"BOY! Where are you? Get out here, now!"

Remus woke with his cheek pressed against the cold hardwood floor. From below, he heard the sound of stomping feet and a man's loud voice. For one panicked moment, he thought some curious villager had stumbled past the wards. But whoever had shouted seemed to know a child was there, and they didn't sound happy.

Remus sat bolt upright. He regretted the sudden movement an instant later, when the bedroom swam into focus and a sickening wave of nausea threatened to overpower him. He gripped the edge of the bed next to him for support as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. Or rather, what was left of the bed. The large four-poster he had noticed the night before was destroyed. The wolf must have gotten bored during the night, for the pristine white sheets were ripped to shreds. The heavy curtains hung in tatters from the crooked poles, while huge chunks of the wood frame had been gnawed away. Pillows and mattress had been slashed with long claws, leaving a light dusting of the feathers scattered about the room like snow.

Remus brushed away a few of the feathers that clung to his hair as he observed the rest of the bedroom only to find a similar trail of destruction. Chests of drawers had been toppled over and smashed, as though a rather inexperienced burglar had ransacked them. An antique vanity that had rested in the corner bore the signs of bite marks and a cracked mirror. There were claw marks around the room's windows, leaving the wallpaper in tattered strips that curled down toward the floor. Apparently, the wolf had thought to escape, but the wards had held.

As he surveyed the handiwork of his lupine counterpart, the angry voice called out again. Remus tried to dispel the fog that hung over his mind, struggling to remember where he had stored his clothes the night before. Then his gaze passed over the closet door. He gasped. Jagged claw marks raked across the thin wooden surface. It was astonishing that the door itself had not been ripped from its hinges.

Remus feared what he might find on the other side of that door. If he, in his wolf form, had managed to open the door, then he would most likely find his clothes in the same state as the bedroom. But to his immense relief, the closet was the only thing that had not been completely destroyed. The closet door creaked in protest when he pried it open, but he found his clothes still neatly folded in a pile on the floor.

"I SAID COME OUT, BOY!" screamed the raspy voice from below, "DON'T MAKE ME COME LOOK FOR YOU!"

"I'm coming!" Remus called back, pulling his robes over his head as quickly as he could.

The bedroom door was still closed and intact, much to his surprise. Remus strained himself to remember the night before. The thoughts were hazy, as they always were right after his transformation, but he seemed to recall searching this new environment with his heightened senses, taking his time as moved about the confined space, searching under the bed and pulling out each dresser drawer… Only then had he amused himself with wantonly scratching, clawing, and biting at everything in sight. He couldn't remember much after that, but it was likely that he had simply tired himself out. He sighed, wondering how long the rest of the house would remain in its undisturbed state before the wolf got bored of one room, and moved on to destroy the rest.

A thin young man stood waiting near the foot of the stairs. His lank, brown hair was long and shaggy. From its color and the lack of lines on his face, Remus judged that the man could not be much older than twenty. He had youth, but no beauty. His lips were thin, his cheeks gaunt and bloodless, and the skin beneath his bulging eyes was rather pouchy. As if to reinforce his outstanding ugliness, the man's face twisted unpleasantly as he watched Remus dart toward him, until he resembled nothing so much as a bitter old man, angry at the sight of a teenager trespassing on his lawn.

"About time!" he snarled in a reedy voice, "Let's get you back to the school, then."

"Where's Professor McGonagall?" Remus asked.

"She's busy," the man spat, "You think the deputy headmistress has time to waste on the likes of you?"

"I didn't say that…" Remus protested faintly, "It's just… She said she would come to get me in the morning…"

"Well, she had other plans. Sent me instead. Name's Filch. Mr. Filch, if you know what's good for you!"

"Are you… A teacher?" Remus asked, hoping the answer was no. Most of the teachers Remus had met so far had been older, and they dressed in smart robes or charmingly antiquated suits. Filch, however, was dressed in a shabby brown jacket, long breeches stained with some unknowable substance, and a pair of very worn leather boots.

Filch snorted at the suggestion and replied, "I'm the caretaker for the castle."

"But I thought Hagrid was the caretaker?" asked Remus, referring to the enormous man who had escorted the first-years across the Black Lake prior to the Sorting Ceremony. It was not an experience he would be likely to forget, floating across the dark water toward the illuminated windows of Hogwarts, its size impossible to determine in the night. Nor could he easily forget Hagrid, whose massive stature was sure to make an impression on the small, nervous students who followed him onto the boats.

Filch snorted again again as he pried up the trap door and replied, "That massive dropout? No, he's just the gamekeeper. S'pose the headmaster didn't care to have him clomping 'round the school all day. Best to keep his kind out of doors… Are you injured?"

