Second Year

Moony

"What happened, Rems?" James asks while he, Sirius, and Peter crowd around my bed in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey doesn't look too happy about this; clearly, she would much rather them leave so that I can recover in peace.

I feel awful, and it's not just because of how beat up I am after the full moon last night. "I ... got caught in one of my mom's briar bushes when I visited her..." I hate lying to them. But I would hate to lose the best friends I've got even more, so I can't tell them I'm a werewolf, now can I?

"Must've been some awfully big briars," Sirius says suspiciously, eyeing one of the slash marks on my stomach. Madam Pomfrey's medicine is working quickly, so it's almost gone, at least. I'll miss my first class, probably, but after that I'll get back to my normal schedule.

"Oh, yeah, you know she's ill, she's letting her garden get overgrown..." I sigh, my gut twisting. I hate, hate, hate lying to them all the time. I know they're suspicious; they have been for months. But what else can I do?

Madam Pomfrey seems to notice how I'm feeling, because she tells the others, "Wrap it up, boys. Mr. Lupin needs his rest."

"Hope you feel better," Peter chirps. He seems less suspicious than James and Sirius, and it's nice to get concern without a dose of guilt.

James and Sirius echo his sentiments, but they're still watching me suspiciously. I can tell they aren't happy I'm not telling them the truth. No question about whether or not they can see through my lie. Of course they can. They wouldn't be good friends if they couldn't.

"See you in Charms?" Sirius asks, and I nod dully. Madam Pomfrey shoos them toward the door, and they troop out, shooting a few odd glances back at me.

Once they've gone, Madam Pomfrey sits a tray of food on my lap, fluffing my pillows up behind me so I can sit up. "I know you probably don't have much of an appetite, dear, but you need to eat. Don't worry about your friends, they'll forget about this in a few hours," she adds, smiling maternally at me.

She knows me remarkably well, which isn't surprising considering the amount of time I spend in the Hospital Wing and the number of times she's taken me to the Whomping Willow where I change every full moon. James, Sirius, and Peter, though, she doesn't know at all. They won't just let this go by lunch. But I nod politely and try to eat despite the way my stomach's twisting and turning in knots.

Padfoot

"So, what do we know?" James asks, flipping through the pages of a book on magical trees idly as he sits at a table in the library. We're all talking in hushed tones so the librarian won't notice what we're doing. Before Peter and I bother to answer, James is ticking our clues off on his fingers: "He disappears once a month. Madam Pomfrey takes him to the Whomping Willow when he disappears, he always looks sick around that night, and he comes back the next morning all scratched up."

"I think we're on the wrong track," I mutter, sighing. "Maybe it doesn't have as much to do with the Whomping Willow as we think—it hasn't even been in any of the books in the library, anyway."

James nods, shrugging. "Yeah, but the older students say it was planted the year we came to school, and since Rems is the only one who goes near it..."

"I guess it might explain the scratches, too. That thing's vicious," I add. "But whoever heard of needing to get beat up by a tree once a month to keep from getting sick?"

That's our best guess, anyway. Remus always looks awful up until the night Madam Pomfrey takes him to the Whomping Willow, and then he comes back looking beat up, but starts looking less ill very quickly. It seems odd, though, that any sort of sickness should require being beaten up by a tree as a cure.

"I'd hate having to let that tree beat me up every month," Peter says, wide-eyed.

"We've never actually seen the tree hit him, though," James comments. "And anyway, Madam Pomfrey gets just as close as he does, and comes back without him. They wouldn't just let him sleep under the tree all night, would they? And it doesn't attack Madam Pomfrey... in fact, it doesn't even move when they go up to it, does it?"

Peter tilts his head as he remembers watching the nurse walk Remus to the Whomping Willow yesterday evening. "It stops moving when they get close enough," he says.

"So maybe it's not the Whomping Willow he's going to," I murmur, struck by a sudden idea. "No one can get too near it because it'll beat them, but Madam Pomfrey can make it stop moving—maybe there's something it's guarding. Maybe that's what he's going to once a month."

