A/N: The second catch-up chapter is here! Again, should not be read before chapter 25 of James Potter and the Shrieking Shack. Set primarily during Chapter 16, with one scene from the end of Chapter 15.

January 1973
Echoes

He remembered little of the summer of 1965.

Whispered conversations. Guarded looks. Fierce hugs.

The last kind words he heard from his father—

"Be safe."

In the second week of term, James and Sirius made a concerted effort to resume a normal life. Remus knew his behavior of late had them unnerved, but he found it difficult to forget Greyback's attack on Creetown – especially when the man began sending Remus letters.

They came frequently, sometimes twice in a day, inviting Remus to leave with him, asking after Remus' mother, reminding Remus that his tormentor had followed him to Hogwarts. At first, Remus had taken each and every letter to McGonagall, thinking it best to keep the professors up on Greyback's activity. However, it soon became apparent that doing so was attracting too much attention, so Remus contented himself with sending summaries to Dumbledore every other day, usually borrowing James' owl to do so.

He was sure to burn each of Greyback's letters after reading them, lest his friends find one and suss out the truth of Remus' condition.

To his great relief, Remus' efforts at discretion were rewarded. Although his friends could hardly fail to notice his silence or nervousness, they remained oblivious to the reason behind his mood. More importantly, they directed their efforts into cheering him up, rather than uncovering the truth.

So it was that, less than two weeks after the attack, when Remus was just beginning to master his paranoia, James declared a midnight exploration long overdue.

"Coming, Remus?" he asked, fishing out his invisibility cloak.

Remus shook his head.

"You sure? We haven't been caught yet!"

"I'd rather not," said Remus and only just stopped from adding that his friends shouldn't go either. None of them had grabbed their winter cloaks, which meant they weren't planning to venture outside… but even still, Remus didn't want to leave the safety of Gryffindor Tower in the middle of the night. Not when that very day he'd received a letter from Greyback asking if the book Peter had dropped on the way to Herbology had been ruined by the snow.

The professors knew Greyback was on the grounds, of course, and they were searching for him, but he had taken refuge in the Forbidden Forest. Thus far, no one had been able to track him any distance into the darkness. Every time they tried, they would find an Acromantula or a nest of Red Caps in their way, and by the time they dealt with the creatures, all trace of Greyback had vanished.

Obviously, Remus couldn't tell his friends this, and so he was powerless to stop them sneaking out a few minutes later to roam the castle. When they'd left, however, Remus shut his book and clutched it to his chest. Staring at the closed door, he rested his chin on his knees and whispered, "Be safe."

He remembered the men who came with them.

Roberts and Jenson. Not Aurors; "Friends of your dad."

They didn't explain the danger, and he didn't blame them.

At five years old, he couldn't have understood Greyback's favorite tactic:

Go for the heart.

Another letter came two days before the full moon, well before dawn. Fortunately, the owl's tapping at the window didn't rouse anyone besides Remus, who hastily snatched the letter from the owl's talons and sent the creature away.

Retreating downstairs to the empty common room, Remus tore the envelope open. Inside, he found only a photograph of himself and his friends down by Hagrid's hut. James and Sirius carried on a snowball fight in the background while Peter laughed and Remus smiled into his gloved hand. On the back of the photograph, in Greyback's spidery writing, were three words:

Friends of yours?

The photograph fell from trembling fingers, and Remus stared in horror at the laughing faces in the scene.

They were in danger.

His friends were in danger, and it was all Remus' fault. Greyback never would have spared them a second glance if not for their friendship with Remus, and now… Now Greyback had his eye on them, and if Remus didn't do something, he might attack them as he had attacked Remus eight years before.

Rushing back up to his dormitory for a dressing gown and slippers, Remus tumbled out into the deserted corridors and sprinted the whole way to Professor McGonagall's quarters, where he pounded on the door until a bleary-eyed McGonagall answered.

"Lupin?" she asked through a yawn. "Do you have any idea of the time?"

