A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing! I'm excited to post this one...everyone has a version of this in their heads. I hope I've done it justice. Please let me know what you think!
Chapter 14 - 2.4 or "Discovery"
Sirius Black, as James and Peter discovered over the next several weeks, was simply not one to let an idea drop.
Despite James's hesitance and Peter's noncommittal nervousness, Sirius became determined to keep a close eye on Remus's routines and behaviors. Remus had returned to Gryffindor Tower the night after their suspicion-piquing conversation, looking exhausted and ill, but otherwise in good spirits. He had heartily congratulated James on making the Quidditch team and had listened patiently as James recounted every swerve, pass, and goal he had made during his tryout.
Remus's actions simply didn't make any sense at all, Sirius thought as he watched him laugh at a reenactment of a particularly tricky dive. He left every few weeks, for a day or two at a time, and always looked like he was very sick himself, occasionally sporting bruises or lacerations that he stoically attempted to obscure from his friends' view. The story surrounding his mother's mystery illness was hazy at best. Unless she was on her deathbed, why would Mrs. Lupin not want Remus to visit her on the weekends, at the very least, so that he didn't miss lessons? And why did Remus's visits to see her always result in his own poor health?
So, from that point on, whenever James was otherwise occupied on the Quidditch pitch, Sirius would make an excuse and sneak off to his least favorite place at Hogwarts – the library. He had decided that there was only one conclusion to be drawn from Remus's odd behavior: that Remus himself must be ill, not his mother, and that he didn't want his friends to know about it. Sirius pored over books depicting various ailments and illnesses, but none of them seemed to fit the circumstances. Remus did not have the marks left by dragon pox; there were no obvious symptoms of Agrippa's ague; he was not constantly incapacitated as he would be if he had spattergroit; and he didn't show any of the traces of any other magical illnesses that Sirius was able to find.
"Maybe his mum really is ill," James argued, one evening while the two of them were sitting detention together. McGonagall had most unfortunately caught them in the act of putting a flobberworm down the back of a Slytherin girl's robes.
"But he acts so strange in the days leading up to his visits home, almost as if he knows it's coming." It was a discussion that had become well-worn over recent weeks, and Sirius felt himself treading the familiar paths of the argument. "But then he always claims to have just been called home and leaves that night."
"Well it can't be easy, knowing your mum's that ill."
"But if she was really that ill, wouldn't he go home for more than a night or two at a time? Wouldn't he go home on the weekends or something?"
"I dunno," James whispered, glancing across the greenhouse. Professor Sprout was not paying them any attention at all, despite the fact that they had only cleaned out two of the soiled flower pots that were stacked in the corner. It was going to be a long night. "She must be really, really sick, I guess."
"But that's the thing…if she's so sick, why hasn't she kicked the cauldron?"
"Sirius, that's a horrible thing to say."
"I'm just being reasonable. He's been going home to visit her off and on ever since we got here, it seems," Sirius said, throwing the pot he had been cleaning aside and staring out the window at the darkening sky. "If it's so dire, how has she hung on for so long?"
"She's a Muggle, right? And Remus said that Muggles have different kinds of Healers, so maybe Muggle sicknesses are different too."
Sirius wasn't convinced. "We saw her on the platform at King's Cross, remember?" he pressed. "She was hugging Remus goodbye. She didn't look sick at all to me, and if she was so ill, how did she get all the way to London?"
"Look," said James, lowering his voice and glancing again at Sprout, "I trust Remus. He wouldn't lie to us. He's our friend."
"But it's not that easy," Sirius countered. "We made a pact last year, and I think Remus has been breaking it ever since. We've got to figure out what's really going on, James. I don't like being lied to."
"Well if he is lying – which I don't think he is because why would he lie to us about his mum being sick? – I'm sure he has a good reason. It's Remus. He's the most reasonable person I know."
Sirius was still staring out the window, unswayed. "You said you trust Remus, though. Shouldn't he trust us just as much?"
James sighed but did not respond, probably acknowledging the futility of arguing with a determined Sirius, who took advantage of the silence to press on.
"There's got to be some sort of pattern to his leaving. Three weeks ago, he left on a Friday and came back on Saturday…and last year, remember, he missed the Herbology exam in June and came back the next day to sit it…"
At this moment, Professor Sprout walked over to check on them, so Sirius fell silent. She surveyed the freshly cleaned pots and then looked pointedly at the tower of dirty ones.
"Let's pick up the pace here, you two. We don't want to be here until the wee hours of the morning, do we?"
