Monsters
"Moony? Moony? Moooooooooony? Moony, speak to me, Moony!"
"Humph," Remus said as he jerked out of the light dose he had been enjoying.
"Eloquently put," said Sirius, who had just shaken Remus awake. Remus was recovering from the full moon on the night before last, but as much as Remus needed the sleep, Sirius had a feeling that Remus would not appreciate it if they let him sleep through his morning classes. They were sitting in the Great Hall eating breakfast under the enchanted ceiling, which showed them the first snowfall of their fourth year. Remus had fallen asleep with his head resting on his folded arms on the table in front of him, an incredible feat given the noise level of the Hall, and until now his friends had let him rest undisturbed. However, they now had less than ten minutes to be in Charms, so Sirius had shaken their sleepy friend awake in order to ensure that he would not miss one action-packed minute of that which was a Hogwarts school day.
"Come on, we have Charms," said Sirius.
"Whazzat?" mumbled Remus.
"Charms, Moony. Padfoot said, 'we have Charms.' And he's right," James said looking at his watch. "We need to go." He and Peter stood up, each grabbing some toast to go. Sirius help drag a yawning Remus to his feet, and the four of them set off out of the Great Hall.
James attempted to reestablish conversation as they left the Hall, but his mouth was full of toast and Remus overrode him. "Chew, swallow, then speak, Prongs. No one wants to see that this early in the morning."
"Tetchy tetchy," said Peter.
"Shut it, Wormtail," Remus yawned.
"Yeah Wormtail, I'd be a bit nicer if I were you," said Sirius. "One more wise crack like that and Moony will be out to get you. And we all know how scary a half-asleep, untransformed werewolf can be."
"I'll have you know that I am only twenty-three percent asleep at the moment, thank you very much, Padfoot," Remus corrected him, stifling another yawn.
"Oh, sorry, my mistake, Moony."
Moony. It had been his name for the past five months and he had to admit that he quite liked it. They had come up with their nicknames while staying at James's (Prongs's) place over the summer, and they had stuck like glue ever since. They had locked themselves in the parlor at the Potters' manor so as not to risk interference from James's parents and started their work on the Animagus transformation, and although they were far from being able to transform at will, they had made enough progress to at least discover what kind of animal they would become. At this point, James - who was very fond of nicknames - decided that they would create their own, only to be used amongst themselves, based on the animals they could become.
"It's not fair," Peter whined, hunched up in one of the parlor's squashy armchairs. "You guys all get to be big, cool animals and I'm stuck being a puny rat."
"Oh, come on, Peter," James said from his seat on the grand piano bench, "being a rat is going to be great! Imagine the possibilities!"
"Like what?" Peter asked.
"Well, Sirius and I might be big animals, but there's lots of stuff that big animals can't do. You'll be able to...sneak into small places or...spy without being noticed or using the Cloak or..."
"Press the knot on the Willow," said Remus, looking up. He was curled up in his own armchair by the fireplace reading a book.
"What?" asked James.
"The knot on the trunk of the Whomping Willow. I told you that that's the way you freeze it so you can get in. Even if you wear the Cloak, you guys will still be in danger of getting hit by the tree if you approach the trunk. But if Peter were to transform, he could get to the trunk easily. The tree's not going to notice a little rat running through the grass."
"See, Peter," said James, nodding his thanks to Remus, "we wouldn't be able to even get to the tunnel without you."
"Well," said Peter, "I guess that's kind of cool."
"And," said James, whose imagination seemed to be running away with him, "you could make a quick getaway if you ever got in a sticky situation. One minute, Peter's there, the next, 'Hey, where did Peter go? All that's here now is a rat!' Quite handy for avoiding detention," James concluded.
"And think of all the cheese, Peter!" said Sirius, who was lounging across the large sofa with his hands behind his head.
"Pardon?" said Remus.
"The cheese!" Sirius repeated, turning to look at him, his head in his hand propped up on one elbow. "Think of all the cheese you could eat, Peter!"
"Err, Sirius, I can eat cheese now," said Peter.
Sirius shrugged. "Still, I know how much you like cheese."
"That's true," said Peter. "I guess being a rat could be fun."
"That's right," Remus said encouragingly.
"Hey, I have an idea!" James said, his face lighting up with excitement.
"Don't you always," Remus said a little wearily.
"We should come up with nicknames that match our animals. You know, something subtle so that we know what we're talking about, but other people won't."
"That's not a bad idea at all," said Remus.
"Try not to sound so surprised," said James.
"What's your nickname going to be?" Sirius asked James.
"Bambi," Remus suggested innocently.
"That's girly," James said, sticking out his tongue in disgust.
"Bambi was male, actually," Remus pointed out.
"Yeah, well, he had a sissy name," said James. "And 'he' was a fawn, anyway. I'm a stag; I need a manly name."
"How about 'Stag'?" suggested Peter.
"It lacks a certain creativity," said Sirius. "What if the nicknames didn't have to mean the whole animal? What if we just made them refer to distinctive part of the animals?"
"What's distinctive about a stag?" asked James.
"How about the big effing antlers?" Sirius said. "You almost poked my eyes out with them, remember?"
"Prongs," said Remus.
"Sorry?" said Sirius.
"We'll call him 'Prongs'," said Remus. "It's subtle, but it refers to antlers, so it works for a stag."
