Chapter 1: Capturing the Moonlight

Lily Evans tossed feverishly in her luxurious four-poster bed, her body thrashing as she wrestled with her sheets. Her luminous, pale skin glistened with miniscule beads of sweat, and her cheeks burned like two hot plates as she moaned in her sleep. Her eyelids, heavy and hot, opened abruptly, and her green eyes shone like beacons through the night, so full of light that they seemed to shine like lighthouses through the dark and sleepy room. Lily panted heavily, trying desperately to breathe. The nightmare she had dreamt moments before had shocked the air out of her lungs. On fire with lack of air, her chest felt as though it was going to explode any second. Shaky and clammy, Lily staggered out of bed, towards the water basin. Her tongue felt swollen and pasty, as though she had eaten glue before retiring for the night. Jerkily, she poured water into a cup and drained it in an enormous, painful gulp. The smooth, silk water trickled down her throat and into her churning stomach, which helped quiet her jittery nerves.

Throwing the cup roughly aside, Lily inwardly scolded herself for her silliness. She was in her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, and had developed from beautiful adolescence into a mature and striking woman, and she was far too old to be experiencing childish nightmares and terrors.

She had one almost every night now, but usually the nightmares were so strangely absurd that she recalled each nightmare with some fright, but mostly laughter when morning arrived. But once a month, every month, at the rise of the full moon, her nightmares were at their worst.

Well nightmare. It was always the same one. Although it somewhat fluctuated with each passing month, it always ended the same; an icy, chilling cold rushing in her stomach and gripping her spine, and the dead fear clutching her chest as she realized someone she loved fell to the floor, their eyes open with the blank expression of death.

And it happened every month. Every month.

She couldn’t explain this strange cycle, but was secretly grateful for its perfect timing. Wrapping her blankets tightly around her chilled, petite body, Lily quickly grabbed the worn, fragile, checkered book that lay beside her bed table, and scampered down the stairs to the Common Room, intensely eager to witness another monthly event that happened upon Hogwart’s grounds.

All thought of her nightmares thrust aside, Lily raced to her favorite armchair and collapsed into its comfortable padding and fabric. This armchair was her favorite for two main reasons: first, the short distance between it, and the fire was amazingly opportune, and she often received a warm glow from its presence. The second feature was the most important (although preventing freezing to death is important, too), and made Lily’s plagued nights the most enjoyable night of the entire month. The huge window looking out on Hogwart’s craggy hillsides and knotted forests was the best view any Hogwart’s window could offer, and although the view, in general, was breathtakingly beautiful, only one aspect of Hogwart’s grounds intrigued Lily these lonesome, moonlit nights; the Whomping Willow, a massive tree that was unusually aggressive when provoked, standing erectly silent in the quiet moonlight, its long, sad leaves whipping in the howling wind.

Lily sat impatiently, huddled with her many blankets, watching the Whomping Willow with unblinking olive eyes. Her eyes had grown swiftly sharp for signs of movement on these long, moonlit nights, and tonight they quickly darted for any signal for what was about to happen.

In a flash, she saw it, the signal she had been waiting for. Leaning avidly towards the window, her breath fogging the cold glass, she squinted to see the three figures that were stealthily traipsing across the lawn towards the Whomping Willow. Towards the front of the group, Lily could barely make out the tall, lean, but sturdily built James Potter, his jet black hair messily tousling in the wind. Hurriedly dipping her quill in ink the color of James’ hair, she dated the heading of a fresh page from her checkered book and began to record, like many full-moon nights previous.

It’s another full moon night, another nightmare about Voldemort, more terrible and terrifying than any previous one. It‘s getting worse. Way worse.

And another adventure for James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin. As always, I’m just an unknown bystander recording and watching.

I can’t believe it’s been five months since I’ve discovered the secret. Although this journal was always meant as further evidence to incriminate Potter and Black, I find myself reluctant to hand it in. Although this nightly routine begins with a nightmare (a horrible one tonight, by the way), it is somewhat…I don’t know…calming to record it’s occurrence. And I find I record less and less about it, and more and more about the deeper ‘stuff’ my friends would be baffled by.

