The following month was fairly uneventful, with only two significant things happening in Remus's opinion.
For one, Sirius was still attempting to reach out to his brother. He'd go off during break times and leave his friends under the oak tree outside, not returning until lessons restarted, looking as moody and downtrodden as ever. It was a bit of a drag, and Remus could tell that James was struggling with his friend no longer being as cheerful as he'd once been, who wasn't as willing to partake in pranks, or have fun in class or even just crack a few jokes. Remus sympathised, and he missed the old Sirius too. But for some reason, Sirius's rejection from his brother had seemingly brought him closer to Remus more than anyone else, which Remus was confused by. Surely, if one was on the path to losing their brother they'd fall back on someone who felt just as much like their brother, which Remus knew was James. James and Sirius regularly described themselves as brothers, both in a joking way, but with a clear hint of genuineness. Remus understood Sirius's logic eventually, though. Sirius needed comfort, and James wasn't the best at that. It wasn't James's fault; Remus had known him long enough now to realise that he didn't mean to be dismissive when someone was feeling bad. It was usually the one time James wasn't a talker, when someone needed comfort. When he did talk, he usually repeated someone's else's sentiment and try to think of a physical act to do instead of offering any sort of words of advice, like give someone a chocolate frog or ask if they needed a hug. He'd admitted to Remus that the truth was he was simply terrible at comforting people with words.
"I just never know what to say. All I can think to do is try and tell them a story of when I felt the same way as them, but then people don't seem to like that. So I just... shut up I guess. It's easier to just ask if they want some sweets and then leave the comfort up to someone else." And in this case, that someone else usually turned out to be Remus, who was much better at knowing what to say. Whether he liked comforting people or not, didn't matter (and if he was being honest he certainly wasn't particularly thrilled to be the one people went to for advice), because unfortunately that was just who he was. He knew how to act and he knew what to say, so people always turned to him. Sirius was no different.
"He talks to me," Sirius would say. "But only to try and convince me that it would be better if I acted more like our family. Says it's better for me. He's looking out for me, I guess, but he won't listen. He doesn't know that I'm looking out for him too." Remus wanted to say that if he wasn't getting through to Regulus, he was unlikely ever to get through to him now that Regulus was spending all his time with the Slytherins. But he also didn't want Sirius to get fed up with him, so he sucked it up, and said what Sirius wanted to hear. The comfort that everyone wanted to hear when they came to Remus. He really hoped this role that had been shoved upon him wouldn't stick.
"He just needs some time," said Remus. "He'll realise that you're right one day, and he'll come running back. Just you wait and see." Sirius smiled gratefully at him, and all of Remus's cynicism melted away briefly, and he finally felt a wave of pure sympathy towards his friend. Sirius was hurting, of course he was. He wanted Regulus to be on his side— on his friends' side— and it was killing him that his brother was slipping away from him with little more than a goodbye. Sirius wanted to reach someone who seemed unreachable, and the effort was getting to him. He needed Remus to be there. James was just a distraction for him, someone he could go to when he needed a laugh, but Remus was his go-to when he just needed to talk. The night in the astronomy tower had proven that, and Remus had to reconsider his aversion with being the comforter of the group, because he suddenly realised that he didn't mind sitting here with Sirius. They were alone in the courtyard of the school grounds, but they were hidden within the arches, away from the main corridor. They had been sitting opposite each other, since there was no room to sit side by side, unless they gave up their back rests and sat facing the courtyard. But Sirius wanted to keep his voice low, so he shifted as close to Remus as possible, and eventually they were sitting beside each other, their knees almost touching.
As they sat in relative silence, Remus felt that desire again to reach out his hand and place it in Sirius's. He thought it would be a good way to comfort him. His mam held his hand sometimes when he was sad, and it made him feel better. Maybe the same would work for Sirius.
"Oh, I forgot!" Sirius suddenly exclaimed, quickly standing up, and Remus had to force his feelings to the back of his head, his hand retracting from where it had started to reach out towards Sirius's. He shook himself out of his thoughts and re-focused on the present.
