The Best Kind of Friends
December brought with it a ceaseless freezing gust of wind and a thick blanket of snow that coated the grounds literally overnight. The students went to be one cold night and the next morning there was no green left at all on the grounds. This cold weather also brought several dozen cases of the common cold and the flu amongst all years in the castle. Madam Pomfrey had never been so overworked in her life, even with a Lycanthropic student to take care of, and the students were wagering when she would finally snap and announce her resignation. The students certainly thought she would quit when every Gryffindor seventh year appeared in the infirmary one morning, complaining of headaches, stomachaches, completely stuffed up noses and throat-shattering sneezes.
It seemed a great relief when Professor McGonagall made her rounds around the Great Hall one morning in the middle of the month, taking down the names of the students who would be staying at the castle for the holidays. This meant that Madam Pomfrey was free to relinquish her charges to their parents for a week, at least. She only had to take care of the less than ten students that usually remained behind. Besides, she had to take care of herself now. She had contracted the common cold the day the seventh years all came down with the same illness at once. She believed the students did everything in packs �“ including getting ill. She really was getting too old for her job.
“So, we’re all staying here for Christmas, right?” James asked as Professor McGonagall took down the names of some Gryffindor second years at the opposite end of the table.
“I am,” Sirius said at once, prodding a piece of burnt bacon with a distasteful look. “I’m not going to spend Christmas by myself in my flat. That just sounds a little pathetic.”
James couldn’t agree more. “Pete? What about you?”
“Staying here.”
“Remus?”
Remus shifted in his seat, spooning around his porridge before pushing it away, not very hungry anymore. “I’m going to go home.”
“What?” his friends asked disbelievingly. “Why are you going home?” Sirius asked confusedly. They had made a pact ages ago that they would all spend their last Christmas in Hogwarts at Hogwarts.
“I’m just going, forget about it.”
“Come on, there’s got to be a reason.”
“Yeah, well, just drop it, Sirius.”
“Christmas is a full moon, isn’t it?” James deduced. He hadn’t checked the moon charts for December yet, but what other explanation could there be? There had never been a full moon on Christmas during their years at school; it was bound to happen eventually.
Remus nodded jerkily, saying nothing else about it.
“So why would you go home? Spend the night here! We’ll make it the best full moon you’ve ever had.”
Remus stubbornly shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but no… I’m just going to go home.”
“Why?” Sirius persisted.
“You guys shouldn’t have to spend your Christmas night with a werewolf, alright? That’s why. So just sign the bloody sheet McGonagall has and let me go home.”
Sirius rolled his eyes. Trust Remus to think they would mind having to run around the Shrieking Shack with him on a full moon. “Come on, Moony, stop being stupid. Do you think we mind spending Christmas night with a werewolf?”
“I’m not going to be much fun on Christmas; I’ll be sick and you guys know what I’m like when I’m sick. It’s a lot better for me to not ruin it for the rest of you.”
“What?” James said in a voice filled with mock surprise. “You’ll just be your usual charming self.”
“Just drop it, James,” Remus insisted firmly. Standing up, he plucked his bag up off the bench. Slinging it over his shoulder, he said, “We’ve got classes, guys.”
Muttering mutinously, James, Sirius and Peter collected their belongings and trooped out into the Entrance Hall behind Remus. As they were making their way out, Regulus was doing the same. Three pairs of eyes darted to Sirius, who nodded for them to go on ahead. James, Remus and Peter were reluctant, knowing this confrontation could lead to nothing good, but with another firm nod from Sirius, they hurried on to Charms. Sirius took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever was going to happen. This was the first time he had confronted Regulus since Diagon Alley.
“Regulus,” Sirius began tonelessly. He didn’t want to leave anything in his voice to suggest that he was about to try and reason with his younger brother.
“What?” Regulus asked heatedly.
Sirius was taken aback. Regulus was mad with him already and he hadn’t even done anything to deserve it yet. “I just wanted to talk.”