"I like it!" James said. "Okay, what about Peter? What's distinctive about a rat?"
"Sharp teeth?"
"Watery eyes?"
"Generally unpleasant stench?"
"The tail," said Peter. "Rat's have big, long, bald tails. It makes them different from other rodents."
"Rattail?" suggested James.
"If you want him to be constantly beat up with towels," said Sirius.
"Oh yeah," said James disappointedly.
"I think rats' tails look kind of like earthworms," Sirius mused.
"Earthwormtail!" said James.
"Think smaller," said Sirius.
"Wormtail?"
"Eww," said Remus.
"I think it's cool," said James.
"Really?" asked Peter.
"Yeah," said James. "It sounds tough. You don't want to mess with a guy named Wormtail."
"It's up to Peter," said Remus.
"I think Wormtail's okay," said Peter.
"Excellent!" said James. "What about Sirius?"
"Padfoot," said Sirius.
"That was fast," said James.
"I've been thinking about it," said Sirius, examining his hand with interest. "What makes a dog special? There are lots of things, but I like having paws the best. So, I can up with Padfoot."
"But then we don't get to go through the lovely banter of ridiculous names!" James whined.
"Exactly," said Sirius.
"Fine," James huffed, clearly disappointed. "We'll call you Padfoot. It is pretty cool, I guess. I mean, not as cool as Prongs, of course, but it will do."
"Glad you approve," said Sirius.
"What about Remus?" James asked.
"Me? I'm not going to be an Animagus."
"So you think that means you don't get a cool nickname?" asked James. "No way. You need a nickname too. How about Once-A-Month Wolfboy?"
"That name hasn't gotten any cooler in the two years since you first suggested it," said Sirius.
"What's distinctive about a werewolf?" asked Peter. "I've only ever seen pictures of a transformed werewolf."
"Don't ask me," said Remus. "I don't spend a lot of time examining my appearance at full moon."
"We could call him 'Fang'," James said.
"Hagrid just got a puppy named Fang," said Sirius. "We wouldn't want Remus to have to share."
"And all wolves have fangs," said Peter. "We want something that's special for a werewolf."
"If you think I'm going to go dig out my Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook while I'm on holiday just to look up the ways a werewolf is different from a regular wolf," Sirius began, "you are sadly - "
"There's the shape of the snout, the pupils, and the tufted tail for starters," said James, standing up and starting to pace as he thought.
The others stared at him. "You're starting to sound a bit like Evans," said Sirius.
James threw a pillow from the nearest chair at him and said, "So I read a bit of the textbook? Big deal. It wasn't like it was for class or anything; I had a personal interest in the matter."
"Okay," said Peter. "How about Tufttail?"
"I prefer Once-A-Month Wolfboy," said Remus.
"And we already have a 'tail' name," James said, resuming his seat on the piano bench.
"Vicious, Blood-Thirsty, Man-Eating Monster?" suggested Sirius.
"It doesn't exactly roll off the tongue," Remus said coolly. "And I thought we were going for subtle."
"Is that not subtle?" asked Sirius.
"Not really, no," said Remus.
The four of them lapsed into thoughtful silence for a few minutes, trying to figure out the perfect nickname for their werewolf friend. They all jumped slightly when James leaned his elbow absently against the piano and there was a great "plunk" of discordant keys. James removed his elbow with a guilty smile at his companions and the room fell back into silent thought.
"Moony," James said after a while. The others looked at him. "It's perfect," he continued. "It's subtle, so no one would figure it out if they didn't know, but it's also something special to werewolf."
"Moony," Sirius mused. "I like it."
"Me too," said Peter.
They all turned to look at Remus. "Well?" asked James. "What's the verdict on Moony?"
Remus considered for a minute. "Sounds good to me."
"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," said James, gesturing in turn to each of his friends and himself as he said their new nicknames. "I think that'll work just fine. Oh, how I do love nicknames."
And so the nicknames had been born, and had been used ever since.
"Cheer up, Moony," James said as they joined the queue outside of the Charms classroom. "It's only a matter of time before we finish with - " He looked carefully around for to make sure no one was listening in. "With our 'project'. Then we can come with you when you're dealing with your furry little problem and full moons won't be such a bitch."
"I hope so," said Remus, putting his bag down and leaning his back against the corridor wall. "This last one was really terrible."
"Now that's a little unfair, Moony," said Sirius. "All of your full moons are terrible."
"Speaking of unfair, did I tell you guys what happened at Quidditch practice last night?" James asked. This inevitably led to a long-winded but somewhat amusing story about something stupid James had done at practice the night before and the "unfair" consequences that had followed it.
"It's just so terrible, I can't even get my mind around it," said Lily.
"I know," said Mary MacDonald, her friend and fellow fourth-year. "I can't begin to imagine what she's going through."
"I don't want to imagine it," said Lily. They were walking to their first hour Charms lesson, but they both knew they wouldn't be able to focus on their class. Their thoughts were upstairs with Lara Coote, a girl with whom they shared a dormitory, and her family. Lara had received some terrible news this morning, and Lily knew that it would be on her own mind all day. It was an occupational hazard of being the empathetic person Lily was.
They reached Charms to find most of the class queued outside the classroom. None of the rest of them seemed to know the tragic news. Most people were chatting with each other and a few were hurriedly finishing the assignment due in today's lesson. James Potter seemed to be acting out an amusing story as he recounted it to his friends.