"Let's focus on the once a month, then," James says, getting up to put away the book on plants he'd been flipping through. "There can't be all that many monthly illnesses for wizards, right?" He puts the book back where we found it, and the three of us make our way over to the card catalog. The library is very quiet, silent but for the sound of book pages flipping, quills scratching, and the occasional muted whisper. Usually James and I don't much like the library because of how quiet it is, but what we're looking for now is too important for us to complain. James glances at the card catalog's drawers and asks, "What's that word for illnesses that—oh, chronic." He pulls open the 'C' drawer and begins thumbing through the cards to find what he's looking for.

Peter and I wait with a bated breath as James leans his head over the drawer and searches, his jet-black hair sticking out every which way. Finally, he stops, mumbling a title to himself. I barely catch it: Chronic Wizarding Ailments and Their Treatments.

"Found it?" Peter whispers. He looks ready to start biting his knuckles with anxiety. I grin to myself; seeing how overexcited he is seems to bring all this back into perspective. We want to find out Rems' secret, but it's not like this is life or death or something... I think.

James nods and gestures for us to follow him, shutting the drawer on the card catalog and leading us to wherever the book is supposed to be shelved. The aisle it's assigned to is two aisles away from the Restricted Section, and most of the books are covered in a layer of dust; not many students need books from this section. He scans the spines of books for the titles, muttering under his breath, until he finds the one he's looking for. His face lights up and he pulls it out, sneezing as the thin layer of dust on it billows out like a reprimand for disturbing the book's rest. "Got it. C'mon."

We sit at the nearest table—or James does, and Peter and I stand behind him, watching over his shoulders—and flip to the book's table of contents. "Monthly," I whisper, putting a finger to the proper section title. James murmurs the page number under his breath and flips to a point nearly halfway through the book. I read the words on the title page: "'Monthly Illnesses: Ailments recurring once a month.'" Below that, there's a picture of a witch covered in painful-looking boils.

All three of us are excited. There's a nervous tension in the air around us that would have had Snape, a greasy Slytherin in second year same as us, running for Filch, sure we're up to trouble. At the thought, I look around to be sure he's not sneaking around, but there's no sign of him.

James flips through the pages, passing over unlikely candidates ("No, this one lasts three days, and we'd see it," and "I doubt it—how would he have gotten into that?") and occasionally stopping on illnesses that might fit, but eventually deciding they aren't right and moving on.

James turns the page and the bold title, 'Werewolves', catches my eye. I inhale sharply and ask, "Every month... it's always the full moon... isn't it?"

I'm almost certain I remember seeing the full moon shining in the sky last night. James looks up at me, eyes wide, and says, "It couldn't be that, could it? Werewolves are very dangerous, they would never be allowed at school."

"They must have made a place for him to go where he won't be dangerous," I say. "I mean, if he is a werewolf. Somewhere he can't get loose and hurt anyone."

"A werewolf?" Peter asks, looking quite frightened. I don't blame him; every witch and wizard hears scary stories about werewolves when they're younger. A werewolf can tear a full grown wizard to shreds. And werewolf bites are incurable, so if you get bitten by one, you're stuck changing into a werewolf every full moon for the rest of your life.

"Well, we're not sure, let's read through and see," James says, but he's talking quickly and breathing shallowly—I can tell he's already sure that this is exactly what Remus has been hiding. He begins reading at a mumble, keeping track of where he is with an index finger. I start to read along with him, but when he starts reading relevant parts aloud, it throws me off, so I just listen. "'Many victims of the werewolf bite feel sick and drained around the time of the full moon; they don't sleep well, and their appetites may be affected.'" My heart beats faster—that's just what Remus is like around the time Madam Pomfrey takes him to the Whomping Willow! Further on, James reads, "'There is no treatment for a werewolf, but he may be locked in a room for the night of the full moon so that he does not harm other people. Most of the time in such cases, with no prey to hunt, the werewolf will injure himself, but usually the wounds are fairly minor and easily treated by a qualified witch or wizard.' That explains the slash marks..." He continues reading, getting to the very end, and then says, "Hey, this is interesting: 'The werewolf is a tremendous danger to people, but only to people. The werewolf does not hunt animals.' I wonder why that is?"