"Sorry," Remus said hastily. He shoved the photograph at McGonagall, who took it and stared blankly at the picture. "Greyback sent me this. I—" He bit his lip, suddenly realizing how rude it was for him to come to her quarters two hours before breakfast and demand a conversation while they were both in their pajamas and dressing gowns. "Sorry, Professor. I know I should have owled the Headmaster like I've been doing since term started, but I… I just…"

McGonagall sighed and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't apologize. I know the past few weeks have been trying for you, Remus, and you should never feel as though you cannot come to me for help. As your Head of House, I'm always available."

Remus looked up hopefully, and McGonagall smiled.

"I am sure the Headmaster will want to hear of this. I'll speak to him. In the meantime, try not to worry overly much. Greyback cannot do anything as long as your friends remain in the castle or with Professor Sprout in the greenhouses."

Comforting words, Remus was sure, for someone whose friends didn't make a habit of sneaking out of the castle at every opportunity. But McGonagall was already turning away, and Remus understood the dismissal. Feeling no less frightened than when he'd first seen the picture, Remus returned to the common room, wondering if the only way to make it stop was to go away with Greyback. Leave with me, the second note had promised, and it all ends.

He sat on the floor, staring blindly into the fire, until James came down for breakfast.

He remembered the forest had captivated him from the moment they arrived.

He didn't know why.

Perhaps the looks his mother and the Aurors kept shooting toward the vast green shadows.

Perhaps the animal calls he heard from his window at all hours.

Perhaps the fact that it was off-limits.

There was just something about it that called to him.

The rumors had begun shortly after Greyback's arrival, and as time went on, they only intensified. All the whispering about the man in the forest had unsettled Remus, at first; more than once, he'd sat through lunch without touching his food, listening intently for any mention of his name, or Greyback's, or werewolves in general.

Days passed, and no one so much as flirted with the truth. Eventually, Remus forced himself to relax. His secret was safe; no one knew who it was in the Forest, and even if they did, no one else would take them seriously.

So when Sturgis Podmore fainted down by the lake and spent Wednesday evening in the Hospital Wing, kicking up a new flurry of rumors, Remus hardly listened.

"He said there was something in the forest!"

It was a blonde Ravenclaw who spoke, her voice matter-of-fact, as supper finished the day before the full moon. The other students gathered around her listened with fascination, eager to hear the latest episode in the saga of the mysterious intruder.

Remus glanced back when the footsteps behind him faltered, and saw his friends watching the conversation with curiosity. Brilliant, he thought, rolling his eyes. Just what I need. My friends getting curious about Greyback.

He didn't stick around, however. They could listen to gossip all they wanted; they would never hear the truth.

Little did Remus know, they would hear something far more dangerous.

He remembered the boredom.

Three bedrooms. Two toilets. A kitchen. A sitting room. A cellar:

His world, for six long weeks.

His mother. Two men who rarely spoke:

His only playmates.

The forest offered infinitely more diversions.

He knew they were going out exploring when Eliot Donovan at last left the common room with an admonition to turn in soon. James and Sirius watched him go, and when a distant door clicked shut, the three boys leaped at once to their feet, forgetting the essays they'd been working on all night.

"You're going out again, aren't you?" Remus asked without looking up from his book. The photograph from Greyback still weighed on his mind, despite McGonagall's assurances that no one could get past the professors' defenses.

James glanced at Peter and Sirius, then turned to Remus. "You wanna come?"

Remus shook his head, wondering if James would ever realize that Remus wanted no part in their rule-breaking.

Shrugging, James reached into his bag and pulled out his heavy winter cloak.

Remus felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "Wait a minute. You're going to Hogsmeade?" His mind was racing, trying to come up with a way to keep them inside, and drawing a terrifying blank. "You aren't still on about that ruddy Shrieking Shack, are you?" He wondered, wildly, what he would do if they said yes. Satisfy their curiosity in exchange for a promise to stay inside? Trade his deepest secret for his best friends' lives?