"I… What?" Remus stammered, stunned by the abrupt question.

"Injured, boy! I said are you injured! Are you stupid as well as cursed?"

Remus bristled. He understood what Filch was alluding to, but he had been so preoccupied by the state of the bedroom when he awoke, he forgot to check whether he had scratched more than the furniture. He now took mental note of his body, and felt no stinging sensation or itching that might indicate a new scar.

When he advised Filch of this, the caretaker merely scowled and said, "Well, no matter. I've been instructed to take you straight to the hospital wing, either way. We'll let Pomfrey have a proper look at you. Well, what are you waiting for? Get a move on!"

Remus wondered why he had bothered to ask about injuries if he had been instructed to take him to the hospital wing, though he wisely refrained from asking. He had the distinct impression that Filch was disappointed at finding him relatively unharmed.

Filch expected him to descend the ladder down into the tunnel first. Remus didn't really mind, but the man's curmudgeonly attitude suggested that he didn't want to have Remus at his back. Remus couldn't blame him for being wary, but he couldn't like the man, either.

Filch complained about the errand he had been forced to perform the entire walk back to the castle.

"It's always me gets saddled with the worst jobs… Could have sent Hagrid, but he wouldn't fit in the tunnel, she says… disgusting, letting a thing like that work in the school. Now they send us something like you… Things're really going downhill..."

Remus bit back the comment on his lips and trudged forward in silence, calculating in his mind the number of full moons between now and his graduation. About twelve per year, unless there was a blue moon... But there would be holidays when he wouldn't have to stay at the castle… Still, the number was too distressing to consider. He could only hope that Filch would not always be the one to come and fetch him, or that Remus would be discovered and expelled long before his expected graduation.

Madam Pomfrey was far more kind to Remus than Filch had been. Though they were similar in age, she was friendly and warm, where Filch had been surly and rude. There was something maternal in her demeanor, though Remus was quick to learn that she could also be persnickety when it came to the health of her patients. She fussed over his minor scratches, which were so slight, Remus had not noticed them earlier.

When she had seen to all of his scrapes and bruises, curing them in a trice, she ushered him to a bed and ordered him to rest. He was not ungrateful for the offer. Though he had managed to sleep the night before, he still felt nauseous. He would transform again that night, and would therefore be confined to the hospital wing the rest of the day… And the day after that.

By Monday morning, he was free of the threat of transformation, but still so sick and weak that Madam Pomfrey positively refused to let him attend class. He spent his day languishing in bed, trying to rebuild his strength by eating whatever the matron placed in front of him, hoping that with his appetite somewhat restored, he would soon be presentable enough to face his classmates.

It was terribly boring. Madam Pomfrey was kind, but she had other duties to attend to, and could not sit with him all day. Remus found himself wishing he had a book to read. Twice he considered asking Madam Pomfrey for assistance, but worried she would commission another student with the task of running down to the library. Fearful of drawing attention to himself, he remained silent, napped when he could, and spent the rest of the time staring out the hospital wing's tall, arched windows.

The monotony was broken in the evening by Professor Corvus, who appeared just when Remus was about to count the number of potion bottles in Madam Pomfrey's cabinet for the eighth time.

"I thought you would be back in your dormitory by now," remarked the professor, drawing her wand and conjuring a chair out of thin air. She placed this by Remus's bedside and settled near him, as though willing to stay and chat a while.

"Madam Pomfrey says I'm still too sick," Remus said, grateful for someone to talk to. He proceeded to describe some of the symptoms that heralded in his transformations every month.

Usually, he would not have taken the liberty. He barely communicated his feelings to his parents, not wishing to burden them any further. But Professor Corvus had spoken of a similarity in their circumstances. He still did not quite know what she meant, but he instinctively felt as though he could talk to her.

The professor listened to his complaints in respectful silence, nodding along until he had quite exhausted the topic. Though nothing had changed by the end of his rant, indulging in this rare opportunity to talk about his experiences made him feel slightly better.

"What can I do for you?" Professor Corvus asked when Remus fell silent at last, "There must be some way to make your time here easier?"

"Books," Remus said immediately. "It would help if I had something to read. It gets boring otherwise."

"I think I can manage that," Professor Corvus said with an indulgent smile, "What sort of thing do you prefer?"

"Anything," Remus replied eagerly, "My mum gave me loads of Muggle novels, but I like to read biographies and historical books, as well. Or maybe some textbooks? If I have to miss class again, I don't want to fall behind… Then again…"

The professor's smile widened as Remus considered his options, but before she could say another word, Madame Pomfrey came bustling into the room, emitting a light exclamation when she saw Professor Corvus sitting there.