“I have class.” Regulus attempted to push his way past Sirius, but Sirius wouldn’t have it. He pushed back, forcing Regulus to hear him out. Regulus was seething. The last thing he wanted to do was talk with his older brother. “What do you want, Sirius?”
“I told you, I want to talk.”
Regulus narrowed his eyes dubiously. “I know what you want to talk about, so save it for someone who actually cares. You never gave a damn about what I do, so stop pretending you do now.” He pushed his brother out of the way and started for the stairs, only to have Sirius block him again by snatching the collar of his robe. “What?”
“You really don’t think I care about what you do?” Sirius was truly hurt by that statement. He did care about what his brother did with his life, he always had. Why else would he be going painfully out of his way to speak to Regulus? He wanted to stop him before he got in over his head and could never come back out. He didn’t want his brother getting hurt. No matter how badly they got on, Sirius would never wish harm upon Regulus.
Regulus, however, didn’t believe this. “You forfeited any right to care about anyone in our family the moment you left home.”
Sirius let out a frustrated snarl. When would Regulus ever stop using that as an excuse? “That was two bloody years ago, Regulus! Get over it! I didn’t leave because of you; I left because of our mental parents.”
“Don’t talk about them that way.”
“Oh, right, I forgot, you’re Mummy and Daddy’s favourite boy. You’re not ‘big bad Sirius’. You’re not some delinquent who has a mind of his own. Is that why you’re running around in that mask of yours? Is it to make them prouder of you than they already are or to make me look worse to them than I already do? Why are you running around with that filth?”
Regulus’s eyes widened at an alarming rate and he hurried to silence Sirius. “Don’t talk about what you don’t know.”
“And what is it I don’t know, Regulus? Is it that I don’t know what a monster you’ll turn into if you continue running around with those people? Merlin, Regulus, I just want what’s best for you!”
“Since when?”
“Since I was old enough to care! Why will you never believe that?”
“Because of the people you run around with, the way you spoke to Dad the day you left, the horrible things you said to Mum, because you never once apologised for abandoning your family.”
Sirius let out a breath slowly. It always came down to this �“ Regulus always used this as an excuse. When was he going to wake up and realise Sirius would never apologise for doing those things? Sirius wasn’t happy living there and if he ever wanted to be happy, he had to leave. Living with the Potters was the best thing he could have done for himself. If Regulus really cared, he would have seen that. Resignedly, he said, “I guess you’ll never believe me then. But, just listen to me for a moment, all I’m asking you for is one moment. Your life will be destroyed if you keep going the way you are. I’m only telling you this because I don’t want you getting hurt. Believe what you want, but that’s the truth.”
Christmas Day was a dark, dreary sort of day. The beautiful white snow that had coated the outside had now been turned into grey slush that got everywhere the moment someone stepped outside. The rain had not stopped coming down in buckets once since dawn broke and there was thunder rumbling in the distance and faint flashes of lightening, signaling the coming of the storm that had been just out of reach all day. Any hopes that anyone might have had for a white Christmas were dashed before the even smallest of children woke up, wondering if Father Christmas had paid a visit late the night before.
The inside of the Lupin house was almost silent except for the quiet talking of Harry Lupin, who was sitting by the fireplace, conversing with Charles Potter, whose head was sitting in the crackling, green flames. Charles was planning on stopping by the next morning to help heal any wounds Remus would receive from the full moon. Harry was trying to tell him it wasn’t necessary, the full moons weren’t that bad for his son anymore, but Charles wouldn’t hear any of it. Think of it as a Christmas present, was what he said.
“How’s he feeling?” Charles asked concernedly. Ever since he had seen Harry Lupin in St. Mungo’s after his son’s bad reaction to one of the alleged cures, when he learned what his son’s friend’s ailment was, Charles always felt a great amount of concern for the Lupins’ boy when the full moon drew near.
“He was sleeping last time I checked,” Harry replied, glancing up at the railings upstairs that blocked most of Remus’s room from view. He had gone upstairs that morning to see if Remus had woken up yet, but he had been sound asleep.
Just as Charles opened his mouth to say something else, there were footsteps coming from behind Harry. He turned to see Remus coming downstairs, his face pale and yawning widely. Harry offered his son a small smile. “How’re you feeling, Remus?”
