Side Story: The Student Days of Remus Lupin
(Because I've been squeezed dry by capitalists right before New Year's holiday, I've decided to write a fun side story from before Anthony intervened. This chapter has no connection to the main plot, so it's a freebie.)
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That night, in a warm dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, a very serious meeting was about to be convened.
"Guys, please," Lupin said wearily, burrowing into his blankets. "Unless Hogwarts is collapsing, whatever it is, let's talk tomorrow. Alright?"
No one answered. James slipped in just before Lupin could draw his bed curtains, with Sirius right behind him. Hidden behind the drapes, Lupin couldn't see their faces, only feel several feet shuffling over his striped quilt, and occasionally a hand pressing down on his foot.
Lupin sighed and drew his legs in.
James and Sirius finally settled into positions they found satisfactory. Even after they'd stopped moving, Lupin heard, as expected, the faint rustling of the bed curtains at his feet, as if someone was still hesitating outside.
"Come on in, Peter," James said. "We need to get this out before Remus starts snoring."
"O—okay," Peter said.
The bed curtain was pushed aside again. Lupin felt his mattress dip a little lower.
Peter was the smallest in their dorm. Ever since James had knocked out four teeth from the Slytherin who was bullying him, Peter had idolized James. He'd agree with anything James said, applaud any feat James boasted about.
But the one closest to James was Sirius. Of course they fought—in fact, they were the only two in the dorm who did—but every time they made up, they were tighter than before. This had puzzled Lupin for a while.
Lupin was puzzled because he'd never had friends like that. More precisely, he'd never had friends at all. Friends were people who held keys, and when you kept secrets locked inside, it was hard to make them. Lupin's secret was bigger than anyone else's.
Some people's secrets might be grinding their teeth in their sleep, or fighting with their family every so often, or liking a certain girl… but Lupin's secret was something he could never tell anyone.
When they'd moved for the third time, his mother had told him this: "Remmy, promise me, no matter what the neighbour's children ask you, don't tell them what you are." Her brown eyes were full of exhaustion and heartache as she reached out to pull down his sleeve, covering the scars on his arm.
The secret was this: Remus Lupin was a werewolf. Every full moon, he turned into a mindless wolf.
At home, he had a basement room all to himself, filled with quilts and pillows, but they never satisfied the beast. The beast would claw its way out of his body on those moonlit nights, tearing into the pillows, tearing into itself in a frenzy for blood and the scent of humans.
When the sun rose, Lupin would find himself lying in a sea of torn fabric, covered in wounds, bleeding, starving, and nauseous. His father and mother would rush in and hold him. They couldn't be with him on those terrible nights, because anyone bitten by that beast would meet one of two fates: become a werewolf like Lupin, or be torn to death.
Lupin couldn't say which fate was kinder, but he knew such a thing must never happen.
That was also why he was so exhausted now.
He'd just undergone a particularly violent transformation yesterday in the Shrieking Shack, far from Hogwarts. He'd spent the day in the hospital wing and desperately needed to lie quietly in his familiar four-poster.
But these were his friends. His first real friends in years. They were running up and down the corridor in his heart, rattling the chains on the locked door.
One day, they'd discover the truth. They'd realize that behind Lupin's locked door wasn't a "fall down the stairs," "Peeves throwing teacups everywhere," or a "sick grandmother." Then they'd leave him, furious.
Until then, Lupin didn't have the courage to tell them. He cherished every moment they chose to come close.
He propped himself up on his elbows and sat up, leaning against the wall.
It was probably James with another brilliant idea… Lupin hoped it had nothing to do with Snape, and preferably wasn't another late-night escapade…
"Remus," he heard James say. "We didn't even see you at dinner, and you were white as a ghost when you came back."
"Oh… I didn't notice. Stomach bug," Lupin said, falling back on the familiar lie and pushing down the guilt. "You know, my grandmother… she was so overjoyed she was getting better, she insisted I have some of her 'get well' treats. Either the visitor had a grudge against her, or that cake was six months old. Get on with it, James. Before I start snoring."
Maybe it was his imagination, but James's tone seemed more careful than usual. "Remus…"
Now Lupin was genuinely surprised. Usually, Sirius was the only one who could make James sound like that. He didn't know when he'd earned that tone.
"What is it, James?" he asked.
"Come on, James," Sirius said. "I'll say it. We followed you last night."
Lupin's mind went blank. It took him longer than usual to process the words. His body went numb. The world went dark. But he couldn't see their faces anyway. The bed curtains blocked out the last of the light.
After a while, he realized no one was speaking. He could hear three people breathing, all very close.
Why were they still here? On a werewolf's bed?
"Anything to say?" Sirius prompted.
