The storm had ceased at last; the castle woke up the following morning buried under a thick layer of snow, dazzling in the sunlight. The conversations were considerably noisier and happier in the Great Hall, as plans for snowball fights were running from house to house.
The Gryffindors were the most excited. According to rumours that were spreading fast, the Slytherins were still furious for being beaten in a snowball fight by four first-year Gryffindors, and they were desperate for revenge. If the Gryffindors could sneak out of the castle during lunch, they would have the most wonderful fight in Hogwarts’ history… and, hopefully, beat the Slytherins again…
Nobody seemed to have noticed that the four heroes of the first snowball fight weren’t sharing this cheerful mood at all. They were gathered at one end of the long Gryffindor table, eating quietly. Remus looked even sicker than the day before. His skin was an unhealthy yellowish colour and there were dark circles under his eyes. He wasn’t eating much; he also looked incredibly nervous, drumming his fingers on the table and jumping when spoken to unexpectedly.
James and Sirius were hardly in better shape. Their faces were pale and tired and they kept shooting furtive glances at each other, without actually talking. They looked tense and somewhat lost.
As for Peter, he was too intimidated by his friends’ uncharacteristically grim moods to dare open his mouth, and he was eating silently without looking up.
Not a single word was exchanged during breakfast. When they had finished eating, all four of them got up and walked out of the Great Hall in the same tense silence.
James hadn’t dared look at Remus in the eyes since they had woken up. He was scared of seeing those yellow eyes that had haunted his nightmares in the last part of the previous night again, after he and Sirius had finally left the Common Room to go to bed.
Those yellow eyes… what was bothering him so much about them?
Let’s see… said a sarcastic voice in his head. One of your closest friends has wolves’ eyes and is most likely a monster. Why on earth you are bothered, I wonder?
It wasn’t that. Well… yes, it was, but that was not the only reason… After all, those eyes had been haunting him long before he had realised Remus was a “ well, that Remus had a “ problem. He couldn’t think of Remus as a monster. Remus was anything but a monster.
A fur-covered beast that attacks every human being within its reach at full moon, seizing all opportunities to claw and bite passers-by… What do you call that? An innocent little rabbit?
No. But he was a perfectly normal guy the rest of the month… He was one of the nicest boys James knew. Besides, it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t control himself when he transformed. Or so James believed… He didn’t know much about “ about those sort of people…
He had to know more. He couldn’t stay like this, uncertain, unknowing, and vaguely scared of this boy who was his friend. He would rather be sure, even if the whole truth was ten times worse than what he suspected.
James drew slightly closer to Sirius, who was walking rigid-backed, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed in front of him, and nudged him to pull him out of his thoughts. Sirius started “ they were all extremely jumpy that morning “ and, meeting James’ eyes, nodded to say he was listening. James whispered in a very low voice:
“We should go at the library at break… Peter will keep him busy…”
Sirius nodded again, a dark expression on his face. He hadn’t been able to keep his mind off Remus either, and he was eager for more information as well.
Peter was watching his friends. James and Sirius seemed oddly distant, with him as well as with Remus, and he wondered what secret those two shared. Probably something to do with Remus, judging by the way they were unconsciously avoiding him “ not meeting his eyes, not walking alongside him but slightly behind… Had they discovered Remus’ secret? Was it so terrible they couldn’t share it with Peter?
A shiver ran along Peter’s spine as he observed Remus. He looked different; his actions were no longer measured and calm, they were swift and quick, and his eyes kept darting in different directions.
Remus didn’t notice anything. He was staring at a spot in front of him, his eyes open to their fullest extent and unusually bright with fever and anxiety, and he kept wiping with the back of his hand the cold sweat running down his brow.
***
James and Sirius were in the library, frantically ruffling the pages of the old books they had taken down the shelves. Sirius’ eyes finally fell on a paragraph about werewolves and he tapped James on the arm to attract his attention. Both boys bent upon the yellowing page and read:
Most werewolves are very ordinary people; they become werewolves after another werewolf bites them during full moon. The exact effect of the moonlight on werewolves remains, to this day, unknown; it is believed that, when those effects are discovered, a cure may be found to mitigate them. All we currently know is that the full moon provokes an extremely strong physical and mental transformation, which begins one or two days before the night of the full transformation. The werewolf will acquire little by little several wolfish characteristics, such as sharper eyes and ears and a development of the sense of smell; the actual transformation will take place under the influence of the moonlight. This influence is one of the most powerful known in the wizarding world: it can cause the most peaceful person to turn into a bloodthirsty monster.
