Whether it was Dumbledore's advice actually paying off, or sheer force of will, Remus managed to attend all of his classes as November shifted into December. In the evening, he would need to report to the Hospital Wing, but that morning, he sat through all of Professor Flitwick's instructions on the fire-making spell. He felt sick, and his hands shook so badly that he accidentally set fire to Alice Prewett's robes, but he was there.
Things went a little more smoothly in History of Magic. Professor Binns, the only teacher who was also a ghost, never deviated from his rather long, dry lectures. Remus simply had to sit quietly at his desk, keep his head down, and take notes.
Though it was minor progress, he congratulated himself for being able to manage so much in so short a time. Over the past few weeks, he had forced himself to eat more meat than he typically cared for, went to sleep early each night, and accepted a few potions recommended to him by Madam Pomfrey. There was no draught that would alleviate his transformations, but a mild strength potion had given him a bit more energy to get through his days.
"I can go to class again today, can't I?" asked Remus the morning following the full moon.
"Well… I must say, I have never seen you in better health…" Madame Pomfrey commented. She had finished tending to the light scratches Remus often inflicted to himself during his transformations. The matron had a salve that would cure such slight injuries instantaneously, and without leaving any marks. Lately, even Remus's old scars were fading under her capable ministrations.
"Alright," Madam Pomfrey concluded after a few more moments of silent deliberation, "If you're really feeling up to it, you can go. But make sure to report here again tonight!"
Remus had already sprung from the chair on which she had placed him and raced out the door. It was still early. Most of the students would probably still be at breakfast in the Great Hall. But Remus wasn't about to press his luck. He did not want to be late.
He hurried up the stairs to his dormitory, seeking both his schoolbooks and the map he had made of the stairs, only to find that the room was not empty. Potter, Black, and Pettigrew were chattering merrily as they dressed. Remus braced himself for any questions they might have about his whereabouts the previous night, but the boys took no notice of him. They had other matters to discuss.
"First thing I'm doing when I get home is take out my sled. Dad bought it for me last year. It's enchanted, so you don't need a hill or snow to ride it around... But if you can get a decent slope, it'll launch itself skyward! You should see it. I figure it can go as high as some brooms!" Potter was explaining to his audience.
"But how do you land?" Pettigrew asked innocently.
Remus, not wanting to risk their attention, hurriedly stepped to the trunk at the foot of his bed, removing his textbooks and a few rolls of spare parchment for his classes that day. He was trying to be fast, but quiet. Still, he couldn't help but overhear their conversation as he searched for his quill.
"I'm not going home for Christmas," Black announced as Potter finished describing his elaborate plans for the holiday.
Potter was stunned into silence, while Pettigrew's jaw dropped. Black merely smiled at their expressions of alarm as he shrugged his shoulders, adding, "My mum says it's a stupid Muggle tradition."
"But they'll celebrate the solstice, won't they?" Potter asked, "That's what we do. My parents say it's all the same, just called by another name."
He looked to Pettigrew for support, who was nodding his head furiously. "My parents celebrate Yule. It's just like Christmas, so the Muggles don't even notice…"
"Call it whatever you like," Black interrupted carelessly, "Doesn't change the fact that my parents don't want me home. And to tell you the truth, I don't much care about seeing them, either. I've already signed up to stay at Hogwarts over break."
Potter did not hesitate. Despite all his carefully laid plans and the expectation of the gifts his parents would be sure to give him, he immediately declared, "We should all stay! It'll be more fun celebrating the solstice together!"
Black's easy smile widened at this suggestion. Remus, who had overheard it all, had finished gathering his books. He could no longer pretend to have any business in their dormitory, so he straightened up and prepared to leave, when he felt their eyes drawn toward him.
"What do you say, Lupin?" called Potter, "Want to join us over the holidays?"
"No," Remus replied shortly.