"No, Remus," said Sirius, fastening his cloak around his shoulders. "We aren't going to Hogsmeade. Just out for a stroll."

"What?" Remus cried, lurching to his feet. His book fell from his lap, but he could only stare at his friends. "On the grounds?"

Out on the grounds. With Fenrir Greyback.

Remus felt ill.

"Don't tell me you believe all that rubbish about the monster in the forest," James said.

Tell them, said a voice in his head. It's the only way they'll listen.

But Sirius was already laughing. "You do!" he cried, pointing accusatorily. "Merlin's beard! You're the smartest bloke in our year, and you actually believe there's a monster at Hogwarts!"

Remus flinched before he could stop it. A monster at Hogwarts. He couldn't help but wonder if Sirius would say the same thing when he found out Remus was a werewolf. (If, Remus corrected. If he finds out.) Perhaps he would spread the story around the school, so all the gossips could boast about how they were right all along; there really was a monster in their midst.

"You shouldn't sneak out of the castle," Remus said, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "There are loads of dangerous creatures in the forest. Why do you think the professors tell us to stay away from there?"

"Who said anything about going into the forest?"

Remus' breath hitched in his throat. On the grounds was bad enough – was close enough to the forest and to Greyback. His mind had strayed their because he knew of the danger, but Remus hadn't expected his friends to deliberately enter the forest.

"You worry too much," said James dismissively. "We'll be back in an hour or so."

"We've just got to show a few snakes what it means to be a Gryffindor," Sirius added.

Burying his face in his hands, Remus screwed his eyes shut. Perhaps it was all a dream, and he would soon wake up to find his friends safely in their beds. "This is all about a dare? With the Slytherins?"

"Can't back out now," said James.

Remus looked up, sharply. "Yes, you can."

Sirius glanced at his watch. "We don't have time for this, mate. We're gonna be late."

"Right."

As James turned toward the portrait hole, Remus reached out to grab his arm. "James, don't do this. Please don't go out there."

Peter shuffled his feet, looking uncertain. "It's no big deal, Remus. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

For a moment, Remus could only gape at him. Tell them. They need to know. "You mean aside from meeting any number of dangerous things—" Greyback— "in the forest? How about the fact that you told Slytherins that you were going to the Forbidden Forest – after curfew? You really think they aren't going to go straight to the professors about this?"

"That's why we take the invisibility cloak," James said, patting his pocket. "Any professors show up, and we just have to duck under here. Problem solved."

Remus' heart seemed to have climbed up into his throat. Detention wasn't going to scare them out of their expedition; Remus needed something else. But his mind could only scream Greyback over and over again. There was nothing else for it. He had to tell them, even if it meant handing them the key to his own secret.

Before Remus could speak, Sirius groaned and pushed the portrait open. "You nancies do whatever you want. I'm going."

"No!" Remus cried, starting after Sirius' disappearing form.

James slipped past Remus and out onto the landing. "We'll be back soon, you'll see."

"But—!"

They were gone before Remus could say another word.

He didn't remember sneaking off, but knew he must have done.

The yard. Afternoon sun. Aurors standing guard. Hide-and-seek with his mother.

And then the forest. Large, dark, lonely.

His mother screaming his name.

Running blindly, disoriented, the trees cutting strange figures in the night.

The light of the full moon.

Remus staggered out through the portrait hole, hissing for James and Sirius to come back, but they had already vanished, and Remus was left to stand, trembling, on the landing. The Fat Lady snapped at him to make up his mind – in or out – and he climbed numbly back inside.

It was late, and Peter yawned as he watched Remus pace the room.

"They'll be alright," said Peter, rolling up his unfinished essay and sliding it into his bag. He paused with the strap halfway to his shoulder and frowned. "Won't they?"

"Yes," said Remus' mouth. His head shouted, No!

Peter nodded, yawning again. "No point sitting up, is there?"

