Yes, it's back! This chapter is VERY long, longer than my others, simply because there was so much to say! (and, unlike "First Year" and "Of Quidditch", this chapter barely covers from Summer 1972 to Christmas 1972. (35 pages double-spaced, 20 single-spaced)—go figure!
DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, except for Alexander, Cassius, Roxane, Nicolette and Sarissa Malfoy; Mrs. Rosier; Edward Moss; Raoul and Jacqueline Snape; and Sarah Winton (who's barely mentioned, anyway).
Here's to this chapter! *clinks champagne glasses together* Because, namely, we're getting even more closer to VERY ORIGINAL stuff in BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON! I hope you enjoy it!
***
Discoveries
July 4th, 1972, 9:34pm
"Evan?"
His mother stood in the doorway of the small bedroom, a crisp envelope in her hand. Smiling, she walked forward and placed it on the edge of his writing desk, currently cluttered with textbooks and scrolls filled with neat, small handwriting. Evan's eyes fixated on the letter as she stopped, awkwardly standing in the centre of his room.
"Have you been studying today?"
Grimacing, Evan nodded slowly. "Yes, Mother. Heaps."
She winced slightly at his impertinent tone. "That's good, darling. Would you like some dinner now? Your Father's been called out to work, so…"
"I'm fine, Mother. Really."
Without another word she left the room, her head lowered and Evan's face blanched with anticipation. The envelope sat like a bomb on the desk, ticking softly within his mind, waiting to explode. In one rapid movement he jumped off the bed and grasped it hungrily, ripping the parchment apart like a wild animal then devouring its contents. When he had finished reading, the paper dropped to the floor like a heavy stone.
Minister Cassius Malfoy
Department of Magical Catastrophes
The Malfoy Estate, Lancashire
Mr. Rosier,
Do not attempt to grovel, plead or in any way dishonour yourself for my benefit—Lucius has well-informed me and my father of the situation I now face concerning my daughter, Sarissa, and yourself. I am aware of the state of your family; in fact, if not for your name there would be no way I could ever conceive of making such an offer as my brother has made to you.
You are very smart, Mr. Rosier—I will grant you that. And I do not mean this in a devious sense, for I do believe that you feel something, however small, for my daughter. Instead, Lucius has proposed a favour to you—and indeed it is, for there are few which would be initiated into our Order that have not been hand-picked by our Master himself. Do not fool yourself—as I have said previously, and undoubtedly you have noted, it is your name which gives you the honour your parents have neglected.
My offer to you, in exchange for permission to court my daughter is this—you will not abandon her. There will never be another opportunity for someone such as yourself in which you gain so much… and lose but a small portion of your freedom. Lucius himself has given you the means—and now I give you my agreement. Remember, however—I do not give either my blessings or my approval. I am of the opinion that respect must be earned, and should you squander her apparent love for you on vicious dealings and shows of vacant lust… you know now the consequence.
I leave the decision in your hands—for better, or for worse. Your first choice, to return to your parents' house instead of to the home of your new family was ill-advised. The terror in your heart betrays you, boy. I believe in second chances… there are others that do not forgive so easily. I feel your fear, Mr. Rosier—but I cannot condemn you.
I expect your answer immediately… in person.
C. Malfoy—
Evan felt his body contort rigidly, his arms flailing wildly out at the sides as he clung for the nearby desk, legs jerking around in a robotic kind of tarantella. What is this Dark Magic? his mind asked anxiously, its thoughts jumbled and chaotic, mirroring his physical state. Others voices spoke inside his head—deeper and deeper they seemed to delve, into the darkest regions of his mind where long-forgotten ideas dwelled. Power… Anger… Hatred… What I Am…
The room around him drained of colour, blue dripping down the walls like tears on a windblown cheek—it spun, faster and faster, the colours mixing together and swirling rainbow ribbons at his feet. They tightened and Evan felt his ankles lock together, aching pain spreading up his shin, then his hands were bound as well. The bedroom faded into darkness.
Power… someone whispered in his ear, more than you could ever have desired. The black which lay before him seemed unending, but this didn't frighten him as it might've long ago. Yes, long ago… in another time, another life. None of it matters anymore.
"Yes," Evan murmured, the soft words barely echoing in the vast blackness. As he spoke them it was as if the floor he stood upon dropped away and he fell slowly, floating through nothingness until he closed his eyes and concentrated on the fading sound of his own voice. Power… Anger… Hatred… What I Am…
When he opened them again he was lying sideways on prickly carpet, the red, cabernet colour startling his weak sight. Rolling onto his back he noticed three figures standing before him all dressed in long, glittering black robes that reflected the green haze that hung in the air above them. Standing quickly, Evan saw Cassius and Lucius staring at him stonily from underneath their dark hoods, the centre figure his head bowed as if in prayer.
"Rosier, Evan," Cassius announced, his voice throaty and menacing. "The initiate has arrived, Master."
Evan looked to Lucius, whose eyes were now fixed on a spot in the distance, then noticed that the central figure was moving towards him, seeming to float as he walked silently and his robes swished around him.
"Does the initiate swear his allegiance to his Master, the Dark One Who Shall Bring Light?" His eyes flickered back to Evan's and the latter felt his skin crawl when he saw his reflection in the cold stare. "Do you swear your allegiance to Lord Voldemort?"