I’m watching James as he transforms. How can someone that horrendously arrogant, conceited, and egotistic transform into something so beautiful? Even from afar, I can trace the lines of the stag’s bold, muscular mass, his silky, dark skin. Looking at that astonishing stag, I can almost forget that he is James Potter. Hm. The moonlight works wonders.

Sirius is transforming now, laughing wildly as he transitions to a dog. Sirius’ Anamagi is completely fitting. Mangy and impulsive, Sirius could walk around school as a mutt and no one would notice.

Peter is my least favorite of the group, although my loathing for James runs deep. His character is fitting, too. A rat? Yes, that’s Peter: sneaky and sniveling, small and lumpy, he should spend the rest of his life as a rat.

Well, Peter’s pressed the knot to the Whomping Willow, and James, Sirius and Peter are gone in a billow of darkness, off to their secret adventures.

I long for such adventures. I mean, what do they do all night? I wish I could join them. Wait, what am I saying?

Ah, we’ve reached it at last, the truth to my reluctance. I don’t blame James and his friends for craving adventures. I would do the same to have my share of a little moonlight.

Chapter 2: The Crossbow

James Potter lived for thrilling adventures. He loved the feeling of total exhilaration, and of blood-bursting adrenaline. Although James was a bright, eager, intelligent learner, every minute in class devoted to boredom was wasted. He would rather be out there doing it than learning about it in his safe, controlled environment.

Galloping in the night air, his fluid, flexible body moving lithely James laughed into the wind, gazing around at his companions. This was definitely not a controlled environment. Sirius was running swiftly in front, his great, bear-like shape gliding gracefully alongside him. Peter, the smallest of all, was squeaking riotously as he darted in between their thundering legs, avoiding being trampled by a hoof or a paw. And Remus…Remus was lopping wildly between James and Sirius, his wild, almost maniacal eyes darting as he glanced up at the full moon, howled, and licked his bared teeth.

James gazed at Remus as the ferocious werewolf weaved between forest trees easily, straying from his guards. In an instant, he and Sirius were there, leading him back beside them. The werewolf tensed and lunged at Sirius, his teeth snapping, but Sirius, always on guard, leapt backward as the werewolf’s frothing snout jut forward. The werewolf, fairly annoyed now, howled angrily at his miss. James, staring into Lupin’s wild, unrecognizable eyes, saw the wild hunger that was controlling him. Suddenly, the werewolf darted from his guard’s grasp, and galloped full-speed towards the Hogwart’s entrance. Heart racing with sudden debilitating fear, James ran after the enraged werewolf. Lupin was miles ahead; he was already past the Whomping Willow and almost to the Hogwart’s main entrance. Dread flooding him, James galloped harder and faster than he had ever had in his life. His mind kept conjuring horrible images, images in which a cowering girl (who resembled Lily Evans) was being ripped to shreds by a massacring werewolf. His firm legs were almost breaking with tiredness, his muscles seeming to rip in his body, but soon he was gaining on Lupin, who seemed to be preoccupied with an image in a tower window. Soon he was only yards away, Sirius behind him. James and Sirius leaped simultaneously, wrestling the werewolf to the ground.

A mad struggle filled with yelps, howls of pain, and blood ripped the quiet night air, but as they broke away, all three animals bruised and slightly injured, the battle was won and the werewolf peaceably galloped between his guards once more, returning to the dark shelter of the forest.

James breathed a huge sigh of relief as blood trickled down one leg and his leg swelled to twice its size. That was a close call, and he knew it. Despite his fondness of his moonlit strolls with his best friends, the danger of it always hit him hard when there was a time such as this. James knew that one month, Remus would be too much for him and Sirius to control. Despite their efforts, he would escape their watchful and careful eyes. As he galloped along with his friends, finding hidden passageways and tunnels their predecessors had only dreamed of, he was grateful that the month hadn’t come yet.

