Chapter Thirteen: OWL Options

If Lily had been perturbed by the terrible things Abraxas Malfoy had to say in the paper about muggleborn witches and wizards, The Kneazles, it seemed, were not. In what was almost certainly an act of direct defiance, they did all their publicity for "Hard Spell to Learn" wearing bell bottom jeans, lurid floral pattern shirts, and knitted tank tops - just like all the young muggles were wearing out in their world.

They were photographed and interviewed for Witch Weekly Magazine wearing their muggle finest and speaking enthusiastically about the things from the muggle world that they wanted to share with the young witches and wizards of Britain.

'Muggle fashion is so dynamic,'

Bobby Darrow told Mable Grable (and the girls at Hogwarts eagerly read every word).

'And it changes all the time. It's a real culture shock to come into the Wizarding World and see everyone dressed in robes - and those robes barely change over decades. Whereas I couldn't wear my muggle clothes from just five years ago - I'd be laughed at!'

('I can't imagine anyone laughing at Bobby,' Lily sighed dreamily.)

'It allows for a lot of freedom and self expression,'

Roger Smith agreed.

'There isn't so much of that here - even at Hogwarts. There's a lot of uniformity, things are done in the same way by everyone and have been done that way for generations. Whereas the muggle world is all about change. There, you can really tell everyone all about yourself just by your hair and clothes - and we want the magic kids to have that same freedom.'

And eager to get the magical kids hip to muggle fashions, they were now selling t-shirts with their symbol on for 12 sickles each.

'Music changes just as fast as fashion,'

Richard Clarke had said to Mable.

'But there is something timeless about music. Whatever time, whatever culture and whichever world you come from - it can speak direct to your heart. We're all the same that way, no matter our blood status.'

And Kenny Green had agreed.

'It's true,'

he said.

'Music is a universal part of the human experience. Magic or muggle - it makes no difference. And we wanted to be a part of that - to create something timeless.'

And their words of peace and love and harmony were taken up enthusiastically by all their fans at Hogwarts. The band had introduced peace symbols and flower power to the Wizarding World, and once again graffiti was being scrawled across the castle walls…

… And then being defaced almost immediately by those who were less interested in The Kneazles and instead preferred the sounds of what the likes of Abraxas Malfoy had to say.

It was like a very quiet civil war was raging inside the school grounds. It was, perhaps, enough underground that the teachers did not notice it - but the signs were still there.

Muggleborns were finding themselves the centre of attention. On the one hand they were highly sought after by Kneazles fans from magical backgrounds, begging to know every detail of what it was like out in the muggle world so they could bond with the band when they eventually met and inevitably fell in love. (Though some of the girls could do with being wary - as Mary McDonald had hit upon the idea of feeding her love rivals false information in order to further her and her friends' own chances.) But, on the other hand, muggleborns found themselves getting hexed by those who were starting to listen to the teachings of Pure Blood elitism - and, more than once, Lily found herself being told to "go home" or to "go back where she came from".

It always stung when people said that to her, though she tried not to let it show. She had worried about being from a muggle family before she had started at Hogwarts - worried about being behind in all her lessons, or not fitting in - but Sev had assured her it wouldn't matter. And - during her first year - he had been right, and she had encountered no problems. But now the world was becoming less friendly from some quarters, and - though Sev told her things were changing for the better - she was not sure that they would be better for her.

It hurt especially, when she considered that her joining the magical world had caused her to lose a beloved sister. Tuney was afraid of her now, and eaten up with jealousy - and wanted nothing to do with her. There was no place for Lily back home any more, and yet here she was told she was not wanted either. Some days it felt to Lily that she did not belong anywhere - in either world - and that she was, as her sister had once called her, "a freak".

But it wasn't all bad. After all, it was always very flattering when eager girls from much older years would stop her in the corridor and beg her for her muggle expertise - and act so envious at just how effortlessly cool and knowledgeable she was. (And it was always hilarious to make stuff up - like Mary had started doing. "Oh yes, muggles never shake hands. They bump elbows and blow raspberries. The longer you blow the raspberry the more you show respect." "Oh yes - muggles always wear swimwear all summer. It's totally normal to go to the grocer's in your bathing suit. But you must wear proper shoes and a headscarf, otherwise people will stare.")

It was a strange time to be a muggleborn - finding yourself being torn between being seen as the height of cool and the envy of everyone, and as interlopers who should be forced from the castle. Half the time you would pass groups of students proudly declaring that their great grandmother on their father's side was a muggle - so they were in fact 1/8th muggle and oh so proud of and connected to their heritage …. And the other half you would hear students comparing just how far back their wizarding ancestors went, and how they had never even met a muggle - let alone have any in their family tree.