As Lily and Mary approached, Potter finished his story and turned to look at them. He seemed taken aback by the somber looks on their faces.
"Who died?" he asked, demonstrating his notorious lack of subtlety.
Lily spared him a cold look before answering, "Lara's little brother."
Potter and his friends gaped at her.
"What?" Black asked.
"He died night before last," said Mary, who was the verge of tears. "Lara just got the news this morning."
"But...but how did he die?" asked Lupin.
"He was killed by a werewolf," said Lily.
Each of the four boys reacted differently to the news: Pettigrew looked frightened, Black looked angry, Potter looked disbelieving, and Lupin looked like he might be ill. What they had in common was that all of them seemed to be robbed temporarily of speech.
The silence went on for a little to long for Lily's comfort. "It's horrible, isn't it?"
Black exchanged a fleeting look with Potter before asking, "Are you sure?"
"Sure of what?" asked Lily.
"Sure that he was killed by a werewolf," Black said. There was something strange about his tone, but Lily couldn't quite think what it was.
"He was found in the woods just outside the village they live in," Mary said, her voice rather higher than normally. "No one saw they werewolf, but he was...was really badly hurt. They took him to Saint Mungo's, but it was too late..."
She started to cry. The four boys were no longer the only ones listening. Most of the class had broken off from their own conversations to hear what Mary was saying. Lily put a comforting arm around Mary continued her explanation.
"He was dead before they reached the hospital," she said quietly, but so complete was the silence of her audience that everyone heard her. "He'd lost too much blood before he was found. But the Healers examined his body and confirmed that his injuries were caused by a werewolf attack."
"He was ten," Mary sniffed, wiping her face with her sleeve. "He would have come to Hogwarts next year."
Two of the other girls started to cry as well. The others looked miserable. The boys all wore expressions of deathly seriousness, but none more so than Potter, Pettigrew, and Black. The three of them were exchanging looks of deep significance. Just behind them, Lupin was leaning back against the wall, still looking as though he might be sick at any moment.
"Where's Lara?" asked one boy from the queue.
"In Dumbledore's office with her family," said Lily. "She and her brother and sister are all going home for a while for the funeral."
There was a short silence. Then, a girl with her arm around a crying friend asked, "Did they catch it?"
"Catch it?" asked Lily.
"The thing that killed him!" the girl exclaimed. "The werewolf; did they catch it?"
Mary shook her head, still sniffling. "They didn't find it."
"Well that's wonderful, isn't it," Delangela said sarcastically. "Lara brother gets slaughtered and her family doesn't even get to see the monster that did it put to death - "
"Shut up, Narkin," said Black. Maybe he thought it was inappropriate to talk about such things so soon after a tragedy.
"I agree with Del," said another girl. "There's no justice. If the werewolf got away, it will just be able to kill again next full moon. The least that can be done is - "
Her sentence was cut short by Professor Flitwick opening the classroom door and ushering the class inside. Most of the class filed in, some still wiping their eyes.
A few students lingered behind.
"Are you okay?" James asked.
"I'm fine," said Remus.
"You don't look very well," said Peter.
"I'm fine," Remus said more firmly. He picked up his bag and walked into the classroom.
"Oh he is so not fine," Remus heard Sirius mutter to James and Peter. Remus ignored him. He chose a seat at the back, furthest away from his classmates. His three friends took seats around him and waited for the lesson to begin.
The morning went as miserably as could be expected. Excepting they few hiatuses when they were forced to be quiet and listen to teachers, the students talked non-stop about the attack on Lara's brother. It wasn't just the fourth-years either; Lara had an older brother in seventh-year and a little sister who was a second-year in Ravenclaw. By mid-morning, the whole school, all years and all houses, were discussing werewolves.
Everyone seemed to have an opinion; opinions they wanted to share with everyone else.
"I think it's the Ministry's fault. If they didn't let monsters just run wild, things like this wouldn't happen. They should be locked away, all of them. If I get into the Ministry after leaving here, I'll have a lot of proposals to make in Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."
"Wouldn't it make the most sense just to kill them all off? I mean, in order for someone to become a werewolf, they have to be bitten by a werewolf. If all of the existing werewolves were killed, they couldn't make more, and that would be the end of it."
"My aunt says that any werewolf with a sense of decency would off himself before he had the chance to hurt innocent people."
"There was a werewolf living in our village once. When everyone found out what he was, they chased him out. They didn't want a creature like that anywhere near them. I think they were right to do it. Our village is for wizards, not animals."
"Half-breed freaks is what they are! What kind of person rips apart an innocent ten-year-old boy? Monsters, all of them, mutant freaks!"
"Some friends of my parents had a daughter who was bitten by a werewolf when she was only six. She survived the attack, but her parents decided to put her down. Can you blame them? Who would want to raise a werewolf for a kid?"
"My dad says there's no place in Wizarding society for werewolves. All they ever turn out to be are criminals and murderers. I personally think that our world would be a lot better off without that kind of filth."
Wherever he went that morning, Remus was surrounded by werewolf bashing. He heard it as he walked down the corridors between classes. He heard it from his classmates whenever they had time to chat in class. There was even a group of third-years discussing werewolves in the bathroom when Remus went there after second hour Defense Against the Dark Arts.
