Chapter Nine: The Minister for Magic

Remus pulled his clothes on, though his insides felt like they had turned to lead. When he was ready, McGonagall took hold of his shoulder and steered him towards the door. He could feel her eyes on him the whole time. 'I - I didn't do anything, Professor,' he said to her.

'I know that, Remus. And so does the Headmaster. And I assure you he will do everything in his power to … well…'

He felt his stomach lurch. 'What's going to happen to me?'

She hesitated. 'I - I don't know.'

They rounded a corner - and saw his friends huddled against the wall - whispering about why they had just been kicked from the Hospital Wing. 'Remus - you shouldn't be up…' James said.

Sirius kicked his ankle, 'shhh. People will hear.'

'But - what's going on?'

Remus felt his face burn bright red. He blinked to get rid of the tears that were prickling behind his eyes and just hung his head, too afraid and ashamed to even look at them.

'Professor - where are you taking him?'

'Quiet now, Potter - mind your own business.' She tightened her grip on Remus's shoulder and swept him past.

They followed the hallways all the way down to the other end of the castle. It was still break - and Remus felt the curious eyes of many of the students on him as he was marched down the corridors past them. He burned with shame the whole way; the shame was almost even greater than the dread.

McGonagall was now leading him through a part of the castle he had never been to before. They entered a tower and came to a stretch of wall which was guarded by an extremely ugly gargoyle. McGonagall came to a stop in front of it. 'Pear drop,' she said. Immediately, the gargoyle jumped aside, the wall split in two and revealed a circular staircase, leading upwards, which appeared to be moving all by itself.

'This way, Remus,' McGonagall said to him, ushering him onto a step. The staircase moved upward, and his stomach lurched again. They reached the landing at the top, where their way was barred by a very forbidding door flanked by stone Griffins.

A short and squat witch of about thirty was standing outside the door, she was sucking on a quill and looking irritated. Remus had never seen her before - she did not belong at the school - and yet, as she looked at him and her eyes narrowed in her wide, froggy face - he knew that, strangers or not, she knew exactly what he was. And that she hated him for it.

McGonagall gave the squat witch a very cold nod of acknowledgement, raised her fist to knock on the door - and then led Remus inside.

The office was large and circular and very beautiful. There was a large window and the weak winter sunlight streamed in, and glinted off an impressive number of whirring, silver instruments that were placed all around the room; on shelves and on tables and on Dumbledore's desk. There were more books than Remus had ever seen in one place, outside of the library, and portraits of former headmasters and mistresses lined the walls - pretending they were asleep but sneaking a peek from under lowered eyelids.

Dumbledore, himself, was sitting at his desk - and in front of him stood a very tall, very stern looking witch with iron grey hair tied in a bun. 'I really wish you would allow my secretary in the room, Dumbledore,' she was saying. 'I need her to take minutes.'

'As long as I am Headmaster of this school, things under this roof will be run my way. And it is my wish that this conversation remain private. Ah - Minerva, Remus - how good it is of you to join us.' He smiled at them genially, as if they were simply answering an invitation to tea.

'This is the wolf?' the stern looking witch glared down at Remus - taking a small step back, as if afraid to get too close.

'This is Remus Lupin,' Dumbledore told her, and though his tone was courteous as ever - there was just the hint of bite in his words. As if he was hiding annoyance - maybe even anger. 'He is - I am sure he will no doubt agree, regrettably - a werewolf and has been for many years. He is also, I am told, a very able student of Defence Against the Dark Arts and rather good with a crossword… Though I hear his potions leave something to be desired.' He gave Remus the briefest shade of a wink.

'I knew - when you first suggested he come to this school - that it would be a mistake. This was done very much against my better judgement…'

'And yet Remus has proven himself a fine wizard with - perhaps - more of a knack for finding trouble than is desirable, and a great asset to Gryffindor house, as well as - I believe - a very firm and loyal friend. So - happily - in this case, your better judgement turned out to be faulty.'

'And yet now he has killed someone!'

Remus inhaled sharply and went stiff. He felt McGonagall's hand grip his shoulder all the tighter.

'I do not believe that is the case.'