"No," said Remus, not because he meant it, but because he needed for Peter to go away. James and Sirius were walking straight to Greyback, just as Remus had done as a child, and Remus could think of only one way to avert disaster.

McGonagall.

Remus couldn't explain it to Peter, not now. Not when every moment Remus wasted was another step James and Sirius took toward their own doom. He couldn't explain about Greyback, and he couldn't explain why he was deliberately getting his best friends in trouble with the professors.

It took Peter two minutes to gather James' and Sirius' things and start for the stairs. To Remus, it felt like an hour.

"You coming?" Peter called back to Remus when at last he reached the first step.

"In a bit. I want to, er, finish this chapter." Remus gestured lamely to his Potions book. "It might take a while, though. Don't wait up."

Yawning through a goodnight, Peter trudged up the stairs. The dormitory door clicked shut. Standing perfectly still in the center of the common room, Remus counted to ten to ensure Peter wasn't going to turn around and return.

Gryffindor Tower remained silent.

Remus careened back out through the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady's indignation, and thundered down the stairs with no thoughts of silence or secrecy. Let Filch find him. Let the professors give him a month's detention for breaking curfew. Remus didn't care; he needed to see McGonagall, and it had to be soon.

Mrs. Norris crossed his path once, hissing menacingly as though to intimidate him into slowing down or returning to his dormitory, but Remus ignored her, and she slunk aside at the last moment, narrowly avoiding Remus' flying feet. Yowling and hissing, she faded into the shadows, no doubt to fetch her master, as Remus sprinted on. By the time Filch arrived, Remus would be long gone.

He reached McGonagall's quarters and pounded on the door. "Professor!" he shouted, banging again, harder. His hand ached, but the pain barely registered. "Professor McGonagall!"

When she didn't answer immediately, Remus tried the handle and found it unlocked. He threw the door wide and stumbled into the dark room.

"Professor McGonagall!"

The room was silent and still, and Remus bit back an oath of frustration. She wasn't there. Spinning on his heel, Remus charged back out the door and ran to the Transfigurations classroom. He could only pray that McGonagall was still in her office.

A light was on, leaking under the office door to give the classroom a faint glow as Remus weaved among the desks. Voices reached his ears, but he didn't pause to hear what they were saying; instead, he threw himself against the office door and beat his fist against the wood.

"Professor McGonagall!" he called, breathless from fear and exertion. The voices cut off at once. "Professor!"

When the door opened, Remus pitched forward, stumbling into McGonagall's startled hold. "Remus? What—?"

"They've snuck out!" Remus gasped, clinging to McGonagall's robes.

"What?" McGonagall asked. "Who?"

"James and Sirius! They've gone to the Forbidden Forest!"

McGonagall paled.

Chest heaving, Remus shook his head to rid it of the images – images of James and Sirius bleeding, dying. "Greyback's out there!" he moaned, raising a hand to cover his mouth. "He's out there, and they're headed straight for him! You've got to stop them, Professor, please! He'll kill them!"

"He'll do no such thing."

Remus' overtaxed mind couldn't dredge up any measure of surprise at Lynx's voice, and Remus only stared at him blankly, until his fears reared up once more.

"He will! Or he'll bite them! He'll hurt them! He'll— He'll—"

"Calm down, Lupin," Lynx barked. "It's not the full moon yet."

"Then he'll take them and bite them tomorrow!" Remus shouted. "He knows they're my friends! He'll hurt them, unless I—" He gasped, and turned to McGonagall. "I've got to go with him."

McGonagall clamped her hands down on both of Remus' arms. "You will do no such thing."

"But Greyback—"

"Will not lay a hand on your friends," said McGonagall firmly. "We'll make sure of that. There's no need to put yourself in any danger."

Remus shook his head. "They're only in danger because of me! I've got to help them!"

"No." McGonagall bent down to meet Remus' eyes. "Go back to your dormitory. Lynx and I will go after Potter and Black. Do not follow us, Remus. Do you understand?"

