Chapter Seven: Suspicions Arising

Madam Rosmerta yawned widely, as she shuffled towards the front door of The Three Broomsticks. Her hair was still in curlers and there were dark circles under her eyes. She had not slept well. She unbolted the door and bent down to pick up the bottle of milk and morning paper. As she straightened up, she caught sight of Ambrosius Flume doing the exact same thing, a little further down the road. She waved her rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet at the Honeydukes proprietor. 'Morning, Ambrosius,' she called down the street.

'Morning, Rosmerta, M'dear,' he called back. He, too, had dark circles under his eyes. He kept glancing warily upwards at the crooked, little house that sat on top of a hill at the very end of the road, just outside of the village.

'Is something bothering you, Ambrosius?' Rosmerta called. He looked about, uneasily, and then shuffled up the road towards her - clad only in his pajamas and slippers.

He didn't speak until he reached the door of The Three Broomsticks - when he lowered his voice and leaned his head towards the landlady. 'Did you - er - did you hear anything last night, Rosmerta? Anything... unusual?'

She yawned, widely, again. 'I was kept awake all night,' she told him, 'by the most awful shrieking - howling, almost, like an animal in dreadful pain.'

'Us too,' Ambrosius said, 'Mrs. Flume and I were up all night, listening to the most unearthly caterwauling. Screaming, banging, crashing, carrying on … never heard anything like it.'

'Any idea what it was?'

The Honeydukes owner nodded in the direction of the house - standing all alone, separate from all the other dwellings, it's windows and doors boarded up. 'Sounded like it was coming from that cottage over there - but what it was… and how it got into that abandoned, ramshackle old thing...'

Rosmerta nodded, 'more of a shack than a cottage,' she agreed. 'Just terrible shrieking… D'you think something's trapped inside?'

'Maybe it's spirits possessing it?'

The landlady shuddered. 'Well - whatever's in there - I hope it moves along soon. I can't take two nights like that on the run.'

...

As the early September sun crept through the window of the first year Gryffindor Boys' dormitory, James Potter rolled over, mumbling as he drifted into wakefulness. The rays of sunshine shone down onto his face and - without opening his eyes - he pulled his pillow over his head and buried into the darkness, trying to fall back asleep.

But it was no good - now he was awake he was aware that he was hungry and he needed the bathroom, and all the dark the pillow had to offer could not blot out those sensations. He sat up in bed.

He frowned. Opposite his own bed was Remus's. Mr. Friendly always slept with the curtains of his four poster tightly drawn around him - but this morning they were open, still tied back. And more than that - the sheets were still pulled up. It did not look like the bed had been slept in.

'Sirius,' James hissed at the boy, who still slept deeply in the next bed, 'Sirius - wake up.' He threw his pillow at his friend - and Sirius woke up, with a groan.

'Oof - James, you nutter - what did you do that for?'

'Did you hear Remus come in last night?' James asked him, 'after we went to bed - did Remus come in?'

'Dunno.' He yawned.

'His bed hasn't been slept in.'

'Maybe he stayed at the Hospital Wing,' Sirius suggested, blearily. He rolled over, turning away from James, and hugged the pillow that the other boy had thrown at him. ''S'not time to get up, yet,' he mumbled, 'go back to sleep.'

'Can't,' James replied, 'you've got my pillow.'

'Should have thought of that before you…' he trailed off, as he drifted back into sleep. James sat on his bed - staring at Remus's empty bed - and chewed his lip, as he thought.

...

When Remus woke up, he was aching all over. Every inch of his body felt tender and bruised. He was lying on the hard, wooden floor of the living room - though he had no recollection of leaving the bedroom, of coming down the stairs. He shivered, and wrapped his arms across his bare chest for warmth. He should get up and put his clothes on - but every inch of him felt like it had been beaten and pulverised and he needed to lie down, just for a moment… just for a few moments more.

A sound in the passageway alerted him to the fact that he was not going to be alone much longer - and modesty forced him up, where the cold had not been able to. He clambered to his feet and stumbled up the stairs, heading back for the bedroom - and his discarded robes - before Madam Pomfrey could find him lying naked on the floor.

As he pulled his robes over his head, he heard the worried voice of the Hogwarts' matron calling through the house for him. 'Mr. Lupin? Mr. Lupin?'

'I'm up here,' he called back to her, 'I'll be down in a sec.'

He put his shoes and socks on and then made his way down the stairs. He had to cling to the banister, as he did, his aching legs did not feel like they could support him properly.

