Professor Lupin's Apprentice

X: The Truth, the Whole Truth & Nothing But the Truth

Remus spent the night in my room every night for the next three weeks. I asked if he wanted to move his things upstairs, but he refused, claiming we needed to keep up the pretence at least of separate lodgings for the time being. When I offered him some of my uncle's old clothes that had been packed away in a trunk since he died seven years earlier, this he accepted.

I'd hesitated to offer him the clothes before for two reasons. First, he was still excessively thin, and I thought he'd feel worse wearing clothing that obviously bagged rather than wearing properly fitting clothes that were worn. Second, I considered offering him my uncle's clothes a commitment of sorts. Silly of me to think of it this way, I suppose, but they had belonged to family, and I didn't want to make him uneasy.

Aside from my continuing frustration at not being able to cast any spells with Remus' wand, I didn't think anything could cloud my happiness during those three weeks. My bubble burst, however, the next week. As he'd done a month earlier, Remus retired to his own room earlier in the evening every night for a week. After that week, he then went to bed after lunch feeling ill, only to rise late the next day, looking pale and sickly. Yet, after three more days, he was back to himself and again sharing my bed. This pattern was repeated for the next three months before I even became suspicious.

Remus often tries to make me out to seem cleverer than I am, but it was mere happenstance that I discovered his secret. When he fell ill the fourth time, I was alone in my room, feeling forlorn. I'd grown to love him so much since we'd met, and being without him even for a few hours was difficult. I found myself literally adrift in my apartment, and I walked to the window to look out. As I pulled back the drapes, silvery light from the full moon spilled in from the window, and I stood admiring the view. The moon was so big and round and bright, just like the night we'd met. My eyes grew wide as it dawned on me: I'd heard a howl that night. A howl I tried to dismiss as that of a dog.

But that was no dog. It was Remus.

"How could I have been so stupid!" I snapped, pacing and wringing my hands. "A rare allergy to silver! That's a laugh! Of course he's allergic to silver! It's poisonous to—" I couldn't bring myself to say it, although I couldn't stop the thought.

My boyfriend is a werewolf.

I'd seen the B-grade movie I Was A Teenage Werewolf, as well as Teen Wolf, and I'd laughed heartily at both, but somehow they didn't seem funny any more. That was why Remus winced when I first said "werewolves" the second night in the library, and why he seemed uncomfortable when I'd asked if he'd ever come across one. "More or less" had been his answer—enigmatic at the time, but now it made perfect sense.

That also had to have been why he'd seemed so shocked after we'd kissed the second time, when I suggested he was afraid of turning into a wolf. He was terribly afraid of turning into a wolf, every month. I then remembered what he'd said when we first started discussing magical creatures: "Think of a werebeast as someone who is infected with cancer, but who has predictable periods of remission and relapse."

I had been shocked and angry, and a little scared, I must admit, but when I remembered this, my heart went out to him. He'd contracted a dread disease, through no fault of his own. In fact, he'd been violently attacked. Remus had been undressed in front of me often enough by that time that I'd noticed a proliferation of scar tissue on his chest. He'd claimed the family dog had mauled him when he was a child and, for the longest time, I'd thought nothing of that.

I felt a glimmer of hope when I remembered he said there were treatments for lycanthropy. At the time, he'd qualified that with "or so I've read." But now I was fairly sure he'd experienced those treatments first-hand. They must not keep him from transforming—that had to be why he'd asked me about pets before moving in—but they might make him less dangerous or even less contagious if he happened to bite someone. I wondered which it was.

I knew I wouldn't be able to discuss it with him that night—not at long as the moon was out. And I probably wouldn't be able to talk to him half the next day, either. But we needed to talk as soon as possible. I found some paper and scribbled a note:

Remus,

I know you aren't feeling well, but I really need to talk to you. This is important. Please come see me as soon as you are able. And remember, whatever else happens, I love you!

Melinda

I crept downstairs and slipped the note under his door. Then I wondered if he was even in there. When he'd asked about pets, I'd said they would make the other tenants nervous. He'd accepted this without complaint, so he must be Apparating out of his room before he transformed. Even though I had a spare key, I wouldn't invade his privacy. I'd given my word about that, but he never made me promise not to look through the keyhole.

Silly boy, I thought. You should never underestimate a nosy woman! When I crouched down and peered through the hole, I could see the entire room, however, and there was no sign of him—lupine or otherwise.

I went back upstairs and tried to sleep. Since I was looking at the clock every few minutes to see if it was morning yet, I didn't have much success. Although I have no idea what time, I finally dropped off and, when I woke, it was full daylight. When I rolled over and looked at the clock, it said a quarter after ten. Then I heard a light tapping at the door. I rose and pulled on my robe, walked from the bedroom to answer the door, and brought Remus inside and over to the sofa. He sat clinging to me, almost as if he knew what was coming.

"I love you, Remus," I said softly.

"I love you, too, Melinda," he said, almost sobbing.

I stroked his hair. "Transforming takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?"