"I…" Remus felt faint. "I…"

"Do you understand me, Mr. Lupin?" McGonagall pressed.

Remus nodded dumbly.

"Good."

McGonagall vanished, taking Lynx with her, and Remus found himself alone in her office, feeling the world crumbling around him.

He remembered the pain.

Like boiling water in his veins. Like mud filling his lungs.

The silhouette of a snout. Flashing teeth. Claws catching and tearing his flesh.

Hot breath on his neck.

A flash of light; a yelp of pain.

And then sleep that was filled with silver fire.

As he sat in the common room, hugging his knees to his chest, fingers massaging the scar on his shoulder – the first scar – he wondered if this was how his mother had felt that night, when the moon rose and Remus was still lost in the woods. Hot and cold, queasy with guilt and out of her mind with worry. As the night wore on, her calls had turned into screams, almost unintelligible for the fear.

How he wanted to scream like that now.

When the portrait swung open, Remus gave a violent start and looked up, dreading the sight of a grim-faced McGonagall, come to tell Remus the worst had happened.

McGonagall was there, but James and Sirius followed her into the room, radiating frustration and indignation, but unscathed. Remus stared at them all for a long moment, arms loosening their death-grip on his legs as he let the truth sink it: they were alright. Greyback hadn't hurt them.

Sighing in relief, Remus locked eyes with McGonagall, hoping she could read the gratitude in his face.

"Remus?" Sirius asked, drawing Remus' gaze to him.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Off to bed with you," she said firmly. "You, too, Mr. Lupin. You have class in the morning, remember."

Remus nodded (though class suddenly seemed like an incredibly trivial concern), and McGonagall retreated into the corridor.

Silence filled the common room.

With an effort, Remus forced himself to move, uncurling from the vigil he'd been keeping for – how long had it been? An hour? Longer? He rose stiffly and crept toward the stairs. If he was lucky, his friends would be running on too much adrenaline, or else already descending into fatigued stupor, to wonder at his presence in the common room.

Since when was Remus lucky?

"Remus," said James, his voice hard.

Remus flinched, and he had to grab onto the doorframe to keep from bolting up the steps to safety. "Yes?" he asked without turning.

For a moment, James didn't speak, and Remus dared to hope that would be the end of it. Then: "How did McGonagall know we were going down to the forest tonight?"

Remus' eyes fell shut, and he debated once more explaining about Greyback.

Sirius found his voice before Remus could. "No… No, it was Snivellus. He set us up. He probably planned to tell the professors from the start."

"And risk his own neck?" James asked coldly. Remus felt as though he'd swallowed a block of ice. James had never spoken to him like that, like he was a bit of mud on the bottom of his shoe, unworthy even of true anger. Not even before they became friends had Remus heard that tone directed at him. "He'd've known we'd tell the professors about the dare," James went on, his words like a knife to Remus' heart. "If he admitted to daring us to sneak out, he'd get in trouble, too."

"Regulus, then. He's always loved getting me in trouble." Sirius' voice held no conviction; he seemed to be pleading with Remus to deny it.

For an instant, Remus considered doing just that. It might be easier than the alternative. There's a werewolf in the forest. How would they react to that? Denial. Anger. Maybe condescension. Lies, they would say. Excuses like the ones they spun for professors. They wouldn't be convinced unless Remus could explain how he knew about Greyback, and he could think of no explanation except the truth.

Yes, lying might be easier, but Remus wouldn't lie to them. He'd already betrayed them to keep them alive; he wouldn't deceive them to save his own skin.

Sighing in resignation, Remus turned around, his eyes focused on the ground as he searched for the words.

"You told the professors?" James hissed.

Remus nodded and opened his mouth to explain.

"What the hell, Remus?" Sirius demanded. He crossed the room in a towering rage, looming large over Remus' smaller frame. Hands clenched into fists, Sirius stared down at Remus, a dangerous spark in his eyes. "We trusted you!"