He found Madam Pomfrey stood in the middle of the living room - staring around. He followed her gaze - and saw the destruction his wolfish form had wrought on the little room. Some of the wooden furniture had been smashed up into sticks, there were deep gouge marks in the floors - where he had tried to claw his way out, and the curtains were ragged and torn - where he had gripped them in his mouth and savaged them. The young boy blushed, as he took in the mess. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I didn't mean… I mean - I can't control...'

Madam Pomfrey shook her head - as if snapping out of a reverie - and smiled at him. 'Of course you can't, dear - we don't expect… but it's no matter.' She took out her wand and waved it - the furniture remade itself, the curtains mended their torn fabric and the grooves in the floor smoothed over. 'No harm done,' she said. 'Now - how are you feeling?'

'Sore,' he admitted, 'and tired - mostly.'

'Well - I need to get you back to the castle before everyone is up - and then, once we're back at the Hospital Wing, I'll give you a potion to help you heal and you can pop into bed and sleep it all off.'

'I - I can't do that,' he protested, 'it's Monday - I'll miss class.'

'Young man,' her voice was crisp and firm and brooked no argument, 'you were looking peaky when you came to me last night. You look positively dreadful, now. And whilst you are a patient of mine you will not be going to classes and running yourself down further. You can't learn, if you're tired and in pain. Bed rest. Time. Quiet. That's what you need - and it's what you're getting. Whether you like it or not.'

He nodded. He was too tired to argue. He ached too much. And it was a relief - if he was honest - to learn that he was not going to be allowed back into the classroom today. Madam Pomfrey was right: he would be no good at his lessons when he felt as dreadful as this. The idea of sinking into a warm, soft bed and having someone take care of him sounded like heaven, right now.

The matron wrapped her arm around his slight shoulders and supported him back through the trapdoor and into the passage that led back to the Hogwarts grounds. He leaned on her all the way back to the castle.

Once safely back at the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey handed him a pair of pajamas and then pulled some curtains around his bed to give him some privacy as he changed. He took his robes off and pulled on the stripy pajamas, wincing as the cotton brushed against the fresh cuts he had torn into his own skin.

Once he was under the covers, the matron came round the curtains bearing two beakers of steaming potion, which she carried on a silver tray. 'Here we go,' she said to him, handing him the first beaker. He stared at its contents. The concoction was a pale green, it was bubbling and the steam was rising from it in spirals. Remus sniffed at it - it smelt of burnt nettles.

'What is this?' he asked - reluctant to drink something so unappealing looking.

'Hippworth's Healing Tincture,' she told him, 'instant relief for all your aches and pains - drink it up now, there's a good lad.'

He took a cautious sip - and the acrid, bitter taste of the potion hit the back of his throat and made him choke. 'Th- that's disgusting!' he coughed. Madam Pomfrey tutted and, under her unwavering gaze, Remus held his nose and forced himself to drink the rest of the steaming, bitter mixture.

As he raised his beaker - to get the last few drops from the bottom - his pajama sleeve fell down to his elbow, exposing his lower arm and the angry, red scratch that ran the length of it. Madam Pomfrey's eyes narrowed, as she saw it. Once he'd put the beaker back on his tray, she took his arm and rolled back his sleeve, examining the scratch. 'Do you have more like this?' she asked him.

He nodded. 'There's - there's some on my chest - and my side - too.'

'Were you planning on telling me?'

He shrugged. He was always covered in cuts and scrapes and scratches and gouges after the full moon. Separated from humans to scratch and bite, he would scratch and bite himself - and his human body bore the marks of the wolf's vicious frustration. 'Don't drink that second beaker yet,' Madam Pomfrey said to him - and she bustled away.

He sat back, leaning against his pillows, and closed his eyes. The Healing Tincture was doing its job, he could feel it working already (though the bitter taste of nettles still lingered in his mouth, making him grimace). The aches and the pains, the throbbing in his bones where they had broken and reformed - knitting themselves into new shapes, were receding. A warmth was spreading through him - soothing the dull pains away, it felt like he was sat by a fire and was letting the warmth of the flames wash over him; or like he had sunk into a hot, deep bath.

Remus opened his eyes again, when he heard Madam Pomfrey return. This time she was carrying a tub filled with an orange paste. 'Roll your sleeve back,' she ordered him. He did so - and she smeared the paste on his scrape. It stung. 'Now show me the rest,' she said. He unbuttoned his pajama top and showed her the scratches on his chest; the one across his belly and the deep gouge just above his left hip. She tutted again, when she saw the damage, and set to smothering the orange paste all over his wounds. He breathed in, sucking the air in between his teeth, as the ointment stung his skin.

'Of course, I can't get rid of these entirely,' Madam Pomfrey said to him, as she worked. 'Werewolf wounds are cursed - same as the original bite. There'll be scars. But I can at least heal them so they stop hurting. It's the best I can do.'