James didn't speak until he was sure she was out of earshot again.
"Your birthday's in a few days," he said, clearly trying to get Sirius's mind off of Remus. "What do you want to do for it? Want to mess with Philpott?"
Sirius didn't answer. He was gazing out the window at the moon, which seemed to be shining extra bright that evening. He looked for a second as if he had had an epiphany, but the next moment he was shaking his head, trying to shake off the idea like a dog shakes off an itch.
"What?" James asked.
"Nothing," said Sirius, grabbing the next pot to clean out. "Er, yeah, a prank would be good, I think. We can try that one on Philpott we were talking about…"
The two boys spent the rest of their detention in whispered discussions of their next bout of trickery, Sirius doing everything in his power to forget the horrible thought that had occurred to him and refusing to look out the window again for the rest of the night.
Sirius's thirteenth birthday found the Gryffindor and Slytherin second years huddled at their tables in the Potions dungeon, attempting to see through the heavy, sweet smelling smoke that emanated from their cauldrons of Swelling Solution. The Gryffindors were all in rather high spirits, having just come from Defense Against the Dark Arts, where the Marauders had yet again pulled off another masterful jape on the unsuspecting – but not undeserving – Professor Philpott.
In honor of the occasion, James and Sirius had decided to mess with Philpott again, considering what a rousing success their sneezing trick had been. Remus and Peter agreed to help this time, which was fortunate, as Remus was the one who figured out how to charm the blackboard. Every time Philpott had written anything on the blackboard, the writing had automatically reformed into crude insults about the professor. It had taken Philpott rather a long time to realize what the students were all laughing at, and he had spent the remainder of the lesson telling them what a bunch of no-good hooligans they all were, the blackboard swearing away behind him to general amusement.
Despite this, Remus was embroiled in his own trepidation. He had noticed his friends acting funny around him ever since the last full moon. Sirius, in particular, seemed rather short with him, and Remus had caught him once or twice staring in his direction with narrowed eyes. Sirius had also been off on his own more, disappearing when James left for Quidditch practice. This by itself wouldn't have been so very strange, though one time Remus swore that he saw Sirius emerging from the library, a place he usually avoided like the plague.
The fear of Remus's friends finding out his secret was beginning to consume him. He had started having nightmares, his latest Transfiguration paper had received marks well below his standard, and his appetite had left him much earlier than usual this month. Remus was starting to feel as if he was walking blindly into a trap that had been laid for him many years ago, that the corridor he was traversing was becoming narrower and narrower, and at any moment he would stumble into the deep hole the wolf had been digging for him all along.
And then they would know, and there would be no more adventures, no more laughter, no more Hogwarts at all…
There was no way around it: that evening, Remus would once again be shuffled through the tunnel at the base of the Whomping Willow for his transformation. He was exhausted from his angst and disrupted sleep, the tremors in his legs had already begun, his spine ached with anticipation, and he knew the worst was still to come. But the pain of the transformation was nothing – a blip, really – compared to the terror he endured at the thought of telling Sirius that he had to go away again on his birthday.
It was unsurprising, then, with his thoughts elsewhere, that Remus and James's Swelling Solution, which was supposed to be an opaque blue, was currently the color and consistency of tar. Slughorn had made the class keep the same partners they had worked with in first year, though he had moved Remus and James's table to the far end of the dungeon from where Sirius and Gin sat, in an effort to rein in the havoc that James and Sirius tended to wreak when they were within ten feet of each other.
Remus was trying to figure out a new lie to tell his friends that evening (Pathetic, the voice in his head hissed), when a loud disturbance on the opposite side of the room snapped him out of his thoughts. Mary Macdonald was sobbing on the floor, cradling her hands, which had enlarged grotesquely to at least three times their normal size. Sirius and Gin, whose table was just behind Mary and Halden Wilkes's, both had their wands pointed at Wilkes, who was careening around the room with angry red boils covering his chubby face.
"What is this?" roared Slughorn, his enormous belly bouncing in front of him as he hurried across the dungeon. He flicked his wand at Wilkes, who was at least relieved of the Jelly-Legs Jinx at once, though the boils still remained. "Mr. Black! Miss Leigh! How dare you jinx another student in my classroom!"
"Look what he did to Mary!" Sirius yelled, pointing at the girl in question, who was still crying on the floor.
"We saw the whole thing, Professor," Gin said. Remus had never seen Gin even remotely lose her calm countenance before, and even now only the angry shaking of her voice betrayed any emotion. "He called her a terrible word and threw the potion at her!"