When transformed, the werewolf will seek any human being it can harm. It’s not a danger to animals or Animagi, but it can sense human presence with a terrifying acuity. Then, it will devote the whole night to looking for human beings to bite, and in doing so, will turn them into werewolves as well. The urge to bite and harm is so powerful that, if it can’t bite anyone by the end of the night, it can be driven to bite itself. Such bites cannot worsen the curse already upon the werewolf, but they can cause severe injuries that it still suffers from at the end of the transformation.
Being a werewolf is often said to be the most terrible curse existing in the wizarding world. A werewolf, at full moon, no longer controls its own actions. It would bite and kill its best friend, its own children if given the chance. We count many cases of suicide among the werewolf population, suicides of werewolves who wake up at the end of the night to find out they have bitten the ones they care for the most; or who can’t stand being treated as pariahs in the wizard society any more.
James gulped. Now he had realised what had been bothering him so much about the yellow eyes… It was their expression, a mixture of terrible sadness, fear, and despair. Remus seemed so placid, so quiet, so content with so little… And every month he had to go through the same nightmare, all the while dreading his friends would find out and treat him like a “ a pariah, as the textbook said.
How could he be so kind, so friendly, so normal with them? How could he like being with them, how could he not hate them for being normal, untouched by the curse that would mark him for his entire life?
James felt a very painful lump in his throat. Remus probably had to summon all his courage every morning, to force himself to get up, and have lessons, and try to get James and Sirius out of trouble. How pointless all those things “ those things which were all a big part of James’ life “ suddenly felt…
Sirius was even paler than before and was staring, horror-struck, at the book open in front of them.
“Do you realise,” he said hoarsely, “that he has been attacked by a werewolf?”
James looked at him in surprise. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said slowly.
“I haven’t been able to think of anything else,” murmured Sirius, still staring at the book. “It must’ve been before he even came to Hogwarts… Maybe he was as small as my little brother… He must’ve seen the “ the huge beast with its teeth bared “ running towards him… He must’ve tried to run away; must have heard the beat growling behind him. And then he must have been caught… and bitten.”
Sirius swallowed hard.
“Then he would have woken up, and his parents would have come in and said, ‘We’re sorry Remus, but you’re cursed for the rest of your life’.” His voice shook and died.
“What are we going to do?” whispered James. “Tell him we know?”
Sirius slid both hands into his hair and gripped it tightly. “He doesn’t want us to know,” he said, his voice trembling. “He’s been hiding it from us… from the very beginning…”
“I’m not sorry I found out,” said James brusquely. “He was afraid we would reject him if we ever found out… But now we know, we’ll be able to help him! I don’t know how,” he added reluctantly, “but we have to try. We can’t let him down.”
Sirius snorted, looking incredulously at James. “Course we can’t,” he said, sounding utterly revolted. “And come to think of it, does he really think we’re gonna push him away, just because he was bitten by some guy who didn’t have a clue what he was doing? The idiot! Doesn’t he trust us? Why didn’t he tell us?”
“He must’ve thought he couldn’t afford the risk,” answered James, rubbing his forehead distractedly with his right hand. “Remember when he was avoiding us? He didn’t want to make friends and then lose them, I guess…”
They fell silent. James was thinking about tonight, and he wondered where Remus went to transform. Suddenly he felt very curious about that. Had Dumbledore thought of a place, in the grounds, where Remus could transform without endangering anybody? Where could that be? The Forbidden Forest? James shivered at this idea; Remus, spending all night in the dark Forest…
Sirius’ voice seemed to be coming from very far away when he spoke again:
“Should we tell Peter?” He sounded most unconvinced.
