Year One

Hogwarts Express

September 1, 11:24 a.m.

The train had carried them out of London by now, and was clattering through the countryside. The corridors were full of the hustle and bustle of excited first-years racing along, rowdy second-years shouting greetings at one another through compartment doors, and newly appointed fifth-year Prefects trying to restore calm as they weaved in and out of the tangle of robes, trunks and owl cages.

Remus watched the activity quietly from inside his compartment. He didn't feel particularly boisterous; in fact, he was almost dreading his arrival at Hogwarts. More to distract himself than to initiate conversation, he turned to the two energetic boys sharing the compartment, who were talking animatedly to each other about the latest broomstick models.

"Are all your family wizards?" he asked softly by way of greeting.

The slight boy with rimmed glasses, who had been demonstrating with his hands a Quidditch move that Remus recognised as the Wronski Feint, stopped midair and scrutinised him for a moment. He gave his head a jerk to get his messy dark hair out of his eyes, and said politely, "Yeah. I think Dad's got a second cousin who's a dentist, but we never see him."

Remus nodded and turned his attention to the other boy, who was lounging on the seats opposite the first boy. He also had black hair, which was floppy and fell into his eyes.

"Mine are all wizards," he said in a bored sort of voice. "I'm Sirius Black, by the way." He flashed a toothy grin and gestured towards his friend. "This is James."

Remus nodded again and offered his name, but didn't extend the conversation. He looked past the boys to stare out the window, and just then noticed the little red-haired girl sitting with her face pressed against the glass, which was tear-stained and foggy. The girl was evidently crying.

Sirius and James had started their raucous discussion about Quidditch again when the compartment door slid open and another boy hurried in. Hook-nosed and sallow-skinned with stringy black hair that needed thorough washing, he sat down opposite the girl, and the two began talking in low voices. Remus sighed and resumed staring out the window, thinking about his parents and wishing he could be back home.

"Slytherin?"

James had looked round at the redhead and her friend; he had apparently been listening to their conversation.

"Who wants to be in Slytherin?" He tilted his head towards Sirius. "I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"My whole family have been in Slytherin," said Sirius without a smile.

"Blimey, and I thought you seemed all right!"

Now Sirius broke into a grin.

"Maybe I'll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

"'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!' Like my dad," grinned James, lifting an invisible sword.

The sallow-skinned boy gave a small, disapproving grunt. When James turned on him with a menacing air, Remus sat up a little straighter but didn't say anything.

"Got a problem with that?"

"No … if you'd rather be brawny than brainy –"

"Where're you hoping to go, seeing as you're neither?" smirked Sirius, and James let out a roar of a laugh.

The girl stood up, rather pink in the face, and threw a look of deep dislike at the two cackling boys. She seemed not to have noticed Remus hunched quietly in the corner.

"Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment."

"Ooooo …" James and Sirius imitated her disdainful tone, and James tried to trip Severus on his way out.

"See ya, Snivellus!" called Sirius as the girl slammed the door shut.

Remus managed to ignore the hearty sniggers James and Sirius were now sharing; he had just had a dreadful thought. Stomach lurching with apprehension, he wondered what his parents would say if he got sorted into Slytherin. Surely, he would be, seeing as what he was … surely, the Sorting Hat would not miss the beast inside him, would not fail to notice the dark horror lurking beneath the eleven-year-old innocence. Heart heavy with the weight of what he carried with him wherever he went, Remus wondered if he even belonged at Hogwarts.

Year One

The Great Hall

September 1, 8:29 p.m.

The Hall was a wonder, better than he had ever dared to imagine it. Lit with a thousand magnificent candles, speckled with a dozen pearly-white ghosts, its ceiling a brilliant black reflecting the stars above. The candles cast a magical glow that illuminated the happy faces of the hundreds of students occupying the four long tables and the many nervous expressions of the first-years lined up at the front of the Hall. The vastness of the night sky contrasting with the contracted storm in the pit of his stomach, Remus watched as Professor McGonagall called out names from her long roll of parchment. One by one, the timid first-years walked up to the Hat with shaking legs and had the verdict announced in front of the whole school. At last, after what seemed like ages –

"Lupin, Remus!"

Remus half-expected himself to be unable to move, but his legs seemed to have a mind of their own. Dreamlike, he walked, stumbled, towards the limp Sorting Hat. Professor McGonagall gave him a knowing smile and placed the Hat upon his head when he sat down on the three-legged stool. Remus momentarily worried about what he'd do if the Sorting Hat declared him unfit to attend Hogwarts and refused to put him into any house, but then the brim of the Hat slipped down over his ears and he heard a deep muttering.

"Right, let's see, then … not very sure of himself, this one, ha! I can see fear, and something deeper, oh yes, a desire to prove himself … but Ravenclaw would do you good, boy, would it not? No, there's more to him than smarts. Difficult, you are … I see fight in you, courage, and oh, kindness … hmmm, a little bit of all four, now that's not very common … but where to put you?"