The whole class had gone silent, though the Slytherins looked rather amused. The only sounds in the dungeon were the soft gurgles from the cauldrons and the hiss of flames from beneath them.
"Is that true, Mr. Wilkes?"
"No, Professor," said Wilkes, though his eyes were dancing malevolently. "I just spilled the potion on her by accident."
"That's rubbish!" shouted Sirius. "We were standing right here, we heard what he said, he wasn't even attempting to keep his voice down, the bloody git –"
"Oh sod off, Black, and mind your own business, why don't you?"
Sirius started to raise his wand again, but Gin placed an assuaging hand on his forearm, just as Slughorn interjected with, "That is quite enough." He turned from the two scowling boys to observe Mary, who was now being comforted by Raeanne. "Go on to the hospital wing, Miss Macdonald. Madam Pomfrey can administer a Deflating Draught and have you back to normal in no time. Muller, you may escort her."
Raeanne helped Mary to her feet and the two left the dungeon under the obvious stares of the rest of their classmates. Sirius still looked ready to lunge at Wilkes.
"Now, Wilkes, you'll serve a detention with me next week…" started Slughorn, clearly agitated.
"And the boils?" Wilkes asked, pointing to his blistered face.
Slughorn shifted his considerable weight from one foot to the other. "Under the circumstances, I think it'd be best if you wait here until the lesson ends before seeing Madam Pomfrey to have them looked after." He turned to Sirius and Gin. "Black and Leigh, detention with Madam Pince in the library. Nothing gives you the right to jinx another student in my classroom."
Gin looked horrified and a bit embarrassed. Remus couldn't really fault her, he had never seen her get into any sort of trouble before. Sirius, on the other hand, who was assigned detentions multiple times a week, didn't seem remotely fazed. He continued glaring at Wilkes until the bell rang fifteen minutes later, signaling the end of the lesson.
"That was absolute bollocks," Sirius said, as Remus, James, and Peter caught up to him and Gin in the corridor. "Wilkes was saying horrible stuff to Mary the entire lesson and dumped that potion on her on purpose."
"Wilkes is a pig," Gin told them. "You know what he said to her?"
"What?"
"He asked if she had read about those Muggle killings in Manchester. Told her that her family was next."
"What?"
Sirius nodded grimly. "He kept calling her a Mudblood, all through class…that no-good, slimy, dung-for-brains…where does he get off, treating people like that…"
The rest of the group walked in silence back up to Gryffindor Tower to drop their books off before supper, all with different levels of success in tuning out Sirius's ranting. As disgusted as he was about Wilkes and Mary, Remus had more pressing issues to attend to – one being that he was supposed to meet Madam Pomfrey soon for their monthly trek to the Willow, and the second being that his legs felt as if they were going to give out on him at any moment. He lagged behind the group, unable to keep pace and cringing at his own inadequacy.
By the time he climbed through the portrait hole, he found that Sirius's diatribe about Wilkes (which at some point had extended to Wilkes's mother and sister as well) had now tapered off. No one else even seemed to notice Remus's physical struggle, which was a small blessing.
"Have you heard much about these Muggle killings, Gin?" James asked.
Gin looked solemn. "A bit. There was an article in the Daily Prophet this morning…"
"You get the Prophet, do you?" Sirius interrupted.
"No. I was sitting next to Hestia Jones at breakfast…she's from outside Manchester and was a bit upset…well, the Muggles, they were killed by a group of wizards, apparently."
"Why would anyone want to kill Muggles?" Peter asked.
"Dark wizards." James's face shadowed. "Wizards who think Muggles and Muggle-borns are beneath them."
"That's horrible," said Peter.
"It's twisted," said Sirius. "It's idiot people like my parents who think like that."
"There's Mary." Gin nodded toward the portrait hole, where Mary and Raeanne had just appeared. Mary's hands seemed to be back to normal. Leaving the boys alone by the fire, Gin went to go see how her roommate was doing, just as Lily and Adin descended on Mary as well.
"We need something to lighten the mood," James told Sirius as they watched the group of girls disappear up the dormitory staircase. Remus leaned his back against the side of an armchair with as much nonchalance as possible, attempting to relieve some of the exertion from his trembling legs. "It's still your birthday, after all."
"Well at least Slughorn didn't give me detention for tonight. Some present that would be."
"And at least you get to sit the detention with Gin and not with Wilkes," Peter added.
Sirius grinned. "Amen to that. Gin's a bit easier on the eyes."