James thought about it for a moment. “He cares about Remus,” he said at last, slowly and choosing his words carefully. “And he’s got enough problems himself to know how it feels, not to be normal…”
“Yeah, but he’s not that brave, is he?” said Sirius. “He could be scared of Remus and refuse to talk to him.”
James shrugged. “I’m sure he wouldn’t do that. I think the four of us being friends means almost as much to him as it does to Remus.”
“Yes, maybe,” agreed Sirius reluctantly. “But it’s not our secret. It’s Remus’. Remus should decide if he wants Peter to know, not us.”
James nodded. “Yes… you’re right.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “We should put all those back on their shelves,” he muttered wearily with a vague gesture in the books’ direction. “And then go to lunch… The others will wonder where we’ve been.”
They both got up and gathered the books.
***
Remus was pacing relentlessly in the dormitory. He couldn’t keep still; he was filled with an energy that didn’t belong to him, but to the monster which was slowly awakening inside him. This month had been the worst ever. He had spent the last few days fearing he may not be able to go out for his transformation because of the storm, and the anxiety had aggrieved his symptoms. He had even less control over himself than usual; once or twice he had caught himself longing after the taste of blood “ the desire of blood had been so violent he had ended up biting his own hand.
He had not bitten himself hard enough to bleed, actually he had withdrawn his hand almost immediately when he had realised what he was doing. He had felt even more scared by this absurd gesture “ and his fright was feeding the monster inside him. He had to learn to force himself to calm down; his father had told him so. The monster grew stronger when Remus was angry or scared, because it was feeding on those violent emotions. But it was hard… so hard…
“Too hard,” moaned Remus, collapsing on his bed and burying his face in his hands. He began to shake violently with silent sobs, tears pouring down his cheeks. It was unfair; it was so unfair he had to go through the same torture every month. Why couldn’t he just be normal? What crime had he committed, to be punished by such a curse?
He felt anger rising inside his chest once more. He wanted to get up, roar with fury and destroy everything inside the castle. He wanted to catch all the normal, happy, oblivious people around him, and bite them, claw them to death, drink their blood and listen to their screams of pain and fear…
He banged his head on the bedpost, as hard as he could. The monster was awake now, it was inspiring all those gruesome thoughts inside his head. It was nearly time…
The watch on Remus’ wrist rang. It was time. Remus rose, feeling the energy boiling inside him. In a few quick, efficient actions, he took off his school uniform and threw some old clothes on his back. He then wrapped himself in a long black cloak and resolutely walked out of the dormitory. Now the time had come, his mind was clear.
He met James, Sirius and Peter in the Common Room, playing a game of Exploding Snap.
“Hey guys, just so you know… My Mum’s still not recovered, so I’m going to visit her again.” No time to find a better excuse. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”
They said “See you” without even looking up and he walked away, relieved they hadn’t asked awkward questions.
He met Madam Pomfrey in the Entrance Hall, as per usual. She took him by the shoulder and didn’t let go as they set off, making their way through the untouched snow. She always did that; she always put a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently from time to time, as if she was resisting the urge to hug him. He was immensely grateful for it.
***
James, Sirius and Peter had gone to bed as soon as Remus had left. The game of Exploding Snap had been an excuse to stay in the Common Room until he was gone, so that they could see him before “ before it happened. Sirius and James were both feeling the need to be alone with their own thoughts, so they had gone straight to bed, without talking, and had put the candles out immediately.
Sirius was turning from one side to another, unable to find a comfortable position. The idea of Remus transforming into a bloodthirsty beast was making him positively sick. Why Remus, of all people? Couldn’t it be someone less kind, less friendly?… Why Remus, when nasty nuisances like Snivellus are running free?
Sirius’ head was aching from unanswered questions and tiredness. After all, he hadn’t slept much the previous night, and God knows how much he needed to sleep to be on form.
He slowly sank into an uneasy sleep, where he was seeing a small child, screaming with fear as he was hunted by a beast whose fangs were dripping with blood…
James was lying on his back in his bed, fully awake. He was thinking of ways to tell Remus they knew about his “ his condition, and that his secret was safe with them. He was also wondering where Remus was going. Where could it be safe for a “ for someone like him to transform? Dumbledore must have made special arrangements for him… Knowing what a powerful wizard the Headmaster was, James was burning to know what he had created to ensure Remus’ safety.