The name sent shivers down Evan's spine, his fingers tingling just at the sound of it. That same rigidity began to flood his veins and he quickly nodded, his voice shaking from the intensity of the moment. "Yes, I do swear my everlasting allegiance to Lord Voldemort, my Master, the Dark One Who Shall Bring Light." The words were not his own; Evan felt as if someone else from another plane of being spoke through him as he swore to obey the orders of a man whose name was unfamiliar to him.
"Does he swear it truthfully, honourably?"
The voice was the same as the one who had spoken to him when he was in the depths of darkness, nothingness surrounding him but no fear wrapping its cold, clammy hand over his heart. It was not raspy, guttural or moaning—the sound was virile, strong, and ultimately inspirational. Evan's heart beat faster as a wand emerged from the robes, the power of the magic practically reverberating off the walls of the room he had not dared recognise until now. The room, he thought, surprised, Alexander Malfoy's study… a room that I would know as well as the face of my best friend, the boy standing in front of me now… and the one who I feel is lost to me forever.
Evan felt the warm tip of the wand touch his arm, and a trance came over his body as his eyes snapped shut, savouring the sensation religiously, knowing the sanctity of this moment could only be broken through his own fault.
"Morsmordre," the voice said clearly, its tone not hushed or afraid. His lower arm burned, but its pain was nothing to him now, as the words came back to him and Evan repeated them softly, over and over again.
"Morsmordre, Morsmordre… Morsmordre…" Evan wanted to open his eyes, but as Lord Voldemort continued to speak to him mentally, he lingered still in the realm between ecstasy and torment. Power, Anger, Hatred—What You Are. You shall devour them all, with their high ideals and self-abasement.
You shall devour them all, Death Eater.
The heat now searing through his arm, Evan opened his eyes tentatively, not wishing to see the truth of what was now emblazoned on it. "The Dark Mark," he heard Lucius say, but something within him revolted in the silence of the deep, dark night, mind racing and heart palpitating—
Evan Rosier screamed.
***
That summer I returned home early under the pretence of illness to complete my monthly transformation. When I regained consciousness I was well aware of the absence of Evan Rosier, and of Lucius' constant harassment of Sarissa in the halls of the Manor. After several days she confined herself to her bedroom, reading into the early hours of morning, I noticing the light underneath her door and the rustling of parchment turning vigorously. As always, in times of great trial, Sarissa preferred the written word to the spoken; her Mother continued to knock at the door and persuade her to return to the world of the living, but to no avail. Even when her beloved reappeared early in July she could not be coaxed from her sanctuary.
I spoke with Evan often over the summer months; his friendship with Lucius was strained and although he divulged nothing of the change that had occurred between them, in my heart I knew the one they were fighting for—Sarissa—or so I thought. My Uncle Cassius, however, spent lengthy hours with Evan Rosier around the fireplace in his study, poring over aged books and quoting from them effortlessly. As each day passed without acknowledgement from Sarissa, his eyes dulled as Lucius' brightened—I felt more unsure of my Uncle than ever in these moments as we sat around the breakfast table, my Mother nervously devouring her fruit and eggs while Grandfather spouted innocuous 'pearls of wisdom' concerning the troubles our world was facing. His lucidity was fading fast and Cassius, his established heir, seemed quite reluctant to listen as he rambled on with senile flair.
Aunt Nicolette's forced smiles grated on my nerves for much of July; without Edward and Narcissa to keep my spirits highs (they were arriving in August, at my Grandfather's wish) and with depression reeking through the Manor like the stench of our new Head Chef Maximilian's terrible cooking, I felt almost entirely alone.
"Remus?" In late July I was surprised by Sarissa's familiar chestnut hair bobbing in the doorway of my bedroom. Beckoning her inside and closing the door behind her quickly, she sat on the edge of my bed and sighed heavily. "I just don't know what is right anymore."
"What do you mean?" I asked, although well-versed in her predicament by my Mother by this stage.
"Father… and Evan. It's as if I can't even control my own life anymore!" She flopped backwards on the bed, crushing my History of Magic homework in the process. I winced but she didn't appear to notice. "Mother says that Evan wants to court me, to marry me… but I'm barely fifteen! How do I know that what I want right this moment is going to last me for the rest of my life?"
Slowly, I began to evaluate the situation. "Sarissa… it doesn't have to mean forever. You don't have to marry Evan if you don't feel its right."
"But that's just the problem, isn't it?" She sat up once more, hair dishevelled and eyes welling with tears. "It does feel right… but I'm scared, Remus. Our world is changing, and not for the better… I don't want Evan to be—drawn in, by Lucius, just so that he might have me. I'd rather die now than let that happen to him." Sarissa's eyes were glinting dangerously, so I sat beside her and held her tightly.
"It'll all work out, Sarissa… don't worry so much. This should be making you happy, not hurting you this way. Calm down, try to stop thinking about it. That's the only way to get past pain—you simply have to live through it, because whatever is supposed to happen, will."
I'd like to state her that my words had comforted her, but I can never be sure of such a thing. Mostly during that summer my mind kept straying back to Severus, and the friendship we once had. Edward and Narcissa were wonderful, but nothing they could ever give me replaced the honesty that existed between Severus Snape and myself. I knew that the tale of Sarissa and Evan could never interest or make any sense to them; they were different to me, and to my family. They knew nothing of loss, of deep dark pain that dwelled somewhere within yourself that simply wouldn't—or couldn't—be eradicated. And so the life I was living at that moment drew me away from them, so that even when they arrived in August I was distant, older and wiser in my mind because I could understand the world more completely than they and at a younger age.