"We can sneak down to the kitchens tonight," James suggested. "Nick all sorts of sweets…have a midnight feast."
Remus's heart was in his throat, and for a second, he focused entirely on attempting to settle the churning in his stomach. When he spoke, his voice sounded foreign and echoed uncomfortably in his ears. "I actually have to leave again tonight…to see m-my mother. I've to meet McGonagall in a few minutes."
James, Peter, and Sirius stared at him, but Remus looked away, praying that they could not see the anxious vibrations of his muscles. He did not like the way all the color drained from Sirius's face.
"Again?" James said, after an awkward beat.
"Yes, I got an owl earlier. She's not…she's not doing well again."
"Well," said James, trying to compose himself. "Well…that's all right, I guess. I hope your mum starts to feel – Sirius, where are you going?"
Sirius, without a word to anyone, had turned on his heel and stalked up the staircase to the boys' dormitory. James threw an apologetic look at Remus before running after him. Remus took a deep breath, his panic practically choking him, but there was nothing of it. He looked at Peter, who was clearly torn between following them or remaining there with Remus.
"It's all right," Remus whispered, trying not to think of the look on Sirius's face. "You can go up there with them."
Peter, wide-eyed and hesitant, nodded, but he had only gone a few steps when Remus's voice stopped his progress.
"Oh, Peter? Would you…I mean, d-do you mind taking my bag upstairs for me please?" The truth was that, even if he had been in a state at the moment to face Sirius in the dormitory, Remus was certain his legs would not carry him up the stairs. "I…I have to get going."
Peter nodded again and shouldered Remus's school bag. "I hope your mum feels better," he murmured before proceeding across the common room and up the staircase.
Trying to breathe through his panic, Remus did not waste a moment before hurrying toward the portrait hole, mentally calculating whether he could make it to the seventh floor lavatory before the heaving would start, and doing everything in his power to ignore the dreaded voice in his head that told him that something was very, very wrong.
Peter, panting slightly under the weight of both his own and Remus's school bags, ran up to the boys' dormitory to find Sirius digging through his trunk, watched by an obviously bewildered James.
"What in the world was that all about?" he asked, dropping both bags on the floor with a thunk.
James shifted uncomfortably, his eyes on the back of Sirius's bent head. "Sirius, I know you're upset that Remus had to leave again on your birthday, but –"
"It's not that." Sirius stood up, having found what he had been rifling for. His face was still white and his eyes round as he flipped open his Astronomy chart and scanned it. After several moments of tense silence, he sank down gingerly on his trunk and stared up at Peter and James, an expression of shock – and perhaps, oddly enough, terror – on his face.
"Guys," he said in a slow, wavering voice. "Guys, I think I know what's wrong with Remus."
It's over. You're through. What will they do to a beast like you?
The words, in a cadence almost like a chant, reverberated in Remus's head as he trekked slowly back up to Gryffindor Tower the following evening, his feet heavy with exhaustion and dread. He had slept through much of the day, as was standard, but even Madam Pomfrey's Sleeping Draught had not subdued his pervasive nightmares, nor the incessant voice in his head.
The dismay that human Remus had felt prior to transforming had obviously riled the wolf's agitation. Madam Pomfrey had not only contended with his usual bruises and lacerations that morning, but also had to heal a broken wrist and a fractured kneecap; thus, Remus's slow movements were borne not solely from his dread of the inquisition he would soon be facing. Or that's what he told himself, anyway.
It's over. You're through. What will they do to a beast like you?
All too soon, he was in front of the Fat Lady. His baser instincts told him to turn straight around and drag himself back to the hospital wing, that the matron would be happily obliged to keep him under her watchful eye for another night. But something else in him – the Gryffindor bit of him, perhaps – compelled him to mutter, "Bowtruckle," to the Fat Lady and pull himself forward into the common room.
The common room was almost entirely full, though the chatter was muted somewhat, as the majority of its inhabitants were listening closely to a voice that reverberated from the wireless set in the corner.
"…What a save by Birch, really, on the very tips of his fingers…he passes it to Cartwright, and the Puddlemere Chasers are off, streaking toward the Tornado rings…looks like a standard Fleet Formation they're using…"
Remus's eyes scanned the crowd for his friends and, most specifically, James's untidy hair, but his search was lacking. The panic returned, and Remus was forced to grip the back of a nearby chair to steady himself. The absence of James Potter during a much-anticipated league Quidditch match seemed to portend Remus's own ruination. He licked his dry, cracked lips, ignored the roar of celebration from the Puddlemere supporters in the crowd when their Chasers scored, and trudged up to the boys' dormitory as though marching to the gallows.