He tried to ignore it; he tried to convince himself that they didn't know what they were talking about and that what they said wasn't true. It was useless. Even if most of the stuff they said was a big pack of lies, the fact that they said it and thought it was enough. Of course, no nasty comments were aimed in his direction, but it was still hard to deal with the harsh reality of hate that was being presented on all sides.
Remus's friends were taking it just as bad, possibly worse. They seemed to take each nasty comment they heard about werewolves as as much of a personal insult as Remus did. Part of Remus was grateful; it was reassuring to have friends who cared so much about him. And he did prefer their indignation on his behalf to the alternative, which would have been his friends distancing themselves from him as they remembered that Remus the werewolf was just as capable of murder as the werewolf who had killed Lara's little brother.
Another part of him was slightly irritated by their over-protectiveness. Did they think he was so fragile that he couldn't cope? He wasn't immune to how the world saw him, in spite of his parents' and Dumbledore's best attempts to shield him. He knew perfectly well the low position he held in Wizarding society, that he was at Hogwarts only by a sheer miracle, and that he would never truly fit in as a werewolf in a world of wizards. He was not so na�ve and as easily wounded as his friends seemed to think. And anyway, where had their sympathy for his condition been on that night they had dragged him into the dark trees of the Forbidden Forest and threatened to kill him for being what he was? Their actions had been in humor, but they still came off as a little hypocritical.
But then, another part of Remus was not handling things as well as he would have liked to pretend. Somehow, it was two entirely different things to imagine the abstract concept of everyone hating him and actually hearing his classmates - people who knew him, people he was friendly with, people he saw everyday - saying things that were so hurtful to him, even if they couldn't possibly know it. This was the part of him that made him want to spend a lot of time hiding alone in a dark room so as not to have to face the world.
And yet another part of him was worried. With all this talk about werewolves fresh in everyone's minds, what if someone figured out about him? He would be out of school so fast it would make Snitches look like snails; that was, if he got out at all. And his friends' attitudes certainly weren't helping this. How could people not get suspicious when everyone and their cousin was cutting down werewolves expect James, Sirius, and Peter, who were defending werewolves. It was for this reason that Remus had to stop James (who was easily the most agitated of Remus's friends) when they had past a group of girls in the corridor after Charms who were making some particularly rude remarks about half-breeds, and James had made like he was about to start arguing with them.
"Prongs, no, please don't," Remus whispered, catching his indignant friend by the arm to hold him back. "Just let it go."
"Why should I?"
"It will just be worse if you go over there and make a big deal about it. It certainly won't make anything better by starting an argument, and you're never going to change their minds anyway. Just let it go."
"I can't. I don't like to hear people talk about my friends like that."
"Then do it for me, Prongs. I'm asking you, as a personal favor, please don't say anything. To them or to anyone else. It will only make things worse."
James let out a breath that was somewhere between an angry huff and a resigned sigh. "Alright, I won't say anything."
"I need you to promise me."
"Fine, Remus, I promise."
James kept his promise for the rest of the morning, though Remus could tell his resolution had been tested when Haley joined them. Haley Harrison was Lara Coote's best friend, and she had missed Charms that morning be with Lara and comfort her. She returned halfway through DADA class, bringing with her a wealth of new details about Lara brother's death and a large share of werewolf hate. As Haley informed their gossip-ravished peers about the intimate details of the werewolf's attack and the foul nature of werewolves in general, Remus could tell that it was all James could do not to march over to where Haley sat and start biting her head off.
And another small part of Remus, though annoyed and worried, was a little grateful for the distraction James provided. Making himself personally responsible for insuring his friends wouldn't do anything stupid gave Remus an outlet for the restless energy building inside him and stopped him from doing something stupid himself.
With all these parts of him battling it out and his mind being pulled in every direction as he went from anger to stress to depression and back again, Remus found that by the time lunch came around, he had quite lost his appetite. All and all, he'd had better mornings.
James was having trouble keeping his opinions to himself, but he was much less worried about himself than he was about Remus.
"I'm not hungry," Remus said quietly as they headed to the Great Hall for lunch. "I"ll see you guys later."
"Come on, Remus," said James, knowing it would be better for Remus to eat than to brood over the lunch hour. "It'll do you some good to get some food in you."
Sirius and Peter agreed, so Remus grudgingly followed them to the Great Hall for lunch. The Gryffindor table was already crowded when they entered. The only seats available were next to Lily, Delangela, Mary, and Haley Harrison, four people James knew that Remus didn't want to sit by. However, as they had no choice, they headed for the empty seats. As they neared the girls, their conversation became more and more audible. I wonder what they're talking about? thought James. Bunnies, perhaps?
"But they're mostly just normal people, aren't they?" Lily Evans was asking Haley. "I mean, except at the full moon, aren't they just regular humans the rest of the month?"
As the boys reached the four girls, they saw Haley shake her head. "No, it changes them. The bite, I mean. It makes them violent and stuff. They only become real wolves once a month, but if you ask me, they're just as dangerous when they're human, just less easy to spot." Not bunnies, then.
Remus stopped at the point of taking a seat. "I'll see you guys later," he said, and before any of them could say anything, he had gone.
Sirius watched him go and then turned a stony expression to James. "Nice going, Prongs."