"What?"
"We have to go to the Quidditch grounds for the try outs."
Ah yes. That was the other significant thing that happened during the first month. Quidditch tryouts for a place on the House teams, and James was going to be there, vying for a spot as one of the Gryffindor chasers. It had all he'd been talking about since he'd arrived at Hogwarts essentially, so there was no way Remus and Sirius could miss it.
They ran through the castle, since the Quidditch grounds were on the other side to where the courtyard was, getting reprimanded by Professor Flitwick as they passed him on their way, and slowing their run to a slight jog, speeding up again as soon as they were out of sight from the professor.
They were a few minutes late to the pitch, but James didn't notice. He appeared not to notice his surroundings at all, as he was pacing in a circle with his eyes firmly to the ground as everyone else warmed up. He looked up to the stands briefly, where Remus, James and Peter were sitting, but they didn't notice the glazed look in his eyes as he stared at nothing, so they waved to him in encouragement. He didn't wave back. He didn't notice them at all.
Tobin was there as well, so they all sat together, with Tobin pointing out that Jethro and Owain were trying out as well.
"Jethro's going for keeper," he explained. "He's great at catching the Quaffle. Never misses. And Owain's a great beater." Remus was just glad that James didn't have competition from someone in the same class as him, although his competition was much bigger and much stronger looking, so Remus didn't know which was worse.
James seemed to be the only Chaser there who was under the age of thirteen, which did him not favours. The other guys were way more experienced than him, and James knew it. Even from this distance Remus could see he looked like he was about to be sick with nerves. Tobin was trying to reassure them about James's chances, stating that the older guys didn't have that much on him considering they hadn't already made the team.
"It means a lot of them aren't actually that good. Besides, there's two places up for grabs, so he has a chance."
"As long as he doesn't mess it up with nerves," said Remus.
"Jethro has it harder, there's only one keeper." The keepers were trying out as they spoke, with Jethro next in line. Before he stepped up, Remus spotted Lily and her friend Mary McDonald weaving their way through the stands. He waved them over and they sat down beside the group of boys.
"What are you doing here?" Remus asked, amicably enough.
"Marlene's trying out for chaser," explained Lily, pointing at the girl standing beside James, who Remus hadn't previously noticed. She looked considerably more confident than her counterpart, warming up by jogging on the spot, and looking steadily ahead at the hoops. James was staring at the hoops as well, but more in a way that suggested he thought the hoops were going to grow fangs at any moment and gobble him up. His eyes were fixated on them, and he stood dead still.
Jethro was now up by the hoops, demonstrating his catching skills as the Gryffindor Captain and chaser, Hestia Jones, threw the Quaffle at him. Jethro threw the ball back after each catch and the cycle would repeat. Tobin was right: Jethro was really good. He didn't miss a single catch, and his aim was pretty spot on as well. Remus and the others all clapped and cheered when Jethro's turn was over, and similarly again when the beaters tried out and Owain successfully batted the bludgeons away from him and anyone else who was flying around the pitch. Except for one, which ricocheted into the stands and caused everyone to quickly duck down before Hestia Jones could freeze it with a spell. Owain finished his turn looking pretty disappointed, which was a shame considering he'd done a good job up to that point. Jethro thumped him encouragingly on the back when Owain touched down onto the grass, while the others in the stands whooped and clapped to try and cheer him up a little.
Very soon, it was James's turn. He was after most of the other chasers, a few of which were pretty terrible, spectacularly missing the goals and dropping the Quaffle. But a select couple were clearly talented, regardless of what Tobin said about age. With James going second to last, he had to subject himself to these— considerably older and stronger— players. Remus felt that if he was stood next to James right now he'd see him visibly shaking.
"Go on, James!" shouted Sirius from beside Remus, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice, and the others followed suit, yelling encouragement as loud as they could. Even the girls joined in, and James finally looked up, a semblance of his cool confidence returning as he gave them all a thumbs up.
Hestia Jones took the role of the keeper as James had to try and throw the Quaffle into the hoops without her saving them. Which was easier said than done: she was a good keeper.