"I'm sorry…" Lupin managed. "If you want me to move out…"
"What are you talking about, Remus?" James said. "Why would you move out?"
A flicker of hope sparked in Lupin's chest.
Maybe they hadn't seen him transform. Maybe they'd just seen Madam Pomfrey leading him to the Whomping Willow, wondering why his suddenly-ill grandmother lived inside it.
"You followed me," he asked, trying to sound casual, "to make sure I wasn't sneaking off for a night adventure without you?"
Silence again. Lupin hated this silence. It let him hear the hope draining away, the blood pounding in his ears.
"No… Well, yes. Sort of," James said. "Anyway, we know you're a werewolf."
Lupin's last shred of hope vanished. His stomach twisted. At the same time, he felt an unexpected lightness, as if the sword hanging over his head had finally fallen.
He deserved this. For lying to his friends.
"So…" he heard himself say.
"So you don't have to lie anymore," James said, uncharacteristically serious. For a moment, he sounded nothing like the Gryffindor who bragged about his Quidditch skills, nor the troublemaker who got into fights in the corridors.
"But keep the skill," Sirius added offhandedly. "We might still need it if we get caught out of bed."
James laughed. "Right, Remus. We'll definitely need your 'good student' face."
"You…" Lupin fought to keep his voice steady. "You still want to go on night adventures with me?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't we?"
Lupin felt dizzy. He clenched the quilt. "I'm a werewolf." He couldn't remember the last time he'd said those words, or to which short-lived playmate. He felt the bed curtain tremble. Probably Peter shaking.
"So?" James shot back. "Werewolves don't like night adventures?"
"Remus doesn't like night adventures," Sirius mocked, but without malice. "Remus is the good boy who folds his pajamas at the bedside."
"Look, Remus, we're friends," James said. "I'm not an idiot or a coward. You didn't think a little thing like this would make me give up a friend like you, did you?"
"I'm not an idiot or a coward either," Sirius declared.
"Exactly," James said, satisfied. "Peter? You?"
"I—I'm not either," Peter said hesitantly.
"Louder, Peter, that wasn't very convincing," Sirius said.
James laughed but seemed to kick him—Lupin felt his quilt shift—and Sirius fell quiet.
"I'm not!" Peter said loudly, his voice trembling.
Lupin smelled fear and timidity in his wavering tone, but Peter was still sitting on his bed, beside him. That was enough. It was all too good. Lupin half-suspected he was dreaming.
"Speaking of which, Remus, last time we were out… Remus?" James's hand brushed against Lupin's trembling body. He paused, then cried out in panic, "Merlin's beard, are you crying?!"
"I'm snoring," Lupin mumbled, pulling away from his hand.
…
They didn't just want to go on night adventures with Lupin; they wanted to join him on the full moon.
James and Sirius quickly realized that becoming Animagi was exactly the kind of magic they needed.
They made meticulous plans to practice the transformation. They even got 'Outstanding' on an essay about Animagus magic—Lupin felt a pang of guilt every time he saw Professor McGonagall's proud look—and after each spending no fewer than five trips to the hospital wing, declared they were one hundred percent ready to attempt one of the most advanced branches of transfiguration.
James announced smugly, "Madam Pomfrey must wonder why Snape wanted to turn my hands into lion paws."
"That's why we need Remus," Sirius said.
Without looking up, Lupin said, "To write your essays and divert attention." He measured the length of the parchment. "Last two inches are yours, Sirius."
"I've known it for ages," Sirius scoffed. "Finishing the essay is a complete waste of time."
Lupin pushed the parchment and quill toward him. "Write it yourself."
Sirius sighed and sat down, glanced at the open reference books, and began scribbling. Professor Binns would check their essays, though he never remembered who was who anyway.
…
There were very few things James Potter set his mind to that he didn't accomplish—getting Lily Evans's attention didn't count—and if you added Sirius Black into the mix, Lupin couldn't think of anything they wouldn't do.
Thereafter, on every full moon, after bidding farewell to Madam Pomfrey, Lupin would walk toward the Shrieking Shack with a heart full of anxiety, guilt, and excitement. His friends would follow under the Invisibility Cloak, occasionally complaining or laughing when someone stepped on another's foot.
With their company, the beast that howled in pain under the moon, trapped in his body and the shack, seemed happier. When the morning sun crept over him, the beast sank into sleep, the fur receded, and Lupin slowly returned to consciousness. He was still aching, still exhausted, but there were far fewer wounds on his body.
Lupin looked around, his hand touching the cold wooden floorboards of the Shrieking Shack. Right. His friends had made it back to the dormitory before the professors noticed. Again. He smiled weakly, turned over with effort, letting the sun warm his cold chest and stomach.
