19th February 1972
The Whomping Willow, a monstrous tree with a violent temper, was a fixture of fear and fascination for the Hogwarts students. Its flailing branches and unpredictable attacks kept most at bay, but for Remus, it held a different kind of allure. He'd always been drawn to the wildness of the willow, its untamed energy mirroring the beast within him.
One crisp January afternoon, as Remus walked past the willow on his way back from a solitary wander in the Forbidden Forest, he noticed a flash of green amidst the thrashing branches. It was a Bowtruckle, clinging precariously to a high branch, its tiny limbs wrapped tightly around the wood. But something was wrong. The Bowtruckle was unusually still, its vibrant green body dull and lifeless, a stark contrast to the frantic movement of the willow.
Remus felt a surge of concern. He knew Bowtruckles were shy and solitary creatures, rarely venturing far from their forest homes. What was it doing perched on the Whomping Willow, seemingly injured and vulnerable?
He copied what he had seen madame pomfrey do numerous times whilst at hogwarts. He threw a stone at one of the knots of roots, causing the tree to freeze still. As he got closer, he saw that the Bowtruckle was indeed injured. A deep gash ran along its side, oozing a sap-like substance. The creature was weak and disoriented, its grip on the branch loosening with every gust of wind.
Remus knew he had to act quickly. He couldn't leave the Bowtruckle to the mercy of the willow's violent temper. He darted forward, reaching the branch where the Bowtruckle clung, its tiny body trembling with fear and pain. "Easy now," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "I'm here to help."
The Bowtruckle, sensing his kindness, turned its large, brown eyes towards Remus, a flicker of trust replacing the fear in their depths. Remus carefully reached out, his touch gentle as he examined the injury.
"It's alright," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the wind and the whooshing of the willow's branches. "I'm going to get you down from here."
He carefully unfurled the creature's tiny fingers from the branch, cradling it gently in his arms. The Bowtruckle nuzzled its head against his chest, its whimpers subsiding into soft sniffles.
Remus retreated from the willow's reach and found a safe spot beneath a nearby oak tree, its sturdy trunk offering protection from the willow's fury.
He examined the Bowtruckle's injury more closely. He didn't possess any innate healing magic, but thanks to lily he had a growing knowledge of Herbology.
"Just stay still for a moment," he whispered to the Bowtruckle, who seemed to understand, its large eyes fixed on Remus with unwavering trust.
Remus ventured into the Forbidden Forest, his eyes scanning the undergrowth for specific plants and ingredients. He remembered reading about a type of moss with remarkable healing properties, and a particular type of leaf that could staunch bleeding. He carefully gathered the necessary components, mindful of the forest's delicate balance.
Returning to the Bowtruckle, he carefully prepared a poultice from the moss and leaves. He gently applied it to the wound, his touch gentle and reassuring. He then tore strips of cloth from his own robes and carefully bandaged the injury.
The next morning, Remus woke with a sense of purpose. He carefully retrieved the Bowtruckle from his pocket, where it had been sleeping soundly all night. The little creature stirred, blinking its large brown eyes and stretching its twig-like limbs.
"Good morning," Remus whispered, gently stroking the Bowtruckle's head. "Feeling better?"
The Bowtruckle chirped happily, nuzzling its head against Remus's hand. Its wound was healing nicely, and it seemed to be regaining its strength.
He practically ran down the stairs to the common room, eager to share his discovery with his friends. He burst through the portrait hole, the Bowtruckle still nestled safely in his pocket.
"Guys, you won't believe what happened!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.
James, Sirius, and Peter looked up from their game of Exploding Snap, their faces etched with curiosity.
"What is it?" James asked, grinning. "Did you find a secret stash of chocolate frogs in the kitchens?"
Remus shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Better than that," he said, carefully pulling the Bowtruckle out of his pocket.
The little creature blinked in the sudden light, its twig-like limbs stretching out as it yawned.
"Whoa, what's that?" Sirius asked, leaning closer for a better look.
"It's a Bowtruckle," Remus explained, gently stroking the creature's head. "I found it injured on the Whomping Willow yesterday."
"The Whomping Willow?" Peter squeaked, his eyes wide with alarm. "How did you get past that thing without getting pulverized?"
Remus grinned. "It's a secret," he said, winking.
He recounted the way he had saved the bowtruckle to his three friends.
"That's amazing," James said, his voice filled with respect. "You're like a modern-day Newt Scamander."
"Yeah, you've got a real knack for this stuff," Sirius added, nodding in agreement.
Remus smiled. He couldn't wait to show Lily. He knew she would be just as excited as he was.
He found her in the Herbology greenhouse, tending to a particularly prickly Fanged Geranium.
"Lily!" he called out, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Look what I found!"
Lily turned, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw the Bowtruckle perched on Remus's shoulder. "Oh, it's adorable!" she exclaimed, reaching out to gently stroke its head. "Where did you find it?"
Remus recounted his adventure with the Whomping Willow and his healing of the Bowtruckle's wound. Lily listened intently, her eyes sparkling with admiration.
"That's amazing, Remus!" Lily insisted. "You saved its life!
The Bowtruckle, christened "Twig luttewck" by James, quickly became a beloved member of the Marauders' inner circle (luttewck to reflect all four boys' last names, mashed into one). At first, Remus was hesitant to keep Twig as a pet, worried about the responsibility and the potential dangers of harboring a magical creature within the castle walls. But his friends' enthusiasm and Twig's undeniable charm soon won him over.
James, with his characteristic impulsiveness, immediately took to Twig, showering the little creature with affection and attention. He'd carry Twig around on his shoulder, showing him off to anyone who would listen, and regaling the Bowtruckle with tales of his Quidditch exploits, much to Twig's apparent amusement.
Sirius, ever the rebel, saw Twig as a symbol of their defiance against the stuffy rules and regulations of the wizarding world. He'd sneak Twig into forbidden areas of the castle, giggling as the little creature helped him unlock secret passages and hidden rooms.
Peter, always eager to please, doted on Twig, offering him treats and building him elaborate miniature furniture for his makeshift home in Remus's trunk. He'd spend hours talking to Twig, confiding his hopes and fears, finding comfort in the creature's silent companionship.
Remus, despite his initial reservations, found himself growing increasingly fond of Twig. He'd spend hours observing the Bowtruckle, fascinated by its intricate movements and its uncanny ability to blend seamlessly into its surroundings. He'd talk to Twig in hushed tones, sharing his own secrets and anxieties, finding solace in the creature's quiet understanding.
Twig, in turn, seemed to thrive in the Marauders' care. He'd follow them around the castle, his tiny limbs scampering across the stone floors, his large brown eyes always watchful and curious. He'd participate in their pranks, often playing a crucial role in their schemes, his ability to pick locks and unlock doors proving invaluable.