," he explained. "It went on longer than I thought it would."
"And seeing the end of the Quidditch match was more important than getting to the Shrieking Shack in time?"
"I lost track of time; I didn't realize I was running late."
"You didn't bring a watch with you to the pitch?"
"No," he replied, feeling stupid. Moving in unison with his friends, he never thought to wear a watch. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd wound the one he had.
"And you didn't think to overestimate the time you'd need to make to the Shack in time? Or perhaps forgo the match for the sake of safety to begin with?"
Remus paused before saying "no," again, feeling more miserable by the moment.
McGonagall chimed in before Remus's father could continue. "I don't think anyone is arguing that Remus was acting responsibly," she said. It was almost as if she were scolding Remus's father for pressing him too hard, though he felt too ashamed of himself to readily accept her solidarity. "Which is why we're all here."
She turned her attention to Remus, picking up a quill in order to make her record. The actions were understood; there was nothing more to discuss than the consequences. "No House Points will be deducted, as we agreed from the beginning about anything related to monthly transformations, since it will make the other students curious," McGonagall reviewed. "But Madam Pomfrey will be expecting you for detention every night this week."
Remus hadn't been, but James and Sirius had served detentions scrubbing bedpans and ironing sheets for hexing students with bizarre ailments and other infractions that inconvenienced the hospital wing. Remus had inconvenienced Mdm. Pomfrey as well- if that wasn't putting it too lightly. Whatever she thought of Remus's situation, McGonagall's punishments were fair and fit the crime and she meted them out with cool rationality as if they were a business transaction.
"Yes, Professor," he agreed. Surely it was the least he deserved.
His father apparently thought so, too. He piped up, his voice much less cool and calm. "And no more Quidditch matches for him this year, Professor." He spoke to McGonagall but kept his eyes fixed on Remus, glowing with a furious intensity that instinctively made Remus both uncomfortable as well as a little irritated. He'd merely run late, after all; one time in more than twenty! But then his father continued: "And I'm revoking my permission for him to visit Hogsmeade. Maybe then he'll have less opportunity to run late and plenty of time to prepare for full moon on time."
Remus panicked. "For the whole year?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. Truly, there were no more Quidditch games or Hogsmeade visits until after Christmas, but to yank away all of the spring and summer term, the rest of his third year, 1/7th of his entire Hogwarts career with one fell swoop . . .
"We'll discuss in the summer about next year in light of how you do from now on," his father replied with finality. So there wasn't even the question of a reduced sentence, just the possibility of it carrying on even longer.
"But the other Quidditch matches and Hogsmeade outings aren't anywhere near full moon!" Remus pleaded. His father didn't sound open to argument but all he could think of was how happy he had been at Quidditch matches and his first Hogsmeade outing, how normal, to explore and laugh in public with his friends who knew his every secret and loved him nonetheless, to cheer with the vast group of Gryffindors that embraced him as their own. It had taken him so long to find that happiness, acceptance, and normalcy; to lose it, to return to even an echoing memory of those dark years of loneliness before he had come to Hogwarts, was too much to bear. "This was just one time. There might not even be the chance of it being a problem again."
"There won't be a chance of it being a problem again. We're making sure of that."
"But what am I supposed to even do if I can't leave the castle and there's no full moon for weeks?" His voice came out as a childish whine. He was being petulant but he couldn't stop himself.
His father raised his eyebrows testily but his voice was calm. "You can use the time to get ahead for what you might fall behind during the next moon. You were responsible the past two years when you weren't preoccupied with so many extra things." Of course, any "extra things" had not been a problem because they had not coincided with the full moon, nor would they likely again, but Remus held his tongue this time. "You can start preparing for your OWLs and better your chances for the best NEWT courses, and perhaps do a little better in your class ranking."
That stung; with two years to go before OWLs Remus was already safely in the top ten of his class and his marks were nothing to be ashamed of. He already spent far more time with his books than the rest of his friends. Did his father really think that a few hours off for the full moon and Quidditch was what kept him from pulling ahead of the phenomenal natural talents of James, Sirius, Lily, and (he hated to admit it, but there was no denying his gifts) Severus Snape? "It's not fair," he muttered, frowning self-pityingly down into his lap.
It was not the right thing to say.
"Remus," his father's voice was sharp and cut like a knife through the dry, cold air of the chamber, startling Remus into looking up again. The only thing sharper was his father's steely gaze, boring so hard into him Remus was honestly surprised he wasn't being hexed. "I should not have to remind you that you are here solely at the discretion of the Headmaster and your Head of House, as well as your mother and me. You are here to receive your education, a privilege extended to you by the gracious exceptions made by Albus Dumbedore and the school staff, on the condition that your condition remains concealed. And now you want to argue with us on 'fairness' as if these rules weren't the only thing that allows you to attend Hogwarts at all? I'm shocked at how ungrateful you sound, and I can't think that Professor McGonagall is terribly impressed by this behavior from one of her Gryffindors. This isn't just a matter of having run late, or even having disobeyed. You know the consequences if someone were to discover you."