“Fine,” Remus replied sleepily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Then, glancing at the head in the fire, he added, “Happy Christmas, Mr. Potter.”
Charles smiled. “You too, Remus.”
“Your mother’s in the kitchen, she has your present waiting for you.” Remus nodded distractedly and disappeared into the kitchen, where Harry heard his wife wishing their son a Happy Christmas. Shaking his head, he turned back to Charles. “He hasn’t gotten out of bed all day; he must be feeling a little better.”
“You know everyone at the hospital is trying to do something to make this easier for… well, for people like Remus.”
“How many of them are really trying?” Harry asked harshly. His face then reddened and he sighed, shaking his head again. “I don’t mean to yell at you, Charles. You care about my son like he was your own. I know you’re doing everything you can. But the others… how do I know they’re not just saying they’re looking for a cure?”
“I don’t blame you for feeling that way. I admit that some of my colleagues aren’t as invested in finding a cure as others are.” Charles smiled suddenly. It was a proud smile. “But I can tell you that soon we’ll have someone who truly cares working with us. Once the school year is over.”
Harry knew at once who Charles was speaking of. His face broke into a small grin. “James decided to become a Healer?”
Charles nodded proudly. His face was absolutely beaming. James had wanted to be an Auror for so long and then announced over the summer that he was planning on becoming a Healer instead. Charles couldn’t be prouder of his son if he tried. James was always trying to help others; a Healer was the perfect profession for him. “He told me right before he started school, when he got his Head Boy badge.” Charles let out a chuckle. “If you’d seen his face when he saw that badge along with his letter, he must have thought someone was playing a horrible trick on him.”
“You should have seen the look of horror on Remus’s face when he found out he was a Prefect. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him yell so loudly. Anna and I thought someone was hurting him when we heard him shout.”
“James was pretty terrified as well, though he wouldn’t admit it. He thought anyone but him should have gotten it. He was going to post the badge here, thinking it must have been sent to him by mistake.”
“I’m sure James is a fine Head Boy.”
“He is now that he’s gotten it through his head that it wasn’t a mistake.” Charles’s eyes turned to his right, as if he was listening to someone. His wife must have been asking him to get his head out of the fireplace. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry.”
“See you then.” Harry stood up as Charles’s head disappeared and the emerald green flames returned to their fiery red. He wandered into the kitchen, where he was met with the sight of his wife cooking dinner and his son turning over the new watch his parents had given him in his hands with a rather perplexed look on his face. “You’re wondering why we gave you another watch?” he surmised.
“Yes,” Remus replied, holding up his left wrist, where the watch he’d been given for his seventeenth birthday rested. “I already have one.”
“Yes, but you don’t know how to tell time on that one,” Mrs. Lupin said as she mixed cake batter around the bowl she was holding.
“I would have figured it out eventually.”
“Yes, but I can’t have my son going around not knowing what time it is,” Mrs. Lupin went on, setting the bowl down on the counter. She approached her son, took the watch out of his slackened grip, and slid it onto his left wrist, snapping the clasps closed before he could do anything about it and also removing the other timepiece he was wearing and putting it in his hands. “It was my father’s. The only thing he left to me, I want my son to have it.” She said this all with an air of finality and Remus knew better than to protest.
Remus never knew his grandparents on his mother’s side. They weren’t thrilled with their daughter’s marriage to Harry and his mother knew they would never approve if they found out her husband and son were wizards and her son was a werewolf. He knew why his mother wanted him to have the watch; it wasn’t just because he couldn’t tell time with the other one. He managed a smile for his mother and thanked her for the present.
The full moon was vicious that night. The werewolf didn’t know if it was this way because it was Christmas night and this would usually be a time when he would be having fun with his friends, free from the wrath of the lunar cycle. He didn’t know if this just happened to be a particularly violent full moon that just happened to fall on Christmas night. Whatever the reason was, all the werewolf knew was that this was the worst full moon he had felt in a very, very long time.
And he was all alone.