'Thanks - that feels better already.'

He rebuttoned up his shirt and sank back against his pillows, once more. She gave him a brisk, business-like sort of smile. 'Right - well - injuries tended to, it's time for you to get some sleep, young man.' She indicated the second beaker.

Remus picked it up and looked down into the glass. This mixture was thick and black, like treacle. 'What does this one do?'

'Puts you into an enchanted, dreamless sleep,' she told him. 'We don't want you having any nasty nightmares about last night, when we need you to rest and heal, do we? Make sure you drink it all up - you'll be out for most of the day - and once you're up again it'll be time to give you some chocolate.'

'Thanks,' he said again. Madam Pomfrey stayed with him to make sure he drained the whole beaker and then, once he put the empty glass down, he lay back and closed his eyes. He was asleep within moments.

Madam Pomfrey watched the sleeping boy for a little while. Her eyes were sad, and there were worry lines etched around her mouth. He looked so pale against the white of the pillows, except for the awful, dark rings beneath his eyes - like he'd been given two black eyes. But his breathing was deep and even, his chest was rising and falling steadily - he did not seem to be in any pain - so she picked up her silver tray, with the empty beakers and the tub of ointment on it, and left him to sleep off the previous night.

...

James stared up and down the Gryffindor table. 'I can't see him anywhere, can you?' he asked Sirius.

'What are you on about?'

'Lupin the Weird - he wasn't in the dorm and he isn't at breakfast.'

'I told you - he probably stayed in the Hospital Wing.'

They were cut off from further discussion by the arrival of the owl post. The sudden screeching overhead signified the arrival of the mail and the birds swooped around underneath the enchanted ceiling delivering their packages and dropping feathers. As she always did during the post, Lily grimaced and leaned over her bowl of porridge, shielding it with her arms. 'Have you people not heard of stamps?' She grumbled to herself, as a tiny scops owl, delivering a letter to Petra, missed its mark and dropped a letter down on her own red head.

'What's a stamp?' Petra asked, curiously, taking the envelope addressed to her and slitting it open.

'Nothing,' Lily sighed, looking glum, 'never mind.'

The last of the owls finished delivering its package and wheeled away. James watched as it flew out of the window - headed back to the school owlery - and then turned back to Sirius. 'But why would he stay in the Hospital Wing? He was well enough to walk down there by himself last night. And either he was left alone there, or it was him that went for a late night stroll with Madam Pomfrey last night. That's suspicious, don't you think?'

But Sirius was not interested, and refused to discuss it any further. 'Look - he's been looking peaky for days.'

'Has he?'

'Yes! Those bloody great rings under his eyes - and he's been dropping off to sleep all over the shop. For someone so focused on what Remus is up to - you don't really pay attention. He was under the weather - he went to the Hospital Wing. We'll see him in class. End of.'

But Sirius was to be proven wrong. As the class trundled into their first History of Magic lesson and took their seats, there was still no sign of the fourth Gryffindor boy. Peter - without Remus to sit with - followed James and Sirius to the back of the classroom. The girls sat up front. There was a general rummaging in bags, getting out ink and parchment and their copies of A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot and then the door opened and their teacher walked in.

Professor Binns was so ancient he looked like he was actually withering away in front of them. His face was cobwebbed with lines and he wore thick spectacles which he peered through - as if they weren't that much help. His body was small and crooked and his robes hung off him in folds. What little hair he had left was white and tufty. He sat down at his desk and cleared his throat. 'Ahem - this is History of Magic - we will be studying the goblin wars for the first term.' His voice was as creaky and ancient as the rest of him.

'I see you have your textbooks out, please turn to page 12 - we will start with the long term causes of the 1242 Goblin rebellion - which in turn led to the 40 year Goblin war, which started in 1465. Now - in 1201, Gudruk the Cunning fashioned a belt buckle from the purest silver and laid many enchantments upon it - as Goblins have the ability to work great wonders with metal of all sorts and weave their own magics in it. He sold it to a wizard, Melchior the Bold, with the promise that when he wore this belt buckle no curse or jinx could harm him…'

Professor Binns was lecturing straight from his notes. He did not look up at the class, he did not ask them any questions - or stop to check that they were keeping up and understanding. He just droned on and on, telling them the history of Gudruk, Melchior and the enchanted belt buckle - which somehow led to a decades long war many centuries later.

It sounded like it should be interesting. It wasn't. The ancient teacher's desiccated voice sucked any excitement out of the tale - turning a rebellion into a series of turgid dates and facts. James felt his eyes glaze over and he began to tune out the professor's dry ramblings. Instead, he stared at the empty stool next to Peter and wondered about where Remus was - and if it had been him who had crossed the grounds as dusk fell, the night before.