Lily hoped that pureblood mania would die down soon - and that Kneazlemania would keep riding high (though if everyone could just get it into their heads that it was she and she alone who would be marrying Bobby Darrow, that would be a definite improvement.) She hadn't bothered to write home and ask for the twelve sickles for a Kneazles T-shirt, though. She knew her parents wouldn't be able to afford it. But she did write home and ask her parents to send her some of her old muggle clothes.

Mary did the same - and also asked her older sister to send them her copies of "Jackie" magazine once she was finished with it. Then the four girls visited the library and pored over the books looking for sewing and altering spells. They divided the muggle clothes between them, made their alterations based on what "Jackie" told them was hip (Mandy, it turned out, was particularly skilled at sewing spells) and after lessons were finished, or on a weekend, they would dress up in their new muggle wardrobe. Admiring themselves in the mirror, and with their stolen lipstick painted on their lips, they felt oh so very sophisticated and grown up.

Speaking of which, Lily had told them about her plan to buy them a pack of cigarettes, and they were all very enthusiastic about the idea. Mary had even given her 5p, so now she only needed four more pence by the end of the Easter holidays.

'I think I can find that down the back of the sofa,' she told them, as they made their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts one afternoon. 'I'll go visit some old friends I knew from before, check their sofas. I'll find it.'

'And then you just need to find someone to buy them for you,' Mary said.

'True. Mr Green, in the shop, will ring my mum for sure if I try to buy cigarettes. And then my dad will wallop me one with his belt. I'll have to find an older teenager to help.'

They walked past two Ravenclaw fifth year girls, who were bumping elbows and enthusiastically blowing raspberries at each other. All four of them kept their faces very straight until they were around the corner and out of earshot - and then they collapsed into hysterical giggles.

'Purebloods will believe anything,' Mary wheezed, clutching her sides. Though as they walked further down the hall and saw a peace symbol, which had been painted on the wall, defaced with the words "go home mudbloods" it seemed that maybe there was a darker truth to Mary's words.

…

Somehow, despite their uncanny knack for always being at the centre of any trouble (in no small part due to their uncanny knack for being the cause of that trouble), the boys found themselves to be some of the only students not caught up in the secret war that was raging in the castle.

Though of course they felt nothing but the deepest disgust for the anti-muggleborn sentiment and the pureblood elitism - and never passed up an opportunity to hex anyone they saw writing hateful things on the walls - James also felt nothing but the deepest disgust for The Kneazles, as their concerts clashed with the Quidditch so often. And the other boys could not show any interest in them without risking being called "ingrates and traitors" … So the four of them did not belong to either faction.

Not that they had much time to notice, they were - themselves - caught up with worrying about something much bigger and more immediate. They read every single word that was printed about the latest Taunton attack: the way the torso had been savaged, the limbs scratched and ripped to shreds, the look of horror frozen on the victim's dead face, and what the Ministry was planning to do to make sure there were no more attacks like it.

'We have already amended the laws,'

Minister Eugenia Jenkins was reported as saying in the paper.

'Once the beast is caught it shall be destroyed. There will be justice for these poor people and their families and we intend to send a clear message out to all werewolves: we will execute you, if you kill innocent people - we shall no longer make allowances for your condition. Once the culprit is apprehended, they will be tried and sentenced to death - unless, of course, they are not yet of age - in which case we shall be lenient and commute their sentence to life in Azkaban.'

'Well, that last part is very definitely aimed specifically at me,' Remus said drily, working hard to keep the tremble out of his voice so his friends would not know how frightened he was.

He couldn't fool them though. 'Wasn't the attack after Taunton in Warrington?' Peter asked, rather awkwardly.

'Yes.'

'And you - you don't live far from Warrington do you?'

'No.'

'And the next full moon ... you'll be at home.'

Sirius smacked Peter around the back of the head. 'His dad will be there all night - he'll be able to vouch for Remus that he didn't get out, didn't attack anyone.'

But that only made Remus laugh. 'No one will believe my father - they'll think he's lying to protect me. Or they'll say they think that … I don't think the Minister really cares about catching the real killer, just as long as she has a werewolf to put on public trial. And in June, if the pattern holds, there'll be another attack in Hogsmeade - and that will be three attacks that happened near me. That will be proof enough for the Minister, proof enough for most people.' And he couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, even if he could hide the fear.