My Mother pulled me closer to herself at this time, watching me constantly and always interceding whenever she saw Uncle Cassius approach me, even for something as trivial as asking how my Quidditch practice was going, or the time of dinner that night. This was the point in my life when I longed to wrench myself free from her clinging grasp; hold her by her shoulders and shake her mercilessly to try and make her notice that I didn't need her anymore. I hadn't the heart to tell her any other way.
So, this was my summer of contemplation. Often as I thought of Severus, whose friendship I feared I would never regain or match, I wished for another friend, one who could see me for the person that I was in a moment, not who I was in the past or might be in the future. I needed someone different in my life to change the way I viewed the world. As I write this I recall something Evan said over that summer, his face sad and grey.
"Sometimes you think you've found the greatest friend in the world, the one you'll always be able to speak to, understand, and that they'll feel the same about you." His sigh was heavy, laden with sorrow and unmistakeable defeat. "Then the day comes when you realise that there's no going back—they aren't the person you loved once, the one you would've killed and died for, and it hurts like hell. You feel like you've been stabbed in the back, kicked in guts… and for what? Just another memory to overshadow you for the rest of your life."
Severus was gone forever. But deep inside my heart, where all those dark secrets lay, a niggling hope continued to inspire my mind daily. Because one day those friends would arrive, and maybe they would forsake me also, but the point was to make the most of the time you had together. Because a memory never leaves you, even if Evan was right and you feel its consequences for the rest of your life. And that was all I asked for, in my transforming teenage mind.
***
November 19th, 1972, 2:39pm
"Stop it, you stupid git!"
"Or what, Slytherin slime? You'll tell Professor Cendric that I've been upsetting your harmony?" James Potter laughed languidly at his own joke, his best friend Peter Pettigrew accentuating the insult with high, squeaky giggles of his own.
Sirius Black narrowed his eyes at the two Gryffindors, cursing the fact that he had been grouped with them for the next term by the Professor. "No, I'll cover your bed in Bubotuber Pus, just to see if Sprout was telling the truth… maybe next day you'll come to class pimple-free, Gryffindor garbage."
Professor Cendric had been called from the dungeon several minutes earlier, ordering her class to work quietly on their Swelling Solutions until she returned. Instead, the Gryffindor and Slytherin students watched the interchange between the two boys, rich-kid James Potter and loose-cannon Sirius Black, who had been vicious enemies since their first Second-Year Potions class.
James looked venomously at Sirius, his messy hair standing on end. "You'd better not say things like that, Black," he murmured silkily, blue eyes flashed dangerously. "Or my Father—"
"Yes, yes, we've heard it all before." Raising his arms in a mock royal gesture to James, then standing to face the crowd of Slytherin's behind him, Sirius danced a little jig from side to side then shouted sarcastically: "Daddy's got a lot of Galleons, he can pay to rid ickle Jamsie of the evil, the terrible, the undeniably foul Sirius Black!" The Slytherins clapped and whistled loudly for their friend, who re-seated himself and continued to prepare his solution, slicing his caterpillars meticulously. The rest of the class resumed their work silently, but after a moment, underneath his breath just so James could hear, Sirius muttered: "Why don't you get a haircut, you arrogant prat?"
James exploded inside with rage. Glowering at his nemesis, James whispered softly, just for Sirius: "At least I've got a Father, you pitiful little orphan."
Suddenly, everyone's attention reverted to James and Sirius, the latter of whom had the former in headlock on the floor of the classroom. "What was that, eh? Not got a Father, right? Well, I'd rather live with Filch than with your son-of-a-bitch Father and holier-than-thou Mother! You're a stupid, worthless spoilt brat!" James wrestled free and managed to punch Sirius in the stomach, ending his tirade but continuing the fight. They were still rolling around on the cold, hard stones, the other students crowded around cheering for their respective heroes, when Professor Cendric reappeared and her previously smiling face turned into one of utter wrath.
"What is going on?!" The students scattered, clearing the way for their Professor, who stood above the now subdued Sirius and James, who were lying side by side on the floor, both with fists aimed and ready to make contact. "Potter! Black! Detentions for both of you, and I'll make sure that Professors McGonagall and Mulciber hear about this blatant disrespect for your teacher, your fellow students and mostly, for yourselves!" They lay on the ground, stunned, and Professor Cendric reached down to pull them upwards by the collars of their robes. "Get up!" she screamed, and the bell sounded for the end of the school day, causing the remainder of the class to leave quickly, their cauldrons still bubbling wildly.
"Both of you will attend a detention with Mr. Filch on Saturday." Her voice was softer, calmer, but dangerously so. Sirius and James said nothing, not wanting to spur her on towards further anger. Professor Cendric marked the date in her diary and then looked up at them from her desk at the front of the classroom. "If either of you so much as whimper for the rest of the semester in my class, I'll have you suspended. Do I make myself clear?" They both nodded quickly and the Professor waved them away. "Now get out—Mr. Filch will contact you regarding the arrangements." With these parting words, she swept away and into her office, leaving James and Sirius alone in the classroom.
"Black," James hissed softly, and Sirius glared at him. "We've got to settle this properly—unless you're chicken, that is?"
Sirius shook his head angrily. "Never, Potter. Just tell me the time and the place, and I'll beat the living daylights out of you."
"Tonight. The Arithmancy classroom in South Tower." They both shook hands defiantly, the hatred gleaming equally in their deep blue eyes. "Don't forget your wand."