James’ curiosity, added to his genuine concern for Remus, was rapidly turning this question into an obsession. He needed to know. He had to see. He wouldn’t be able to sleep unless he saw.
And this time, he would go alone.
Pushing his sheets away from him abruptly, James rummaged under the pillow to find his Invisibility Cloak. He threw it over his shoulders and walked out of the dormitory on tiptoes, listening to the regular breathing of Sirius, Peter and Anthony. None of them stirred.
He quickly walked down the stairs, then crossed the Common Room at top speed. Remus had left at least an hour ago, and he would have to follow his footprints in the snow. Providing they hadn’t been magically erased…
He ran along the corridors, and down the stairs to the Entrance Hall; the huge oak doors were slightly open and he was able to slip through the gap. He was filled with a mixture of contradicting emotions “ excitement, curiosity, fear “ which made his pulse quicken; his blood was running fast and pounding into his head as he ran, following the path created in the snow by two sets of feet.
He reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest and slowed down. The sun was setting and the shadows of the huge trees were growing. The Forest itself was already dark and ominous.
If I’ve got to go in there, I’m going back to my dormitory, thought James.
But the footprints didn’t enter the Forest. They were going to the very bottom of the trunk of a strange tree, planted at the edge of the Forest.
James recognized this tree: it was the Whomping Willow. It would slash the air with its heavy branches when somebody tried to approach its trunk, and most of the time it would knock off their feet whoever had gotten too close and send them crashing a few feet away. Since a boy named Davey Gudgeon had almost lost an eye, the students were forbidden to come close to the Willow.
Yet Remus must have reached the trunk and then “ vanished. There were no footprints retreating from the Willow. The two people who had walked up to it seemed to have vanished.
James had finally come to a dead end. He paused, staring helplessly at the tree, and it was then he realised he was still in his pyjamas. In his haste, he had just put on his dressing-gown and his slippers “ and the cold was piercing. His pyjamas were wet to the knee.
Just as James was thinking about going back to the dormitory, a head suddenly emerged from a hole between two roots. James froze, his eyes widening in shock, instantly forgetting about how uncomfortable he was. He soon realised the head belonged to Madam Pomfrey; she reached out and pressed a knot on one root, before pulling herself out of the hole and walking away from the tree. Not a single twig moved.
As soon as Madam Pomfrey was out of reach, the Willow started whipping the air again with its branches. Madam Pomfrey paused, frowning, as she noticed the footprints in the snow. James felt as if an icy hand was clutching his insides: she was going to spot his own footprints, and find him…
But Madam Pomfrey merely took out her wand and waved it, muttering an incantation, and the footprints disappeared, leaving the snow as pure and smooth as if nobody had touched it. She then set off toward the castle, erasing her footprints as she went.
James took a deep breath. Now he had to find a way to get into that hole. He spotted the knot that he had to press; the problem was how was he going to reach it? He needed a stick, or something…
But he couldn’t see any sticks on the ground around him. James took a few tentative steps toward the Whomping Willow, wondering if the tree would sense his presence. Maybe the Cloak would hide him from “
A branch caught him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and sent him flying backwards. He landed a few feet from there, thankfully cushioned by the snow. Cursing under his breath, he got to his feet and considered the tree, which was waving its branches at him furiously. He had to find something to hit the knot. But if he had to dig into the snow…
He suddenly wheeled around. His fall had created a crater in the snow, revealing a ground covered in dead wood and leaves. Swooping down, James picked up a dead twig and aimed it at the knot on the root.
Who had told him he had a good aim, again?
The twig hit the root, but it was so light it cleanly snapped in two without hitting the knot itself. James was becoming reckless; rummaging in the snow, he found a bigger bit of wood he tossed at the tree. A flinging branch caught it in mid-air and sent it flying back to him. James dodged it and started looking for heavier and bigger projectiles.
It lasted a long time. James had taken off the Invisibility Cloak, which slowed him down, and was digging in the snow with his bare hands. He had almost forgotten why he had come here in the first place, and he didn’t consider for a second the idea of giving up. This was between the tree and him.