'We won't let it happen,' James told him firmly. 'Dumbledore will put another enchantment around the Shrieking Shack. We'll watch the tree all night, we'll make the residents of Hogsmeade testify that they heard you in there all night. We won't let her pin this on you. And in the meantime - we should get back to the library, keep on looking for how we can help you.'

So that night, they took the invisibility cloak and made their way through the deserted corridors towards the library and the Restricted Section. It was pitch black inside, apart from the light of the moon shining through the window - the whole place was deserted and still, and then suddenly the boys appeared as if out of thin air, as James dropped the cloak to the floor. 'Come on then, men - books on human and animal transfiguration. It must be in here somewhere.'

They separated out and searched high and low among the shelves, looking for anything that seemed promising. Sirius traced his fingers along the spines of the books in the H section - thinking difficult human transfiguration might be around there somewhere. He saw the leather bound, blood stained book on Herpo the Foul that he had read at Christmas, shuddered, and went to search somewhere else. If only he could remember what the word for the process of turning into an animal was - he knew he had read it - but it was just beyond his grasp. It seemed totally typical, he could remember every horrible detail of what he had read about old Herpo murdering and cannibalising people, but something that might help Remus? That slipped away like moonbeams through his fingers.

James had collected a large pile of books and was now feverishly flicking through them - though he was going so fast it seemed unlikely he would spot anything even if what he was looking for was right there. Peter was hunched down on the ground reading the spines of books on the bottom shelf, looking for anything on animals. But nothing seemed right and as he shuffled along the shelf he ran out of animal books and now the spines were declaring themselves to be about "animagi" - and Merlin only knew what they were. He sighed, got up - and went to look through James' pile of books.

'Have you found anything?'

Sirius jumped as Remus came up behind him.

'No - and stop sneaking.'

'I didn't sneak.'

'You need to make more sound while you walk. Whistle or pop gum or something.'

'And have Filch hear me?'

'Filch isn't here - stop creeping. And don't look there, I've already looked there - there's nothing.'

'Maybe there isn't anything here that can help you anyway,' Remus said. 'Maybe what we want isn't in the library.'

'McGonagall found a way to do it. There must be a way to do it.'

'Maybe it's for the best if you don't find out. What if you turn into a naked mole rat or something?'

Sirius gave him a dark look. 'Look at me, Remus - I am far too handsome to become a naked mole rat. Ow!' Remus had slapped him around the back of his head for his arrogance. 'Well it's true - I'll probably be something majestic like a gazelle or a lion or a…'

'Silverback gorilla? Ow!' Sirius had just slapped him around the back of his head for his cheek. 'Well - what if you do become something embarrassing? Or just useless. What if you turn into a goldfish? That won't be much help - and you'll be risking Azkaban for nothing.'

'Azkaban is in the middle of the sea,' Sirius said absently, he had turned back to the shelves and was scanning titles again. 'If I can turn into a goldfish then I'll just transform and swim back to shore.'

'Yes but it's still a huge risk - and you can't really keep me company as a goldfish, swimming around in a bowl while I rampage through the house… What if I knock the bowl over? You'll be flapping around on the floorboards unable to breathe.'

'I'll transform back into a person.'

'And I'll rip your majestic, handsome face off - this isn't going to work!'

'I promise I will turn into something that is useful to you, Remus. I solemnly swear it. That's the whole point. Whatever animal I can transform into, it will be perfectly matched to mooch around with a werewolf.'

'You can't know that.'

'Trust me - I know that.' He grinned. Remus shook his head at Sirius's overconfidence, but he couldn't help grinning back… until he heard an unwelcome but familiar tiny mewling sound down by their feet - which could only mean Mrs. Norris had found them.

'Bugger - we need to get out of here! James, Pete!'

They didn't have time to put the books back. They just ducked under the cloak and ran for the door. It opened just as they reached it. They screeched to a halt - held still and then once Filch had passed them (almost brushing the cloak as he went) they made a run through the wide open doorway and didn't slow down until they reached Gryffindor Tower.

'Well that was a waste of time,' James said gloomily. 'Honestly - between Pince during the day and Filch at night, it's like they don't even want us to break the law by practicing dangerous and highly experimental magic.'

...

When they weren't lurking in the library looking for books - or in detention (which was most evenings) - or reading the paper and worrying, then they spent their evenings listening to the Quidditch. The league was really hotting up now - it was spring and the end was in sight… though things seemed to be taking a turn for the worse for both teams.