"The goals are more bonuses that anything," explained Tobin, who seemed to be weirdly learned in the mechanics of trying out for the Quidditch team. "She's not expecting him to get them all with her trying to save them because then he'd be the best Quidditch player in the world. It's just his throwing, his catching, and if he can get at least one or two goals then he's definitely in the running."
"How do you know all this?" asked Lily, leaning in front of Remus and voicing what had been on his own mind. Tobin shrugged.
"I was captain of my primary school football team," he replied. "I was there for try-outs. The logistics can't be that different."
With Tobin's suggestions in mind, they watched as James made some good throws towards the hoops, and catching the Quaffle every time when Jones threw it back to him. When he actually made a goal, Remus and the others couldn't help but cheer loudly, warranting a disapproving look from Jones. They weren't supposed to distract the players.
James was all set for a flawless try-out, but unfortunately, he accidentally dropped the Quaffle on his last attempt at a goal, and wasn't able to catch it in time before it hit the ground. His turn was over, and it hadn't ended in a blaze of glory like he had wanted, and it showed. When Remus and Sirius and Peter came running down from the stands to greet him off the pitch, he was dragging his broomstick behind him, head down and scowling.
"You did brilliantly!" exclaimed Sirius, slapping James's shoulder to congratulate him. James looked at him as if he were mad.
"You're joking! I messed it up right at the end, I looked like an idiot!"
"No you didn't," assured Remus. "It was just one mistake, even professional players drop the Quaffle sometimes. You were sights better than loads of people trying out." Sirius and Peter nodded enthusiastically at Remus's words, but they didn't do much to soothe James's internal self-deprecation over what he saw as the biggest blunder of his life. James glanced back at the pitch where Marlene was now trying out, Lily and Mary still in the stands cheering her on. Marlene was good too; she even managed a goal. This did nothing to comfort James, and Sirius took him by the arm and practically frog-marched him away from the pitch.
"Come on, we'll get you some pumpkin juice and a biscuit," said Sirius, taking the role of mother hen, a role they all took on to try and distract James from the Quidditch pitch. He seemed to grow considerably less miserable after a chocolate biscuit from a plate they had stolen from the Great Hall. The entire plate. Sirius wasn't fucking around.
The Quidditch positions wouldn't be revealed for a while yet, with the first match not until January. So James was more tetchy than usual, zoning out randomly and voicing his concerns at the most random moments so that the others had to struggle to keep up with what he was referring to.
"It's not a big deal if you don't get on the team," groaned Peter after another outburst of nerves from James. This time they were in the corridors between potions and transfiguration class. "You can always try again next year."
"No I can't because there won't be any places next year for chaser," explained James irritably. "Hestia Jones is the oldest and she's only in fifth year."
"She might quit," suggested Sirius.
"Course she won't, she's too good. If I don't get on the team this year I'll have to wait another two."
"Someone else could quit by then," said Remus. "You're worrying too much."
"I heard the commentator's quitting," informed Sirius, despite the little relevance this held to James. "Dave Cohen from seventh year. He's focusing on his Newts."
"What's that got to do with me? I'm not going to be commentator."
"I know. But still." He declined to elaborate.
"I wouldn't mind being commentator," continued Remus, ignoring the sigh from James as their conversation turned away from his own problems. "It's my favourite part of Quidditch matches."
"You're mad," said Peter. "Of all the players and the goals and the flying, your favourite part's the talking? All the commentator does is tell you what you can already see happening."
"It's more than that, it's... it's a skill." Remus didn't know how to explain it exactly, but he'd always admired the quickness of commentators being able to describe everything that was happening, no matter how fast the players were, as well as cracking jokes at the same time and keeping things entertaining.
"You should sign up for the part then," said Sirius. Remus shook his head.
"Absolutely not, I'd be terrible." If truth be told, Remus didn't think he was terrible. He didn't think he was amazing at commentating, but he did know he could keep up with the players. He'd practiced countless times, muttering under his breath during Quidditch matches with his father, his eyes fixated on the game, and practising his speaking voice in the mirror— before his parents caught him, of course.