'He will have to go - the boy - the wolf must leave.'

'Go?' Remus looked between the Minister and Dumbledore. 'Go where?'

'Minister,' Dumbledore's voice was a fair deal harder now. 'There is no proof he has done any wrong.'

'We don't need proof. There has been a werewolf attack in the area. He is the only werewolf here - what more do you need?'

'Before I expel a student, I like to know they have done the thing of which they are accused. Madam Pomfrey delivered Remus to his safehouse last night and collected him from there this morning. There is no possible way that he could have exited from his place of safety while in his wolfish form and certainly no way he could return there in such a state. If he was there this morning - and he was - then he spent the night there.'

'You cannot know that, Dumbledore,' the Minister snapped.

'But I did!' Remus burst out, unable to contain himself. 'I remember what happens - Professor - I remember being in the house. I didn't leave.'

'Well, there you go, Eugenia - the boy himself says …'

'Oh for goodness sake, Albus - you cannot for a moment think the word of a child, of a halfbreed like him - of the very dark creature that is accused of this monstrosity, can be taken as having any weight or merit.'

'It is generally accepted that the accused is given a chance to speak in their own defence.'

'The boy is lying.'

Remus felt McGonagall's fingers dig into his shoulder blade. He glanced at her - and saw she was very white - her lips very thin … and worst of all - her eyes were scared. He looked from her to Dumbledore. The Headmaster's eyes were blazing - burning with a fierce light that was very different to his usual benign twinkle. 'Professor McGonagall,' he said, 'you are the boy's Head of House - you know him best - have you ever known him to be anything but truthful?'

'No, Professor, he is - by far - the most responsible of the boys in his year. I have never known him to tell a lie.'

'Well - there you go, Minister.'

But the Minister only snorted. 'He is lying. Perhaps he left the safehouse in his human form - and returned there once the sun rose. To be found by Madam Pomfrey. His kind are known for their cunning.'

'There is not one shred of evidence that is the case.'

'A poor choice of words, Headmaster - for I have an entire shredded body as evidence.'

'That is not proof. You have my absolute word that Remus Lupin will never leave that safehouse while transformed. He will never willingly endanger the children in this castle or the people in the village by allowing himself to roam loose at the full moon. I give you my word - on my reputation and my position - that he will always put his safety and the safety of others above anything else on a full moon night.'

Your reputation and position will be little comfort to the family of his victim,' the Minister snapped. 'I want him out. The parents will want him out.'

'The parents do not know of his condition - and nor will they. And, as long as Hogwarts is under my leadership, it is I who makes the decisions on who to expel; not you, Minister. Hogwarts is out of your jurisdiction. And that is the end of that.'

The Minister pulled herself up to her full height and glowered. 'Perhaps for now. But if there is another attack - then he must go. For everyone's safety. And if you will not expel him, then I will have no choice but to arrest him.'

'You wouldn't!' McGonagall yelled, aghast. 'An innocent boy!'

'Minerva,' Dumbledore warned her with a look. He stood up at last - now towering over the Minister for Magic. 'Very well, Eugenia,' he said to her. 'We shall leave it here, for now. Remus shall stay - and we will see what next month brings. Though as the previous such attack was in Wales, I see no reason to assume that there will be another here - or that there is any justification for pinning any attacks on Remus. He has, after all, never been anywhere near Taunton.'

'He lives near Warrington.'

'He was here for the Warrington attack. You are - I am afraid - grasping at straws. You appear afraid, Eugenia - desperately searching for a scapegoat in order to assuage the fears of the general public. But I assure you of this - I will not allow you to make a scapegoat of one of my students. Mr. Lupin is under my protection, I suggest you do not test what that means.'

'Is that a threat, Dumbledore?' the Minister's voice was icily cold.

'It is simply a statement of fact. And here is another. This conversation remains between these four walls. No one beyond this room will know it took place. No one, who does not already know, will discover the true nature of young Remus's condition. If I find that this becomes a matter of record within the Ministry itself or - worse - this is passed along to the enchantingly nasty Ms. Grable, then I will have to invoke my position as Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump to sanction you. The office you hold is an honour, a privilege; it does not exist for you to seriously jeopardise the future of an innocent boy in order to shore up your own position.'