What will they do to a beast like you?
He had hoped that perhaps they wouldn't be there, that perhaps they had sneaked down to the kitchens or were off exploring some uncharted corner of the castle, that perhaps he would be able to recuperate more of his energy before facing them, but when Remus opened the door to his dormitory a minute later, there they were. It was as if they were waiting for him. He paused on the threshold only momentarily before entering the room and closing the door behind him. One look at them, though, and he suddenly wished he had left the door open.
"Hello," Remus said. It was almost comical, but his instincts instructed him to act as normally as possible at that moment.
The just stared at him. James was gazing at him curiously, as if trying to read him. Peter looked terrified. And Sirius – well, Sirius looked downright furious.
"How's your mum?" Sirius said in a rough voice.
Was it possible that they didn't know? Maybe they only knew that he had been lying about his mother, but not the extent of his secret. It was a flimsy hope, and one that would surely shatter under the pressure if he had to construct a different cover story, but it was a hope, nonetheless.
"She's, er, well she's doing better, actually, you know," Remus stammered. They would call him on his lie soon, he knew, but if he could bide his time, perhaps he could think of something else…a different excuse…
His hands began trembling as he moved to hold onto the post at the foot of his bed, trying to make the gesture look casual. Keep talking.
"The doctors say another few months and she'll probably be good as new. She even got out of bed some last night and was able to walk round the house and…I mean, I think it really helps her to see me, even for a short bit of time…really gives her some energy and…"
"Stop lying, Remus." James's voice was quiet, but it succeeded in shutting Remus up at once. He didn't sound angry, though – at least not compared to Sirius. Remus looked at him, almost pleadingly, his mind working sluggishly as he tried to come up with something…anything…
"I'm – I'm not lying. She – she –"
"We saw her on the platform, just a few months ago!" Sirius shouted. "And she didn't look sick at all! Certainly not like she had been sick for months now…"
"Well that was just…just one of her good days, I think," he said, with the absurd thought that maybe this was just another one of their jokes. That they would tell him they were just messing with him. That's all this was, just another prank.
But one look into Sirius's eyes told him that they weren't joking.
Sirius stood up and moved toward Remus, who gripped the bedpost more tightly, his sweaty fingers slipping against the wood grain. He was only steps away when he said it, and Remus could barely hear him over the ringing in his own ears.
"We know, okay? We know what you are. We want to hear it from you. Now. No more lies."
It's over. You're through.
Remus's mouth fumbled to find his tongue. It was as if the room were closing in on him. He couldn't have answered Sirius at that moment if his life had depended on it. From the common room – which may as well have been another universe – there was a loud cheer of support from fans of one team or the other, but the boys' dormitory remained tense and silent. The lack of answer from Remus seemed to ignite something in Sirius, though, and after a moment, he practically erupted with rage. Remus stepped backward instinctively, away from the bed and toward the wall. The thought of entrapment flitted across his mind. The wolf's freshly dug hole sprawled in front of him.
"What do you think we are, stupid?" Sirius cried, and his expression was tormented. "You're supposed to be our friend and you've been lying to us since we met you! Your mum's not sick at all, is she?"
Remus could feel his teeth rattling. He wanted to deny it, to run, but he couldn't look away from Sirius's grey eyes, boring into his own.
"N-no," he whispered, shocked at the rasp in his voice.
A shadow crossed over Sirius's face and before he knew what had happened, Remus found himself pushed up against the wall, one of Sirius's hands fisted in the front of his robes, the other pointing his wand right at Remus's heart. He could not suppress a small moan of pain when his bruised and aching back flattened against the hard stone.
"Sirius, no!" James shouted, springing up from his bed and approaching them, but Sirius paid him no mind.
For a fleeting moment, Remus remembered the first night of term and Sirius's fist flying repeatedly into the same stone wall that he was now pinned against. He sincerely hoped that his face wasn't about to take the place of the wall.
"Say it," Sirius growled, his fingers twisting tighter in Remus's robes.
Remus could feel his face warming and his throat burning. Why, oh why, had he not heeded his father's advice and refused the advances of friendship? He had been too weak to be content in solitude. But wouldn't loneliness be better than this…this terror and humiliation?
"I'm…" he started, but his voice cracked. He fought back the tears. He couldn't cry in front of them. He wouldn't. He was weak and pathetic and everything that the voice in his head had always said that he was. But the little bit of pride he had left was precious.