At last he grew tired of that game and cursed furiously, which didn’t seem to bother the Whomping Willow in the slightest. James was getting more and more irritated. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the tree’s trunk.
Stupidly, he cast a Transfiguration spell “ totally unlikely to work on a tree, but it was the last he had practiced and he had reflexively said the incantation.
The spell rebounded on the trunk, leaving a sort of bruise on the bark. James lifted an eyebrow, surprised by the effect his spell had had on the tree. Maybe it was a way to “
His musings were interrupted when the whole scene was suddenly bathed in a silvery light. The moon had just come out from behind a cloud, perfectly round, drifting serenely in the black sky.
James’ stomach clenched. You friend Remus is living a nightmare, and you’re having fun with a tree?
He quickly pointed his wand at the knot on the root and muttered the incantation. A ray of light shot from the tip of his wand and hit the knot.
The tree froze.
YES!
Grabbing the Invisibility Cloak, James hurried forward and dived head first into the hole between the roots.
He found himself in an underground passageway, narrow and dark, which stretched far in front of him and went out of sight. He set off, putting the Cloak back on as an extra precaution.
He walked for a long time “ an hour at least. The air was still and cold and his footsteps echoed loudly on the hard floor. He had still his wand in his hand and was gripping it tightly, his heart leaping every time the passageway took a bend. But nothing was coming, absolutely nothing… All he could hear were his own footsteps and the frantic pounding of his heart against his ribs. A part of him was screaming that this was mad “ that he should be going back to his dormitory, instead of following a monster’s footsteps…
Remus isn’t a monster.
He’s a werewolf. What’s more, a werewolf in the middle of his transformation. You’re going to get killed, or worse, bitten…
He must be locked up somewhere. I’ll stay outside.
Then what’s the point of getting there?
James’ pace quickened, and he put a hand to his ribs where he could sense the beginning of a sharp stitch. He thought he heard something. A kind of growl…
GO BACK! NOW!
But James no longer had control over himself; his legs seemed to be moving of their own accord. He had broken into a run, his breaths becoming raw pants, his ears strained to catch any sound coming from the end of the passageway.
The tunnel was rising now. The end was close. He ran, his head occasionally brushing against the very low ceiling, without taking his eyes off his goal. The growling was louder, he could vaguely hear it over the sound of blood pounding in his ears.
The tunnel abruptly twisted, and James almost ran straight into the stony wall. The tunnel ended in a cul-de-sac. The growling now sounded very close, yet he couldn’t see any openings. Bewildered, he tentatively pressed some of the stones in the solid wall, but nothing moved. Frustration made him forget where he was; he abruptly straightened up.
His head came in violent contact with a hard and smooth surface. Little stars popped in front of his eyes and he let out a gasp of pain. The growling stopped.
Rubbing his abused head, James lifted one hand and felt a wooden trapdoor inserted in the stone ceiling. He made to push it upwards, but then he heard a blood-curling roar and something above his head began to pound fiercely at the trapdoor. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he leaped backward, his heart thumping madly, his mouth open in a silent scream. The werewolf had sensed him, he was trying to break the trapdoor to reach him, and attack him, and bite him. The thrashing became more forceful, more urgent. He was getting impatient.
James’ legs, once more, moved on their own accord. Before he knew it, he was running as hard as he could in the opposite direction.
He stopped only when the werewolf’s roars had died in the distance. He leaned against the wall, fighting to catch his breath, a hand on the stitch in his side. It felt like a knife planted between his ribs.
He let himself slide down the wall. Sitting on the cold hard ground, he took off his glasses and buried his face in his knees. He had trouble controlling his convulsively trembling body. He had never been so scared in his life.
He eventually got up, still shaking all over, and decided to go back to the dormitory. He had been a fool to come here in the first place. The further he was from the werewolf, the better.
He hadn’t taken three steps towards the exit when he realised he didn’t have his Cloak with him.
He must have lost it near the trapdoor.
No, no, don’t go back! It’s not worth it. You’ll come and get it tomorrow. Right now there’s a MONSTER roaring and thumping near your Cloak.