As his father itemized the terms of his enrollment and the stakes he had to lose, so harshly and unapologetically and in front of McGonagall, Remus experienced a psychological sensation not unlike his clothes being torn from him one by one, as if to leave him completely exposed before the two of them. This was perhaps no coincidence considering the stories his father had passed to him since he was young, not just hearsay but legitimate reports from the Prophet, of werewolves captured and detained by villagers until they transformed back into humans—unclothed at that point- at which point they were seldom freed or turned over to authorities without being subjected to some "revenge" torment upon their weaker human form. Recent legislation had categorized lycanthropic humans captured in their wolf form under the same legal classification as transformed werewolves- as beasts, subject to animal rather than wizard law—and wizards mobs were all too happy to accept the lesser, less inconstantly enforced charges of animal cruelty over assault. A werewolf's greatest fear, to be revealed, included not only the change in legal status and social ostracism, but a potential for dehumanizing torture. And that was what he risked when he made a mistake. His father had seen to it he lose some of his favorite privileges, but he still had his place at Hogwarts and the acceptance of Dumbledore and McGonagall, and his friends, even if he couldn't accompany them on outings. The ministry didn't keep a formal watch on him and no strangers that might want to harm him had any idea. He wasn't forced to be anonymous and constantly on the run. He still had so much left to lose.
By then it felt offensive to even breathe, so Remus sucked in his breath quietly. "Yes, sir," he agreed softly, casting his eyes downward again.
However, his father wasn't finished. "What shocks me the most is you didn't consider the danger to anyone else. You put Madam Pomfrey in clear danger. Even more shocking, you put your friends in danger. You fret about not getting to spend time with them, but then treat their lives so carelessly?"
Of course Remus had only stayed at the pitch so long in hopes of seeing the end of the match. But his father had a point; as he pushed his luck, his primary concern was upsetting Mdm. Pomfrey and getting in trouble. He'd barely considered the safety of the throngs of students in the stands, not even Peter or Sirius.
"Now, maybe as a werewolf yourself you don't think that would be so bad, giving your friends the bite," his father continued coldly. Remus became even more keenly aware that he was the sole werewolf in the room. It seemed even his most sympathetic allies seemed to have a point at which they could no longer empathize, when they presumed intentions where he had none, or expected control from him he had no ability to exert. Did he truly believe Remus would transform his friends to join him if he could? A fate he would never wish on anyone? If Fenrir Greyback himself were no longer a werewolf Remus would hesitate to bite even him. "But remember too that you have the ability to kill. And not cleanly, as you would as a wizard, but brutally, as a wild animal, with much blood and pain and suffering—and it would be completely beyond your control. Think about that when you want to spare a few extra minutes with your friends instead of getting to the Shack in safe time. Think about the death you would subject them to."
Remus thought of the carnage he had once seen when a feral cat found the nest of a family of bush-dwelling birds near one of the many homes he had grown up in. The distorted bodies and splashes of blood, dismembered beaks and scattered feathers. He had never seen himself as a wolf- even in the presence of a mirror, his wolf form did not have the self-awareness to interpret what it saw—but he had spilled enough of his own blood and been through enough overnight stays in the hospital wing, reeling from the effects of Skele-Gro, to have a sense of his physical power. His friends would be no stronger than the birds before the cat. Athletic James, tall lean Sirius, and plump, stocky Peter; their adolescent human bones would all snap like twigs in his lupine jaws. The image his father conjured left him feeling the worst he had ever felt, numb and terrified, as if he actually had committed murder.
Remus nodded, his throat tight, unable to speak for fear of bursting into tears. Finally he mustered another quiet, "Yes, sir."
His father sighed—not a sigh of anger, but of sadness and disappointment. Glad though he was the lecture was over, this didn't make Remus feel any better. Rather, he throbbed with guilt, not only for what his father had spoken of but for having made it necessary for him to come all the way ought to Hogwarts to discipline him as well. A father would want news from school about high marks and accomplishments, not the knowledge his son was inches away from murderous rampage.
Finally, his father rose and came around the desk, putting a hand on Remus's shoulder. It was a loving and reassuring touch, but a firm one. "Your mother sends her love," he said, and then turned towards the small casket of Floo powder on McGonagall's mantle.
Remus and McGonagall watched until he had disappeared, then McGonagall rose, collecting some papers, and Remus was sure he detected a flash of sympathy in her eyes. However, by the time she spoke her face was neutral and for this Remus was grateful; he had a terrifying feeling if she showed too much emotion, he would not be able to hold back his tears any longer.
"Your first detention with Mdm. Pomfrey will be tonight at 7:30," she reminded him. With his father's words still echoing in the chamber there was really no more she could say.