Full Moon

Part 1 is set during the summer before Prisoner of Azkaban, just before Sirius escapes from Azkaban.


* * * * *

Part 1: Samnios
‘Samnios, Seed Fall’ or ‘The Hunter’s Moon, Trading Moon’ - “A time for making an end to what is not fruitful, drawing up plans for the coming year”

Remus woke up reasonably early just as he always did, even though, as usual, he had nowhere to go. Just as he always did, he had a shower before getting dressed in his plain, slightly haggard black robes and heading into the kitchen to prepare his usual breakfast of cereal (muesli) and a single piece of toast (raspberry jam, no butter). Over breakfast, he skimmed over the day’s edition of the Daily Prophet, just as he had every morning for over a decade.

It had been a conscious decision on Remus’ part to get into a routine. He had figured that if he had a solid schedule of actions, he would at least have the illusion that he was busy and he wouldn’t feel quite so useless. He had decided that it would also help to keep his mind off... things.

Remus sighed, thinking that the fact that he could still remember why he had done it seemed like proof that it hadn’t worked. The idea was that he would be so preoccupied with his routine that he would forget all those things, never have time to think about them.

What had actually happened was that since he had got into a routine, his actions had become so automatic that he didn’t have to think about them, leaving his mind completely free for certain other thoughts to wander in as they pleased.

He’d tried not to think of Sirius. For the past twelve years he’d tried not to think of Sirius. Remus was sure that he had never failed more miserably at anything he’d ever attempted. He couldn’t help but smile bitterly at the irony as he realised that trying not to think of Sirius and, subsequently, thinking of Sirius had become a regular part of his routine.

It was always an ugly, depressing chain of thought. He hated himself for missing Sirius so much, just as he hated Sirius for causing him to miss him so much. Or at least he hated the Sirius that was currently residing in a dreary cell in Azkaban. That was the image he would conjure up in his mind to hate. That man, his ragged hair falling in his eyes as he growled incoherent sounds through the bars of his prison. The man who had killed Lily, James and Peter. The stranger. Remus conjured up this image because he knew that he could never hate the Sirius he remembered.

Automatically, as per the routine, he carried his dishes to the sink and started a simple washing charm. When had his life become such a drudgery? No. He didn’t want to follow through with that thought, because he knew he that he could trace it back to the exact day and he didn’t want to start thinking about that again.

Too late.

He sat down again holding his head in his hands. He was getting so sick of this. He desperately wanted to claw his way out of this rut, find something new and stop lying around with nothing to do but mull over again and again everything that was wrong in the world. Unfortunately, being a werewolf, there was only so much he could do.

* * * * *

Sirius awoke slowly to the sound of screaming. Whether the screams had been his own, or from someone in another cell, he didn’t know. It had been years since he’d been able to tell. In Azkaban, it becomes impossible to tell the difference between day and night, sanity and insanity or his screams and those of another prisoner. It had all seemed to meld into the one monstrous infusion of pain and fear.

It was taking more of Sirius’ willpower than he knew he had to hold onto his sanity, his identity, his soul and he felt as if he wouldn’t last much longer. A part of him wanted to let go, to give in and relax into insanity. It was almost comforting to think that he might forget who he was, where he was and live in a blissful ignorance until he eventually withered away and died.

‘No,’ he commanded himself harshly, shaking the falsely comforting thoughts from his brain and resisting once more. Sirius refused to let himself succumb to this godawful place, and let the dementors win. He repeated over and over again in his mind that soon, he wouldn’t need to fight. He was leaving. He was going to get out of this hell and never return.

It was that thought that sustained him for his last few days in Azkaban. He was sure that it must have been that certainty that gave him the strength and clarity of mind that he needed to transform into the dog and slip past the dementors.

In canine form, he bolted off the island and dived into the churning sea, thrashing about in a constant storm. The icy water bit at his paws and face as he paddled through it, clinging onto nothing but the hope that he would reach the shore soon. The sting of the sea didn’t bother him. After Azkaban, he felt he could endure any pain.

After he fought against the current for what could have been hours, Sirius finally felt his paws connect with hard, solid land. Free land. He collapsed in a heap, changing back into the man and wailing, first in catharsis and then in relief. He was out. He was again free to think and to feel whatever he wanted again. He felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from not only his shoulders, but from every part of his body and mind. His mind was clearer, still not completely clear, but clearer and lighter than it had ever been inside the prison.