The Minister gave Remus a filthy look. 'The boy has no future.'

'Perhaps, though there are those of us who strive for a better world - where a child is not held back by prejudice for something that is not their fault. Indeed, all right minded and decent people should pride themselves on striving for that future.' He smiled - courteous once more.

The Minster looked furious and swept from the room. 'I shall be back next full moon,' she said as she left. The door slammed behind her and left a ringing silence.

It was Dumbledore who broke it, settling himself back in his chair. 'Minerva, if you will be so good as to leave us for now. I wish to speak to Mr. Lupin alone.'

Professor McGonagall said 'of course,' and - with a final squeeze of Remus's shoulder - left the office. Remus looked awkwardly at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore smiled at him, 'please take a seat,' he gestured to one of the chairs across from himself. Remus sat down.

'Professor - do you really believe me, that I didn't do it?'

'Of course I do. I would not protect you if I did not truly believe you to be innocent. If I thought - for one moment - that you would do anything so foolish as disregard the safety precautions we have put in place for you, then I would have no choice but to - regretfully - agree with Minister Jenkins and have you removed from the castle. However - you and I both know you did no such thing.'

'I really didn't, Professor.'

'Precisely. And expelling you would not bring that poor person back. You are here because you belong here, Mr. Lupin. You are a fine wizard and you need to learn to control your powers. You have a right to be here - and as much right to fun and friendship as any other boy your age. And - as long as it is in my power to make it so - you will not face persecution simply for being what you are.'

Remus bit his lip. 'But what if there is another attack - next month?'

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. He looked grave and sad. 'Have you been following the stories in the paper?' He asked. Remus nodded. 'Then you know this is not the first attack. I am afraid I have little reason to believe it will be the last. However - as I reminded Minister Jenkins, these attacks have taken place all across Britain. It is highly unlikely Hogsmeade will be targeted twice. I know it is easy for me to say - but you must try not to worry.'

'If there is another attack here … will you expel me?'

Dumbledore said nothing and only bowed his head.

'If you don't, I'll be arrested. You won't…' he bit his lip and fought back the prickle of tears. 'You won't let her take me to Azkaban will you?'

The Headmaster gave a great sigh. 'As I said - you are under my protection. And I will do my utmost to keep you safe. On that you have my word. But I will always do what is best for you … and I will not let her take you to Azkaban simply to prove a point of my own about Ministry interference at the school.'

'You mean you'll chuck me out.'

'Let us hope it does not come to that. We cannot know the future - nor can we control it. So - for the time being - we should strive to live in the present. Fretting changes nothing. Now - do you need to return to the Hospital Wing?'

Remus shook his head. 'No - I'm up now. I'll just - just head back to Gryffindor Tower.'

'Very well - you may go.' Remus got up and headed for the door. Dumbledore spoke again, just before he left. 'I really am very sorry this has had to happen to you, Mr. Lupin.'

Remus nodded, and walked out.

…

The rest of the school were back in lessons by now, and the hallways were unusually quiet and empty. Remus went straight back to his dorm, got into his bed, drew the curtain tight shut and then pulled the covers over his head. He curled up in a tight ball and lay there, feeling miserable and sick with dread. It was all very well for Dumbledore to tell him not to worry - but how could he not? This could be his last month at school and then … He could be blamed for crimes he did not commit; forced to leave; the whole world would know what he was; everyone would think him a murderer - a monster - he would be shunned and hated and vilified. And perhaps - perhaps they would put him in Azkaban.

How could he not worry?

He knew well enough by now that his friends would never believe the worst of him, that they would not abandon him. But they would not do him much good when they were still here and he was … wherever he might end up. Sirius always said that he would always be there to protect him, but Sirius was only thirteen - he was not yet in a position to protect anyone.

They just hadn't counted on things getting this bad for Remus this early.

And the thought of having to tell them… the thought of having to admit that the Minister for Magic herself had looked at him and called him a monster and a halfbreed… the thought of having to admit that, whatever Sirius assured him, people in power did not think he was human - and they would not treat him like one … the thought of their confusion, and anger and … pity when he told them. It made his insides squirm with shame.