Madam Pomfrey arrived soon after. Lupin spent another half-day on the curtained-off bed in the corner of the hospital wing, drifting in and out of sleep, feeling various potion ingredients sloshing slowly in his stomach.
When he woke from another nap, something felt off. It took him a moment to realize a furry, damp something was nudging his palm, which hung over the edge of the bed.
He jerked his hand back and sat up. A large black dog's head emerged from under his bed—it had been sniffing him.
"Sirius?" Lupin whispered, pulling the bed curtain aside.
The black dog seemed to be wagging its tail. Lupin felt a faint vibration through the bed frame.
"You're insane!" Lupin said. "If you're caught, you'll be expelled!"
"Don't mind him. He lost a bet," James's voice came. Lupin relaxed, knowing he must be under the Cloak.
Sirius's Animagus form was a large black dog, James's a stag, and Peter's a nimble rat.
At first, they only transformed on the nights Lupin did—they were unregistered, illegal Animagi, and getting caught would mean serious trouble—but they soon grew tired of only playing once a month and began transforming frequently in the dorm.
James would chew on parchment like a real stag, making them roar with laughter; Sirius could tangle socks and scarves together and complain the moment he turned back that James's socks were the smelliest; Peter liked hiding in their pencil holders, stealing snacks from their desks, or scurrying after James and Sirius.
"Where's Peter?" Lupin asked. If James and Sirius were both here, he had reason to believe the fourth resident of their dorm was too.
"Look out the window," James said, still invisible. "He lost too, but we figured Madam Pomfrey wouldn't appreciate a rat in the ward."
"And you think a big dog is better?" Lupin asked weakly, looking out. If James hadn't pointed it out, he would have thought it was just a daring mouse, clutching half a muffin furtively.
Peter looked terrified, trembling all over. Chocolate-colored crumbs kept falling as he shook. Lupin quickly got out of bed, opened the window—coughing at the blast of cold air—and reached out to take the muffin from Peter.
"Thank you, Peter," he whispered.
Peter nodded at him, hunched down, and jumped off the windowsill, scurrying away along the wall.
James chuckled softly.
Lupin turned. "What?" He wasn't used to talking to an empty room.
"Peter still lost," James said. "Hey, I declare you the winner of this round, Sirius."
Lupin asked, "What were you betting on?"
Sirius raised himself up, placed his massive dog paw on the clean sheets Madam Pomfrey had so carefully inspected, and licked Lupin's hand like a dog. Lupin gently stroked his paw, feeling a twinge of envy, wishing he could have such warm, soft fur when he transformed, instead of endless pain and torment.
"On whose Animagus form had the fewest tells," James said. "I won the first round—"
The black dog began to grow. In moments, a dark-haired Sirius Black appeared in the ward. He hopped onto the edge of Lupin's bed and complained, "That's because none of us know what a real stag acts like—"
James grinned at him, undeterred. "As punishment, Sirius and Peter had to come out in their Animagus forms without causing too much of a stir."
"A black dog like that didn't cause a stir?" Lupin asked, almost forgetting his own aches.
"I said 'too much of a stir'," James said, pulling off his Invisibility Cloak and sitting on Lupin's bed. "No one suspected it was Sirius. Not even his brother recognized him."
"I recognized you right away, Sirius," Lupin said. "Peter was much more hidden."
Sirius shrugged. "That's because I'm a fierce big dog. Even a werewolf—"
Lupin reflexively cut him off, alert. "Shh!"
Sirius looked at him, surprised, seemingly not understanding why. James said, "You don't have to be so careful, Remus. No one would suspect you're a werewolf—"
"Don't," Lupin said, worried.
James scratched his head. "Alright… Hey, Remus, next time look at the way Peter holds things. No rat grabs stuff like that. People don't notice him because no one pays attention to a rat." He mused, "We need to be careful. Peter might get swatted by a house-elf's broom one day."
"For his own sake, let's let Peter keep his tell," Sirius said. "Tell him he won. It's to save us from having to rescue every mouse that crosses our path. Good old Peter is a great rat… except for that posture. Every other move he makes makes me think a mousetrap is called for."
"Watch out for every mouse in the dorm," James warned him. "I don't want you to become a murderer."
Sirius thought for a moment, then conceded reluctantly, "I think I nearly crushed his tail last time."
Even knowing this wasn't exactly good for Peter, watching James and Sirius smile, Lupin couldn't help but smile too.
He knew, from now on, he wouldn't just watch out for every rat. He'd notice every stag, every black dog—on moonlit nights and moonless ones, with human eyes and a wolf's nose, watching them with joy and gratitude.
(Grateful for the New Year holiday [joins hands in prayer].)
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