Sirius continued to wail throughout the night, unable to worry about whether anyone could hear him. For that one night, it didn’t matter. He had finally left Azkaban behind him.

* * * * *

Remus looked up from the book he was currently reading (‘The Case for Dark Creatures’ by I.V.Mandrake which, although it sounded as if it would be sympathetic to Remus’ plight, was merely a collection of horror stories and recommended methods of ‘dealing with’ suspected dark creatures) when he heard a noise at the window and was surprised to see a majestic tawny owl perched on the sill. He wasn’t used to getting mail - the only real contact he generally received from the world outside his cabin was the Daily Prophet, and that morning’s copy had already arrived. After giving the owl a piece of not-too-stale bread (which was accepted gratefully, although not until after being sniffed at with suspicion) Remus picked up the envelope the bird had dropped on his table and opened it, noting that it bore a Hogwarts crest.

Dear Mr Lupin, the letter read

I am writing to inform you that the position of Defence against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is currently available. I, as headmaster, understand that you have a background in this area and would be more than qualified to teach this subject. Please consider this offer and send your reply as soon as possible.

Sincerely,
Professor Albus Dumbledore

Remus read over the letter three more times before he was willing to accept that it was indeed real and someone was actually offering him some form of employment. He smiled, thinking how he should’ve known that if anyone was going to offer him a job, it would be Dumbledore.

After reading the letter through just a couple more times, Remus sat down at his old, timeworn desk. It wasn’t until he pulled out a quill (with only the slightest scrap of feather left on it, ‘but’, as Remus reminded himself, ‘The important thing is that it works’) and the nicest sheet of parchment he could find, that he realised his mind had already decided to accept the offer without any prior thought process whatsoever.

Of course he would accept the job. It was exactly what he needed. Exactly what he had been needing for the better part of twelve years. Yes, of course he would take the job. It was only logical.

‘But then again,’ he thought, as he was prone to do,’there are the consequences’

There were always consequences. If there was one thing Remus had learnt over the years it was that, for a werewolf, mere existence had consequences. He didn’t know how it would be possible for him to take a job, let alone a job that would involve being around other people’s children on a daily basis.

He could see it now. The students would fear what he was and refuse to attend his classes. The parents would find out what he was and refuse to let their children attend his classes. The complaints would come in. Children would be taken out of Hogwarts. No-one would trust a dark creature with their child. If he accepted the job it would only cause an unnecessary uproar, not to mention bring bad publicity to Dumbledore who most certainly didn’t deserve it.

Remus sighed, realising that he would have to do the responsible thing. It didn’t seem fair, but then again, Remus knew for a fact that not a lot in life was fair.

Dear Professor Dumbledore, he wrote,
Thank you for you extremely kind offer. I was most honoured that you would consider me for such a position. Unfortunately -

Remus looked up in shock. Surely he hadn’t just heard a knocking on the door. He was in such a remote location that it was hard to reach even by apparition so any salespeople, muggle and wizard alike, would have to be fairly desperate to approach his door, and he couldn’t think of any other reason anyone would be visiting with an intent to see him personally.

Knock Knock

This time Remus was certain he had heard the sound, and it was the type of sound that couldn’t simply be written off to the wind blowing some object against the door. Remus had a visitor.

He put down his tattered quill and approached the door, curious to know who would come out of their way to see him.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see none other than Albus Dumbledore standing there, smiling as he always did, as if he knew something that the rest of the world was not yet privy to.

“Remus Lupin, how good it is to have tracked you down. May I come in?”

“Of course, Professor” Remus replied, slightly taken aback. He stepped aside to let the old wizard inside.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked as Dumbledore brushed a light dusting of snow off his robes.

“No, that will be quite alright. I see you’ve received my letter” the Professor said casually as his eyes landed on Remus’ desk. Dumbledore never did miss even a slight detail.

“Yes sir, and I...”

“You’re worried that your condition will be a problem” Dumbledore interrupted.

“I can’t see any way that it wouldn’t be.”

Dumbledore nodded sagely, as if this was exactly what he expected to happen. “Perhaps we should sit down and talk for a while?”

Remus nodded, knowing that as gently as it was said, any passing comment from Dumbledore was as good as an order. He poured himself a cup of tea and sat down in the wooden chair opposite the threadbare couch Dumbledore had seated himself on, wincing slightly as he heard the wood creak with age.