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Far on the outskirts of Hogwart’s boundaries, deep in thick, shadow-filled forests, James watched carefully as Remus transformed into his human form. The transition from werewolf to man was horrendously frightening, and the transition back into human form was no better; horribly painful, Remus screamed and sobbed in agony as his fragile body shuddered with excruciating pain. Twitching and shuddering on the damp forest floor, completely naked, Remus’ pale body reflected the moonlight. Signaling to the others that it was safe with three loud and rhythmic barks, James, Sirius and Peter transformed also.

While Peter and Sirius helped Remus, James quickly opened the crate expertly hidden in the forest brush, carefully supporting his swollen arm. Although he and his friends were reckless, they were not stupid; the huge crate had personally been hidden and expertly charmed by Sirius as an emergency kit if things ever came to their worst. Shuffling past the bandages and medical supplies, James paused as he gazed down at the last item placed in the crate. It was a small crossbow, only large enough to seriously wound, but not kill. It had been Lupin’s suggestion, and although none of them really expected, or wanted, to use it, they had not rejected the idea. Shuddering slightly as he gently shuffled the crossbow aside, he grabbed the thick, warm cloaks at the bottom of the crate. Hurrying forward to where Sirius was coaxing Remus to his feet, James gave him the cloak.

“T-thanks,” Remus stuttered as he pulled the robe around his shaking body. Slowly, as though afraid of what he might see, he looked up at his friends. James hurriedly wiped the blood forming on his brow and he saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Sirius was quickly trying to mend a gash on his leg that was bleeding all over the forest’s leaves.

“You’re all hurt,” Remus said, looking very crestfallen.

“What do you think we are, sissies?” James said in an offhand voice.

“Yeah, Moony, we’ve been hurt before,” Sirius said, his voice straining to sound casual.

“But I almost escaped tonight.”

A long, uncomfortable silence greeted these words, and James absentmindedly tried to smooth his unruly hair, clearly frustrated. There had been many, many times when Lupin, fully a terrible monster, had given the others the slip and raced towards the grounds. Although Lupin had never come as close to the castle as he did tonight, his attempts to escape had never been noted with such fear. Usually, they laughed about it. Uncomfortable, James didn’t feel like laughing tonight.

“Oh come on, Moony,” Sirius whined, looking uncharacteristically uneasy. “We had you in check.”

“Yeah, we got you back, didn’t we?” James said casually. But Lupin’s gaze had such a forlorn, devastated sparkle to it that made him falter.

“I don’t know why I did it,” Remus said sternly as he looked helplessly at his best friends. “Somewhere deep in my head, I knew. I knew. But it was like I couldn’t control it. Like the madness within took over, and try as though I did, I couldn’t stop myself from trying to escape.”

“Look, there is no ‘madness within’ alright?” Sirius broke in offhandedly. “You are still Remus Lupin, werewolf or no werewolf.”

“You’ve just got a furry little problem sometimes,” James said lightly, attempting to loosen the stiff mood, but Lupin frowned.

“If I ever stray that far again, I want you to use the crossbow,” Lupin said resolutely.

“No way!” James and Sirius chorused fiercely.

“We agreed those were only under extreme circumstances,” Peter reminded quietly, lurking in the shadows close behind.

“I was close enough that if someone would’ve been there, it would’ve been too late!” Lupin snapped. “That can never happen again. If you’re my friends, you’ll swear to me you’ll never let me stray that far again. Swear!”

Unhappily, Sirius, James and Peter nodded their heads in agreement. Satisfied, Lupin led the way back to the Whomping Willow, pale, but now steady on his feet. As Sirius made to follow, James halted him with a touch of his hand. With a single, steady gaze, a silent pact between them was made; they would never use that crossbow. Never. What did it matter if nameless, unimportant people were harmed in the future if now they were happy?