The Falcons had been plagued by injuries - losing some of their best players and having to fly a half strength squad, while the Harpies had had some really unlucky decisions made against them - penalties that weren't penalties awarded to the other team, fouls against them overlooked and a whole raft of disallowed goals which meant, though Harpies' seeker, Lilah Lingrass, had caught the snitch, they suddenly found themselves thirty points behind and having lost the match.

And now it looked more like their friendly competition was going to end in a race to the bottom rather than a sprint to victory. Thank goodness for the Chudley Cannons or they would actually be the bottom of the table, however both teams were now lurking in 11th and 12th place - and there was less than a whisker in it.

On Wednesday the Harpies played - and went ahead on goal difference, making them 11th. Remus and Sirius danced around the dorm while James and Peter muttered darkly. On Saturday the Falcons played again - won by the skin of their teeth and edged a point ahead, dropping the Harpies back to twelfth. That night it was James and Peter that danced

But the next match saw the Harpies in the lead once again - though just barely … and it really seemed like they were going to be neck and neck until the bitter end. The final match of the season would be the rematch between the two of them - and it was looking like it all might come down to that. 'The Falcons won by a hundred and fifty points,' Sirius said to Remus, 'so if we can win by a hundred and sixty in the next game…'

'It'll never happen, Black, James interrupted him. 'Get ready to snog McGonagall or streak through Slytherin common room 'cause you're about to learn what being a loser really means.'

'In your dreams, Potter - but thanks for the ideas for your forfeit. I'll make a note.'

Remus laughed along - and tried his best not to think about how, by the time all this happened, he might be serving a life sentence in Azkaban - just to keep Eugenia Jenkins in her position as Minister for a few months longer.

…

Just before the Easter holidays, all the second years were given something else to think about as well; for it was now time to choose the subjects they would begin to study in third year - ready for their OWL exams in fifth.

James and Sirius received some unwelcome news in Transfiguration, when Big Macca held them back at the end of the class to inform them that - while two extra subjects were the norm - she expected the both of them to choose three. 'As much as it pains me to say this…' she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her lips went thin and white, 'you are unusually talented wizards, the pair of you. Quite brilliant in fact. Made all the more astounding by how little effort either of you put into your work.'

'Oh come off it, miss,' James howled. 'Don't make us do extra work.'

'It would be remiss of me - as you Head of House - to not push you to be the best you can be.'

'But we already do extra!' Sirius protested. 'We help Remus out when it's the…' he mouthed the words 'full moon,' at Professor McGonagall.

She gave him a wintry smile. 'And that is noble of you, Mr. Black. However you cannot sit his exams for him, and he cannot sit them successfully if you have done the work in his stead. We can make allowances for Mr. Lupin to make sure he keeps up. You - however - must do what is right for you. And what is right for you is studying a wider breadth of magic to ensure your talents develop to their full potential. You are top of the class in virtually every subject, without even trying. We must stretch you both intellectually.'

'We're not top in Defence,' Sirius said; he sounded rather sore about it.

'The Lupin family have long been known as experts in repelling the Dark Arts. Just because Mr. Lupin lives up to his name does not mean that the two of you are not working at a level far above normal for wizards your age. And - unlike Mr. Lupin - the same can be said for you across the board.'

'You mean we've never melted any cauldrons?'

'Precisely. Three subjects chosen, boys. Maybe the extra work will help keep you out of trouble. Now off you go.'

And, grumbling, they went back to find the others.

They pored over the subject lists late into the night, trying to decide what it was they should do. Remus liked the look of Ancient Runes - and then chose Muggle Studies as his second option.

'But that means you can't do Care of Magical Creatures,' James said to him.

'That's alright, I prefer boggarts and redcaps to salamanders and unicorns - and I'll get them in Defence.'

'But your mum was a muggle,' Sirius pointed out, 'you already know about them.'

'Yeah - but I'm already struggling to keep on top of the work we have at the minute. Two extra subjects will just about finish me off. People say Muggle Studies is a soft option - and I need something I can coast in.'

'You know we'll help you keep up.'

Remus smiled, 'you're going to have even more work than me - the big brains taking three extra subjects. I can't rely on you to get me through - that wouldn't be fair.'

'But we don't mind!'

'I mind!' And he would brook no further discussion, and signed up for Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies. Sirius signed up for Muggle Studies as well ('It will kill my mother!') and then chose Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy for his other two options. ('I like animals - and numbers are alright I suppose.')