He screwed his eyes shut tight and wished it could all just go away. He wanted to run away and never have to face anyone again. He wanted someone to be able to tell him everything was going to be alright … He wanted his mum. He shut his eyes tighter and tried not to cry.

At some point, he must have drifted back off to sleep (he was, after all, still recovering from the after effects of the full moon) for he was woken up, once more, by the whispering voices of his friends.

'Shh - we'll just see if he's …'

'Yeah - look - his curtains are closed. He must be in there.'

'What do we do? Should we let him sleep?'

'We need to find out what happened. We need to check he's OK.'

Behind the curtains, Remus held his breath, pulled the covers more tightly over himself and held himself very stiff and still - hoping they would just glance in and not notice him under the blankets. He couldn't face them - couldn't tell them …

But then came the sound of knocking - one of them was tapping on a bedpost, like it was a door, and Sirius's concerned voice said, 'Remus? Is it alright if we come in?'

He didn't answer - and willed them to go away again.

'Remus, are you alright? - We're worried. We've bunked off History of Magic to see you.'

And then he heard the sound of one of the curtains being pulled open, 'Remus?'

'Maybe he's asleep,' he heard Peter's voice say.

'No he's not.'

'How do you know?'

'He snores. He's not snoring.'

'I do not snore ,' Remus said from under the covers, despite himself - and then felt the mattress groan, as Sirius clearly took that as an invitation to sit down.

'Yeah, you do - like a drunken pig. You're worse than James.'

'Hey - I don't snore!'

'James, mate - learn to deal with the ugly truth. Speaking of,' Remus felt himself get tapped in the shoulder, 'what happened, Remus? You can't hide under there forever.'

'I'm going to give it a go.'

'It can't be that bad.'

'It is.'

'Worse than the inevitable Dutch Oven?'

Despite himself, Remus snorted with laughter - and finally crawled out from under the covers. Sirius grinned when he saw him. James and Peter sat down too - and all three looked at him. 'So - what did Big Macca want?' James asked.

Remus shook his head and stared down at his knees, finding himself unable to meet their eyes. 'There was - there was …. Another werewolf attack last night,' he said.

'So?'

'The body was found in Hogsmeade.' He mumbled the last bit, so the others had to lean forward to catch what he said.

'Remus!' Peter's eyes had gone wide with horror. 'Did you kill someone last night … ow!' he rubbed the back of his head where Sirius had just slapped him.

'Of course he hasn't killed anyone, you twerp. But - they surely don't suspect you, do they?'

'Dumbledore doesn't … or McGonagall but …' he bit his lip and - with his eyes still cast down, told them about the Minister for Magic.

'Bollocks to the old hag!' Sirius said when he was done.

'You can't just say "Bollocks" to the Minister for Magic.'

'I can - and I will.'

'Well - maybe you can, Sirius Black the third … but Remus Lupin, the werewolf? If I try that she'll have me expelled.'

'But Dumbledore won't let her expel you,' James said. His brow was furrowed but he sounded sure of what he was saying - as if he had complete faith in their Headmaster. 'And it's his decision.'

'He might not have a choice. Jenkins said - if there's another attack and he doesn't kick me out - then she'll have me arrested.' He was still speaking to his kneecaps and his face was burning. 'She'll send me to Azkaban.'

There was silence for a moment and then: 'they can't just send you to Azkaban if you haven't even killed anyone,' Sirius said. 'They don't put people in Azkaban if they haven't done anything wrong.'

'According to the Minister, I'm not really a person. So that wouldn't be a problem.'

'You'd have to have a trial - you can't not have a trial.'

'They'd find me guilty. She has already decided I am guilty. A trial would change nothing. It would just … make it all public.' He felt rather than saw the other boys look at each other in horror. He still couldn't bring himself to look at them.

'Well - look - we know as well you do that you did nothing wrong,' Sirius said. 'And, whatever that awful Ministry Hag has planned for you, we simply won't let her do it. We'll prove you're innocent.'

'How?'