***
November 19th, 1972, 5:19pm
"Hagrid, do you remember my Mother?"
Remus' hands were shaking slightly; he knew that the moon would rise in little less than an hour, but this question was one that had never been fully answered by Groundskeeper Ogg, and it had lurked at the back of his mind for almost two years, longing for the truth. Rubeus Hagrid, a giant of a man, chuckled into his grizzled brown beard.
"Aye, Master Remus. I remember yer Mother."
Since he didn't say anything more, Remus pressed him harder. "What about Raoul Snape… do you remember him?"
Hagrid's face changed, his bearded grin turning to a solemn smile. "Aye."
"Were he and my Mother… friends?"
"Aye."
This was becoming infuriating. Remus decided to word his questions more carefully, so that Hagrid would not be able to slip through the net of secrecy. "Why didn't she marry him, truthfully, Hagrid?"
The older man's eyes crinkled slightly at the edges in thought, and his lips twitched at the memories of years long past, sunny days near the lake when he, the apprentice groundskeeper, would prune trees and hedges grown unruly in the spring heat and hear snippets of conversation on the light breezes that swept down the lawn.
"Raoul… I'm sorry, I just can't." He remembered her eyes seeming a little red around the edges when she swept past him later in the afternoon, as if she had been crying—and he knew he was one of the only parties to the secret.
"Roxane!" The tall, dark-haired boy had cried, loudly enough for Hagrid to hear. "You can't tell me it's about money; I know you don't care about that sort of thing."
"Sometimes, Raoul… it matters. I can't live like a peasant." Hagrid could hear the pain, the insincerity in her voice. He hoped that Raoul might pick up on it also, dissuade her, promise her everything in the world because if she loved him, he would have everything he ever needed.
"How can you say that? Before—you said—I love you, Roxane. That changes everything."
"No! You can't understand… ever. I won't marry you. I love Archibald." The short, staccato sentences ran through Hagrid's mind as he tried to place the name. Not that Lupin git, he thought, racking his brains while still eavesdropping on the conversation. He isn't right for someone like her—someone that spirited, lovely. He doesn't deserve her.
"Alright, I believe you." Raoul's words were forced, as if it might choke on them as they rose like bile from his throat. "You do what you like… I'm going to Paris, anyway. I hope that you will be… happy."
Hagrid still listened for her after Raoul had gone and the sun was setting, fading away into the hills beyond. Behind him, he heard her softly sobbing into the red-tinged grass, the colour spreading to her eyes and flushing her face with lines where the tears had run. "Cassius," she whispered to herself as the wind blew her words down the slope to dissolve into the lake. "How can you do this to me?"
Hagrid glanced up at Remus, the son of Roxane and her ill-fated husband, and smiled at him genuinely. He must never know. "She didn't love him," Hagrid stated simply. "Not the way she was supposed ter. If she ever did… well," he paused and chose his words carefully, deciding to rely on clichéd rather than factual basis, "I just say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, eh?"
Although Remus didn't appear satisfied, this was the only explanation Hagrid could give, and he left the boy to his confused thoughts, memories welling up then crashing over him like a wave, causing him to stop and lean against the wall of the tunnel. Pulling out his handkerchief, Hagrid blew his nose noisily and stopped the tears that threatened to flow down his aging cheeks. If only we could change the past, eh? he thought to himself before continuing down the passage and emerging from the Whomping Willow, then settling down in favourite chair for a cup of tea, hoping for a peaceful night in front of his fire… no memories, no thoughts. Just warmth.
***
November 20th, 1972, 12:23am
The halls were dark, dimly lit by the occasional torch sconce as James and Sirius ran madly through them, breathing quick and heavy from the chase. They could hear behind them the clicking of Mrs. Harris' claws on the stones, Argus Filch's pounding footsteps not drowning them out entirely. As they rounded another corner, Sirius dragged James towards a seemingly bare piece of wall, covered only with a long and dusty tapestry that he pulled aside, revealing a crawl-space behind. "Quick, get in," Sirius whispered urgently, forcing the other boy inside then crawling in himself, drawing the tapestry over the top of them, hiding them from Filch's sharp eyes. "Move," he stated anxiously, and James began to creep quickly down the lengthening tunnel, Sirius following closely.
They continued their descent silently, finally emerging from a small drainage grate outside the castle. Allowing themselves to relax, James looked at the Slytherin boy with new eyes. "Why'd you pull me in with you?" James questioned, and Sirius panted as he tried to regain his breath from the exertion. "You could've just left me and let Filch find me, and you safe in the tunnel."
Sirius grinned at James conspiratorially. "Probably 'cause I knew that if I left you out there, you would've told him where I was anyway. Then we'd both've been boiled alive." He patted James on the shoulder in an attempt to get him moving. "C'mon. Better get you back to bed, eh Potter?"
"Wait a minute… let's leave it for a bit, then Filch might give up so it'll be easier to get back inside." Pointing at the hole they had emerged from, James smiled weakly. "I'm not looking forward to climbing back up there."
With a shrug, Sirius said, "alright. Whatever cooks your goose." He noticed the Whomping Willow which lay several feet ahead of them looked rather frightening by the light of the full moon. He nudged James and nodded towards the tree. "How's about we check that out, eh?"
"The Whomping Willow? What for?"
"'Cause we're never allowed to go near it normally. Some stupid Hufflepuff's couldn't hold their own in a fight with it—not like us, we're up there with the greats at hand-to-hand fighting, right?" James felt a smile spread across his face at the memory of the previous afternoon.
