Fate is inherently cruel; it does not care in the slightest if you are only a child.
The fifth full moon of 1973 was rapidly approaching.
Remus Lupin felt deeply, exhaustingly tired of lying. He felt that he simply couldn't keep fabricating new excuses. Every single month, like clockwork, he had some 'urgent family matter' or 'chronic illness flare-up' that required him to vanish from the castle for a few days. To help obscure the terrifyingly obvious pattern of his absences aligning perfectly with the lunar cycle, Dumbledore allowed him to occasionally pick random days throughout the month to leave as well.
If he were entirely alone at Hogwarts, it would have been fine. He could have just disappeared silently into the shadows, and the teachers would have seamlessly covered for his absence.
But... ever since he had unexpectedly made friends...
He was quickly learning how utterly incompatible lies and genuine friendship truly were.
Unlike his carefree, deeply privileged friends, Remus's horrific childhood had forced him to become exceptionally mature for his age. His family was practically destitute, having spent every last Knut they owned desperately searching for a cure for his 'illness.' His parents lived in perpetual, suffocating fear of being pointed at, whispered about, or attacked by bigoted neighbors. To guard their lethal secret, they had lived like fugitives, having no fixed abode and moving constantly whenever the locals started asking too many questions.
He understood, better than anyone in the castle, just how hard-won the opportunity was for him to attend school, to hold a wand, and to learn magic like a normal little wizard. Consequently, he understood the absolute, life-or-death importance of keeping a low profile and maintaining strict secrecy.
When he had first boarded the Hogwarts Express, he had already mentally prepared himself to spend his entire seven years at Hogwarts completely alone, hiding in the library or the edges of the grounds, before eventually graduating and finding a remote cabin where no one knew him...
But for some inexplicable reason, two boys who were fundamentally, violently different from him in both personality and background had aggressively bulldozed their way into his life. They had completely disregarded his shabby, second-hand robes, his worn-out textbooks, and his quiet demeanor. They actively liked him. They shared everything with him, from their sweets to their secrets, and stubbornly included him in every single aspect of their lives.
Yes, Sirius and James were wildly, dangerously imaginative when it came to causing trouble, and their mischief was often earth-shattering. But beneath the arrogance and the pranks, they genuinely cared for him, and they trusted him almost unconditionally. When the three of them were sitting by the fire or plotting in the dorms, Remus was truly, profoundly happy. In those fleeting moments, he almost forgot the monster lurking beneath his skin.
Who would have ever thought, Remus mused bitterly, that Albus Dumbledore would actually admit a werewolf child into a school full of prey?
His two best friends clearly hadn't even considered the possibility. It was simply too absurd.
But the terrifying question kept him awake at night: If they knew I was a dark creature... would they still treat me this way? He had solemnly promised Dumbledore that he would never, under any circumstances, voluntarily reveal his true identity to another student. But looking at James and Sirius, he sometimes felt a desperate, agonizing wish that they would just figure it out on their own. He wished they would just corner him and ask directly: Hey, Remus... are you a werewolf?
The crushing weight of his inner turmoil was almost comparable to the agonizing physical pain of the transformation itself.
It was May 16th, the afternoon before the full moon.
Inside the Gryffindor common room, the warm, golden sunlight was pouring through the high windows, hitting the worn red armchairs perfectly. On a large, scarred wooden table sat a plate of exquisite, flaky apple pastries, two steaming cups of tea, and a massive, neglected pile of parchment and textbooks.
Sirius held a delicate teacup in one hand, lounging horizontally across a soft armchair, looking completely, arrogantly at ease. James, actively and selectively ignoring his Transfiguration essay, was chatting animatedly with Remus.
"I'm telling you, mate, these were made by Kreacher, the Black family's psychotic House-elf," James said, gesturing to the plate. "Aren't they absolutely brilliant?"
Remus took a small bite, nodded politely, and sighed inwardly. He set the pastry down. "They're very good. But... listen, I have to go back home to see my mother again this month."
"Ah, mate. I'm sorry," James said, his face falling in genuine sympathy. "Hope she gets better soon."
As Remus turned back to his homework, his face etched with familiar, heavy sadness, Sirius and James slowly met each other's eyes. They exchanged a very quick, highly communicative, and incredibly sharp glance.
Ten minutes later, after watching Remus pack a small bag and leave the dormitory, Sirius and James silently threw the Potter family's legendary Invisibility Cloak over their heads. They slipped out of the portrait hole right behind him, silently trailing their friend all the way down to the ground floor, watching him head toward Professor Sprout's office.
They had actually attempted to secretly follow Remus once before, a few months ago. However, that time they had nearly collided head-on with Professor McGonagall in the dark corridors, and they had ultimately chickened out, too terrified of expulsion to push their luck.
But not today. Hidden securely beneath the shimmering, silvery fabric of the Cloak, the two boys looked at each other. Their eyes were firm and utterly resolved. They gave a synchronized, silent nod. Today, they were getting answers.