"Ravena! I wasn't expecting to see you here until next week…"

"There have been some developments," replied Professor Corvus as she calmly rose from her chair. "Do you think you could fit me in this evening?"

The matron's eyes darted over Remus, who was watching them with open curiosity. Whatever she saw in his appearance must have satisfied her that he would be fine if left by himself, for she stepped aside for Professor Corvus and said, "Very well, let's speak in my office."

Remus watched as the pair marched down the row of beds toward a small room just off the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey called it her office, but Remus often saw her bustling in and out between his checkups, and he knew the room was little larger than a closet, fitted snugly with a couple of fat armchairs, a full tea service, and plenty of thick books with titles like "Plant Magick" and "100 Herbs for Healthful Potions."

Remus settled back against his pillows and stared out the tall windows overlooking his bed. If Professor Corvus forgot to bring him books from the schools' library, perhaps he could persuade Madame Pomfrey to loan him some of her texts on mystic fungi.

He wondered what could have brought Professor Corvus to speak with the school matron. Perhaps it had something to do with the condition she had referenced before… But she taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. Surely if she were under a curse, she would know how to handle it herself… What could be affecting her so severely that she needed to seek a healer's advice?

The two women were only in consultation a few moments before the door to Madam Pomfrey's small office opened again. Professor Corvus stepped partially into the wing, though she turned back, still in whispered consultation with the matron. Remus's hearing was very good, and he could catch snippets of their conversation…

"... getting difficult to change back…"

"... understand your concern, but my advice is the same…may be better to avoid..."

Professor Corvus was nodding her head. She sighed, and her voice was sad as she replied, "Ah, but Poppy… eventually the choice will be out of my hands…"

Madam Pomfrey's face held nothing but pity as she watched her patient turn away. Professor Corvus's eyes met Remus as she turned to leave. Her troubled expression melted away as she offered Remus a bracing smile, making sure to wave and tell him, "You said anything! I want no complaints from you when the books arrive."

Professor Corvus was true to her word. By the arrival of the next full moon, Remus approached the hospital wing to find a tall stack of books resting on a table near the side of one of the beds. He took an eager step forward, curious to see what titles they bore, but Madam Pomfrey stopped him before he could get close.

"You'll have plenty of time for those next sunrise," she said, stepping out of her office as she pinned a cloak around her shoulders, "We'd best be off before nightfall!"

Remus stared longingly at the books, but followed the nurse obediently out the door. She was right, of course. He couldn't take the books with him, and there would be more than enough time to peruse the titles when he came back the next day.

He had arrived on Sunday evening, but the full moon was not until Monday night. Inevitably, this caused him to miss two full days of class at the beginning of October. The books Professor Corvus had supplied kept him both entertained and informed. She had thoughtfully interspersed novels by magical authors with additional copies of his textbooks to aid with his assignments.

He was now sufficiently employed during his days of recovery in the hospital wing, while at night, the wolf had sought new sources of amusement. Not content to remain sequestered in only one room, it wasted no time in prowling the hallways of the house, where it began destroying the other bedrooms one by one. Fortunately, the wards had held, and the wolf had not ventured beyond the walls of the house.

Keeping his secret from his fellow classmates would not be as easy as acquiring the books had been. When he returned to his dormitory Wednesday morning, he was immediately confronted by Sirius Black.

"Where do you keep disappearing to?" he asked. He had apparently been lounging on Potter's bed, waiting for his friend to finish affixing his tie and making sure his hair was appropriately ruffled. But the moment Remus entered the room, he sat upright, leaning forward to get a better look at him.

"I was in the hospital wing. I didn't feel well," Remus replied briefly, turning his face away as he made a show of gathering his textbooks. He hoped they wouldn't notice the fresh scratches he had inflicted on himself the night before.

"Feeling homesick?" asked Pettigrew, who was sitting on the floor, flipping through a quidditch magazine.

Remus could feel Potter's gaze, reflected in the mirror as he finished getting ready. Satisfied that his hair appeared as windswept as the players who zoomed about the pages of the magazine in Pettigrew's hands, he turned to his friends with a wry smile.

"Leave him be, Pete. It wasn't long ago that you were sniveling after your mother!"

"I did not!" Pettigrew said with an indignant scoff, "I only said she made a better steak and kidney pie than they serve here!"

"Do you ever stop thinking about food?" asked Black, sounding bored.

It was enough. They weren't thinking about him anymore. Remus finished gathering his things and slipped out the door before they could take any further notice of him. He wondered if this excess of caution was really necessary, after all. At the very least, Potter and Black never seemed to give him more than a passing thought. Perhaps they would simply lose interest in their taciturn roommate and his strange absences.