I shrug—it doesn't seem important. My heart is thundering in my chest. "I can't believe it... Rems is a werewolf. A werewolf!"

"That explains why he wouldn't tell us anything," James says seriously.

"Why?" Peter asks, looking confused and still a little frightened.

James adjusts his glasses over the bridge of his nose and replies, "Everyone's scared of werewolves. They haven't told anyone Remus is one because a lot of students and their parents would be angry to know that the headmaster allowed a werewolf in the school."

"Rems is probably scared to tell us what he is because he thinks we won't want to be friends with him if we know," I add, frowning. James nods.

Peter is looking like Remus' fear is well-founded, and I'm glad Remus isn't here to see his initial reaction. I understand that feeling... it's a little weird to think about Remus turning into something as frightening as a werewolf. Still, that's no reason not to be friends with him. I can't believe he'd think we would just abandon him if we knew this. James voices what I'm thinking. "He's been lying to us just because he's afraid of what we might think. I understand, I guess, but... he should know us better than that!"

We must be getting a little noisy, because the librarian gives us a stern look. "Maybe we should go," I murmur to James. "Break will be over in a few minutes, anyway."

He nods, and we get up to return the book of chronic ailments to its shelf.

Moony

The looks James, Sirius, and Peter give me when we meet in front of the Charms classroom are enough to make me highly nervous. I knew I was right—they haven't let it go. And Madam Pomfrey almost had me convinced... "What?" I ask innocently. I'm extremely relieved when Professor Flitwick opens the door before they can reply.

Our yearmates in Gryffindor file into the classroom, but my friends pull me aside. "We're skiving off," Sirius murmurs in my ear. "Let's go."

Oh, bloody hell...

They're completely silent as they each take me by an arm, guiding me firmly through the corridors until we reach an empty classroom with a suit of armor next to it. Sirius and James lead me inside, completely ignoring the foul words on the blackboard—probably Peeves' work. Sirius kicks the door shut behind us, and they sit me down on a low cabinet, watching me seriously.

"What?" I ask again, anxiety squeezing my heart like the beats of a humming bird's wings. I shake my hair out of my eyes and look over my shoulder out the window. It's bright out today, brighter than it's been in weeks, and I wish I could be out there rather than confronting my friends. They're frightening me, frankly.

"You've been lying to us all year," James tells me with a glare. "Do you not trust us? Rems, we're your friends."

"I know," I murmur, looking down at my hands in my lap. That's why I've been lying to you. Maybe I haven't trusted them. And I probably should have. But if they knew what I am...

"We know you're a werewolf," Sirius says softly, his voice matter-of-fact. My head jerks up, and I look at him, unable to believe my ears. What? No one knows that, no one except Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, and some of my professors. They can't know. "It wasn't too hard to figure out," he adds. "Disappearing once a month for the night of the full moon... Why didn't you tell us?"

I swallow. I can't believe this—I'm ecstatic—they aren't afraid! But they're angry that I've lied to them. They're right; I didn't trust them, but they deserved for me to be honest with them. I look down again. "I'm sorry. It's just that I've never really had friends since the werewolf bite, and everyone's so scared of werewolves—you're the best friends I have, and I didn't want to lose you."

James smiles, his hazel eyes lighting up behind his glasses. "We wouldn't be very good friends if you being a werewolf scared us off, now would we? Hogwarts wouldn't have accepted you if it wasn't safe, so we have no reason to be scared, really."

I grin broadly and look between the three of them. "I'm sorry," I repeat. "I was the one who wasn't being a good friend. I should have trusted you."

"That's easy to say now," James replies. "I know you must have been scared. We aren't mad, but... just remember that you can tell us anything, right?"

"And we can tell you anything," Peter adds. "We're best friends."

My grin is so huge it might break my face apart.