With a fleeting glance at the stairs, Remus considered running— but Sirius' hand seized his shoulder in an unforgiving grip, shoving him back against the wall. Remus yelped, but he swallowed the last of his fear and took the plunge. If they were going to hate him, it might as well be for the right reasons.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Remus said, dropping his gaze away from those furious gray eyes. "I just—"

"SAVE IT!" Sirius roared, startling Remus into silence. "Just— Save it. I don't want to hear it. You know what you are, Remus?" He jabbed out at Remus' shoulder, and Remus shied away, retreating from the aggressive gesture, even though his only escape carried him away from the dormitory stairs.

At Remus' fear, Sirius seemed to swell, his eyes frighteningly cold, his mouth twisted into a scowl. "You're a lying—" His hand snaked out again, digging into the same spot in Remus' shoulder, forcing him further backward. "—rotten—" Another blow; Remus couldn't force himself to draw breath. "—backstabbing—" A sofa rose up behind Remus, blocking his retreat. "—sneak!"

Sirius' last shove sent Remus tumbling over the top of the sofa, landing in a heap on the cushions, staring helplessly up at Sirius as James appeared beside him.

"I thought you were our friend, Remus," James said, sounding hurt.

"I am," Remus whispered, throat closing against the explanation he needed to get out in the open. The anger on Sirius' face, the accusation on James', stole the words away from him.

"Then why'd you go to McGonagall?" James demanded. "We've got a week worth of detention because of you!"

Something within Remus gave way, and all thoughts of explaining himself, of seeking his friends' understanding, perhaps even their forgiveness, fled in the face of a newfound rage. "Detention?" he seethed. "You've got a detention? How awful." He levered himself up so he could look James and Sirius in the eyes, though their proximity kept him balanced precariously on the sofa-back. "Poor James. He's got detention! Not like you haven't had plenty of those before!"

A wand appeared suddenly in Sirius' hand, butting up against Remus' nose and cutting off his tirade.

"This isn't about the detention, Lupin," Sirius growled. "It's about you selling us out. It's about you caring more about the rules than your friends."

"What?" Forgetting the threat of Sirius' wand, Remus shot to his feet. To his pleasure, James and Sirius both stumbled back. "You could have died out there tonight, Sirius! You could have died!" Or worse, he added as the scar on his shoulder prickled. "Don't tell me I don't care!"

James scoffed. "Don't be thick, Remus. We weren't in any real danger!"

If only they knew. "But—"

"But nothing!" Sirius snapped, grabbing the collar of Remus' robes. "We trusted you to keep a secret, and you went crying to McGoangall! You're nothing but a pathetic little snitch!"

Sirius shoved Remus away from him, and Remus crashed into the sofa, which lurched backward at the impact. Remus scrambled to right himself, but by the time he did, Sirius had gone, and James wasn't far behind.

The anger abated, and Remus stared after his friends, heart constricting as he watched the muscles in James' back tense.

"James," he called, trying to collect his thoughts, to find something he could say that would make James understand – or at least make him listen. "Please, James… I—"

"It's too late, Remus," James said, never turning. A moment later, he was gone.

Remus stared after him, sagging against the couch as the weight of those words sank in. His best friends hated him. Not because he was a werewolf – no, Remus had been prepared for that eventuality; it wouldn't have hurt as bad as this. But they hadn't even let him get to that point.

They hated him for trying to save their lives.

And if he explained that to them, it would only give them another reason to loathe him. A reason they could then use to ruin his life. At least this way, only the three of them had cause to hate him.

Somehow, the thought didn't offer much consolation.

He remembered waking in the hospital the next day.

An itchy cocoon. The acrid odor of potions.

Pain in his shoulder; his first scar.

And voices in the corridor.

"He's your son, John!" His mother. Tired. Tears in her voice.

Then his father. Hard. Angry.

"That beast in there is not my son."

The first rejection; his second scar.

To this day, neither scar had fully healed.