"What did I do?" James asked, completely taken aback.
"'It;ll be good for you to get some food', now look what you've done," snapped Sirius.
"I didn't know they would still be talking about it!"
"What did you think they would be talking about? Bunnies?"
"Maybe," James admitted sourly.
"What are you guys talking about?" Delangela asked.
"Mind your own business!" James snapped at her.
"Should we go see if he's alright?" Sirius asked, ignoring Delangela's interruption.
"He probably wants some time alone," said Peter, "to think."
"Yeah," said James heavily, "but that's probably not the best thing for him, is it?"
"No," Sirius agreed. So without taking their seats, they turned and left the Great Hall.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Delangela called after them. James resisted the urge to make a rude hand gesture at her over his shoulder as he walked away.
"Where do you think he went?" Peter asked, as they climbed the marble staircase. "Gryffindor Tower?"
"Maybe," said James. "Or he could be hiding in a bathroom."
"He might have gone to the hospital wing," suggested Sirius. "If ever there were a day to fake ill..."
"Where first then?" James asked. "Or should we split up, do you reckon?"
"That's probably best," said Sirius. "Okay, I'll do the Tower because I forgot my Potions essay in the common room. Wormtail, why don't you take the hospital wing? And Prongs, you can check the loos."
"See you in History of Magic," said James. He and Peter headed off in the direction of the hospital wing and the nearest toilet. Sirius went the opposite direction toward Gryffindor Tower. If ever there were an excuse to skive off History of Magic... Sirius thought.
Remus was curled up on top of the blankets in his four-poster, and although he was still very tired, he couldn't sleep. He stared at the dark velvet of the hangings he had drawn around himself as phrases he had heard that day pounded in his head: animals...half-breed freaks...should be locked away...monsters...it changes them...makes them violent...just as dangerous when they're human.
Remus had been trying so hard to keep it together, but these last words of Haley's had pushed him over the edge. They had brought forward a painful memory in him that, try as he might, he could not push away; because Haley had not been the first person to believe that his bite would change his human side.
Remus sat just behind the door to the living room, listening to his parents arguing while nursing the still-stinging cut on his right arm. Last night had been his first full moon as a werewolf. He had awoken that morning in almost as much pain as the month before when he had been attacked and bitten. His parents had locked him in the unfinished basement for his transformation, and had come down just after dawn to find that he had not only done serious damage to walls, floor, and furniture, but he had also done himself several painful injuries. They had healed him the best that they could and tried to reassure him that everything was all right as he cried. He could tell they didn't really believe it. He had hated seeing the sadness in their eyes as they had looked down upon him, broken, bleeding, and in pain. There had also been something else in their eyes that he had not been able to recognize at the time, but that he would later realize, had been fear.
He had spent most of the day in his bedroom, trying to sleep through the pain, but now he was awake. He had crept downstairs from his bedroom to hear his parents' angry voices issuing from the living room. His parents hardly ever fought, so Remus was curious to hear what it was about. He had hidden himself in the hall, just behind the living room door, where he could hear but not be seen.
"We've got to think about the baby, Fay," Remus's father was saying. "We're about to bring another child into this world and I want it to be a safe world."
"You've got to think about your other child, John," Remus's mother said sternly. "Remus didn't ask for this to happen to him. He's still your son."
"I know he is, Fay. But I'm worried. You saw what happened last night; you saw how much damage was done. Are you really comfortable with having something capable of that living in your house? Especially with a new baby on the way!"
"How dare you say such things like that! How dare you speak about your own son that way!"
"He's a werewolf, Fay! I don't think you understand what that means."
"I know perfectly well what it means! It means that at the full moon he turns into a wolf, and the rest of the time he is still my wonderful, sweet Remus. That is not going to change."
"As far as we know," Remus's father said darkly.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"How can we be sure he's still our sweet Remus? How can we know he won't change? How many werewolves do you know who are good, upstanding members of society? How can you sure that Remus won't become violent and cruel just like the rest of them?"
"Shut up, John!" Remus's mother shouted, her voice choked with tears. "He won't change! I won't let him! I'm not going to let his life be ruined by this. I will do whatever it takes to makes sure that Remus lives a normal life and doesn't let this change him. Because he's my son, and I love him."
"Yes, Fay, but he's also a - "
"Yes, I get it John," Remus's mother interrupted. "I understand that you don't like werewolves. That's kind of what got us into this mess in the first place!"
There was a short silence. Remus didn't understand what his mother meant, but it seemed to upset his father a lot. He heard his dad walk across the room and sit down in on the sofa. After a few moments silence, Remus heard him say, in a choked voice, "What have I done?"
There was another pause, and then Remus's mum said, "John, I'm sorry. This isn't your fault. I shouldn't have said - "
"It is," Remus's dad whispered. "It is my fault. I can't pretend it's not."
Remus was very confused. Why was his dad blaming himself? It wasn't his fault at all...was it?
"Look," Remus's dad said more calmly, "Fay, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I love Remus, you know I do. He's my son for Merlin's sake. I want what's best for him; I'm just not sure what that is right now." He sighed heavily before continuing, "I want to protect Remus, but I'm not sure I'm the best man for the job. Don't you wonder...maybe it would be better...aren't there places he could go?"