'...when Melchior died in 1235, Gudruk and his children claimed that the belt buckle was to revert back to their ownership. Melchior's son, Ichior, had different ideas - however. Ichior was a combative wizard, who wished for the protection that the belt buckle might give him. He claimed that, paid for by wizard's gold - the buckle was now the possession of his own family. But that is not how Goblin's view transactions between gold and their own crafted metals. Fearing they would take the buckle back, Ichior hid it where none but he could find it. Gudruk's son - Bognog the bearded - broke into Ichior's home and seized the wizards' wand in revenge…'

James chewed on his lip. And - if that was Remus crossing the grounds last night - where was he going? Students were not meant to be out of their common rooms once the sun had set, never mind out of the castle itself. And why would someone who was so ill they needed the Hospital Wing - had been under the weather for a while now, according to Sirius - decide to leave the castle? Why would Madam Pomfrey let him?

'...after running amok and giving the then Chief of the Wizard's Council - the wizard's council is the governing body that preceded the Ministry of Magic before its foundation in 1707 - a particularly fine pair of antlers, it was decreed (once his antlers had been removed) that never again would a none human wield a wand.'

The bell went for the end of the lesson. James jumped. He had been in a world of his own.

'Blimey,' Sirius said, as he packed up his bag, 'I hope it's not going to be seven years of this - that went on forever. Have you ever been so bored in your life?' They left the classroom and headed down to the dungeons for double potions.

...

Slughorn waddled his way through the cauldrons - peering into the mixtures that the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins were brewing. Today it was a draught to stop hiccoughing. 'Useful potion this one,' the Potions master boomed, he dipped a ladle into the solution Avery and Mulciber were mixing - and frowned slightly at its runny consistency. 'Then there is the opposite potion to this,' he informed them, 'a hiccoughing solution which will debilitate anyone who drinks it with such severe hiccoughs that wizards have been known to die of exhaustion.'

The two Slytherin boys gave each other a look - the twist in their faces suggested they liked the sound of learning how to master that one. 'So you see - it's important to know the antidote,' Slughorn finished up.

'You, boy!' he turned and boomed at Peter, all of a sudden, pointing at him. 'Where is your partner? wasn't there another lad with you last lesson?'

Peter nodded - looking quite uncomfortable at suddenly being singled out and having to speak in front of the class. 'He - he went to the Hospital Wing late last night. I haven't seen him since.'

James tried to give Sirius a significant glance. Sirius ignored him. Meanwhile, over at the other side of the classroom, Severus was scrunching up his face - as he learned that the other boy had never returned from his trip to the Hospital Wing - and he remembered the figures he had seen crossing the grounds in the gathering twilight. He leaned across his cauldron and began to whisper into Lily's ear.

'Dear me, dear me,' Slughorn was saying, ''pon my word, let's hope he's feeling better for next time. He doesn't want to fall behind right at the very beginning of his wizarding career - oh no he doesn't.'

Then he shook his head, forgot all about Remus, and went to go and see what Lily and Severus were up to - exclaiming in delight at the perfect shade and consistency of the draught they had managed to mix. 'You two are bound for the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers,' he beamed at them. 'Never seen anything like it in all my days!'

The bell rang for the end of the lesson and - once they had cleared away - it was break time.

...

James cornered Peter near the greenhouses, during break. 'Hey, Peter - you're friendly with Remus. Do you think maybe you should go check on him? See that he's alright?'

Beside him, Sirius sighed and shook his head. 'Not this again,' he muttered, 'why can't you just leave it?'

The other boy turned on him, 'don't you wanna know what's going on?'

'No! It's not our business.'

'Even if Lupin's leaving the castle after dark?'

'Still not our business.'

Peter had been following the argument between the two of them, his head turning as if he were watching a tennis match, but when James turned back to him and asked him to visit the Hospital Wing to see what he could find out, the smaller boy agreed. He was a little intimidated by these two boys - who were constantly pranking and laughing - especially when Remus wasn't around to bear the brunt of their jokes. He would agree to do whatever James wanted, if it got him off his back.

Peter waited until Herbology was over, and then went up to the Hospital Wing during lunch. Just as he reached the corridor, he bumped into Lily - also making her way towards the sanatorium. 'Hi,' she said, sounding a little embarrassed to be there.

'Hi,' he mumbled back.