"I'm not looking forward to that detention, but. If Filch knew it was us tonight…" James trailed off and followed Sirius as they began to walk closer to the Willow.
"But he doesn't, so it's okay." With a smirk backwards at James, Sirius laughed softly. "You worry too much, you know that?"
I've been told before, James thought, his shoulders weighted as he remembered the conversation he had had with his Father that summer. Our world's in such a mess, and Father doesn't really seem to care. What with all the rumours… I wouldn't be surprised if we weren't one of the first targets of this Dark Lord. They drew nearer to the tree, still keeping at a safe distance, Sirius inspecting it carefully. His eyes focussed on an unusually-shaped knot near the bottom of the Willow. "What're you looking at?" James asked, and Sirius pushed his hand away playfully. James hit back, a little harder than he expected, causing Sirius to overbalance and roll towards the tree. He gasped as the huge branches of the Willow began to gyrate wildly above his head, attempting to strike Sirius with their knobbly arms. As he rolled, Sirius hit the side of the Willow and groaned painfully… then disappeared entirely. The Willow froze, and James' shriek caught in his throat.
"Black?" he asked squeakily, rushing closer to the tree—and the place where Sirius had vanished. Where did he go? he asked himself crazily, mind overflowing with the possibilities. Sink-hole, invisibility charm… dark magic? When he reached the tree, James instead saw the beginnings of another tunnel, leading underneath the roots of the Whomping Willow. I've got to find him. Without another thought for his own well-being, James slid into the hole, hands grazing on the pebbly ground as he did so.
At the bottom Sirius Black stood, gazing around himself in bewilderment. "How'd I get here, then?" he asked nobody in particular, then his eyes fixed on James as he fell into the tunnel. "Hello. Come to join me, have you?"
James nodded then raised his eyebrows at the low passageway they had found themselves in. "Where are we?" he asked Sirius stupidly.
"Underneath the tree, obviously," the other boy said sharply, "the real question is why are we here? Since when did Whomping Willows come with secret passages?"
"Let's explore." The two boys pulled their wands from their pockets and held them at the ready as they walked, heads lowered, through the tunnel. After twenty minutes of walking, they found themselves at a sturdy, wooden door—obviously locked by magic. "Alohomora," James murmured, causing Sirius to look at him strangely. They heard the door unlock, but as James reached for the handle Sirius stopped him.
"Where'd you learn that, then?"
"What, the spell? Found it in a book somewhere—very useful when your parents lock you in your bedroom and ground you for a month." Sirius chuckled underneath his breath and released James' hand. "Shall we go in, then?"
During the time they had been standing there, Sirius, but not James had noticed an ominous low growling coming from behind the thick wooden door. However, his sense of adventure and curiousity were piqued, and something in him longed to know the secret concealed at the end of this tunnel. "Yes," Sirius said confidently, a dangerous twinkle glinting in his blue eyes.
James twisted the doorknob, and the door swung open quickly, startling them both. However, a moment later they barely noticed the door, their terrified gaze instead fixated on the bristling wolf that stood before them, eyes wild with blood-lust as it growled then licked its chops hungrily. Sirius squeaked in fear as the wolf lunged for him, then just in time James pointed his wand towards and shouted loudly: "Petrificus Totalus!" Frozen in mid-air, the wolf dropped to the ground heavily, landing with a loud thud. Before James pulled the door closed Sirius, his abject fear still clear on his face, saw a pile of tattered Hogwarts school robes lying in the corner of the room, near some battered and gnawed wooden chairs. James re-locked the door magically then they both ran through the passage without a glance back, reaching the beginning of the tunnel out of breath, still scared out of their wits. "What was that?" James asked, gasping.
"That… was a werewolf." Allowing James to stare at him in horror, Sirius coughed loudly then spoke again. "And that werewolf… was a student. I saw his robes in the corner of the room." James nearly choked at the revelation.
"What? A werewolf, at Hogwarts? The trustees would be furious!"
"Only if they knew… I'm guessing that this is a big secret, but we're not the only one's here who know." Sirius sighed, his heart still beating rapidly in his chest. "How long has the Willow been here, anyway? A year or two? It's got to be one of the younger students, maybe even someone in our year…"
James furrowed his eyebrows, concentrating on the possible suspects. "It'd need to be someone who disappears a lot, monthly even. Right on the full moon…" He could see soft moonlight drifting down from the tunnel opening, casting a soft glow through the passage, but shook his head defeatedly. "I can't think of any Gryffindor who fits the description."
"Slytherin, either. Even though I'd like to think it was that prat Severus Snape—I'd love to get him expelled—but he's too old, if we're going by the age of the Willow."
"Well, yer both right, so yer both better get up here an' explain yerselves before I come down there an' get yer!" The voice that fell into the tunnel like a heavy stone from the world above startled Sirius and James immeasurably, the latter cursing himself for not realising a few moments earlier that the opening—which had been closed following his descent—was unusually letting light into the dark tunnel. Both boys scrambled out quickly, sweat trickling down their backs from fear, over-exertion, and now the threat of expulsion over their heads. When they reached the top, Rubeus Hagrid pulled them up and began to drag them towards the castle, shaking his head in disbelief. "How'd yer get down there, anyway? Have yer been watching what yer oughtn't, scoundrels?"
"It was an accident," Sirius began to explain profusely. "We just wandered a bit too close to the Willow, and it knocked me up against it, then I fell inside. It's all my fault, Hagrid—Potter came after me, to save me."