Remus gripped the edge of the stool tightly, his eyes screwed shut under the Hat. Anything but Slytherin, he'd be happy with anything but Slytherin. He did not want validation for the wolf inside him, he did not want to know he was inherently a bad person.

The Hat was muttering something again, but Remus either couldn't or didn't want to hear it over the cacophony of his own thoughts. Next moment, before he knew what was happening, the Hat had bellowed "Gryffindor!" and the table on the far right of the Hall had erupted into uproarious applause. Remus could see Sirius Black clapping and hooting enthusiastically among the sea of black hats, and the redheaded girl from the train was next to him, smiling and cheering along with the rest.

As he took his place amid hearty hellos and gregarious greetings, the most stupendous relief washing over him, Remus glanced up at the teachers' table, at the center of which sat Professor Dumbledore in his midnight-blue robes, long silver beard tucked into his belt. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Remus thought he saw the Headmaster flash a wink in his direction before turning back to the Sorting.

Year One

Hogwarts Library

June 2, 8:38 a.m.

"But why?" moaned Peter shrilly for the third time that week. "Why don't you have to take the Astronomy exam tonight?"

"Shh!" the hiss of Madam Pince's breath sounded in the background. The four boys looked round, expecting to see her breathing down their necks as usual. The library was packed with students, and the only sounds were the scratching of quills, the rustle of book pages being turned and the occasional yawn. Remus turned his eyes away from the bright sunlight streaming through the windows as he tried, yet again, to explain.

"Because my mother is very ill, and I have to go home and see her."

"Hasn't she got better yet?" asked Sirius, looking concerned as he leaned forward. "She's been ill for ages, hasn't she?"

Remus nodded stiffly. He hated lying to his friends like this, hated betraying their trust, but he was terrified – terrified that they would desert him the minute they found out. No, these were the first true friends Remus had ever had, and he was determined to hold on to them as long as possible. He could not let the wolf take them away.

"You don't look that well yourself, mind you," commented Sirius now, reaching across the table for a map of Jupiter as he peered closely at Remus' face. "A bit peaky, if you ask me."

"Lay off of him," James told the other two. "He's taking the exam next Wednesday, aren't you, Remus?"

There was an odd silkiness in James' voice. Remus nodded again, feeling his throat tighten.

Year Two

The Hospital Wing

October 6, 12:15 p.m.

"Blimey, what happened to you?"

"How did you get those scratches? Merlin's beard, you look awful!"

"I couldn't finish my Potions homework without your help last night," put in Peter wistfully, in his usual shrill tones. "Snape got top marks," he added jealously.

"A bit more sympathy, Peter?" muttered Sirius through gritted teeth. He jabbed the mousy little boy sharply in the ribs, and Peter yelped.

Remus let out a weak laugh. He had awoken this morning to find himself in the hospital wing, covered in rapidly healing cuts and bruises, with a heavily bandaged left shoulder and a sour taste of medicine in his mouth. The pounding in his head had lessened over the past two hours.

"I was practicing Quidditch out late, lost control of the broom," he lied easily, smiling mildly as he smoothed out the white linen sheets beside his pillow. "Flew straight into the Whomping Willow without realising it. It was too dark, couldn't see properly."

Apart from himself, only Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore knew what had really happened. The other half of him had been particularly difficult to control last night, and he had bit and scratched himself until he bled profusely from several places, shrieking and yowling and screaming as he did so. Remus shuddered involuntarily at the memory. In the morning, after the painful transformation to his human form again, Madam Pomfrey had found him in the Shack in a terrible state. It had taken almost thirty minutes just to bring him back to consciousness.

Madam Pomfrey came bustling round the curtain now, carrying a lunch tray of undercooked meat and more of the sour medicine.

"Oh, honestly," she said in an exasperated voice, "he needs to rest. Go along now, the lot of you –"

With varying tones of protest, Sirius and Peter shuffled out. James hovered uncertainly.

"Funny, though, Remus, I'd have thought the full moon would provide enough light to see where your broom was headed," he said abruptly, before straightening his shoulders and following his friends out.

Year Two

Gryffindor Common Room

February 8, 1:15 a.m.

Remus was tired. Rubbing the back of his aching neck, he tossed his Transfiguration notes aside and stretched. The common room was empty, the Gryffindors having long since gone to bed after a gruelling day of classes, homework and double Potions with the Slytherins. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the tables cluttered with textbooks, quills and rolls of parchment.

Outside, a storm was raging. Rain lashed against the tower windows in torrents, occasional flashes of lightning momentarily brightening the dim room. If the weather was any indication of the storm brewing in his own life since the bite, Remus did not feel it at the moment. He yawned enormously, feeling immensely contented. He swung himself out of his comfortable armchair, spotted James Potter's head hovering in midair inches away, and fell backwards with a yell.

"Don't do that, you lot!"

James had pulled off his Invisibility Cloak to reveal Sirius, Peter, and the rest of his body.

"We're off to the Restricted Section," said Sirius promptly, lifting a flap of the Cloak in an inviting fashion, "to do a bit of research on Animagi."

