Remus could not bring himself to lift his eyes to the night sky as Madam Pomfrey led him towards the Whomping Willow the following night. Always it was like this, as he felt her guide him through the grounds, her arm ringed around his waist, supporting him, holding him steady. By now his stomach would be churning, and his joints would be aching, and yet through this heated confusion in the hours before his transformation, Remus somehow managed to remember to keep his eyes on the ground beneath him. The night sky would be his enemy tonight, as it had been since the night he had been bitten, all those years ago. Unlike others, he could not see the beauty in the pin-pricked silvery darkness. He could not feel a sense of wonderment as he stared up at the velvety blue expanse above him, grey clouds slowly chasing themselves around the dark sky. As always, the thought of the night terrified him and as the wind whipped up the bottom of his robes, he shivered and stumbled, only to be caught by Madam Pomfrey.
“Nearly there,” she said, so softly that the words were almost lost on the freezing air. Remus managed to smile as he saw the roots breaking through the ground beneath, telling him that their destination was near.
“I’ll bet you’ll b…be pleased when you get back to the castle. It’s fr…freeing out…”
Madam Pomfrey allowed her arm to slip from his waist, but before she retracted it completely, she gave Remus’ side a reassuring squeeze as she said, “We must make sure you’re okay first.”
Remus managed a nod in response, unable to bring himself to make conversation any longer; the pull of the moon on the beast within him was becoming too strong for words. His teeth were chattering loudly now; whether this was the effect of the cold, he could not know for sure. His jaw seemed to be trembling wildly as he struggled to hold himself steady. Once again, he felt Madam Pomfrey’s patient arm about him and, after a moment or two of edging forwards, Remus halted, panting hard. The frozen air was in his lungs and, stopping again, his chest seemed to be aching with the desire that was rising within him...
“Wi…will you go now, please?” Madam Pomfrey stopped as Remus moved away from her guiding arm and attempted to stand upright unaided. Remus saw the apprehension clearly written in her face; her years of taking him to the Whomping Willow had done nothing to erase the fear that she would always eventually succumb to during their journey through the grounds.
“Are you sure, Remus?” Her voice was tinged with concern as she continued to watch him carefully, unable to ignore his pain any longer. Somehow he managed to smile and, with a great deal of effort, Remus raised a hand and placed it on Madam Pomfrey’s shoulder with the words, “I want to be alone now.”
Remus stood for a while and watched her go; her figure seemed to grow pale and ghostly as she walked over the crest of the hill and back towards the castle. Even now, when his mind was devoid of all thoughts but those of his transformation; even now, as he could feel his body getting ready to change, he found the silhouette of the castle comforting. The dimly flickering lights of Gryffindor Tower reassured him that however different and lonely he felt, however much of a monster he became on these nights, he would always be, at least as far as some were concerned, Remus Lupin; a rather quiet yet studious sixth-year who was in no way different to any other student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Of course, he was different, and it would not matter if he stood standing staring at the dark yet brilliant castle for the rest of his life…nothing could change what he was. Or rather, what it was he became. It had been a shock to them all, he and both his mother and father, when he had received a letter from Albus Dumbledore, assuring them all that despite Remus’ condition, he had been accepted to study at Hogwarts. Remus had hardly believed when he had waved goodbye to his parents as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of platform nine and three quarters for the first time. He had always been prepared for the worst. He had always expected to not be allowed to receive any kind of formal education; he was too dangerous, too degenerate. Yet Dumbledore had put in place measures to ensure that not only would the pupils be safe, but also that Remus himself would not come to any harm.
No-one from Hogwarts ever really dared come close to the Shrieking Shack. Remus clambered along the dark and dingy tunnel, his hands pressed against the walls either side of him, struggling to guide himself along in the muddy darkness. He thought of the way cocky third-years often dared each other to try and get in, only to decide that it was a better idea to go and get some Butterbeers instead. If only he could view the Shrieking Shack with the same amount of excitement as the other pupils did; if only he could force himself to smile as he listened to the various rumours that would go round the school about what actually was inside. But to Remus, the Shrieking Shack was a prison; a prison he chose to ignore on his trips to Hogsmeade. For the rest of the month, Remus ignored its existence entirely, as if ignoring it alone would make it disappear - but it didn’t, and it wouldn’t. But maybe the rumours were not a bad thing. After all, at least this way, no-one was brave enough to be in any real danger of stumbling across a werewolf.