"Oh, let up on the lone wolf act," said Black, rolling his eyes. "Stay with us! Aren't you curious to see what Hogwarts is like during Christmas?"
Remus flinched at the word "wolf." He had to remind himself that this was a common phrase. Black meant nothing insidious by it. Still, the sudden alarm caused him to snap back with more venom than necessary, "I'm going home. Unlike you, I actually like my parents."
He froze, worried that he'd gone too far. This was not the first time he had heard Black complain about his family, but each time it made him uncomfortable. Remus's parents had sheltered him from the outside world, but he knew it was an act of love. It was hard for him to imagine parents who did not even like their son, or who would treat intentionally treat him badly, just because he'd been sorted into the wrong house.
To his astonishment, Black seemed far from insulted by his outburst. He stared at Remus, the same relaxed smile on his face, as he said, "So you can get mad. Interesting…"
Remus felt his face getting hot. Rather than stay and be subjected to further questions and teasing, he lifted his book bag onto his shoulder and stalked down the stairs toward the common room. As far as he was concerned, Christmas could not come soon enough.
"How was it? Is Hogwarts fun? Do you like school?"
His mother's questions came in quick succession after she released him from a strong hug. Lyall had met Remus at Kings Cross Station on his way home from work at the Ministry, and they had both been greeted by the anxious but excited Hope, as well as a large homemade dinner she had prepared in anticipation of Remus's arrival.
"I'm doing well in all of my classes, so far," Remus reported with a touch of pride well-earned pride. His professors all praised his hard work and dedication to each subject. Even Professor Binns had noted that Remus's essays were quite thorough.
And well they should be, Remus thought privately to himself. He spent so little time socializing with other students, he was left with plenty of time to study.
"Flying lessons are challenging, but I think I'm getting the hang of it," Remus added as he helped himself to his mother's cooking.
"Flying lessons!" Hope laughed. "You see? I knew sending you to school was for the best. Imagine getting flying lessons from me!"
She seemed lighter, somehow, as if a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders. His father, though as calm and quiet as he always was, seemed to stand a little taller. Remus felt a pang of remorse as he realized what a burden caring for him must have been. Though it was no easy task, he was glad he had agreed to attend Hogwarts, after all.
"Is old Slughorn still teaching potions?" asked Lyall in a tone that implied he had already inquired into each of Remus's teachers before his enrollment at the school.
Remus nodded his head, surprised to find that Professor Slughorn had instructed his father on potion making as well.
"'Course, he was a lot younger in those days. New to teaching, I imagine. Even then, he had a tendency to pick favorites. He hasn't given you any trouble, has he?"
Remus shook his head. His father's description of the potions master exactly coincided with Remus's impression of him. Though he often praised Remus's work in class, he had not once invited Remus to the infamous "Slug Club," a collection of his most prized students. Remus suspected that Slughorn was slightly afraid of him. Or, more likely still, he simply did not expect a werewolf child to amount to anything special.
"He treats me well enough, and I do a decent job in potions, but I'm nothing compared to Sev… Severus, I mean."
He had been so used to hearing Lily Evans use the nickname, he blurted it out without thinking. The Gryffindors shared Potions with the Slytherins, and it was true that Snape seemed to excel in the subject more than any other first-year.
"Who's Severus?" his mother asked with interest, seizing on the name instantly, "Is he in… What was it called, honey? Griffin-more?"
"Gryffindor," corrected Lyall. He had also turned a politely curious gaze toward his son. "Friend of yours?"
"No, not exactly…" Remus started to say, but the look of disappointment on his mother's face checked his next words. He knew what her hopes for him had been, and he didn't want to cause her any worry by admitting to the strict self-isolation he had imposed on himself. Instead, he continued, "Actually, he's in Slytherin. But he's friends with Lily. She's in the same house as me, so we end up studying together a lot."