'I don't know. Not yet - but we'll manage it. I promise. So - don't you worry about it, alright? Leave it to us.'

…

That was all very well and good for Sirius to say, but it was far easier said than done. Especially as, when they went down to breakfast on Monday morning, it was to find that - somehow - Rita Skeeter had got hold of the story of a werewolf attack in the area, and really gone to town on it.

Horrifying Happenings in Hogsmeade!

She had written

The Vicious Werewolf Attacks Plaguing the Nation Have Come To Our Own Backyard

And the whole thing was accompanied by just the most gruesome illustration of the victim's remains. For once it was not enchanted (as a dead body it only needed to lie still) and yet there was a disturbing realism to it nevertheless. The boys could barely stand to look at it.

'Don't read it,' Sirius said to Remus. 'It doesn't matter - she can't know about …' he mouthed 'you' at him.

'Yeah, she can't really know anything,' James agreed. 'There's no point in us looking.'

But Remus could not help himself - and, still trying not to look at the drawing, his eyes darted down the page - taking in the words.

A body was found on Wednesday morning, following the full moon of Tuesday night - which had been mauled with such savagery that only a werewolf could have been responsible.

My faithful readers may not be aware that there has been a recent spate of such attacks, all across the country - however Tuesday's brutality marks the fourth, and we have no reason to believe it will be the last.

Your humble reporter, Rita Skeeter (who proved this week she has a stomach of steel as well as a nose for news), managed to acquire a description of the poor, shredded body - and can bring to you now a taste of what awaits anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves the wrong side of a werewolf.

This next will not be for the fainthearted:

The remains had been savaged, as one would expect; there was not much blood left within the body … having been mauled so thoroughly it is hardly a surprise that the corpse appears exsanguinated. And we can only imagine the terror the victim felt, but we know it must be immense as even the next day the remains were unusually stiff, as if rigor mortis had not yet ceased its hold (the limbs remained stiff for days - the limbs being the only part of the body not savaged).

As for the rest …The torso was torn open and some of the internal organs ripped from their position (and we shudder to think where they may have ended up). The lungs, heart and spleen were all missing. The face had been mauled as well - particularly around the nose and mouth - as if the wolf had simply clamped its jaws around the lower portion of its victim's face and ripped. The throat had also suffered severe damage - again signs of the teeth doing their worst. The flesh had been torn in such a way that the bitemarks had almost left a pattern. The cuts and lacerations inflicted by the beast has randomly taken on the form of what looks like a figure 8 on its side (for a better understanding, see the illustration.)

Or was it random? Is the werewolf trying to give us a message? Is there meaning in this 8? This was the fourth attack - will there be four more? Will there be 8 more? Can we possibly parse out the ravings of the lunatic mind of a savage beast?… It seems we must try if we are to prevent more horrendous deaths at the paws, claws and jaws of furry fury.

All we can know for now is that none of us are safe when the moon is fat, not even here at Hogwarts. A vicious halfbreed has been within our midst, under our noses, and the Ministry had better up its game if one of us does not want to be next.

'How can she know all this stuff?' James asked. He sounded annoyed and he was glancing worriedly at Remus, who was very still and pale - still reading the article. 'She's probably making some of it up.'

'The attacks have been in the papers though,' Peter said to him. He too was looking at Remus with a troubled expression on his face. 'Not everyone here reads The Prophet - but you can bet she does - she wants to work for them, when she leaves.'

'It hasn't had this level of detail in it though. The … well, what the body looked like. They haven't put that in The Prophet.'

'No - maybe she sneaked out of the castle and went to investigate.'

'Or maybe she made it up.'

'Maybe,' but Peter looked doubtful.

Sirius, however, reached over and pulled the newsletter out of Remus's hand. He shoved it in his bag out of the way. 'Stop reading,' he said firmly - but gently. 'Forget about all this. I told you, we'll sort it.'

…

But how could he forget about it - when even weeks later they were still learning about the aftermath of the goblin/werewolf uprising in History of Magic - and Binns was banging on and on about the brutal measures that Minister Gore instigated?