James hesitated for ten seconds.
“Remus is not a monster,” he said aloud. Then he wheeled about and headed for Remus’ hiding place once more.
He was finding it difficult to walk on; when he heard again the low, ominous growling, he almost gave up. He had to remind himself constantly that the werewolf was his friend Remus, and to keep walking. When he finally reached the end of the passageway, he bent down and felt around for his Cloak. He found it lying in a corner; he grabbed it and threw it over his shoulders. It was so dark he couldn’t see his own hand outstretched in front of him, but he felt safer invisible.
The werewolf was still growling and pacing relentlessly. His growling slowly rose to a furious bark, and James heard the thrashing sounds again. It sounded as if the werewolf was throwing heavy objects on the floor, then hammering them until they shattered. The growling was suddenly muffled, as if the werewolf had sunk his teeth into something. At this thought, a cold shiver ran across James’ spine.
Then he heard a terrible howl of pain, and a sentence he had read in the library book suddenly popped into his mind.
…If it can’t bite anyone by the end of the night, it can be driven to bite itself…
The sentence was ringing in his ears as if someone had just yelled it; he stayed rooted to the spot, horror-struck at the idea of Remus biting himself. He sank down into a sitting position, his head raised to look at the trapdoor beyond which Remus was sinking his fangs into his own flesh. James felt positively sick.
Remus’ howls of pain didn’t die away. He would ferociously break any object within his reach for a few minutes, before biting himself once more. James had no idea how long he stayed there, listening to every scream that felt like an icy knife plunging into his heart. He had to bite his lip to prevent himself from screaming as well. He once raised a trembling hand to wipe his sweaty face, and felt tears on his cheeks. He hadn’t even realised he was crying.
The watch on James’ wrist indicated that it was quarter to seven when the werewolf started shrieking like James had never heard him before, sounding as if he was being tortured. Unable to stand this any longer, James clasped his hands over his ears, but the shrieking was so loud he couldn’t block it out. James couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted it to end, he wanted it to be over…
And suddenly it was over. James slowly removed his hands and listened intently to the sounds coming from beyond the trapdoor.
He could hear someone panting, and crying softly. A boy.
Remus’ transformation had ended had last.
He scrambled to his feet when he heard Remus’ footsteps coming closer. The trapdoor opened and Remus slid through the opening. Landing on the ground, he murmured in a quavering voice: “Lumos”, and the tip of his wand ignited.
He looked terrible. There was a deep gash in his left cheek and his forearms bore bleeding bites. His face was covered in a mixture of sweat, tears, blood and filth. He was trembling all over and sniffing loudly.
James didn’t even pause to think. Throwing the Cloak aside, he yelled:
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Remus started and his eyes widened when he saw James. “How “ how did you get there?” he asked, his voice much more high-pitched than usual.
James was breathing hard. Furiously wiping the tears on his face with his sleeve, he barked:
“I followed you, of course, what d’you think? Remus, WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US?”
There was a ringing silence. Remus was surprised to realise he wasn’t feeling anything. His worst fear was confirmed, James was going to reject him like the monster he was, and he was numb, empty. He sighed.
“Well, because I knew you would react like that,” he said heavily.
“Like what?” roared James. “LIKE WHAT, EXACTLY?”
Remus’ jaw dropped at this question; something was not going as he had predicted. Then he noticed James’ eyes were red and puffy, his pyjamas were dirty and he was shaking badly. He looked as if he had spent the whole night crying on the ground. Remus’ bewilderment increased.
“How long have you been there?” he asked slowly, not quite believing what he was seeing.
James wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, his breathing oddly quick. “Just a few… hours,” he answered in a choked voice. He swallowed hard. “Doesn’t matter. I wanted to know where you went to transform, so I followed your footprints in the snow…”
“You… you…” Remus’ voice was hoarse and strained. “You already knew?”
James nodded. “Sirius and I found out last night,” he said heavily.
He looked away from Remus and ran a weary hand through his hair. Remus had never seen him so helpless, and suddenly he felt concerned. It was unsettling, and even scary, to see bold and joyful James Potter act like a lost child.