It wasn't a complete lie. Evans was one of the few students who continued to seek his company, despite his constant rebuffs. And since Snape was usually not far from her side, Remus found himself spending an inordinate amount of time with them in the library. True, Snape seemed to resent his company as much as Remus could wish, and they passed their time studying in silence, but his parents did not need to know that.
Remus enjoyed two full weeks of rest and relaxation in his parents' home. He allowed himself a break from studying, and spent his time helping his mother around the house, reading some of his favorite novels, and even running a few errands with his father in London. This was an unusual treat, as in the past, his parents' anxiety to keep him safe and secure led to an overabundance of caution. Remus couldn't remember a time when he had gone to a store, even in the day, and yet he found himself in Diagon Alley a few days before the start of his second term, selecting more ingredients to use in potions and replenishing his supply of ink and parchment.
Before he could return to school, however, he had one final full moon to contend with. Just before the New Year, his father led him outside about an hour before sunset. Remus, already familiar with the routine, passed his father as they walked toward the back of the house. His parents had moved once again, to a house with a cellar that could only be accessed from the outside. Remus waited as his father waved his wand, unlocking the heavy padlock on the door, then helped him move it aside. They walked down the lichen-covered steps together into the cold cellar below.
It was freezing, but the cellar was dry. The earth pressing in around them made it marginally warmer than the bitter air outside, where the wind had cut easily through his Muggle jacket. Still, Remus shivered as he took off the layers of clothing he did not want to tear during his transformation, wrapping himself instead in the thick wool blanket his father handed to him.
His feet, clad only in a few pairs of thick socks, brushed against something on the floor. The sound of metal scraping across stone echoed in his ears. Remus glanced down and saw a shackle. It wasn't an unusual sight, not after all these years, and yet he had almost forgotten how things were done when he transformed at home.
The shackles kept him contained and under control. True, his father had placed wards around the house and even carved them into the very walls of the cellar. There were physical locks and magical charms to hold him. But all these were merely precautions, spells to silence his howls from outside and keep him hidden. They would do little to stop his rampage if he actually managed to escape the chains.
Remus settled himself on the ground, still wrapped in the cocoon of blanket. He remained still and calm as his father fitted a steel collar around his neck and shackles about his wrists. The bindings were attached to thick, enchanted chains, embedded into the wall behind him.
Lyall hesitated after closing the lock around his son's neck. He said nothing, but Remus could see the regret and sorrow stamped on his face as clearly as the scar that ran down the side of his cheek.
In the beginning, when Remus had been very small, his father had tried to hold him during his transformations, rocking the snarling, salivating ball of fur as if it were still his child, trying to make Remus remember who he was. Lyall had earned many a scar by doing that. It was a miracle Remus had never bitten him.
When they had finally resorted to the chains out of desperation, Lyall had cried. Tears streamed down his face as he left his only child bound and chained on a cellar floor. It was the first and last time Remus could remember seeing his father weep.
There were no tears in his eyes now, but the remorse was still there. The apologies Remus had heard over and over again did not rise to his lips, but rather hung, unspoken, between them.
"I'll be down in the morning," said Lyall, patting his son on the shoulder, "Your mum made some snacks for you, if you get hungry. And there's water and hot chocolate."
Remus nodded, and let his father go. He was kind enough to leave the light on, but Remus didn't need it. He would try to sleep through this transformation, if he could. And if that didn't work, his lupine form could see perfectly, even in almost complete darkness. He rested his back against the hard wall and settled more deeply into his blanket. He wished he'd brought a pillow with him.
He closed his eyes, listening as his father locked the cellar door behind him, then the soft thud of his footsteps heading back into the house. He could feel night creeping in like a beetle running up his spine. It wouldn't be long now.
The precautions were necessary. Remus knew that. But at Hogwarts, they didn't need to restrain him. He hadn't been left in chains. Though he caused destruction in the house every night, he had been able to roam from room to room. It was not perfect, but it had been… better than this. Remus could hardly believe it himself, but he was actually eager to be back at school.