He knew he should have taken his friends up on their offer to spend the full moon with him in Hogsmeade or even just in the Shrieking Shack, but he was stupid and didn’t. He didn’t want them to have to waste their night with a werewolf when they could be perfectly happy, testing out their new presents and enjoying the delicious feast in the castle. They didn’t need to spend their Christmas night with him, the miserable and violent werewolf. No, it was best he just went home and stayed with his parents for the week. It was best he endure the full moon on his own. He knew his mother and father were sitting awake in the sitting room, waiting anxiously for the moon to set.
The small shed the werewolf had once inhabited during the full moon had long ago been replaced. The werewolf was still small for his age, but big enough that he needed a larger shed to transform in, otherwise the shed would break. The new shed had been put in place when the werewolf had turned fifteen and had the smallest growth spurt known to man. The werewolf had more space to roam around, but he still hated being confined to this tiny space. The werewolf wanted to be running around the Shrieking Shack, the Forbidden Forest (with the exception of the angry centaurs) or prowling the streets of Hogsmeade. But no, because of the werewolf’s own stupidity, he had decided to come home and bypass all that so his friends wouldn’t have to run around with him all night.
He was really stupid sometimes.
The only reason that the Animagi were there was for that purpose �“ to help him. The only reason James, Sirius and Peter had trained for three years to become Animagi was so that they could keep their friend company when the full moon rose, so he wouldn’t bite and scratch himself like he always did. Without his Animagi friends here now, the werewolf was biting and scratching worse than ever. His howls shattered the otherwise peaceful Christmas night. The storm that had been threatening earlier had long passed over.
This wasn’t right, this just wasn’t right. It was Christmas! He shouldn’t have had to turn into a hairy monster on Christmas. He’d rather it was his birthday ten times over than Christmas. The closest he had ever come to transforming on Christmas had been when he was twelve, the year Sirius had come over for the holiday. That had been one of his favourite holidays, right up there with last year when all of his friends and their families had come over. True, he, James, Sirius and Peter were stuck with Muggle cleaning duty, but it had been fun. He had had his friends with him; there was nothing more he could ask for.
But this year… this year he was on his own. His parents were mere feet away, yes, but they couldn’t help him. They had tried for so many years to help him, yet Remus knew they should just give up. They were wasting their money trying to find a cure for him. He knew there would never be a cure. Anything the Healers came up with would do nothing more than make his condition worse. He didn’t want his parents searching for a cure anymore, wasting their money on him. It only resulted in a letdown. He knew better than to get his hopes up; he knew the cures wouldn’t work, yet he got his hopes up anyway and was always disappointed.
He was tired of being disappointed.
He was tired of hurting his parents. He knew they would never blame him for what happened; his father always blamed himself. His father believed that if he had never written that article about Fenrir Greyback, Remus never would have become a werewolf. That may have been true to some extent, but it wasn’t his father who had lured him out of the house fourteen years ago. Remus had led himself out of the house. He knew he was only three years old at the time, but even three year old boys knew that you shouldn’t go outside in the middle of the night. But he went outside anyway and here he was almost fifteen years later.
He knew he should count himself lucky. He may be a werewolf, but he had parents who loved him and friends who would do anything for him. There weren’t many werewolves who could say they had that. He knew he was lucky for what he had. Most werewolves would never be admitted into Hogwarts and yet he was about to finish his seventh year. He was lucky and he knew it. But that didn’t stop him from realising that there would be a time in his life when it all came crashing down around him. He was leaving school; he needed to get a job. No one would ever hire him. His parents wouldn’t be around forever.
This wouldn’t last forever.
The peaceful night was shattered once again, this time by a sad, lonely howl from a werewolf who was realising that the old cliché would hold true for him �“ all good things had to come to an end.
“Merlin, he looks awful.”
“Like someone rode their broom over his face.”
“How would that make him look awful, Wormtail?”
“I dunno… the handle could have dragged over his face.”
“Yeah, but that still wouldn’t be that much damage, maybe just a long red line.”
“Shut up, Padfoot.”
“Well, someone’s touchy.”