Hagrid guffawed loudly. "A likely story, Sirius Black. Yer as much of a troublemaker as yer Father ever was, creeping aroun' and into things that didn't concern him." Then, with a comforting glance to the scared boy, "but he was a good man, Sirius. I mean that." James noticed that Sirius smiled softly at this added remark, and suddenly felt as if Sirius Black was his best friend, not Peter Pettigrew. How strange… I guess there're just some things that you can't live through without becoming friends with the other person.
Ten minutes later, the two of them stood nervously outside Professor Dumbledore's office, hands shaking as they tried to remain calm, both fearing the worst—expulsion—but hanging on to the hope that the great Albus Dumbledore would find it in his heart to forgive them, maybe even obliviate what they had seen from their minds. The door opened and Hagrid exited, gesturing for them to enter. Slowly, with their heads bowed deferentially, James and Sirius walked into the study, glancing up at Professor Dumbledore. The expression on his face was one of a disappointment—but also one filled with resolution.
"Sit down, the both of you." They sat and placed their hands on their knees politely, still looking at the Headmaster with an ashamed look in their eyes. "I'm not happy with either one of you, because you've broken the school rules… but, sometimes, rules have to be broken." James looked very surprised, and Dumbledore laughed a little bitterly. "I'm certainly not condoning what you've done, but now that I think about it… perhaps this for the best."
"Should we go and pack our trunks right away, Headmaster?"
Now it was Dumbledore's turn to look amazed. "No, even though I probably should expel you, not only for your disobedience but also for your total disregard for your own welfare. Do you think we have rules just to hinder you?—No, they are there for your protection. Both of you could have died tonight, and destroyed the future of a talented, albeit cursed, young Wizard. It is not his fault that he is what he is…" Dumbledore sighed and stood, leaning on his desk and looking down on the two boys. "In return for your education, I will ask a favour of you."
"Anything," James whispered earnestly, and Sirius nodded in agreement.
"The boy who you discovered, as it were—he is a third-year Ravenclaw, Remus Lupin. I'd like you protect him, dispel any rumours that may emerge, befriend him. He is a very troubled young man; with the world as it stands I do not know if he will be safe from… fanatics. Do you have any problems with befriending a known werewolf, boys?"
They shook their heads a little too slow for Dumbledore's approval and he laughed again, this time less seriously. "Do not be frightened of Remus—his lycanthropy is only dangerous during the full moon. If you agree, you must not breathe a word of this to anyone, and rarely speak about it amongst yourselves. It is up to you whether or not you tell him you are aware of his secret." Professor Dumbledore sat again in his comfortable leather chair, tapping the table with his fingernail absentmindedly. "I warn you, however—should anyone else know of his curse that he does not tell himself, your education will be forfeit. Do you understand?"
Nodding, Dumbledore allowed them to leave and leaned back in his chair as they opened the door to his office. "Hagrid will accompany you back to your common rooms. And, boys—" They glanced back at him, noticing a glimmer of amusement in his eyes and a smile twitching on his wizened face. "No more duelling after midnight, please. Mr. Filch has enough worries; he doesn't need to be chasing you over the castle instead of tending to them. Goodnight."
As the door closed behind them, Dumbledore grinned at Fawkes, whose feathers were drooping slightly from age. "Such troublemakers, Fawkes—it makes you wonder, really, if they'll ever reach maturity unscathed. Finding a werewolf, indeed!" He laughed loudly and Fawkes trilled softly, his song echoing into the cool hours of early morning.
***
December 8th, 1972
Dearest Father, Cassius,
Thankyou for your letter dated December 2nd, 1972. There is no need to concern yourselves over my examinations—study is easier for those who are light in mind, body and spirit. Evan, I fear, is finding the transition difficult. He received a letter from our Master at the end of November, concerning his duties following his graduation from Hogwarts. At first he appeared excited by the prospect of a job in the Ministry, especially one in the Department of Mysteries. He urges me to thankyou for speaking with Augustus Rookwood, Cassius… despite his reluctance to serve He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named immediately, he is ecstatically preparing himself for a Ministry job.
Sarissa has been distant for the past month, both from Evan and myself. I feel little concern for her well-being—it seems she is having second thoughts regarding Evan Rosier, but your decision has been made well, Brother. Has the date for her debut been set yet? I always believe it is best to wait and see what other opportunities may arise for Sarissa, perhaps a man of greater importance and wealth shall take an interest, then all Evan has achieved will be of little use to him. How amusing.
Remus speaks with Sarissa often; they have been seen speaking together in the library behind opened books—maybe the key to her unrest lies with Remus, Brother. Speak to him about it on Christmas Vacation, he loves you greatly and will undoubtedly divulge any important information concerning her. His friendship with the Ravenclaws appears to have weakened considerably—perhaps it is time to introduce him to the cause? Of course, he is yet too young to be initiated but his mind and body grow stronger every day from his cursed lycanthropy. Every time I see him he appears taller, smarter, and ever more essential to our success. After all, sometimes brains are more important than ambition, Cassius.
His old friend, daughter of the Lestrange's, has caught my eye of late, Brother. She seems to grow more beautiful every day, and with the assistance of her parents she might be useful in the long-term—as a friend, more so than an enemy. I put the question to you, Cassius—when did you first decide to seek a bride? And at what age did Nicolette agree? Certainly, she was not the most perfect of choices, but then you were not to know. As a Caldwell, she was of good Wizard stock, it was merely her inability to reproduce which caused you harm. I must have a son, Brother—the son you never could. He will be as heir to us all, a son for both of us to cherish and pass all wisdom to. Like a dragon, he shall strike down all his enemies with a poisonous hiss, fiery breath accompanying his wit and fervour. I hope for him daily, Brother—for both of us.