'It is believed by some,' Binns wheezed, one Wednesday afternoon, reading straight from his notes as always, 'that his refusal to countenance any rehabilitation measures was the cause of an increased rise in werewolf attacks. The great wizarding statistician, Medius Modal, has estimated that there were approximately 20 werewolves extant in Britain at the time … and that - had Minister Gore followed procedure and attempted to parlay with them, those numbers would have remained constant - perhaps even dwindling. It is estimated that - had Gore acted differently - werewolves could have become extinct in Britain as early as the 1950s. However his brutal repression, his removal of rights and his refusal to recognise werewolves as beings equal to wizards saw an exponential increase in attacks - as the werewolves took their revenge. And from there, there was an explosion in werewolf numbers. Where once there had been twenty, now there were a hundred. And though numbers have fallen since the very height, it is currently believed unlikely that Britain will be werewolf free before the end of the 22nd century.'

Remus could feel Peter and James glancing at him every so often, uncomfortable and worried. He stared straight ahead - and wished they would look away. He didn't know what would happen if any of the girls noticed the way the boys were looking at him. The girls were pretty smart - they'd at least figure out something was wrong.

Sirius wasn't looking at him at least. But at one point - as Binns detailed the punishments the Ministry set up for werewolves who attacked people, in the wake of the rebellion - he did reach out and squeeze Remus's hand.

Remus flushed. He didn't even want to think what the girls would make of that, if they turned around and saw Sirius holding his hand. At least they weren't proponents of Bettina Bagshott's theory on Bobby and Roger … so they might be less inclined to read anything into it. But still - he wished his friends would work on their poker faces, at this rate they would give the game away.

'It is fortunate, perhaps,' Binns voice rasped, 'given the rise in numbers, that werewolves do not breed in the normal way.'

Remus flushed even deeper - and snatched his hand away from Sirius - who gave him a funny look, which he ignored.

'Werewolves do not have children, as humans do - instead they reproduce only by biting, which limits their opportunities to once a month. However, when they feel under particular pressure from the Ministry, this is an opportunity that they never fail to take. Not that Minister Gore was not ready for such action - for he had already renovated and reinforced the defences of the wizarding prison, Azkaban…'

Sirius reached out and squeezed his hand again.

…

The weeks kept turning and, though he tried his best not to worry, he couldn't help it. Nor could he fail to notice how grim faced his friends were - and how they looked grimmer by the day - as the next full moon approached.

It felt, the whole time, like something was compressing his chest - squeezing him tight so that all the air was forced from his lungs and he was left breathless and gasping. And he was counting down the days towards the next full in a way that he never normally did - ever aware that, as he went to bed every night, that was one less day he had at Hogwarts, one day closer to getting kicked out … as the best case scenario. The fear hung over him like a constant cloud - being blamed for something he had not done, public exposure, hatred … and then being forced to leave the castle - and his friends - behind and start his lonely life as an outcast.

He had always thought he would end up living alone and cast out, that that was all life had in store for him … but he had never thought it would happen so soon.

More than ever, he wanted to curl up in his mother's lap and have her make it all go away for him. But that could not be. And he couldn't even admit to anyone that was what he wanted - not at his age … practically a teenager. He just had to try and bear this, to shoulder the worry and keep on going … but it was so hard.

About a week into December, the grey skies turned white - and then the heavens opened, and they woke up to a thick blanket of snow covering the grounds. Just as it had last year, it turned the whole school upside down - and students were outside at all hours having snowball fights, and Madam Pomfrey was run off her feet patching up casualties … and once again Severus found himself pinned down and a large snowball rammed up his left nostril by James and Sirius - who thought it was very built snowmen as well (of all of the Slytherins, which they then enjoyed casting curses at and demolishing), and - with a wary eye out for Big Macca - whipped their todgers out and wrote their names in the snow (as the only six lettered name in a group of five lettered names, Sirius complained loudly that the extra time exposed would no doubt result in a severe frostbite).

Mrs. Potter sent James a sledge. It arrived in the post one breakfast time, carried by Archimedes and three other owls. 'Cool!' he said, ripping the paper off and beaming. 'Come on, men - only History of Magic this afternoon - we're bunking off and going sledging.'