* * *

Siri and I stay in the common room when James goes to Quidditch practice. At the beginning of the year, when he first made the team, we always went to watch, but by now the novelty has worn off. Peter tags along with him, but that might just be to get away from me. I haven't been able to stop babbling about how glad I am to finally have friends who know what I am and still like me. Sirius seems to find it amusing.

"I don't think I've ever seen you talk this much," he comments, toying with a small carved pumpkin that he's put a dung bomb in, preparing for the upcoming Halloween celebration. He wrinkles his nose as a little of the smell leaks. "Maybe we wouldn't have told you we found out if we knew you'd never shut up."

For a second, I'm not sure he's teasing, but then he grins and gives me a friendly shove. "I'm just playing, Rems. It's kind of nice, really."

I grin back, but he's still managed to get me to quiet down—at least a little. I move to the window facing the Quidditch stadium and look down at the little red blurs flying through the air between the goal-posts, practicing.

"I really was teasing," Sirius says, and I jump a little. "I didn't mean to shut you up, y'know."

I brush my hair back out of my face and give him a bemused grin. "I know. I just ran out of things to say."

He nods, his black hair falling around his face, watching me with his hands resting over the pumpkin in his lap. "The book where we read about werewolves said that when you're locked up for the full moon, you hurt yourself. Is that why you're always so beat up the next morning?"

My mood is instantly dampened, though I'm still about a hundred times more upbeat than I was this morning in the Hospital Wing. "Yeah... I mean, I don't remember it so well, it's kind of like someone else takes over and I'm just watching from way back in the dark... But yes, that's why."

"I wish we could help. We'd stay with you if we could, you know."

"No!" I say instantly, alarmed. I don't doubt that he's telling the truth. They're just crazy enough, my stupid wonderful friends.

He grins. "Don't worry, we aren't going to go and do something idiotic. The book said werewolves'll tear wizards to shreds... but they don't hurt animals—oh, of course!" He sits up, his back going straight as a board, and I know he's got what's probably a very dangerous and very against-school-rules idea. He turns to me excitedly, narrowly avoiding dumping the dung bomb-filled pumpkin on the floor. "Animagi!"

I stare at him. It takes a second for what he's saying to register. Then I remember a third year telling us earlier this year that McGonagall taught her class about Animagi and turned into a cat in the middle of class. I start shaking my head fervently. "Siri, I don't think a cat is a match for a werewolf..."

He grins. "Well, maybe not in a fight, but werewolves are only supposed to be dangerous to people. So if we turn into animals, we should be fine, and you wouldn't have to spend the full moon alone!"

"I don't think it's a good idea," I tell him hesitantly. "First of all, it's got to be major magic, so I don't know how you'd figure it out. Second, it's got to be against tons of school rules... and third, what if I end up hurting you? What if you're wrong?"

He waves a hand dismissively. "How big is a werewolf? Not much bigger than a real wolf, right?"

"I guess not, I'm not exactly measuring myself when I'm that way..."

"Well, if all three of us take big animal forms, then we'll outnumber you. We'd be fine. Besides, you wouldn't be alone, then. You'd have us with you. You wouldn't beat yourself up, and since you know us, maybe you'd be a little more in control." He's watching me eagerly—obviously he wants my approval.

It still doesn't seem like a very good idea, but I can't help it. He's right. I wouldn't be alone. It's hell, to be alone as the werewolf. And I'm sure I'd be a little more human knowing they're with me. Slowly, I nod, breaking into a grateful smile. I can't believe the friends I've got. They're the best.

"Brilliant!" He stands up, holding the dung bomb pumpkin in one hand, and throws his arms around my shoulders. "We'll work it all out, you'll see, and then you'll never have to spend another full moon alone."

I stand enveloped in a hug from one of my best friends in the world. I feel very warm, and accepted, for the first time in my life. I've got friends who'll do anything for me, and I'll do anything for them. I smile against Sirius' neck. "Thank you."  

&&&&&

Thank you for reading, I hope you're enjoying it so far! There will be a total of three interludes and an epilogue from different time periods in Sirius and Remus' lives, always marked with the timeframe. Let me know what you think!