James chose almost the same - except he opted for Ancient Runes with Remus instead of Muggle Studies - and Peter copied James, though he wrestled with whether Ancient Runes or Arithmancy sounded easier (after all, he did not have to take as many subjects) finally choosing Ancient Runes, as numbers frightened him almost as much as Sirius did (though he did not admit his reasoning out loud).

It was only once it was all signed, sealed and out of their hands that James discovered - to his disgust - that FlatuLily was also signed up to Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. 'So I'll only have Care of Magical Creatures without her next year,' he complained. 'At least I know what I'll be taking to NEWT then.'

…

The Easter holidays started shortly afterwards. Mr. and Mrs. Potter insisted that James come home, as they had missed seeing him at Christmas and so - faced with a choice of being at Hogwarts all alone except for Snivellus, or going home to his awful family - Sirius reluctantly chose to go home.

'It is only for two weeks,' Remus told him, as they sat together in Remus's bed the last night of term, while James and Peter slept. 'And I promise I'll write every day. Just - hide in your room and you'll get through it.'

'It's cold in my room - and I get hungry.'

'I'll send you stuff to eat - so you don't have to sneak past Kreacher to get to the kitchen. And I'm sure James will send you stuff too.'

'Will you send me an extra blanket?' Sirius asked gloomily.

Remus smiled. 'If you need one.'

'What about you anyway? How are you doing?'

The smile faded from Remus's face. 'I'm…' he was about to say "alright" - but then found that he couldn't. 'Terrified,' he admitted. Sirius wrapped his arm around him.

'Everything will be alright.'

'How?'

'I …don't know. But I know it will. Your dad will keep you safe this full moon, we don't even know the next attack will be in Warrington. That last one being in Taunton might have been a blip. And - I mean - you don't live that close to Warrington do you? Not close enough to get out, kill just one person and then get back before sunrise all without being seen, or meeting anyone else and killing them.'

'No - I'm about 30 miles away.'

'See - it makes no sense to blame you. Especially as your dad will have been at home all night. '

'No one will believe my dad. Not if they don't want to.'

'Everything will be fine - you'll see.' And he sounded so confident and final about the matter that Remus almost believed him.

…

The weather down in London was bright and warm when the Hogwarts Express pulled into Kings Cross. It was mid April and the skies were blue, the clouds fluffy and the flowers just starting to bud. Life in Grimmauld Place felt like perpetual November, however: grim, grey, oppressive and bleak. It felt, to Sirius, like raindrops were constantly hammering against the window panes - even when there was brilliant sunshine outside. Home was just that sort of place.

He kept to his room as much as he could, though Kreacher always seemed to be lurking every time he crept out to use the bathroom or to get something to eat.

'Filthy little blood traitor,' the house elf muttered under his breath, as if Sirius couldn't hear him, when he bumped into the boy sneaking down to the toilet. 'Breaking his mother's heart. Fraternising with the children of muggles as if they are good as him. Worthless little brat that he is…'

Sirius aimed a kick at the elf's head, 'get out of it, Kreacher.'

And Kreacher swept into a bow so low his ugly, snout-like nose almost touched the floor, 'yes, Master Sirius.'

'You shouldn't try and kick him,' an irritated, high pitched voice piped up.

Sirius turned on his brother, 'I was miles off - I knew what I was doing.'

'Yes - you were kicking servants. What kind of person kicks those beneath them? I thought Gryffindors were meant to be "chivalrous".'

Sirius flushed. 'You're one to talk! I've seen what you and your Slytherin snot friends get up to. Hexing the muggleborns - you think they're beneath you, don't you? Why is that different to me kicking Kreacher - other than that I purposefully didn't actually hurt him, and you never hold back? What type of person does that make you?'

It was Regulus's turn to flush. 'Kreacher has a place in magical society. Mudbloods do not.'

Sirius swore - and thumped him. Regulus burst into tears. Walburga came running up the stairs, took one look at the situation, cracked Sirius a stinging slap around the back of the head, took his wand from him and then locked him in his bedroom.

Sirius kicked his furniture around for a bit, swearing copiously under his breath. He could hear Reg outside his door - gloating.

After a while, he remembered he had been on his way to the bathroom - and he was now pretty seriously uncomfortable. He banged on the door and yelled to be let out - but no one came to release him. He squirmed and crossed his legs and squirmed some more. He tried banging on the door again … and then, faced with the choice of wetting himself or going in the waste paper bin - he went in the bin.

He was locked in there all the rest of the day, the whole night and until the middle of the next morning. The bin started to stink. And he would have been starving, but Remus and James had done as they promised and sent him some food to keep stashed in his room.