Thump... Suddenly, a soft, heavy sound—like a sack of flour hitting the stone floor—echoed from the corridor directly behind them.
Sirius spun around in surprise. Peeking out from around the sharp corner of the stone wall, very near the floor, was the pale tip of a wand waving back and forth in a clear 'come here' gesture.
Among intimately familiar wizards, one could often identify the caster purely by the appearance of their wand. Sirius narrowed his eyes at the wood. Hawthorn. Exactly eleven inches. He knew that wand perfectly.
Regulus?!
Sirius hesitated for a fraction of a second, then reached out from beneath the Invisibility Cloak, revealing only his hand and his own wand. He gave it a sharp wave—twelve inches, carved oak.
Eyes met. Identity confirmed.
Sirius and James carefully shuffled around the corner. There stood Regulus, leaning casually against the tapestry, wearing a perfectly innocent expression. And lying completely stiff on the stone flags at his feet, knocked unconscious and looking remarkably like an oversized, fat rat, was Peter Pettigrew from their own House.
"I saw this bloke acting incredibly suspiciously behind you," Regulus whispered smoothly, delivering a vicious, calculated kick to the ribs of the stunned Peter Pettigrew. "I recognized the robes. He's one of yours from Gryffindor, right? Pretty sure he was trying to follow you."
To emphasize his point, Regulus casually kicked Peter's unconscious body a second time.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here?!" Sirius hissed.
"And how did you even know we were there?!" James demanded simultaneously.
"Simple," Regulus lied, tapping his ear with a mysterious smirk. "By listening to your horrifically loud footsteps. I've been spending my free time exploring the deeper architectural secrets of the castle. And actually, I've even found some highly interesting clues regarding—"
"Save it for later!" James interrupted in a frantic whisper, his sharp ears catching the distinct sound of the brass doorknob turning down the hall. "No time to explain! Get under the Cloak, quickly!"
Before the heavy oak door to Professor Sprout's office could fully swing open, Regulus smoothly ducked under the silvery fabric, squeezing in between his brother and Potter.
Down the hall, Remus stepped out of the office, looking pale, sickly, and utterly listless. He was clutching a small leather satchel tightly in his hands. Professor Sprout, looking unusually grave, followed him out and firmly shut the door.
"Appare Vestigium!" Professor Sprout muttered, her wand sweeping the corridor to check for magical tracks or hidden students. Finding the hall apparently empty, she tapped her wand against her own head and then Remus's, casting a powerful, shimmering Disillusionment Charm over them both. They instantly blended into the stone walls like chameleons.
However, shielded beneath the Deathly Hallow of the Potter family's true Invisibility Cloak, the three boys remained entirely undetectable to the Professor's magic.
"Let's go, Remus. Quickly now," Professor Sprout's disembodied voice echoed from the seemingly empty air.
Sirius and James exchanged deeply frustrated glances in the cramped space beneath the cloak. The trail had gone cold; there was no way they could track two invisible targets across the massive, open grounds.
But suddenly, Regulus jabbed Sirius sharply in the ribs. He gave them a highly confident look, pointed a single finger in a direction slightly to their front-right, and jerked his head, signaling them to move.
What?! Sirius thought, his mind racing. Can Regulus actually see through a senior Professor's Disillusionment Charm?! Or is he really identifying their exact location purely by the sound of their footsteps on the grass?!
The three boys huddled tightly together, walking shoulder-to-shoulder in an awkward, shuffling gait beneath the Cloak.
As they followed Regulus's silent, pointing finger, James and Sirius quickly noticed something astonishing about the younger Black. Regulus moved with a terrifying, predatory grace. He stepped lightly on the balls of his feet, navigating the uneven terrain like a seasoned alley cat. He was completely, unnervingly silent. Even more bizarrely, they noticed that Regulus's ears would occasionally twitch slightly, zeroing in on the direction of ambient sounds just like a feline hunting in the dark!
They followed their invisible targets at a moderate, highly cautious distance.
There was still an hour or two before sunset, and the vast, rolling green grounds below Hogwarts Castle were bathed in warm, golden light.
As they crested the sloping lawns, the violently thrashing outline of the Whomping Willow grew clearer and clearer against the horizon. To Sirius's utter astonishment, Regulus threw a hand out, signaling the three of them to completely halt just before they reached the edge of the Willow's long, dappled shadow.
During their previous nighttime 'adventures,' Sirius and James had obviously noticed the demonic tree. But besides its tendency to aggressively violently smash anything that came within range, it didn't seem to hold any deeper secrets, and they had quickly lost interest in it.
"Regulus—" Sirius breathed, his mind swimming with far too many questions.
"Shh!" Regulus hissed sharply, glaring at his brother. He had absolutely zero desire to try and invent a plausible explanation right now, so he simply ordered them to shut up.
They stood there in absolute silence beneath the cloak for what felt like an eternity. Finally, about twenty yards away, the Disillusionment Charm dropped. Professor Sprout suddenly appeared out of thin air on the green grass. She brushed dirt from her robes, turned her back on the tree, and began marching briskly back up the hill toward the castle. She was alone.