"No you wouldn't," Sirius assured. "You're always talking."
"I'm always talking?" That was rich coming from Sirius, even richer when their friend group involved James, and Peter wasn't much better. Remus always thought he was the only quiet one of the group.
"Yeah, you talk really fast when you're obsessing over something and you know everything. Commentators have to know everything." None of that sounded like Remus at all, so either he had no idea what he was really like or Sirius was extremely mistaken.
"Whatever, they'll find someone better than me anyway."
"Oh please try out." That was James, surprisingly. Remus didn't think he was even listening, absorbed as he was in his own world of Quidditch. "It'd be so cool if I got position as chaser and you got to commentate me."
"What if you don't get the position?"
"Bloody hell, Remus, don't tell him that," warned Peter. "He'll be off again worrying." James punched his shoulder.
"Try out anyway," he continued. "I dare you to, and you can't turn down a dare, not in this friend group."
"Yeah, first rule of our group, you have to do whatever we dare you to," backed up Sirius.
"Sounds a bit dangerous, but I'm not surprised." Dares had been thrown around the group a lot, and no one, not even Peter, had ever turned one down. Remus wasn't about to be the first one who did. He sighed.
"Fine. I'll try out." The three other boys cheered in celebration, earning a stern look from Professor McGonagall: they were now outside their transfiguration class, and quickly hushed up as they entered, focusing now on reattempting to turn a bird into a goblet of water.
Remus didn't have to worry about the commentator position for a few months, as Dave Cohen was still holding the role until exam season started. But it encouraged him to start practicing again, resorting back to his mirror technique, although this time he'd whisper his commentary to ensure no one would hear him. He'd mostly just listen to Quidditch matches on the radio, learning how to paint a picture so vivid that he could see what was happening without even being at the match. It was tricky, but Remus felt he was up to it. He was quick-thinking with an equally quick-tongue, which were two very useful attributes.
However, his practice had to go on pause when the full moon came around, as there were more pressing things to focus on. For starters, he ended up in a spot of bother out in the Forbidden Forest that could have ended much worse than it had, and earned him a rare trip to Dumbledore's office the following day.
Sometime during the night, he had somehow managed to run into the territory of the centaurs, despite the fact that they were hidden well within the forest, miles almost. Usually, Remus subconsciously stuck around the outer area of the forest, but something must have prompted him to go deeper, so deep that Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey hadn't foreseen him ending up that far. But his wolf form was unpredictable, and as a result, he always had to deal with the consequences.
He remembered snippets of the night when he woke up, recalling the hostility from both himself and the centaurs. The memories hit him full force and he had never been more scared in his life, both as he struggled to remember if he had accidentally hurt anyone, and even more scared that the centaurs were still around and may try to hurt him. He certainly hadn't escaped the ordeal without any significant injuries, after all. His torso was bleeding, although the scratches across his chest looked suspiciously like his own. How he managed to cut himself remained a mystery, but he was extremely lucky that he hadn't been hit by an arrow. He'd read a book on weapons once, something his dad had given him, and the section on arrows outlined them to be deadly. They stuck fast in skin, and trying to rip one out just tore the surrounding skin with agonising intensity and you ended up just bleeding to death.
Remus was lucky to be alive.
When he finally did stand up and looked around him, the centaurs were nowhere to be found. He must have successfully broken out from their territory, but he still had no clue where he was. He was still deep in the woods, and he didn't have Hagrid on hand right now, not until he was a little closer to the outer area. He, therefore, had to rely solely on the residue of his werewolf senses, which were always heightened around the full moon, especially the day before and the day after the actual night. His sense of smell and his keen ears were most useful, while his eyesight became almost useless as the trees and the bushes all morphed into the same surroundings. The only sight he could rely on was the light and whether it was starting to get brighter, shining through the gaps in the foliage.