“You all right?” he asked timidly.
James started and stared at him. “You’re asking me if I am all right?” he whispered disbelievingly. He slowly straightened up, as much as the low tunnel allowed him to, and took a few steps towards Remus.
Remus’ heart stopped beating and he felt cold sweat dripping on his forehead. Now James had recovered from the shock. Now he was going to yell at him, to throw him back into his former loneliness. Remus braced himself for the inevitable outburst.
“I am not all right, Remus!” hissed James. “How am I supposed to be all right, when I just realised one of my friends is “ is suffering “ is hurting himself “ every month?” he gulped, trying to steady his breath to prevent his voice from quivering. “And I can’t do anything to help you! How am I supposed to handle that?”
Remus stared blankly at him, still waiting for his condemnation. Then James’ words sank in and for the second time his mouth fell open. “You “ you want to help me?” he managed to blurt out.
James stared at him for a few seconds. “I’m not letting you down, if that’s what you mean,” he said simply.
Remus closed his eyes. “Oh my God,” he murmured in a very low voice, as he leaned against the wall. The icy fear he had felt in inside seemed to dissolve and a warm feeling spread from his heart to the very tips of his limbs. He had been so scared at the idea of finding himself alone again. But that was not going to happen… James knew, but James was still his friend…
Remus was now breathing more quickly as he tried to control the violent emotions boiling in his head. James, who had been watching him anxiously, broke the silence.
“Erm… You’re not going to “ to do something awkward like “ like burst into tears, are you?” he asked nervously. “‘Cause I’m really not good at handling those sort of situations.”
Remus smiled to reassure him, not trusting himself to speak. If he opened his mouth, he would probably start shouting with joy.
James smiled back. “Let’s get back to the dormitory then,” he offered.
They set off towards the castle, both covered with James’ Cloak. They didn’t talk as they went, but Remus found himself grinning from one ear to the other. He felt so happy that he longed to throw the Cloak aside and run all the way up to the castle, just to let out some of his emotions.
“Amazing Cloak,” commented Remus once they were out of the tunnel. “Where did you get it?”
“I’ll tell you once we’ve found the others,” answered James. “Peter doesn’t know about it either, and I don’t like repeating things. This way he’ll get all the news at the same time. Hope that won’t kill him,” he added, half-serious, half-joking.
Remus stayed silent for a moment. “You think Peter and Sirius will still want me as a friend as well?” he finally murmured hesitantly.
“I’m sure about Sirius. When we found out, the only thing he thought about was that you had been attacked by a werewolf. He wants to help, too. Peter has no idea what’s going on, but he cares for you too, you know. You should trust them.”
They fell silent until they reached the Common Room. They were surprised to find Sirius there, sprawled in an armchair with his mouth open as he snored. James took off the Cloak and shook him awake.
“Wha “” he started groggily, but then his eyes widened and he jumped up, startling James. “There you are!” he exclaimed, sounding half-relieved half-infuriated. “I was worried sick about you, you twit! Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked James accusatorily.
“Sirius,” began Remus. Sirius started again and spotted him for the first time, standing at a few feet from James, covered in blood. He winced at the sight of the gruesome wounds on Remus’ forearms.
“Oh, erm, Remus… Are you “” he hesitated. Remus held his breath.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked timidly.
Sirius Black, timid?
Remus was lost for words. He had been wrong all along. He had misjudged them both…
Behind Sirius’ back, James had a smirk that plainly meant: “I told you so.”
***
“Peter?”
A mumble answered him from under the sheets and Peter’s head emerged.
“Oh, hello Remus. Is it that late?” he yawned.
“No, it’s Saturday, no lessons today.”
“Oh, good.” Peter scratched his head, yawning again, then he spotted the bandages around Remus’ forearms. “What happened to you?” he asked curiously.
“I bit myself.”
Peter raised his eyebrows. “Y’know, if you’re that hungry, you can ask me for food anytime you want. I always have sweets and things in my trunk.”
Remus smiled at Peter’s everlasting and clumsy helpfulness.
“I’m a werewolf, actually.”