'Are you here to see Remus?' she asked him. He nodded. 'Me too,' she said, 'I think he should be left alone to get better in peace, if he's poorly, but … well, Sev has a bee in his bonnet about something and he wants me to check Remus is really there. I suppose it might be nice for him to see a friendly face whilst he's under the weather. But I do feel bad - spying - how awful.'

Peter nodded again. He hadn't considered that this was spying. But he supposed Lily was right - and it was. He was spying for James - well, at least that would mean that James owed him one and so might ease up on playing tricks on him and calling him names. Remus wouldn't mind, he decided, the other boy would understand - he was always avoiding the other Gryffindor boys.

As they entered the sick room, they found their path blocked by Madam Pomfrey - who stared down at them with a suspicious look on her face. 'And what brings you two here?' she said, she scanned them - scrutinising them for any signs of illness and deciding they were healthy - and therefore trespassing.

'We came to see if Remus is feeling any better,' squeaked Lily. 'He said he didn't feel well last night - and he hasn't been in his lessons so we thought…'

The matron raised an eyebrow. 'Mr. Lupin is currently sleeping, he needs rest and quiet. He will be back with you either later tonight or tomorrow morning - now shoo!'

The two children turned and left - and went to report what little they had found out to their respective friends.

...

Across the castle from each other, James and Severus turned the same information, and the same problem, over in their minds. Remus was in the hospital. And, from the sound of it, he had been there all along. He needed rest and peace - but no actual medicine. So what was wrong with him? And who was it that Madam Pomfrey had led away from the castle and towards the Forbidden Forest the night before?

...

It was well past teatime when Remus finally woke up. Madam Pomfrey gave him a light supper of boiled egg and soldiers and then a mug of hot chocolate and told him to go back to sleep. He could return to the rest of the castle the next day. After drinking the last of his chocolate, he settled back down and fell instantly asleep. Despite having slept all day, he did not wake at all until the next morning.

He had his breakfast in the Hospital Wing and then went downstairs. His first lesson of the day would be Charms - and he found his fellow Gryffindors lined up in the third floor corridor. He said good morning to Peter and then Flitwick arrived and they all went inside. But, throughout the whole lesson, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. The hairs on the back of his neck kept prickling.

One time, he turned very quickly and caught James Potter staring at him. The other boy looked away, just as suddenly, and went back to trying to change the colour of his chameleon. Remus frowned. Why did James Potter suddenly find him so fascinating?

The next lesson was flying - with the Slytherins - and here he noticed that it wasn't just Potter eyeballing him. Severus was watching him very closely as well - as if he expected Remus to suddenly sprout a second head or something.

Mounting his broom, he gulped as a realisation suddenly hit him. Both James and Severus knew he had gone to the Hospital Wing the night of the full moon. And now they were both keeping a close eye on him - scrutinising his every move - watching for signs of ... something…

On Madam Hooch's whistle, he kicked off from the ground and his broom rose steadily ten feet into the air. But it wasn't the sudden sensation of flying that had made his stomach lurch.

He felt both James' and Severus's eyes on him the whole time for the next couple of days. He tried not to let it bother him, tried to pretend he hadn't noticed. They couldn't know . They couldn't even suspect. They'd tell someone if they did - and then he would be kicked out. No - his secret must still be safe… but he was going to have to be extra careful.

...

As the days passed and turned into weeks, the first years settled down at Hogwarts. They got used to their new lives: living in the close quarters of the dormitories; doing their homework in the common room; eating their meals together in the Great Hall. The longer they studied, the more interesting their lessons became (except for History of Magic - which remained as stultifying as ever). And - all though the days shortened and the air became colder - the new students found they were really enjoying their first month at wizarding school.

Remus didn't love all his lessons - he knew, for sure, that Potions was never going to be his strong suit. But he liked his teachers. He liked playing Gobstones with Peter by the roaring common room fire on an evening. He liked getting letters from home. And best of all - he liked Defence against the Dark Arts. Everything there just came so naturally to him - like Potions did for Lily and Severus - and Professor Tenebris was delighted with his progress, often calling him out to the front to provide a demonstration for his classmates.

By the end of September, he was able to use a freezing jinx on doxies, fairies and Cornish pixies and he had begun to study the best way to break the enchantments of Trows; local semi invisible creatures who lived underground and kidnapped hapless humans.

He kept his head down, worked hard and won plenty of points for Gryffindor. As the weeks rolled on - and September turned into October - Remus found he was beginning to feel like he really belonged at Hogwarts. And as time passed, and nothing else happened, James and Severus seemed to forget about his trip to the Hospital Wing - they stopped watching him like hawks - and just got back to being the irritating gits they normally were. Yeah - life was pretty good, all in all…

But far too soon - 28 nights had rolled past - and then it was time for the next full moon…