"Remus... he's still inside," James whispered dryly, his hazel eyes wide. He glanced at the unexpectedly competent Regulus. "We have to—"
While Sirius hesitated, staring at the lethal, thrashing branches, he saw Regulus casually pull back his sleeve and check his expensive wristwatch.
"Well?" Regulus asked calmly, arching an eyebrow. "Do you two want to go inside and take a look, or are we just going to stand here all evening?"
Inside the deeply messy, dust-choked ruins of the Shrieking Shack, Remus Lupin shivered in the damp cold. He walked over to a dark, splintered corner of the room and carefully tucked his small leather bag beneath a pile of broken floorboards, desperately hoping to hide it so his monstrous form wouldn't tear it to shreds during the night.
After hesitating for a moment, he walked back to the hiding spot. He opened the bag, carefully extracted one of the flaky apple pastries Kreacher had baked, and then re-hid the satchel.
He sat down heavily on a shattered, three-legged chair. As he took a small, miserable bite, the sweet, rich flavor instantly reminded him of the bright, noisy common room. It reminded him of Sirius's overly aristocratic, handsome face laughing by the fire, and James's warm, sunny smile.
He blinked, a tear tracking through the dust on his cheek. Wait. Why am I hallucinating them?
Remus rubbed his eyes violently.
Standing right in front of him, the 'overly aristocratic' Sirius Black was staring at him. Upon entering the gloomy, claw-marked room and seeing Remus sitting completely alone on a broken chair, miserably eating a stolen pastry, Sirius had instantly ripped the Invisibility Cloak off the three of them. Any lingering, petty dissatisfaction he had felt about his friend lying to him instantly vanished into thin air, replaced entirely by fierce, protective loyalty.
"Sirius?! James?! Er... Regulus?!" Remus scrambled backward, dropping the pastry. Before he could panic further, he was entirely drowned in an aggressive tidal wave of shouting.
"Remus John Lupin! It is officially time for you to come clean, isn't it?!" James yelled, throwing his arms in the air.
"What the bloody hell else do you have to say for yourself?!" Sirius demanded, his grey eyes flashing. "Why the hell were you hiding this from us?!"
Standing near the rotting doorway, Regulus leaned against the peeling wallpaper, looking incredibly relieved. He watched the three Gryffindors aggressively yell at each other, highly amused by the fact that despite the harsh words, their body language screamed of absolute, unwavering devotion to one another.
Remus looked at their furious, worried faces. Slowly, the crushing weight he had carried for years lifted from his chest. He let out a wet, shuddering breath, and a tragic, broken smile formed on his lips.
"You've... you've probably guessed already, given where we are," Remus whispered, his voice trembling. "I am a werewolf."
He stood up, backing away from them. "You need to leave. Right now. When the moon rises, I transform. I completely lose my mind, and I become a monster infinitely more violent than that Willow tree outside! Look at the walls! Look at the gouges in the wood! Those marks aren't from ghosts... they're from me, trying to tear my own skin off!" There was a raw, agonizing bitterness in his voice that sounded horrific coming from a twelve-year-old boy.
In Newt Scamander's Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the danger classification of a transformed werewolf was officially defined as XXXXX—the absolute highest level. Known wizard killers. Impossible to train or domesticate.
"So what if you're a bloody furry problem?!" Sirius shouted back, stepping forward and closing the distance. "What's there to hide from us?!"
"You're an idiot, Moony!" James added aggressively, clapping a hand hard onto Remus's shoulder. "We are your best mates!"
"Alright, that's enough emotional bonding for one afternoon. Let's go before we trigger an early transformation," Regulus interrupted, checking his watch again. He grabbed both Sirius and James by the back of their robes, physically dragging the two reluctant, wildly chattering Gryffindors toward the exit tunnel.
He looked back over his shoulder. "Remus, take care of yourself tonight! We'll be waiting for you to come back to the castle."
Watching the backs of his three friends—two Gryffindors and one highly unusual Slytherin—disappear down the dark tunnel, Remus suddenly remembered the very first night he had arrived at Hogwarts.
He remembered sitting on the stool in the Great Hall, trembling with absolute terror. He had jammed the tattered, ancient Sorting Hat onto his head, practically waiting for the magical artifact to scream 'MONSTER!' and demand he be sent back home.
Instead, a small, ancient voice had whispered in his ear:
"Oh... a very special little wizard indeed... let me see... Hmm, you possess extremely excellent qualities buried beneath that fear... Yes, learning how to face that terror will be your great life's lesson. Ha! I see it clearly: your life is destined to be a grand adventure, Mr. Lupin. And true adventures... should always be shared with others. Therefore, you belong in—"
"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat had announced to the cheering hall.
Adventures should be shared with others. Standing alone in the ruined shack, listening to the fading, echoing arguments of his friends in the tunnel below, Remus finally let out a true, unburdened laugh. He smiled sincerely, completely unafraid of the coming moon.