By the time Remus lifted the trap door and pulled his way into the Shrieking Shack, his entire body was throbbing with pain. He could no longer bring himself to stand; his legs were failing beneath him, yet as he had flung open the creaking door he was greeted by the faces of the other Marauders, who had swiftly come to his aid. James was now by his side, his arms around his waist as he guided him carefully out of the tunnel. Peter was behind him, shutting the trap door with a loud clunk. Remus lifted his eyes and could see that Sirius was approaching, a bottle in his hand. But as he held it out for Remus to take a drink, Remus staggered backwards, a dangerous snarl escaping his lips rather than the “No” he had meant to say, before he pushed the bottle from Sirius’ hand, sending it smashing against the wall.
“Help me, Sirius!” James had caught Remus before he fainted completely and he now felt a strange feeling of weightlessness engulf him as both James and Sirius helped him to stand. He wanted to speak to them; he wanted to apologise for breaking the glass, but as he opened his mouth to talk, the words he intended to say turned into shrieks of pain. Through the commotion, Remus heard Peter whimpering somewhere on the other side of the room. He hated to think that he made his friends so afraid.
“Maybe…maybe we should change now?” Peter stammered helplessly. “Just to be sure…”
“We sodding won’t!” Sirius snapped, his voice strained as both he and James attempted to drag Remus to the bed. “Now come here and help us; otherwise, being bitten by Moony will be the least of your worries!”
At once Remus felt another pair of arms around him and, with a great heave, he felt himself fall backwards onto the bed. He could not talk at this point, and they never expected him to. It was strange that he could hear his friends talking and walking around him and yet, paralysed by pain, he was unable to do anything in response.
“Maybe Wormtail has a point, though…” James said, looking down at Remus. It was close, far too close for his liking. Already Remus had began to writhe, the dusty, claw-torn sheets wrapping around him as he twisted in agony, his cries barely muffled by the shredded pillows. “It seems a bit close to call…”
“Look!” Through his pain, Remus felt a pair of hands pull him forward and his robes being removed. “It’ll be fine, but you need to help me. If I have to undress him all on my own, then it will be too bloody close!”
By now, Remus hardly knew, nor cared, whether he was naked or not. His skin was suffocating him, choking him, imprisoning him. It seemed as if there were a million hands upon him; tugging, pulling, removing. He flailed his arms, but he was helpless to stop them. He tried to tell them it was alright, that he could do this himself, yet as he went to speak the cold air filled his lungs and something, that had been so tense within him, broke.
“Now!” Remus - the boy that was Remus - heard a swollen voice in the darkness yell, and that was the last thing the boy remembered. The silvery moon had sent its cruel tendrils across the shattered room and now the wolf was coming.
Tumbling to the floor, Remus let out a scream which pierced the now illuminated room with absolute terror. He ripped the sheets from his body as he felt his bones stretch and crack into their new form. Hunched over and crippled with his newfound frame, Remus felt his blood run first cold, and then begin to boil as his desire to kill, to murder, to destroy, eclipsed what remained of sanity. He could smell the blood of the pupils of Hogwarts. He could almost taste it, bursting from the wound, seeping down his throat and, crazed with this lust, the werewolf flung himself at the locked trap door.
It was no use; he was locked here, always here, away from what he craved; the hunt and the final triumph of the kill. The boy was his true punishment; that was his true mask. The werewolf was who he was under it all; under the shy façade, he was this monster…this killer. He knew his mind now; he could listen to his heart and no longer be afraid. He was no longer the shaken, naked boy huddled in the corner of the room. He had been freed. Once again, he flung himself towards the trap door, only this time his path was not only blocked by the door itself, but also by a large, black dog with grey eyes.
The werewolf stopped, his mind automatically cleared of the kill as, with a certain amount of trepidation, he sniffed at the dog in his path. This was not an animal he needed to fight; this was an animal he knew. At once, it was as if the bloodlust had left him; no longer did he feel the pull of the moon on his soul. Something of the boy, Remus, seemed to return and recognise that this dog was his friend. Out of the silvery darkness of the Shrieking Shack, a stag and an extremely cautious rat joined them and, after a few moments of acknowledgement, they all knew that all was well. The werewolf was calmed, tamed a little by the presence of these others and, as the moon sailed high in the sky, the werewolf somehow knew that he will not be sorry for the company of the dog, the rat and the stag that night.
Without you, I'm nothing by Clare Mansfield
Chapter Notes: The night of Remus' transformation is upon them.