"Say it, Lupin!" Sirius looked unlike himself, rough and slightly unhinged.
What will they do to a beast like you?
"I'm a bloody werewolf," he spat, shoving Sirius off of him with force he did not imagine he even possessed at that moment. He raised his arms, preparing to shield himself from Sirius's retaliation, but none came. His friends stared at him, eyes wide, mouths agape, and Remus finally, finally accepted the fact that everything was about to come crashing down. The image of his father's face, shocked and disappointed, flashed through his mind. Remus would be leaving Hogwarts – and everything he had grown to love – behind.
"Go ahead, curse me!" Remus yelled, shocked by the sudden strength in his own voice. "See if I…see if I even care."
He glared at Sirius, daring him, urging him on, but Sirius stood frozen. No one spoke. No one moved. After a few moments that stretched into an eternity, Sirius sank down onto Remus's bed and buried his face in his hands.
"Why didn't you tell us?" he mumbled through his fingers. Remus couldn't find his voice, but Sirius didn't give him a chance to answer. He looked up, his face white, his voice shaking. "How could you not tell us? The four of us are supposed to be best friends and you've been lying to us since the day we met! Why? Why would you lie to us like this?"
Remus glanced at the other two. James was frozen halfway between his own bed and Remus's, a strange expression on his face. If anything, he looked…sad. Peter was quite clearly terrified.
Quickly wiping away the tears that had managed to escape, Remus took a deep breath and tried to settle his racing heart before speaking.
"What was I supposed to do? Meet my new roommates and say, 'Hi, I'm Remus and I turn into a hairy beast once a month?' I was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anyone. And my d-dad said… If anyone finds out, I'm gone."
"You still could've –" Sirius started, but Remus interrupted, determined now to say what he needed before he'd be packing his trunk. After all, this might be the last time he ever saw Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew.
"Do you think it was easy? I hated every minute of lying to you. I've been sick from the…from having to lie to you so much…every time I had to come up with a new story. You three are the only friends I've ever…ever had. But there wasn't another way for me, and I'm sorry. And it's over now, I g-get that, so if it's all right, I'd like to start packing my things in peace."
He moved toward his trunk, supporting himself again with his bed post, blinking back more threatening tears, but James's voice stopped him.
"What do you mean, pack your things?"
Remus looked up at him in confusion. James, though still standing in the middle of the room, put his hands casually in his pockets and gave Remus a curious look.
"Well I'm not going to be able to stay here anymore, am I? You know what I am. There's no way anyone'll want to go to class with a werewolf."
"Don't be a prat, we're not going to tell anyone about this," James said with a breathy chuckle and a roll of his eyes. He glanced toward Sirius and Peter and raised an eyebrow, almost in a challenge. "Are we?"
"Of course not," Sirius replied at once. "What kind of friends do you think we are?"
Remus looked between them, at a loss, and then for the first time, his dread was briefly overtaken by a touch of annoyance. "Oh, I don't know…the kind of friend who just pinned me against a wall and shoved his wand in my face?"
Sirius shrugged, unconcerned. "I wasn't mad that you're a werewolf, I was mad that you'd been lying to us. Still am, a little. I don't like liars."
"I didn't have a…a choice…" Remus's counter trailed off, though, when the full weight of Sirius's words penetrated his sluggish brain. "And…wait…what do you mean you're not mad that I'm a werewolf?"
"I mean, it's not as if you can help it. It's just a part of you that you don't like, but that you have to live with." Sirius paused and spun his wand a few times in his hand before adding, "Like me being a Black."
There was another great cheer of support from the Quidditch fans in the common room, and the noise seemed to fade in and out of Remus's ears as if it were badly tuned. It was as though his brain couldn't fathom their reactions and the rest of his body was trying to help it along. His heart rate quickened, his hands tingled, and after a few moments, his hearing pricked back into perfect clarity. They were not cursing him. They were not running away from him. They were not looking at him with revulsion. Could it be possible that he might be able to stay at Hogwarts? That he might not only get to keep his place in the school, but also keep his friends? That he wouldn't have to lie to them anymore? It seemed too much to hope for. He turned to Peter, who had not moved or spoken at all since Remus had entered the room.
"Peter?" he asked tentatively.
Peter started, his watery eyes flicking to James and Sirius and then back to Remus, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips.
"I…I…I don't…"
"Peter!" hissed James, as if scolding him for something.