Eventually, the door opened and his mother walked in. Her nose wrinkled a little as the smell hit her, though she said nothing about it. 'Perhaps you will think twice before you hit your younger brother next time,' she said to him. 'You are taller and stronger than he is. I'll not tolerate bullying in this house. And the punishments will be severe until you learn how you should behave. How it befits the heir of the House of Black to behave.'

Sirius just scowled at her.

'You can go get something to eat.'

He waited until she had gone, checked that Kreacher and Reg weren't hanging about and then picked up the bin and sneaked to the bathroom, where he poured the contents down the toilet - so his family would not know what he had done.

…

The first Tuesday of the holiday was also the night of the full moon, and though the days were definitely getting longer and therefore the nights were shorter, Remus was still dreading his transformation. It was always harder at home, where he was not properly separated from his dad - and the presence of a human drove the wolf into a frenzy. And - without the protections of the Shrieking Shack - he had to be chained up to stop him from getting free. He knew it was necessary, he knew it hurt his dad to do it to him almost as much as it hurt him - but he still hated it; it was still humiliating every time.

He hadn't transformed at home since the summer. He had got used to the privacy and dignity (such as it could ever be dignified) of his transformations at Hogwarts and - though he felt all the usual aches and pains - it was the shame that was making this month harder to bear. Well - the shame - and the fear. Of what might happen tomorrow…

'Come on, Remus,' Lyall appeared in his bedroom doorway - as Remus lay on his bed, resting. 'It's time, I'm afraid. But it'll be over soon.' He sounded nervous - which wasn't usual. Mr. Lupin didn't like the full moon, hated having to chain his son up - and Remus could always hear that in his voice - but he had never seemed afraid before.

'I've had to make some adjustments this time,' his dad told him as they headed down stairs towards the cellar. 'For safety.' He pushed open the cellar door, and lit the room with his wand … and Remus felt his heart plummet as he saw a large cage made of iron bars right at the back of the basement.

He felt sick just looking at it.

'I didn't kill that person, dad,' he said quietly.

'I know - I know that, son. Of course, I do. But you pulled yourself free from your shackle last time you were here. You're too big and strong for just a manacle now - and you've grown since the summer…'

'So you're locking me in a cage.'

'It's for your safety, as well as mine and - well … with everything going on…'

'You think I can't be blamed for any deaths if I'm locked in that thing.'

'Better this cage than Azkaban, son,' though his eyes were immeasurably sad. 'And anyway - it's not so bad. I can lock you in and then leave you to it. I've put a shelf up, you can put your clothes there. You can get undressed once you're alone and get dressed again in the morning before I come down. You should have privacy now - you're almost a man.'

There didn't seem much point in arguing. There wasn't time to argue anyway - even if there was something he could say that might change his dad's mind. So he headed down the stairs and walked into the cage, trying not to let his dad see how upset he was, how ashamed he was - and glad beyond anything that his friends could not see him now, that they would never know this had happened to him.

He couldn't bring himself to look at his dad, as Lyall closed and locked the door - and so he did not see that his dad could not bring himself to look at him either. Then, once he was alone, he took his clothes off and curled up in the corner of his cage, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, and hoped to transform quickly so that he wouldn't be aware of where he was any more.

…

Lyall spent the night with his wand pointed at the cellar door. He knew the enchantments should hold his son, but he wasn't taking any chances. This is how it had always been, ever since Remus had got bit - once a month keeping a heartbroken vigil at the door while his precious son turned into a vicious monster.

He was used to the howling by now, the frustrated screaming as the wolf tried to free itself, and the pained yelps as it turned all that frustration on itself. But the sound of the animal hurling itself against the bars was new, and he shuddered as he listened to it, juddering with every metallic clang - and worrying about the damage this would have done to Remus's human body when he changed back.

Lyall had always made Hope go to bed during the full moons, had always tried to hide from her the truth of how bad things really were. Listening in to his son throw his full wolfish weight against the iron bars and howl in anger and agony, he was glad - for the first time - that Hope was no longer here to witness this.

…

Remus woke up when the sun rose - face down on the cellar floor, same as always. He groaned as he sat up, his ribs felt like they had taken a bashing and - even in the gloom - he could see the dark stain of bruising spreading across his torso. It hurt so badly he could barely breathe.

He looked around - and frowned. He was in the middle of the room again. He looked back at the cage, and saw that the door hung open, half busted from its hinges - its bars crumpled and twisted… The cage hadn't been enough to hold him. He had forced his way through in the night - and got free …