Should I encourage Narcissa, or leave her be momentarily? She is young yet, differently so… she seems younger than she should be. Might you speak with Jonathan, her father, about a betrothal? I am sorry to trouble you so; life is too short to waste time, is it not? As our Master professes, 'time is of the essence'—and must be used wisely. Speak with him, for me, perhaps invite the family to Christmas at our home so that I might speak with Jonathan and Elena myself. I need to know their choice before I can settle myself enough to concentrate properly on what I should—she will soon be fourteen, and ripe for the plucking… I cannot control myself in her presence.
I apologise for the previous paragraph, Brother—and I know without a doubt that only you shall read this, Father puttering about like the useless old man he is. Senility is yet another affirmation of the importance to seize the moment—seize time while it is your own. I adore Narcissa, Cassius… and I shall have her, whatever the cost.
Remus, Sarissa and I return on the 20th. I shall speak with you at greater length then, when we are able to be alone.
Your comrade, brother,
Lucius.
***
December 18th, 1972, 1:08pm
"Remus? Remus Lupin?"
I looked up to see two very distinctive figures standing in front of me. Both were tall, dark-haired boys with blue eyes, one of whom I had met the year before in a confrontation with Severus Snape. The other had incredibly messy black hair that hung over those blue eyes, and thick coke-bottle glasses which always made me smile. The former was called Sirius Black, a prominent Slytherin whose parents had died in an attack by fanatic Grindelwald supporters twenty years after the Dark Lord had been deposed, he just a small child at the time; the latter was James Potter, with a reputation for being a slightly pompous Gryffindor, whose Father was head of the Misuse of Magic Office. Both were second-years, and I had heard tales of their apparent aversion to each other. So, when they approached me outside the library on a freezing December afternoon, I was quite surprised that they even knew my name, let alone could match it to my face.
"Yes?" My arms were laden with textbooks; I had headed for the library to get a start on an especially nasty Transfiguration essay I had due after the Christmas holidays. The boys smiled at me and at each other, causing great confusion to me and my assessment of their characters.
"Hi. Could we talk to you for a minute—" here Sirius lowered his voice considerably, "—in private, please?" A little irritated, I nodded and followed them into the empty Charms classroom nearby. James closed the door behind me and locked it magically, causing me to protest loudly.
"Hang on, what's this all about? I haven't done anything—"
"Yeah, just nearly killed us!" Sirius laughed, seating himself on top of Professor Flitwick's desk. I stared at him, alarmed, and he waved my questions away. "Don't worry about it, probably our fault anyway. You don't remember?"
I shook my head, and James nudged Sirius knowingly. "He wasn't himself, you know—he probably doesn't remember much of what happens when he's… you know… transformed."
Sweat began to trickle down my back as I nervously attempted to cover my tracks. "Transformed? I… I don't know what you're talking about. Look, I've really got to get to the library…"
"We know, Remus. Hagrid found us underneath the Whomping Willow… and we thought we'd better talk to you before… well, tonight." James smiled reassuringly and I settled back in my chair, fear still creeping into my heart. "We didn't mean to find you, but then Dumbledore asked us to, well, protect you. Stop any rumours, that sort of thing, right? Easy stuff, for us anyway." Sirius punched him in the arm and James rubbed it painfully, glaring at his friend.
I was completely speechless. I finally managed to squeeze out a few words, barely related to what we were talking about. "I thought you two hated each other."
Sirius nodded then, with a grin, punched James again. "We do. That's what we find so funny, being friends and all. If you like, we could always hate you too."
Allowing myself to relax in their presence, I laughed softly. "Are you sure you really want to be friends with a werewolf?"
"Dumbledore already asked us that question, and we agreed. We don't care about stuff like that, just don't try to kill us again, alright?"
"Stay away from the Whomping Willow, and I promise you'll survive highschool."
James decided to change the subject towards something that filled him with less tension. "You still play for Ravenclaw, Remus?"
I nodded happily. "Yep. First match against Hufflepuff, end of January."
"Sounds good," Sirius replied, blue eyes glinting at me. "I heard that Slimy Snape is playing for Slytherin since Flint left last year. That'll be a barrel of laughs—or monkeys, whichever you prefer. I hope you knock him off his broom, maybe that'll knock some sense into him as well."
James rolled his eyes at Sirius' choice of words. "Don't worry about him, Remus. I heard you were friends with Severus, anyway. Is that true?"
Sirius looked incredulously at me, and I felt myself squirming beneath his gaze. "Not really… our parents were friends, so we used to be play together when we were younger. Not anymore, definitely not anymore."
"Like I said, a barrel of monkeys." Sirius pursed his lips and slid off the desk, pulling James along with him. "We'd better let you finish your work in the library, eh? What class is it for?"
"Transfiguration." They both smiled knowingly, and I felt like I was finally at home with the two of them. "It's my worst subject—all my friends are fantastic at it, though."
Putting his arm around me conspiratorially, Sirius whispered: "That's where you're wrong. James and I hate it too." I stood and he led me to the doorway, James unlocking the door and pushing it open for me. "Hey, you're friends with Narcissa Lestrange, right?"
Nodding, I pulled my books closer to myself and smiled at them. "Right."