Peter swallowed and seemed to solidify under James's gaze. When he spoke again, though, his voice was barely more than a squeak. "How'd it happen?"
The adrenaline borne of Sirius's initial aggression was beginning to wane, and Remus, unsure of how much longer his poor legs would bear his weight, sat down on the top of his trunk and swallowed hard. This was all happening so fast. But they deserved answers, at the very least. They're not running away from you. Bracing himself, he started telling them the story that he had never told anyone before.
"I was almost five when I…when it happened. It's not very…I mean, I don't remember a lot about the night itself, or the few weeks after, but I remember the day that lead up to it. Almost…almost too well. I had spent the afternoon in the back garden, playing with a few children who lived close by. It was snowing, and it was fresh, fluffy, playful snow. The kind that's good for making snowmen and snow forts." He sealed himself and glanced up at James, who had sunk down to sit on his own trunk across from Remus. Peter remained standing across the room, next to his own four-poster. Remus could not see Sirius, who was still presumably sitting on the bed behind him, but perhaps this was for the best. James and Peter's intent stares were enough to witness.
"I remember my mother calling me in and sitting by the fire before supper to warm up. I remember the stew she made that night, it was one of my favorites, with turkey and carrots and potatoes. I remember reading with my mum before bed."
"Did you –"
Remus cut James's question off. It was much easier to keep talking, now that he had started. Strangely, and despite the fact that he had never spoken these details to anyone in his life, the words spilled forth like the words of a song he had memorized years ago and only now remembered to recite.
"I remember bits and pieces of what happened next. The warmth of my bed and then the cold air when the window burst open. I remember my dad running in, and his…his screaming. I had never heard anyone scream like that before. There were a lot of flashes of light and my dad fought it – him, I mean – off. And I remember a lot of pain in my ribs…a burning pain, like my whole body was on fire. The pain didn't go away for weeks."
"It came in through your window?" whispered Peter, petrified.
"Y-yes. It broke it open trying to get to me." He paused, but no one had any response to this. "That's how it happened," he finished lamely, looking up at Peter. Peter took a deep breath and nodded, his beady eyes more watery than usual.
"What's it like?" James breathed, transfixed.
Remus wasn't exactly sure how to answer the question. "It's…painful. Really painful. I don't have any humans around to bite, so I bite and scratch myself."
"You bite and scratch yourself?"
"It's not something I do knowingly. I'm not in my right mind during the transformations. I'm not me, at least, I'm not conscious of being me. I usually can't remember much about after I've transformed. It's like my mind has…blocked it out…or something."
Peter looked close to tears. "Can't anyone do anything? Can't Dumbledore…"
Remus sighed and shook his head. "There's no cure. After…after it happened, my dad did everything he could to find a cure. Experimental potions and untested spells. He traveled a lot when he could, trying to find a cure in old Romanian lore and the writings of the ancient Egyptians. But there's nothing that anyone can do for me…not my dad, and not even Dumbledore."
"But Dumbledore knows, right?" James asked uncomfortably. "I mean, you said he made you promise not to tell. Who else knows?"
"Well, yes, Dumbledore knows. And some of the staff knows, our professors, because they needed to know why I miss so many lessons. But that's it. My parents didn't think there was ever a chance that I could come to Hogwarts because of what I am. But then Dumbledore let me in. He said that as long as we take precautions during the full moon, there shouldn't be any reason to keep me out of Hogwarts."
"Of course not," said Sirius, finally speaking from his spot behind Remus. "You're still you…still Remus."
At last, Remus turned to look back at him. Sirius was sitting in the middle of the bed, his legs crossed beneath him and his elbows on his knees. He looked like a young child at story time, but his face was serious, and his eyes were sad, and there was something else in his expression that Remus couldn't pinpoint.
"Thanks, Sirius," Remus said softly. He paused. "And I'm sorry I lied to you. To all of you."
James waved off the apology with an impatient hand. "Well now you don't have to anymore, so this – this discovery is a good thing. We can help cover for you when you have to leave. And we're not going to tell anybody your secret. We made a pact, remember?"
Remus barely dared to breathe. He felt as if he had run a great distance in the span of a few minutes. Another great roar of celebration rang out from the common room, and it was difficult, at that moment, to not join in. No more lies, no more cover stories.
They didn't understand – they could never understand – how much their friendship meant to him.
"So what are the precautions?" Sirius asked.
Remus blinked at him. "What?"
"You said Dumbledore has taken precautions. So you don't go home every month, then? Where do you go?"