"What do you mean?" Remus's mum asked. Remus heard her lowering herself slowly onto the sofa beside her husband. She had to do it slowly because she was now nine months pregnant; the baby was due any day, and she was very big.
"Somewhere like...I don't know...like a pack? He will never be able to have much of a life with normal wizards. Maybe he would be better off with some of his own kind."
"You want to send our son away to live with a pack of werewolves?" Remus's mum asked quietly.
"I don't want to, but what are our other options? He will always be an outsider in the Wizarding world. Maybe it would be better, he would be safer, with other werewolves."
"No."
"Think of it logically, Fay."
"Hell no."
"Fay..."
"NO! No way! Are you insane? You think he'd be safer with werewolves? You think he'd be better off? Hell no! He'd have no chance, no chance at all. You want to see how quickly your son can change into monster, stick him with people who will teach him how to be one! We will keep Remus here and we raise him like a normal boy. Maybe then he'll have a chance at some humanity!"
"And what about the baby? What if Remus were to hurt the ba- "
His sentence was cut off by a sob from out in the hall.
"Oh no," John whispered. He stood and followed the sound of his four-year-old son's sobs to the living room door. He pushed it open to find Remus sitting there, crying with a different kind of pain than he had that morning.
"Remus..." John said soothingly, kneeling down next to his son.
"You - don't - want = me," Remus said between sobs.
"No, Remus, no."
"You - want - to - send me - away."
"Oh, Remus, no, I didn't mean..."
"You - hate - me."
"Remus," John said, his voice heavy with guilt and regret, "I never said that. I don't hate you. I love you. I love you Remus."
Remus continued to cry.
"Come here, Remus," Remus's dad said, opening his arms to hold his son. Remus moved away.
"You - don't - love - me."
"I do, I do love you, Remus," John said, his voice cracking a little. "Please believe me. I love you so much."
"Why - do - you want - to get - rid - of me?"
"No, Remus, no. I don't want to get rid of you. I..." He didn't seem to know what else to say. Remus continued to cry.
"Remus," John said, quietly, "please look at me."
After a minute, Remus raised his tear stained face to look at his father.
"Remus, I love you. And I'm never going to send you away, I promise."
Remus hiccupped. "You - you promise?"
"I promise." He held out his arms again and his son climbed into them. They hugged. John lifted his son from the floor and carried him into the living room, where he sat down on he sofa beside his wife.
Remus was still crying a little. Fay reached over and stroked Remus's hair, but when she spoke, it was to John. "You promise?"
"I promise," John said again. He took his son, who was still clinging to him, and set him on the little bit of lap his wife had left under he big belly. Remus hugged his mother's belly as she stroked him on the back.
"Do you still love me, Mummy?" Remus asked her.
"Oh, baby, of course I do," Fay said, her own eyes starting to glisten with tears. "I will always love you, no matter what. You're my Remus. I love you so much."
"I promise not hurt the baby."
"Oh, sweetie, I know you won't," said Fay.
"You're going to be a great big brother," said John.
"We love you, Remus," said Fay.
"I love you too," said Remus still holding tight to his mother's belly.
And then his mother let out a cry of pain.
"Remus?"
Remus's memory was interrupted by a voice from the dormitory door.
"Yes," Remus answered.
"Can I come in?" Sirius asked.
"It's your room."
Sirius walked in and came to stop beside Remus bed. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Remus sat up and drew back the hangings. Sirius was standing just behind them.
"Yes?" Remus asked
Sirius surveyed Remus cautiously; he was always extremely awkward when it came to what he called "touchy-feely comforting crap". He didn't like talking about feelings; that stuff was for girls.
"Are you okay?" Sirius asked, trying to keep the awkwardness to a minimum and still be there for his friend.
"I wish people would stop asking me that," Remus replied.
Sirius gave him a small smile. "Must get tiring after a while," he said.
"I don't know how to answer it anymore," Remus confessed. "I tell people I'm fine, they don't believe me. I tell people I'm not fine and they worry about me. It's a loaded question either way."
"Yeah," said Sirius. He seemed to be looking for a change is subject. "Did you get any sleep?" he asked.
"No. I really just came up here to get away from Haley," Remus admitted.
"Look, Remus," Sirius said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, "you shouldn't...you shouldn't take what she...what any of them say, you shouldn't take it personally."
"Who said I was?" Remus asked. He could tell how petulant the question had sounded. Sirius raised his eyebrows. Remus sighed. "I try not to," he said, avoiding Sirius's eyes. "It's just hard to ignore it sometimes."
"They're idiots, Remus. They all are. They - "
"They're not idiots," Remus said quietly. "They just don't know much about it. They only know what they've been taught, and that's to hate and fear werewolves. They're ignorant, not stupid." He thought for a moment. "Well, perhaps some of them are stupid," he said.
"Some," said Sirius, "or more."
Remus checked his watch. "We still have twenty minutes before class," he told Sirius.
"Yeah," said Sirius, "but we have to hunt down Prongs and Wormtail first."
"Where are they?"
"Looking for you," Sirius explained. "Wormtail was going to check to hospital wing and Prongs was searching the toilets."
"You guys worry about me too much," Remus said.
"Nah," said Sirius, "mostly just Prongs. I was hungry. He was the one who wanted to track you down. To be quite honest, I think it's far more likely he'll snap by the end of the day than you will."
"I don't intend to snap," said Remus.