So, once again on the lookout for their Head of House, they crept out of the castle and tiptoed their way past towers and turrets until they reached the highest point of the mountain. Then James hopped on, they all hopped on behind him, wrapped their arms around each other - and pushed off.

It was like they were flying - only far more exciting than their Quidditch lessons; perilously plummeting down the hillside at increasing speed - while the powdery snow was thrown up into the air either side of them so all they could see was a world of white. And then they hit the bottom and fell off, laughing.

It was less of a laugh struggling back up the mountain though.

They stayed out for hours, and didn't get caught - and they plunged down the hill dozens of times.

On discovering that it felt faster if you were at the back, James insisted he be allowed to take the prime spot (it was after all his sledge, you know) and Peter found himself relegated to the front.

Sandwiched between Peter and Sirius and hurtling downhill at top speed, Remus had felt the happiest and lightest he had in weeks. He laughed until his sides hurt, and didn't even notice the cold nipping at his fingers and nose… But once the sky was black and he fell from the sledge onto his back and stared up at the fattening moon, the dread descended on him again. All the air was knocked from his body - and it had nothing to do with the fall. All of a sudden he was aware that he was soaked through, and that his toes were frozen and that he was hungry - and all the fun of the afternoon just seemed to melt away.

…

The next full moon was right at the end of term. And though this meant that Hogwarts itself was suddenly decorated ready for the festive season, and delicious smells of cooking wafted through the halls, Remus found himself living in a constant state of frozen, horrified panic. His friends looked grim all the time, and stayed close to him and told him not to worry - but he would catch them exchanging looks and, with a sinking heart, he wondered what it was they said to each other when he was not there to hear it.

The teachers were being unusually gentle and understanding with him as well - and some of it was even leaking over to the way they treated the others. Professor McGonagall turned a total blind eye to James and Sirius having a sword fight with the rolling pins they were supposed to be turning into roses and instead told Peter (who was struggling terribly) that she was sure that, with a little effort, he would manage it next term. He stared at her in surprise. 'After all,' she said to him, 'Mr. Lupin will always be here to help you,' and she bestowed a rare smile on the young werewolf.

Professors Sprout and Flitwick were forever giving him encouraging smiles and five points for Gryffindor every time he did the slightest thing, and even Professor Slughorn stopped by his cauldron, did not wrinkle his nose at its contents and instead boomed, 'bad business, m'boy - it's a crying shame.' (This was the first indication Slughorn had ever given that he had any idea who Remus was - besides the boy who melted cauldrons - never mind that he knew what was going on in his life … though his voice did carry rather, and Snivellus looked over at them and frowned.)

The evening before the full moon, as they sat around the fire, and Remus stared into the flames fretting, a prefect arrived with a note for him - which turned out to be from Dumbledore.

My Dear Boy,

The note said in a slanty hand.

I hope this finds you as well as can be expected, in the circumstances - and that this past month has not proved too difficult for you. Perhaps it will help put your mind at ease, if I tell you that I have put extra security measures in place for your transformation tomorrow. Not because I believe for one moment you need them, you understand; you have my full confidence. But in order to prove to the Minister that her accusations are baseless. To this end I have drawn an enchantment around the external perimeter of the Shrieking Shack, which will sound an alarm should a werewolf cross it. There is, of course, no way out of the shack - as well you know - but this will prove, to those who doubt, that you did not leave.

Please try not to worry. Please be assured I will do all in my power to protect you should the worst happen, and please know that I do not believe there will be another attack.

I hope this month's transformation is not too difficult for you and you are recovered well enough in time for the holidays.

Happy Christmas!

Professor Dumbledore.

'Well that's something,' Peter said, when Remus showed the others the note. 'That's good isn't it? It means you can't be blamed.'

'Maybe…'

…

That night, as he lay awake - struggling to breathe, as the tightness in his chest was now so bad - he heard the familiar pitter patter of bare feet on stone floors, and then Sirius appeared through the curtains.

'Couldn't you sleep either?' Remus asked him, as he settled into bed beside him.

''Course I can - I'm not worried.'