Dumbledore had made him promise to not tell anyone, but his friends had figured it out on their own. And they weren't running away from him. Remus swallowed. He had made a pact with them to never lie or keep secrets from each other, and now, finally, he could abide by that pact. He could be an equal in the group.
"Well," he started, "I'm really not supposed to tell anyone. But I guess since you, er, figured it out for yourselves…I go through a tunnel to a house on the edge of Hogsmeade to transform. The tunnel is underneath the Whomping Willow."
"The Willow?"
"But how do you get under the Willow without getting whomped?"
"Madam Pomfrey takes me every month. She knows how to freeze it."
"But how does she –"
James's question was cut off when the door opened abruptly and Goomer walked in. Peter squeaked and stumbled over his own trunk.
"Hello," Goomer greeted them, unaware that he had interrupted anything at all. "Bowman caught the Snitch."
"Did he?" James said weakly.
Goomer nodded and began changing into his pajamas. "Yep, took forever though, the match was over two hours. Puddlemere won 290 to 120, so they'll stay in first place as long as they beat the Wasps next month. I'm surprised you lot weren't down there listening…great match, it was."
"Er, yeah," said James. "I've a headache, you know, but I think I'll catch the replay tomorrow…"
"Too bad," Goomer said, pulling his head through his night shirt. "You know most of the upper years have brought their own wirelesses for the dorms, and I think the sixth years even have a record player…could be worth looking into, yeah?"
James gave a noncommittal reply and looked at Sirius, clearly trying to figure out how to continue their previous conversation without Goomer. He then hopped up from his perch on his trunk to move closer to Remus and Sirius. Peter, too, approached them.
"Anyone fancy a trip to the kitchens?" James said in a voice low enough that it wouldn't carry to Goomer.
"Absolutely," said Sirius pointedly.
"Yeah, good idea," agreed Peter.
Remus, though, was beginning to flag. "Actually, I think I'm going to go to bed too." The standard wear and tear of the full moon along with the tumult of emotions he had been barraged with over the last day had combined to thoroughly seep any energy he may have otherwise been able to muster. He didn't want them to think he was shutting them out, though, so he added, "We can go to the kitchens tomorrow, though, if you'd like."
James grinned. "Brilliant."
"We can leave you alone to rest, Remus," Peter said.
Remus smiled gratefully. "Thanks."
James and Peter both clapped him on the shoulder before leaving the dormitory. Sirius lingered behind, climbing off of Remus's bed, but hovering next to it somewhat awkwardly.
"Look," he whispered, pausing until Goomer had disappeared into the lavatory before continuing, "I'm sorry about earlier. How I…you know…" He gestured toward the wall and scratched his head as though uncomfortable.
"It's all right," Remus said. "You were right to be angry with me."
Sirius shook his head. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. But I'm glad you know that you can trust us now." He paused before adding, "We're not going to leave you behind, Remus."
Remus swallowed the hard lump in his throat and nodded, fixing his eyes to a spot somewhere over Sirius's left shoulder.
"Anyway, I'll see you in the morning." Sirius said. He disappeared down the dormitory steps.
Remus changed quickly out of his robes and crawled into bed, moving gingerly on his sore muscles. He made sure the curtains around his bed were completely closed and listened as Goomer reentered the room and settled into his own bed for the night. Remus waited a few minutes, his ears straining for any strange sounds before he shifted and allowed himself to do something he hadn't done in years. With a quick whispered, "Lumos," his four-poster became illuminated and bright, and Remus pulled up the hem of his shirt and studied the deep scar that ran across the right side of his ribcage. He could still make out a few teeth marks, and he moved his finger over each of them, allowing himself to remember that night, to remember the burning pain of the bite.
Pulling his shirt back into place, he lay back on his pillow, thinking of the reactions of his three friends. Gratitude spilled over him like hot lava. They still wanted to know him, to associate with him, to be friends with him. His father had been wrong to assume their reactions, but then again, his father did not know Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew. He could not possibly have known how wrong it was to underestimate them.
He had not had friends since he was four years old, since before, and even those he could not remember clearly. And now he had three friends. Three of the best friends he could have ever imagined. What had he ever done to deserve them?
Remus drifted off to sleep soon after, a small smile on his lips, and for once, the voice in his head was not hissing his fears back at him, chanting about his own weaknesses, or reminding him that he was nothing but a monster.
Instead, the earnest voice in his head was none other than Sirius Black's.
"You're still you…still Remus. We're not going to leave you behind."