Peter’s eyebrows rose even higher.
“That’s why you keep staring at the moon and disappearing from time to time?”
“Well, yes.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good to know. Can you lend me socks? I’ve run out.”
Remus blinked. “That’s all the effect it has on you?” he asked hesitantly.
Peter smiled warmly at him. “Oh, come on, Remus. My Mum’s got a spider on her ceiling “ sorry, I meant a bat in her belfry. And a huge one, I can tell you. Everybody has their own problems.”
“But it’s not your fault if your Mum is… ill.”
“Because it’s your fault if you are… ill?” asked Peter, mimicking Remus.
Remus fell silent. Peter watched him as he stared vaguely into space, lost in thoughts, and as a smile gradually lit up his tired and filthy face. Peter waited patiently for a few seconds before interrupting his friend’s musings.
“So, what about those socks?”
***
Professor Dumbledore was looking out the window of his office, smiling at the sight that met his eyes. Four first-year Gryffindors were having fun in the snow, running and throwing snowballs at each other, playing with the great condor that had arrived at Hogwarts the day before. Their laughter could be heard even at this distance. Dumbledore recognized James Potter’s voice, it was the clearest and the most excited one. Sometimes his voice would be covered by Sirius Black’s laughter, deeper and louder, and Peter Pettigrew’s small squeaks could also be distinguished from time to time.
But what was the most important thing in Dumbledore’s opinion was the fourth voice. Remus Lupin’s voice was usually the most discreet in the chorus of the four friends, but now he could clearly be heard laughing and cheering with the others. He seemed incredibly happy for a boy who was suffering from one of the most dreaded curses in the wizarding world, especially when he knew his night of transformation had only just ended.
Professor McGonagall joined him at the window as James Potter started running towards the lake, laughing at his friends’ attempts to catch up, his condor hovering lazily a few feet above him. Remus Lupin was gripping Sirius’ shirt to prevent him from winning the race, and Peter was panting just behind him.
“I am concerned about Lupin,” said Professor McGonagall, staring at the four boys. “I’m surprised Potter and Black haven’t already found out about his condition. When they do, it’ll be a terrible shock for him. He needs his friends. I shudder to think of what may become of him alone…”
“I trust his friends,” answered Dumbledore softly. “When they find out, if they haven’t already, I’m sure they won’t reject Remus.”
There was a short silence.
“And, if I may ask, what makes you think so?” asked McGonagall in a respectful, yet doubtful tone.
Dumbledore chuckled. “Pure intuition. Do you like music, Minerva?” he asked amiably.
“Wha- Oh, I don’t have a passion for it, but I do like it,” answered McGonagall, taken aback by this strange question.
“Let’s say “” said Dumbledore lightly, ““ that there are some tunes that cannot be played by a sole musician. Some people will have a crowd of friends gathered around them, yet they will play as soloists. Their “friends” are only there to fill the blanks.”
Dumbledore leaned forwards, his elbows resting on the window ledge, and he joined the tips of his long fingers.
“Now I have the feeling “” he went on, ““ that Remus Lupin’s life is not the score of a soloist. Just like you so rightly said, he needs his friends. I strongly suspect his particular tune will be played by four musicians…”
Professor McGonagall didn’t like metaphors very much; she was used to getting straight to the point. But Dumbledore didn’t have to resort to woolly images to convince her. If he had an intuition, that was enough for her. She excused herself and left Dumbledore gazing at the first-years.
The Headmaster spoke quietly in the empty office.
“Now I am extremely curious to see what sort of piece the four of you are going to play,” he murmured, without taking his eyes off the four boys and their condor. “A Symphony for Quartet... probably.”
***************
A/N: PFFF!!... (*wipes the sweat off her forehead*) Here it is at last... you wouldn't believe what THIS ONE went through. My Beta sent it back to me weeks ago, and it never reached me at the time, and I wrote her countless emails that never reached her either... I swear there was a plot. Or a curse. So now I hope you enjoyed it...
A/N2: End of the first part of Symphony for Quartet. Now is the time for reviewing, if ever!
A/N3: As an answer to several reviews... This story doesn't end there and will be continued!!