“Oi, would you two shut up? He’s probably got a bad enough headache without the two of you making it worse by arguing over what kind of damage a bloody broomstick handle would do.”
Sirius and Peter couldn’t stop their mouths from dropping open when James snapped at them. Usually James would jump right in, joke about it with them. James had certainly been changing since the beginning of the year. Sometimes it was for the better, other times, like right now, it made him a bit irritable. The three boys were currently sitting in Remus’s loft bedroom, waiting, rather impatiently, for him to wake up. Charles Potter was fast at work and had Remus sedated on Sleeping Potions, so he could work and Remus wouldn’t be aware of any pain he might otherwise experience.
The three boys were sitting by the stairs, giving Mr. Potter plenty of room to work. The night looked like it had been a terrible one and James’s father certainly had his work cut out for him. The boys remembered Remus saying his grandfather used to come and heal him when the full moon had descended, but his grandfather had died years ago, when Remus was only thirteen. Charles took over that position now, whenever Remus was home from school. He felt it was the one thing he could do to make him feel better.
So far, he had bound and bandaged Remus’s right arm, which had been at a funny angle and bleeding horribly. There were multiple bruises and scratches across his face, which inspired the conversation Sirius and Peter had been having before James told them to be quiet. There was some severe bruising around his ribs, forcing Mr. Potter to immobilize Remus so he wouldn’t move before they could be healed. Progress was being made, but it would be some time before Remus woke up. The boys were occupying themselves by sorting through Remus’s record collection.
“These Muggle people give themselves weird names,” James commented, picking up a record with the name Pink Floyd on it and looking at it with mild confusion.
“That’s not the weirdest one,” Sirius told him seriously, taking the record from James and looking it over, admiring the design on the jacket. “The old ones he gave me for my birthday had even stranger names.”
They were distracted by a sigh from James’s father. Looking around, they saw he had straightened up and was pocketing his wand. Offering the boys a tired smile, he informed them, “Well, that’s all I can do for him now.”
“He’s alright, isn’t he?” James asked tentatively.
“He’ll be fine.” Charles offered the boys another small smile before walking around them to get down the stairs. Once Charles had disappeared downstairs, the three boys got up and crowded around their friends bed. As if sensing someone’s presence, Remus’s eyes slowly began opening. They almost laughed at the look of utter shock on his face when he saw his three friends. His eyes were wide and, if he could have, he probably would have jumped in an attempt to shield himself. He had learned a long time ago that waking up with his friends surrounding him usually meant they had done something.
“What are you doing here?” he asked hoarsely.
“We were just passing through,” Sirius began, casually inspect his nails.
“And we thought it would be fun to drop in on our favourite werewolf friend,” James continued in the same fashion.
“So here we are. You’re looking well rested, I must say.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “Honestly, what are you lot doing here? You signed McGonagall’s list of students staying at the castle.”
James nodded. “We did, but then decided there was no way we were letting you wake up without having your friends around.”
“And we couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to bother you relentlessly,” Sirius added dismissively. Then, in his most somber voice, he went on, “and we want our Christmas presents, now.”
“I left your presents at school. I thought that’s where you’d be.”
Sirius huffed and looked indignantly at James and Peter. “So, that’s how it’s going to be. I guess we’ll just keep his presents for ourselves then.”
James nodded wholeheartedly. “Yeah, we should. Remus, just ignore that small pile over there by the stairs, it’ll be gone in five minutes.”
Remus rolled his eyes again. He knew his friends would never dream of doing that. “So you three really just came here for why you said you did?”
“Hey, we said we’d spend the last Christmas holiday at school together. Certain lunar forces prevented that. But it doesn’t mean we can’t do that now.”
The four boys often told themselves that they would always be there for one another, that they would do everything together. Now that school was coming to an end, with just a half a year left, they didn’t know if that was possible. They had had their realisation mere hours after Professor McGonagall went around taking students’ names down. There would be a time in their lives when they wouldn’t be able to be there for each other. They couldn’t, they wouldn’t, let that time be now.
They had to use this time to be the best kind of friends possible.