What happened to you, mate?” Sirius asked Remus. “Did your mum beat you up or something?”
Remus, who had gotten back to the common room in time for a few bottles of butterbeer, had a black eye and several nasty looking scars that he certainly hadn’t had the day before.
“No, I fell down the stairs,” he said, wincing as he put pressure on his scarred right leg.
He had, of course, done nothing of the sort. It had been his first transformation away from home, and it had been worse than usual. The Shrieking Shack had lost several pieces of furniture that night. Not that anyone cared. Remus was the only one who knew how to get into the Shack, aside from Madam Pomphrey and Dumbledore.
“What kind of stairs do you have?” James asked moodily. “Because none that I know of can do that.”
“What’s wrong?” Remus asked, concerned at his friend’s tone. James told him. Remus whistled.
“Merlin’s pants! You really did it?”
“Of course! What else could I do? And Sirius and Peter haven’t exactly been angels of comfort either.”
Sirius spread his arms in a sort of not-my-fault gesture. “It could’ve been done to anyone! And she slapped me too!”
“You really shouldn’t have told him to do that, Sirius,” Remus said sagaciously, shaking his head. “That was incredibly underhanded, even for you!”
“She way overreacted!” Sirius protested. “I swear, if some girl snogged me on a dare, I would’ve been a lot better about it.”
“If you consider snogging her back taking it well…”
James had to duck as a butterbeer bottle soared straight at him.
“That’s only if she’s reasonably good-looking!” Sirius cried indignantly.
“And if she’s not?” James continued, his eyes glittering.
“I’d probably pull an Evans and get physical on her,” Sirius admitted. James threw his bottle (this time complete with butterbeer) at Sirius for the casual reference to his bodily and emotional torture of three hours before. It hit him in the face, and he howled as bits of glass embedded themselves into his skin.
Sirius ran off to find an older student who could repair flesh wounds after taking the glass out. He came back ten minutes later, healed but still fuming.
“I’ll get you for that, Potter,” he breathed. James was not unduly surprised at the use of his surname.
“I think not, Black,” he replied, laying a delicate stress on the last word. They stared each other down for nearly a full minute before bursting into laughter and giving each other high-fives.
“Nice shot, Jamesie,” Sirius chuckled, slapping his friend on the back. Remus rolled his eyes at them, drawing their attention back to him.
“So what really did happen to you?” James asked. “And don’t give us that rubbish about falling down the steps; you’d just get bumps and bruises from that.”
Remus lowered his eyes and sank into an armchair.
“You don’t understand,” he said in a barely audible whisper. “I can’t tell you, I just can’t!”
“Why not?” Sirius said rather forcefully. “We’re your mates, aren’t we?”
“Of course!” Remus cried. “And I want it to stay that way, and that’s why I can’t tell you!”
“Come off it,” James said, half laughing. “We wouldn’t desert you for anything!”
“You would,” Remus informed him. “Trust me, you would.”
“Just give us a hint?” Sirius begged. Remus shook his head angrily.
“Leave me alone! I can’t tell you, all right?”
“No, it bloody well is not all right,” James said seriously. “You look like you’ve been beaten up, and we want to know why.”
Remus scowled, closed the book he had been reading, and stormed up to the dormitory.
“Well, there’s nothing else to do,” Sirius sighed.
“Dumbledore?”
“Yep.”
A quarter of an hour later, James and Sirius stood in front of the ugly stone gargoyle that guarded the spiral staircase to the Headmaster’s study, and realized that they didn’t know the password.
“Er, Slytherin sucks?” James said hesitantly.
Sirius looked at him in disgust.
“D’you honestly think that would be the password?” he said. “He has to tell the teachers too, you know.”
“It was a thought!”
“Which is more than I can say for you most of the time,” Sirius said fairly. James belched.
“Sorry, too much butterbeer,” he apologized, and to their astonishment, the gargoyle sprang to life and moved aside.
“Butterbeer must’ve been the password,” James said, marveling inwardly at his own genius.
The two stepped onto the moving staircase. When it stopped, they approached the tall oak door. Neither of them wanted to be the one to knock.
“You do it.”
“No, you do it!”
“I thought of the password; that means you have to do it.”
Sirius raised a hand to the handsome door and knocked three times. A loud voice sounded from inside.
“If you’re selling Dungbombs, I don’t want any. I have just introduced a new line of Dungbombs and therefore have all I could possibly desire. Otherwise, please come in.”
James turned the doorknob, and he and Sirius walked into the room. Dumbledore was seated at his desk, smiling blithely at them.
“Have you really just introduced a new line of Dungbombs?” James asked incredulously, forgetting for the moment why they had come.
“I have indeed,” Dumbledore answered him, his smile widening. “Gradual Release Dungbombs; make a whole corridor smell for weeks at a time. But I’m sure you haven’t come to listen to my sales pitch, wonderful though it may be. Why have you boys come to see me?”
“Well, it’s Remus Lupin,” Sirius began awkwardly. “He just got back from visiting his mum, and, er, he looks pretty bad.”
“Yeah,” James added. “I want to find out who did it and hex them so they won’t ever stand up again.”
Sirius gave James a you-idiot-you-don’t-say-stuff-like-that-to-a-teacher look, but James didn’t seem to care and neither did Dumbledore.
“Such loyalty is admirable,” the professor said slowly, “but has it occurred to you how Remus must be feeling?”
It hadn’t. Dumbledore went on.
“You are obviously good friends with him, to be so worried about his health and safety. I am afraid I’m responsible for the fact that Remus cannot tell you what has happened to him.”
James and Sirius shot identical quizzical looks at Dumbledore.
“You see, I asked him not to tell anyone about this, something he agreed to readily. I believe he rather thinks you wouldn’t be friends with him if he did.”
“He’s mentioned that,” Sirius said, wondering how Dumbledore knew so much.
“I thought he might have. Exceptionally bright students though you two may be, you are just too young to understand what happens to Mr. Lupin.”
“‘Happens’?” James questioned. “You mean this has happened to him before?”
“Yes, and it will keep happening and there is nothing yourself and Mr. Black can do about it,” Dumbledore said sternly. “Remus may tell you if he desires how he got the abrasions of which you have informed me, or he may not. It is his choice and his alone and I do not intend for either of you to attempt to make it for him. You may go now.”
There was no mistaking the dismissal. The two boys got up and exited the study.
A/N: Soo...another chappie done! Please review to share any questions, complaints, greivances, gargoyles or guacamole you may have!
Thanks for the Memories by tiger_lily821
Chapter Notes: When they first suspect...*evil background music*
Remus is a good bit OOC in this chapter, sorry about that, but he gets back in line soon enough!