He tried not to panic as much as the last time he'd gotten lost, but he had the growing fear that he'd run into the centaurs again at any moment. The more he walked the more the night before started to come back to him in flashbacks. He remembered the arrows flying, and realised that one had managed to pierce his skin at the time, and he was simply lucky that his sheer size and thick fur had offered him some protection. It had been shot into the back of his leg, and he looked behind him, craning his neck to check the damage, lifting up the ruined material of what barely constituted as trousers. His leg was certainly bleeding badly, and the skin was fairly ripped around it, so he hadn't been fully protected. In fact he was lucky he had managed to get it out in the first place, however he had done that. Remus didn't remember. But it undoubtedly needed urgent attention, and the only reason he wasn't in searing pain was the adrenaline and the vague shock numbing the nerves to his brain.
The light was starting to become more visible, so Remus hoped he was on the right track. As he became a little more confident it allowed him to try and think back more to what happened. Why the hell had he even ventured so far? Had it just been a bout of curious exploration on his part? More confidence? More aggression? Sometimes he became more restless when the moon was closer to the Earth's orbit, one of those super moons. Of course, it was a common misconception that different types of moons caused werewolves to change their behaviour more significantly. Remus had read an article once, adamant that lunar eclipses caused werewolves to lose their powers altogether, while blood moons caused them to become demonic. It was all bullshit, especially considering that blood moons and lunar eclipses were the same thing, and Remus certainly couldn't remember a time when he'd not only returned to his human form during the full moon, but also became the son of Satan or whatever the author of that article was thinking. Super moons were the only thing that had a slight affect on him, and even then it wasn't anything too significant. Not only that, but there wasn't going to be a super moon until January anyway, so really, this theory was completely pointless and a waste of his time even thinking about.
Whatever the reason for his out of character behaviour, the point was, he had run into serious danger that could have turned out terribly. He was thankful that he couldn't recall causing anyone else any injuries, hoping that his mind was being truthful and wasn't covering up any specific memory of hurting a centaur. The arrows must have scared him off before he could cause any real damage.
"Remus!" That was Hagrid's voice. Remus turned his head towards it, relief flooding through him. He ran to the source of the voice, ignoring the growing twinge in his leg, and stumbled out into the sightline of the giant man in front of him.
"There you are!" Hagrid exclaimed, quickly handing Remus a blanket to wrap round his shoulders and cover up his torso, which luckily for him was flat at the moment. Madam Pomfrey always ensured it was before the full moon, as his shirt always ended up ripped beyond repair after transforming. His trousers were the only thing that vaguely survived, since his legs tended to only grow longer without really changing in size too much. The rest of his body was a different story. He got through a lot of clothes within a month.
"I've been lookin' fer you all morning." He caught notice of Remus's various injuries and saw how visibly shaken up he looked. "What happened to you?"
"Um... I accidentally got caught up with the centaurs." Hagrid's expression changed from confusion to genuine fear.
"You what?! But they're so far into the forest, how did you even come across 'em?"
"I dunno, I just went in too deep."
"Yer lucky to be alive! Merlin's beard, did you 'urt any?"
"No. I'm pretty sure I didn't." They were coming into the clearing now, nearing Hagrid's hut where Madam Pomfrey would be waiting to take him up to the hospital wing. He could already see her silhouette by the front door of the house. She walked up to them, and then noticing the state Remus was in, clucked around him anxiously. She went deathly pale when Hagrid told her about the centaurs.
"I'll take him to Professor Dumbledore as soon as he's rested up and I've fixed his injuries. We may decide for him to go back to transforming in the Shrieking Shack." This statement barely hit him because as much as Remus had enjoyed the freedom of the forest, he couldn't help but admit he was too scared now, unsure of his own predictability anymore, and worried he'd run into trouble again and not make it out so unscathed next time.
Madam Pomfrey led him to the hospital wing and his leg was quickly attended to. It was starting to hurt now, with every movement sending shooting pains through his calf. But the bleeding was soon stopped, the wound sewn up and bandages wrapped around it. With a few painkilling potions, Remus was soon fast asleep in a dreamless coma until the early evening.