Midnight.



Remus Lupin sat at the top of the North Tower, staring into the darkness. He wished he had brought his cloak, it was getting cold on the battlements of the tower, but he couldn’t go back to the dormitory. Not now they knew.



He couldn’t believe they had found out, he thought he had been careful that they’d never know. What would they say when they saw him? No, they wouldn’t see him again. That was it, everyone would know, his friends would not want to be near him anymore. Who knows what they could be saying, right now, telling everyone. His first proper friends, or so he thought.



Remus shifted slightly, a lone, skinny figure sitting atop a battlement, mousey brown hair ruffled in the chilling wind. He stared down at the space below him, over a thousand feet down to the grounds, imagining the fall. How many seconds before you hit the ground? Would you die instantly when you hit it?



For the first time, he began to doubt his plans. He couldn’t go back to the common room, or even stay anywhere in the castle, not now. He didn’t know how they had found out, and he didn’t care either. It was bad enough that they knew, no details were needed to make him feel any worse.



Remus pushed the thought out of his mind, and weighed up his options. He couldn’t go into the castle, he couldn’t stay here, and he couldn’t go anywhere else. By tomorrow morning, the whole world would know him for what he was; he would be shunned by everybody, except the Hogwarts staff and his parents. Only they knew, but not even they understood. Only another werewolf could understand how it felt to be a twelve-year-old werewolf, only at school due to the goodwill of the Headmaster, despite the views of some of the staff. Once everyone else knew, he would have nobody, he would have to leave school, the only place he had ever felt accepted. Up until now. They wouldn’t accept him anymore, not after this.



There it was then. His decision made for him, the only choice left. Still, however, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was the best thing for everyone, he reasoned with himself. He wouldn’t have to live with the mutterings, the stares, the unkind taunts, and the rest of the world would be rid of one more useless werewolf.



Useless. That was him. Only good for taking up space, causing people hurt and problems. Dumbledore had taken so much trouble to get him to school, to ensure nobody found out, and now they had. People would be suspicious of his methods now, nobody would trust Dumbledore with the running of the school if they found out. His parents too, they would have less trouble with him gone, more time to spend with his sisters rather than worrying about him. His sisters were terrified of him, always worried he would turn wild, never trusting him enough to go near him.



Yes, it would be much better for the world if he was dead. His friends, James, Sirius and Peter, must be thinking the same now; how did we ever share a room with him, talk to him, be friends with him? They must hate him even now. His first, and only, real friends, they probably never want to see him again, let alone be friends.



Remus knew it was better for everyone if he ended his life now. How could he not bring himself to make the final move though?



Again, he stared down into the freezing darkness, contemplating his fall. Would it seem an age until he hit the ground, how quickly would he fall? Would dying hurt? What happens when you die anyway, would there be some kind of afterlife where people would still be prejudiced against werewolves? None of the ghosts could tell him this, anyone who knew couldn’t get back to tell him.



Even if there was an afterlife, it would still be a fresh start. Nobody up there (or down there, if he was going to Hell) knew, unlike everyone would now here on Earth. It was obviously better to die now, rather than face the world, a world armed with the knowledge of his lycanthropy.



He’d been sitting on this wall for over two hours now. Dumbledore had summoned him to his office, and informed him that James, Sirius and Peter had found out, and Remus had ran, bolting for the tower top, praying he didn’t see anyone along the way. He hadn’t, now he was sitting here, alone, having made a decision but not being brave enough to execute it.



Some Gryffindor he was. Courage and bravery, wasn’t that what a true Gryffindor was supposed to have? And here he was, not even brave enough to end his own life for the benefit of others. A great Gryffindor. James was a true Gryffindor, brave enough to do anything, and Sirius too, perhaps even more so. Even Peter, little, podgy Peter, was brave enough to be a Gryffindor. Remus couldn’t even do a simple thing like killing himself.



He should have been somewhere else, in a different House. Was there even a House for useless werewolves? He didn’t think so somehow. Almost every other werewolf in history had been in Slytherin and turned bad, he was an exception. He was determined he wasn’t going to end up that way.



But would the others see it that way? Most people thought of werewolves as one and the same, evil half-breeds out to kill and bite everyone they could. That was what everyone would think of him too. It was best to die now. He looked around him one last time, taking in the grey stone tower and down to the grounds, the forest and the glittering lake.



Steeling himself, Remus prepared to throw himself off the side. He couldn’t do it. He tried three times, before giving up on himself. Not even brave enough to take his life for the common good.



It proved his difference just considering it, Remus thought. No other twelve-year-old boys thought about killing themselves, he was again different. He had had to mature quicker than others, learn to cope with adult difficulties. But the fact still remained; he just wasn’t brave enough to end his life, to commit suicide.



Yet, he wasn’t brave enough to go back inside Hogwarts to face the other students either. He wondered briefly which would take more courage. That was a question he couldn’t answer.



Maybe, he thought, it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. If it was, he could kill himself later; there must be quicker, less painful ways than jumping off the North Tower, in the cold and rain. Maybe, that would be truly brave, living up to his parents and Dumbledore’s trust in him to cope well, to do the right thing.



Remus Lupin swung off the battlements and turned, slowly walking back inside. He would face whatever came his way, he would make Dumbledore and his parents proud, he would be a true Gryffindor. He was scared of what they would say, but he would be brave, he would prove he wasn’t useless, to himself as much as anybody else.



Not looking back, Remus entered the castle again, leaving the cold tower top, leaving the idea of death behind him.