"I didn't think so," said Sirius. "But Prongs, well, he can be a little..."
"Mental?" Remus supplied.
"He doesn't like it when people mess with his friends," said Sirius.
"Only he can mess with his friends," said Remus, smiling slightly.
"Exactly."
"Well, we should go find him before he does something stupid," said Remus, getting up from his bed and picking up his bag. "And Wormtail."
"Okay," Sirius said, picking up his own bag and following Remus towards the dormitory door.
"Oh, and Padfoot," Remus said, turning in the doorway to look back at Sirius.
"Yes?"
"Stop calling me Remus. You guys haven't called me Remus since last June. I know why you guys stopped, but I prefer it when you call me Moony. Even days like today, I want to keep my nickname."
"Whatever you like, Moony."
They went down to the common room and headed for the portrait hole. Remus was surprised by how much better he felt. He knew that he still had a rough afternoon ahead of him, but somehow, it seemed more approachable. Sirius hadn't been able to do much in the way of helping Remus with problems, but it was really pretty amazing how much just talking to someone friendly had done to help him.
"Hold up," Sirius said, "just a minute."
Remus waited as Sirius wove back through the common room and collected his Potions essay from a table in the corner.
"Can't forget this," he said.
Sirius and Remus climbed out the portrait hole. The Fat Lady had just swung shut behind them when Peter came striding towards them down the corridor.
"Hi," he said, looking relieved to see that Sirius had found Remus.
"Hi Wormtail."
"Are you okay, Remus?" Peter asked.
Sirius winced. "Two mistakes in four words," he said. "That's a record even for you, Wormtail."
"I'm fine. Stop asking me that. And the name is Moony," Remus told Peter.
"Oh, well, okay," Peter said. "We just thought that, you know, because of everything that's been going on - "
"I know what you thought," said Remus. "But I really do like my nickname. Lighten up a little, Wormtail."
Peter seemed a little taken aback by Remus's positive attitude, and even more so when Remus smiled. "Come on," Remus said to his friends, "if we don't find Prongs soon, who knows what sort of trouble he'll have gotten himself into?"
One thousand one hundred fifty-two, one thousand one hundred fifty-three, one thousand one hundred fifty-four...
History of Magic was never exactly fun for James, but rarely had he endured a lesson as tedious and miserable as the one today. He could think of several reasons why today's lesson was so much more agonizing than the usual snooze-fests he sometimes attended, sometimes skipped. For one thing, he hadn't eaten lunch, and he never faired very well with low blood sugar. He also couldn't stop thinking about what had happened to Lara's brother and the ripple-effect consequences it had had on the students at Hogwarts that day. This line of thinking was doing nothing to raise his mood, so he tried to force his mind into other channels. As the lesson was never something that would be interesting enough to capture his attention, he had had to find another means of distracting himself.
It was in this spirit that James had begun to count the stones that made up one of the classroom walls. It was certainly not the first time James had used this activity to pass the torturous hours of History of Magic. On the contrary, it was a pretty regular pastime. He had counted the stones more times than he knew, and always came up with a number somewhere between 3,678 and 3,684. Sirius insisted that there were 3,673 stones because he got that number every time he counted, but James was sure that this was too low. Sirius said that James must be counting some of the stones twice. Peter was likely to get anywhere from 3,579 to 3,712 when he counted. Remus had only made it halfway through counting the stones once before declaring it a waste of time and otherwise occupying himself.
...one thousand one hundred sixty-seven, one thousand one hundred sixty-eight, one thousand one hundred sixty-nine, one thousand one hundred sixty-ten...
Okay, so maybe it wasn't the most productive pastime, but it was keeping him from brooding on werewolves or dieing of boredom, so it would do.
...one thousand one hundred seventy-three, one thousand one hundred seventy-four, one thousand one hundred seventy-who-cares, one thousand one hundred seventy-something-or-another, one thousand one hundred seventy-seven, I could really use a snack right now. I should keep something in my bag for those times I have to skip lunch. Maybe I'll skive off potions and go down to the kitchens. The house-elves'll probably be getting ready for dinner. Maybe they'll be making roast beef. Hmmm...I do love roast beef. Or chicken...yeah, chicken...with a nice big side of mashed potatoes...I'm never skipping lunch again. But, I mean, today it was pretty important. But why did it have to happen today? Why did it have to happen at all? Why did a ten-year-old boy have to die? What kind of monster of a werewolf would let himself do something this horrible?
Damn it, I'm brooding. Think of something else, James, just think of something else. One thousand one hundred seventy-eight, one thousand one hundred seventy-nine, oh where in the name of all that is holy is the damn bell? We've been here at least four hours, the bell should have rung by now. One thousand one hundred eighty, one thousand one hundred eighty-one, one thousand one hundred eighty-two, did I remember to put on clean socks this morning? I think I did. Oh well, one thousand one hundred eighty-three, one thousand one hundred eighty-snore, one thousand one hundred eighty-five, one thousand one hundred eighty-six bunnies, one thousand one hundred eighty-seven...
Why wasn't the werewolf more careful? Why did he make sure he was isolated? He could have stopped this if he had wanted to. He's a bloody murderer even if he wasn't in his right mind. He could have stopped this. He could have been more safe. Remus would never let anything like this happen. Why couldn't he be more like Remus? Why had he let himself kill? He deserves die.