"I dunno, maybe you could put in a good word or something, Remus… because seriously, that girl is gorgeous!" James hit Sirius, who yelped loudly. "What? Just being honest, Potter… you know it's the truth."
"Sure, whatever. See you later, Remus!" As I walked inside the library, I saw Sirius' hand raised in a wave to me. Slowly, but confidently, I waved back, something inside me reassuring me of their loyalty. They'll never tell, I thought happily, glad that I now had someone other than Hagrid and Dumbledore to share the secret with. This is the beginning of something special, I can tell… a New Era. I can't wait.
***
December 18th, 1972
Dearest Mother,
I just had the strangest encounter with two second-year boys… but I'll tell you more about that when I get home. I can't wait—it's almost Christmas! And this time I'll be able to spend it with you all, happily, in front of the fire with Butterbeer, Roast Turkey and presents for everyone! Might we go to Diagon Alley on the 22nd, since I wasn't able to find anything for Sarissa or Lucius in Hogsmeade? (plus, it was rather difficult to buy presents for them while I was with them too, Mother!)—it will be nice to be home again, even though Hogwarts is, and always will be, the greatest place in the world!
Quidditch practices have been more often, despite the weather—our next match is against Hufflepuff in January, and Sarah really wants us to win so that we have a chance for the House Cup (especially since Gryffindor won last year, worst luck). Edward and Narcissa are both going home as well, so Sarissa and I shall sit with them on the Express home. We'll probably sit in the fourth carriage, so be sure to look out for us, or tell Uncle Cassius to… otherwise we'll be struggling through the crowds for hours.
I'm confused about Sarissa right now, Mother—and especially by Evan Rosier. I don't quite understand what Uncle Cassius has planned for the two of them, but whatever it is I hope it makes them happy. The two of them haven't spoken since before the summer holidays, and although Sarissa has deftly avoided the subject I know there's more to this than Lucius' threats. He isn't friends with Evan anymore, and I find that very strange—Sarissa could not have caused such a rift between them, I thought that Lucius might've been happy for them, rather than malicious. But it's not good to speak ill of your family, so I'll stop immediately. Either way, you'll always know that I love you, Mother—more than anyone else I've ever met, or ever will. Sometimes, though, everything seems headed for tragedy, and I just can't take it… why can we never stop these things until it is too late? I don't understand.
I'm fearing tonight something terrible, Mother—the pain grows more intense, and it weighs heavily on my soul. My transformations don't feel the same as they once did, and I just want them never to happen again… not to mean that when I was younger I didn't hate them as I do now, but it is different. It's as if my mind is growing more lucid, rather than staying deep in the haze of childhood when I am a wolf. I don't understand that, either.
I'd best stop writing and start working, now—I've got a Transfiguration essay to start! Don't worry, Mother, it isn't due until next term. For some reason I just felt an incredible need to write to you, my only correspondent, and vent a little. This year has seemed so frustrating, but now it's suffused with a great light. I can only hope that next year brings something hopeful and true for Evan, Sarissa—me and you.
All my love,
Remus.
***
December 18th, 1972, 2:49pm
The snow fell heavily outside the library windows as Remus scratched out his previous sentence concerning the most difficult of transfiguration spells, that which transformed the caster into an Animagus. Bitterly, he thought, not that I need a spell to become an animal—it's in my blood naturally. No, not naturally… accidentally. There, that sounds better. Sighing heavily, Remus reached for his inkwell and noticed a shadow falling over his table.
"Hello." It was the red-haired girl who had congratulated him after his first Quidditch match. For a moment, Remus stared into her green eyes, the emerald pools drawing him in and devouring him sweetly. "Don't you remember me?"
"Oh, yes, sorry…" Remus shook off his reverie and smiled at the pretty girl. "You spoke to me after we beat Slytherin, that isn't something I'd forget easily." Not knowing if his words came out the way he intended, he gestured for her to sit at his table.
"No, thankyou. I just wanted to ask you something… about Quidditch, of course." Yes, why anything else? Sweet Merlin, she's beautiful… Her face was perfectly heart-shaped, and Remus saw that her smile activated a small dimple in her right cheek. "But, if you're busy…" she trailed off as she saw the piles of textbooks and the parchment that lay before him, long forgotten in her presence.
"I'm not busy."
She took a deep breath and grinned widely. "Alright then. I was wondering… well, if it's okay with you… would you help me with my Beating? Quidditch, I mean… I want to try out for the Hufflepuff Team next year, and I thought you might be able to help me." Giggling nervously, she added: "I know I'm the enemy and everything, but I thought, we're friends, aren't we? You're not one of those Hufflepuff Haters, are you?"
Remus laughed as well, and the girl noticeably relaxed. "No, definitely not. I'll help you, just not until after the Hufflepuff match—after all, I can't have my protégé beating me, right? No pun intended…"
"Oh, thankyou!" She hugged Remus around the neck suddenly, causing his face to redden until it was the same colour as her long, soft hair. "I'm so grateful!"
"It's alright, really…" Remus was incredibly embarrassed; several third-year Slytherins were sniggering at him needlessly, but he didn't have the heart—or the will—to push the girl away. "I guess I'll see you in February, then?"
"Sure!" Turning to walk away, the red-head walked several paces before glancing back at Remus. "Oh, I almost forgot," she smiled and it seemed as if her hair caught fire as she did so and brightened the entire library with an intense light. "You're Remus Lupin, right? My name's Lily Evans."
***
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