'Is that a fact?' He smiled, despite himself.

'Look - Dumbledore's on your side. And that matters. It will make a difference. And anyway - there hasn't been a repeat attack in any of the other places. So with any luck…'

'I got bitten by a werewolf when I was five. My mum died last year. Do you really want to pin anything on my luck? I only have one type of it - and it's all lousy.'

'Oh - it can't be all bad. And anyway - we won't let anything happen to you. James is planning to proper kick off if they chuck you out. And you know what he's like - he'll irritate the Minister into letting you back to school.'

That actually made Remus laugh - and Sirius smiled and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. 'Everything will be alright - I promise.'

But the next day, Remus felt like the inside of his stomach was being battered at by the wings of butterflies the size of bats. And he barely dared say anything in case they all came vomiting out of him when he opened his mouth (along with a whole load of actual vomit). He couldn't concentrate in class, he felt tense and close to tears and sick with dread all day. And he couldn't help but clock watch, either - watching the minute hand go round and round, his transformation - and whatever happened next - ticking ever closer.

It was the shortest day of the year and - as soon as Professor Sprout had dismissed them from Herbology - he had to go straight up to the Hospital Wing, with many a nervous, backwards glance at his friends.

The other three watched him go - and then the moment he was out of sight, James turned to them. 'Right, come on, men - invisibility cloak,' and he started running up the marble staircase, taking three steps at a time.

'But what are we doing?' Peter huffed and puffed as he tried to keep up with him, 'we'll miss tea.'

'We're going to miss tea - come on.'

He led them up to Gryffindor Tower, where he pulled his dad's old cloak out of his trunk. 'Wrap up warm,' he said to the pair of them. 'This is going to be a very long night.'

'What's going on?'

'We're going to watch that tree,' Sirius said. 'All night. From when Madam Pomfrey takes him down there, to when she comes and gets him in the morning. We better hurry. We don't want to miss him going inside - otherwise we can't swear we saw him go in and he never left.'

They pulled the cloak on over themselves and vanished from view and then - careful not to draw attention to themselves or bump into anyone - they made their way through the common room, out of the portrait hole and through the hallways, which were thronging with students leaving lessons.

'If all these stupid arses could just clear out of our way,' hissed James. 'We'll be late.'

'Shh,' Peter and Sirius both hissed back at them. 'Look!' Sirius nudged them both. Madam Pomfrey's white headdress was visible above the crowds. 'Follow that wimple!'

They dashed down the stairs, knocking over a few unsuspecting first years, who cried out in alarm as something unseen shoved them over. And then they were out of the front doors and racing down the lawns after Remus and Madam Pomfrey. They hung back and saw the matron pick up a stick, prod the knot and the tree freeze in response. And then Remus disappeared down the passageway.

'Well that's it,' James whispered - as Madam Pomfrey made her way back to the castle. 'He's in - now we wait.'

Sirius cast an impervious charm on the ground, so the snow was not wet and cold when they sat on it. James conjured a small fire, and - still under the cloak - they huddled around it. It was still freezing though. And, even in their mittens and bobble hats, the icy air nipped at their flesh and made it tingle. It wasn't long before their toes were numb. And it wasn't much longer after that their bums were numb too. And then they were hungry … and all in all it seemed like it was going to be a very long night.

But still they sat there - nudging each other to stay awake - watching the tree, in the darkness, and ignoring their rumbling tummies and frozen extremities.

Finally - after an eternity of pitchy black and cold and hunger and tiredness, there came the faintest rosy tint in the east. The sky began to lighten, from ink, to navy to grey and - after half past eight in the morning, when they would have already missed breakfast - the sun rose in the sky.

A short while later, Madam Pomfrey reappeared. This time she went down inside the tree herself - and about fifteen minutes later returned with a very pale and tired looking Remus. They trudged their way back to the castle.

And, with their limbs groaning from staying still so long, stiff and aching - the three boys got to their feet. They might be freezing cold, they might be ready to faint with hunger, they might need some minor treatment for frostbite but … whatever the Minister for Magic said, they could swear to it that Remus had never left the shack through the secret passageway. And that was all that mattered.