But...but what he hadn't? What if he did mean to? What if he did isolate himself and got loose by mistake? Then it would all have been an accident. He wouldn't have been able to stop himself. He wasn't in control. A werewolf would kill his own best friend if he met him at the full moon. He wouldn't know, because he wouldn't be himself. All werewolves become monsters at the full moon, despite who they are as humans. It could happen to any werewolf. Even Remus. Even Remus would hunt and kill if he somehow got out. What if that happened? What if he somehow broke out of the Shrieking Shack one night? Or what if someone found a way into the Shrieking Shack at the full moon? Remus would attack them, just like any other werewolf would. Remus was a monster. Remus would attack, he would bite, he would kill if he got the chan-
No. No, no, no, no, no. No. I can't think like that! Remus is my friend. I can't let myself picture him doing those things. I can't let myself think of Remus that way.
James looked away from the stone wall at which he had been staring blankly to look at Remus, who was separated from him by Peter. Remus had reassumed the position he had taken at breakfast that morning: folded arms resting on the table, head resting on arms. He was dead asleep. He looked peaceful. Poor Remus, why did it have to be him of all people? Remus was the antithesis of everything his classmates thought about werewolves, of everything James had thought about werewolves before he had discovered Remus's secret. Remus was great, and no stupid bite from a stupid werewolf was going to change that. He watched Remus sleep; Remus was one of his best friends...
The unwanted image flashed across his vision: a werewolf tearing apart its victim, slashing with its claws, licking the blood that splattered its muzzle. And then it was gone and he was staring at Remus again. He started where he sat as fear rose, unbidden, inside him. Remus became that werewolf. Remus could and would attack someone. Remus was capable of murder. And James was with him everyday. James was near him so often. James shared a dormitory with a creature that would tear him apart and enjoy it. James was sitting feet away from that monster right now-
WHOA! What the hell are you thinking, James? You idiot! Merlin, I'm just as bad as all the other idiots around here. As quick to judge. As quick to fear. I can't think of Remus that way. I can't! This isn't Remus's fault. Remus has a curse, he can't help it. And yet people are so quick to judge him based on that curse. I can't be one of those people. I'm not one of those people. Remus doesn't deserve to be judged like that.
Remus is not a monster.
Ugg, I think I'm getting a headache. I should never skip lunch. I'm going to go back to counting stones now. Okay, where was I...
Damn it! I lost my place! Now I have to start all over. Sigh. Oh well, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, which rhymes with hen, and hens lay eggs, man I could go for an omelet right now...
James was in the middle of contemplating what cheeses he would put on his omelet when the bell finally rang. Remus's head jerked upward from his arms and he began to gaze blearily around the room, evidently trying to remember where he was. Peter tapped Remus on the shoulder and kindly reminded him that they had Potions next. All four Marauders stood and packed their things into their bags then joined the group of students all trying to flee the boredom through one door. As they crowded together, James felt Remus accidentally collide with him.
"Oh, sorry Prongs," Remus yawned.
James started again and backed away from Remus.
Remus was still too asleep to notice anything strange.
James kicked himself mentally for being an idiot. He was better than that.
"Don't worry about it mate," James said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Remus is not a monster. "Listen," James continued, addressing Peter and Sirius as well now, "why don't we skive off Potions and go down to the kitchens? I'm hungry enough to eat a walrus, and, unfortunately, Slughorn tends to remind me of one. I don't think I can last another lesson on an empty stomach."
"Me neither," said Peter, though his response proved rather superfluous when his stomach gave a loud rumble.
"You know what would be good," said Remus once they had cleared the classroom and were on their way down to the kitchens.
"What's that?" Sirius asked him.
"An omelet," Remus replied. "I really fancy an omelet."
James grinned. "Moony," he said, stretching out a hand to tickle the giant pear, "great minds think alike."
James still felt guilty about things he had thought about Remus in History of Magic, and as they all piled into the kitchens and were served four large omelets by the smiling and bowing house-elves, James resolved, once and for all, that he would never be afraid of his friend. He watched Remus again as Remus and Peter began to debate swiss vs. provolone, and made another resolution as well. He would always stand up for Remus, no matter what. He was sick of listening to the whole school say horrible things about werewolves and watching Remus just stand there and take it. He was going to show them, to teach them that there was another side to werewolves that they were all just too blind to see.
Then he remembered the promise he had made to Remus earlier, and his heart sank a little. Remus didn't want James to stand up for him. Remus wanted to just ignore it and hope that it would all go away. But that was just stupid. If all the stuff being said about werewolves was negative (to put it lightly) and no one said anything otherwise, things would just get worse for Remus. But if James presented an alternative side, not everyone would listen, but some people might. They would at least know that there were two sides to the matter, that werewolves were more than just monsters to be hated. They were people too. And the students should know that...
But I promised. I promised Remus I wouldn't.
James sighed internally as he played with the last bits of omelet on his plate, only vaguely listening to Remus telling Sirius off for trying to persuade the house-elves to serve them firewhisky. James didn't like to go back on his word, especially where his mates were concerned. He would have to keep his promise. He would have to try his best to keep his opinions to himself.
Poor James, he should have known better. He should have remembered that guilt had the power to make people do very stupid things.
To be continued...
Author's Notes:
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