"To do research on – what?"

"Animagi. C'mon!"

"What, at this time?" Remus was incredulous as he glanced at his watch. "It's half past one, what are you –?"

"I told you!" said Peter forlornly, addressing the other two. "I told you we shouldn't, we might get into trouble –"

"Do us a favour, Peter," advised James, "and shut up."

A clap of thunder raised the sparse hairs on Remus' nape, and he said, "If someone would please explain what is going on."

James sighed and flung himself down into a chair.

"Well," he said, looking Remus straight in the eye, "you don't expect us to let you go on your monthly nighttime adventures alone, do you?"

Remus felt the colour drain from his face. His fingertips turned ice-cold. He spluttered noiselessly, but no words came out.

"Don't waste your breath trying to convince us otherwise," said Sirius breezily as he fell into an armchair next to James, still clutching the Cloak. "We're not stupid, you know, we worked it out ages ago. Took us a bit of time to decide what to do about it … I mean, what do you do when you find out your best friend is a werewolf?"

His worst fears now confirmed, Remus felt his stomach jump to his throat. He braced himself for the words he knew must come next, the announcement that he was to be shunned from now on. He could almost already hear them, the words he had heard from friends and strangers for most of his life.

"You become like him, obviously," said James unexpectedly. "Of course, none of us fancied a bite from a werewolf, no offence … it took us quite a few sneaky trips to the library to come across the subject of Animagi, not to mention poring over countless books on how to fathom a werewolf's mind –"

"Came very close to being caught by Filch once or twice –" muttered Peter swiftly.

" – but now we just need to learn how to become Animagi. It shouldn't be difficult – if there are instructions for the Polyjuice Potion in the Restricted Section, there should be something on Animagi …"

Remus surveyed them carefully, searching for the tiniest of hints of insincerity in their faces. He couldn't find any.

"You're not –" he said finally, swallowing hard. "You're not … afraid of me?"

"Oh, simply terrified," smirked Sirius, and James gave his usual roaring laugh.

"And what are Animagi?" asked Remus slowly, still hardly daring to believe them.

"An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can morph him or herself into an animal at will," recited Peter importantly.

"Apparently, werewolves are only a hazard to humans," explained Sirius, "so we should be able to keep you company as animals."

Remus suddenly felt an uncomfortable sting behind his eyes. He willed himself to ignore it.

"And what about – what about the legality of it? Surely something like that cannot be –"

"We were hoping you wouldn't bring that up," said James cheerfully.

But Peter suddenly burst out, "Well, it's illegal, isn't it? I keep telling them – there must be a reasonable alternative –"

"Peter, if you don't want to participate in this, you can scarper," warned Sirius. "No one's forcing you. Go on. Clear off."

"But if you tell a single soul about this," added James, "I'll hex you to within an inch of your life, I promise."

Peter sulked, but didn't move from his spot.

"What's adventure without a bit of a risk?" said James enthusiastically, jumping to his feet. "Anything's possible if you've got enough nerve, that's what my dad always says."

Slowly and without blinking, Remus let his eyes rove over the three of them. James and Sirius were positively beaming with anticipation, and even Peter had started to look a little hopeful at James' words.

Remus exhaled; he hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath. The pinching sensation behind his eyes intensified a little as, at long last, he believed them.

Epilogue

In the years ahead, Remus Lupin would eventually come to realise that the other half of him wasn't just a werewolf. It was a werewolf, and a stag, and a dog, and a rat. It was the adventures of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. It was the map they wrote, and the escapades they planned, and the footsteps that warned them of Filch and Mrs. Norris. It was the secret passages they discovered, and those that remained to be explored, and the one that led to the Honeydukes cellar. It was the way they teased James about the crying redheaded girl from the train, and their spot beneath the ancient beech tree at the edge of the lake, and Snivellus being hauled upside-down into the air. It was the glint of the Snitch in the sunshine as James played with it, and the way Peter watched hungrily. It was constant guilt he felt at betraying Dumbledore's trust, and its subsequent dismissal when they sat down to plan next month's adventure. It was the rush of pure love when holding his best friend's son in his arms for the first time, and the rush of fierce pride thirteen years later when watching the same boy ward off a Dementor on his own. It was the godfather's flying motorbike, the betrayal and the shattered hearts, and the unashamed tears and brooding nights. It was Hogwarts and Hogsmeade and the Shrieking Shack, and seeing her almond-shaped eyes in her son's. It was Severus mixing up the Wolfsbane, and Harry and Grindylows, and the map again in its rightful owner's possession. It was Tonks. It was her bubblegum pink hair, and her aversion towards her first name, and the ring that glittered on her finger, and his own blood flowing in the veins of her son. It was his fear and cowardice, and his courage and sacrifice. It was death and darkness and destruction, and love and friendship and bravery.

In the years to come, Remus Lupin would learn to coexist with the wolf, would come to know that without that other half of him, he would not have learned to live so fully and to love so fiercely, would never have known that fateful winter night in the common room that had turned him into a true Gryffindor.