“Now Lupin. You’ll forgive me for not making small talk, catching up on each other’s affairs and the like, but I feel that we should get straight to the matter at hand,” the older wizard began.

“Professor, you must know how grateful I am for the offer,” - Dumbledore nodded his head slightly, either as a gesture to say ‘you’re welcome’, or as an acceptance of the acknowledgement to his own wisdom - “but you must see the reasons why my accepting the job would be a bad idea.”

Remus waited as Dumbledore paused and simply looked back at him. If it were anyone else, Remus might have thought they were considering what was to be said next, but it was Dumbledore and Remus knew that Dumbledore would already know exactly what he wanted to say. He knew that the professor was taking the moment to read him.

“Ah, the reasons,” Dumbledore said sagely, as if Remus’ response had been nothing more than he’d expected, “Lupin, you must be aware that I knew about your condition, unless of course you consider me to have become that forgetful in my old age. And yet, with this knowledge, I still offered you the position working at Hogwarts.”

Remus was able to do nothing but look obediently ahead of him, feeling suddenly transported back to his school days under the gaze of his old headmaster.

“I offered you this job, not out of pity, not out of a desire to have Hogwarts’ halls and reputation torn apart by a werewolf, but out of common sense, a quality I believe you hold in very high regard.”

Remus frowned slightly out of confusion as he listened. He remembered that Dumbledore tended to be cryptic when he was trying to get a point across, but as hard as his mind struggled, he couldn’t see how any form of common sense had come into this particular equation. He remained silent as the professor continued.

“When it comes to the subject of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, I prefer to have a teacher who has had personal experience in the subject, not merely someone who has read about it. It’s a subject I regard as being extremely important for students to learn and I want them to learn from someone who knows of it’s importance first hand. When the position became once again available, your name was the first to come into my head.”

Remus sipped at his tea, almost as an instinctual excuse not to reply. Dumbledore kept his gaze fixed on the younger wizard as his voice gained a slightly different tone.

“Remus, I know there have been... difficulties in the past. But believe me, I have thought this through as far as it will be thought. There are methods of dealing with your transformations that weren’t available when you were a student.”

“And what of the students at the school today? How will they feel about being taught by a werewolf? And their parents? Even if the children are open-minded, the parents will never allow it.” Remus said firmly as he put down his mug. Dumbledore sat back in his seat, baring a shadow of a smile on his face.

“The students need only have knowledge of the subject they are being taught, Lupin,” he replied calmly.

“Are you saying that we should lie to them?” Remus asked, genuinely surprised at the suggestion. He had thought the matter would not be as simple if he were their teacher as it was when he was their fellow student.

“I’m saying,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye, “That matters of a professor’s own life are none of a student’s business, unless he or she means them to be.”

There was a pause as Dumbledore allowed his words to sink in before he stood abruptly and began heading for the door.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Lupin, but I have other arrangements I must keep and I daresay, it took me longer to get to this cabin than I had expected,” he said while Remus stood and followed him to the exit. As the two of them reached the door, Dumbledore turned and once again looked at Remus in the way that made the younger man sure that he was being read.

“I do hope you’ll consider the offer, Lupin,” he opened the door and stepped outside, into the snow that was beginning to fall heavier than before.

“Thank you professor,” Remus replied as Dumbledore disappeared into the thin sheet of white that was begin to cover the horizon.

Remus stood, watching the back of the door as if it would provide the answers to every question he ever needed to ask if he only looked at it hard enough. Eventually he turned away and allowed his legs to carry him back to the desk where his letter-in-progress still sat, ink drying on the nib of his quill.

Carefully, he picked up the parchment and tore it up methodically, tearing it in half and then holding the two pieces together to tear each of them in the same way. He did this again and again until all that remained were tiny, equally-sized scraps. A quick wave of the wand and the scraps were in the bin.

Slowly, he took another sheet of parchment, refreshed the ink on his quill and wrote before he had time to think about it again. He didn’t read over the words after he had written them, knowing it would only cause him to begin to reconsider. He had decided. He knew what he needed and that’s the way it was going to be, whether the logical side of his brain liked it or not.

Quickly, as if any minute now he would go back on his own silent agreement, he addressed the letter and sent it back with the Hogwarts owl that had been waiting patiently in his kitchen for a reply, eating Remus’ jam.

As the bird flew off, Remus decided he’d best start thinking about his lesson plans.


End of Part 1