"Yes," he said automatically. He then jumped from the sofa as if I'd poured a cup of scalding tea in his lap, although I don't know where he found the energy. If possible, he looked even more pale, and his eyes were wide as saucers.

"It's all right," I said, soothingly. "Sit down. You need to rest."

"How—?" He swallowed hard. "How did you know?"

"I figured it out. And it doesn't matter. I love you anyway."

He took a step toward me, then stopped and shook his head. "Are you sure it doesn't matter?"

"You're ill, Remus, that's all. I won't turn you away because of something you cannot help."

He gaped at me for a moment before asking, "Do you really mean that?"

I stood and wrapped my arms about his waist, but for once, he didn't return my embrace.

"Of course I mean it!" I cried. "I love you, you dolt! I wouldn't abandon you if you got cancer, would I? Why would I over this?"

Remus collapsed into my arms. His shoulders shook as he sobbed violently, and he held me so tightly I had trouble breathing. When he'd had his cry out, I made him lie down with his head in my lap.

"Tell me how it happened," I said. "I want to know everything you've been avoiding telling me so far."

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" he asked. "Some of it is really bad."

"You told me you are a wizard, and I didn't send you packing. Now I've figured out you're a werewolf, and you're still lying here with your head in my lap. If you don't think you can trust me by now, I don't know what to say."

He winced again when I said the word, but then his cleared his throat when I'd finished.

"I was five when I was bitten. There was a hole in the fence of our backyard. My father had been meaning to fix it for months, but he'd never managed to get it done. My parents thought I was in bed, as I was supposed to be, but I was a troublemaker even at that age. It was summer, and I was a child. I wanted to play instead of sleep, so I'd crept outside.

"I was having a good time playing with my toy wand when I saw a large black figure pushing through the hole in the fence. Then it growled. I wanted to run back inside, but I was glued to the spot, trembling with fear. It started toward me, still growling, and when it broke into a run, I finally found my voice. The scream woke my parents, who came running downstairs.

"My father had a pure silver sword, which he'd grabbed on his way downstairs. There were quite a few werewolves in our area, you see, so he was paranoid of them. He stabbed the thing in the ribs and managed to get it off me. It ran away, yelping, but I was badly mauled. They took me to the hospital. I was so young and so gravely wounded, the doctors didn't think I'd survive ... Sometimes I wish I hadn't."

By this time, I was crying. "Don't say that."

"You don't know, Melinda. You don't know what it's like."

"That's why I want you to tell me."

"Everyone in the wizarding world shuns me. That's why I can't find work. No one wants to hire a werewolf."

"I wanted to hire you."

"You didn't know. You wouldn't have hired me if you had."

"No, I probably wouldn't have at the time," I admitted. "But that's neither here nor there now, is it? I wouldn't have had dinner with you then, either, and I've done that a great deal since, haven't I?"

Remus managed a chuckle at that. "My father blamed himself, as though it were his fault because he hadn't fixed the fence. Of course, people always blame themselves for things far out of their control. My mother was beside herself with grief for a year, just as if I'd died. She eventually snapped out of it, though. They locked me into the basement every month to transform, and for a while, no one knew. I was an only child, so they were overprotective as a rule, and I managed to lead a fairly normal life. But they also knew there was virtually no chance of my going to Hogwarts when I came of age. Then someone wonderful happened."

"What?" I asked.

"Albus Dumbledore became Headmaster of Hogwarts. I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. I'd just come downstairs for breakfast, and my parents were sitting at the table, crying. I thought someone had died, actually. When they showed me Dumbledore's letter, my legs fell out from under me. He said, as long as certain precautions were taken, I could attend Hogwarts starting that fall."

Remus then told me about the Shrieking Shack, the Whomping Willow, attending Hogwarts, and having real friends for the first time in his life. He talked for a while about James and Sirius, and the lengths they'd gone to for friendship, although he didn't mention their being unregistered Animagi was illegal. Nor did he mention their nicknames. As he spoke of James and Sirius, though, the same light shone from his eyes as when he talked about magical creatures, only more intensely. When he'd finished with their schooldays, he talked about Lord Voldemort's uprising and the Death Eaters, Peter Pettigrew's betrayal, James and Lily's deaths, Sirius' imprisonment, Voldemort's disappearance, Harry's scar and the fame he'd earned as "the boy who lived."

"After James died and Sirius was sent to Azkaban, I didn't have anyone to keep me from harming others when I transformed. I went to Germany because I'd heard there was a witch named Gisela who thought she had perfected a potion to keep werewolves tame when they transformed. Until I found her, I roamed the more deserted parts of the Black Forest during the full moon. I'm fairly sure I didn't hurt anyone, but it kills me to think I could have.

"Thankfully, when I found her, Gisela was more than willing to let me try her potion. She staked her life on the results, staying with me whilst I transformed. I don't think I was ever more frightened in my life. She sat next to me, stroking my fur all night, and I never so much as growled. I felt as if I'd just got out of prison. I lived there with her for almost twelve years."

"Was she pretty?" I asked, suddenly finding myself jealous.

"In a grandmotherly sort of way," Remus said, smiling. "She was over eighty."

"Oh," I said, giggling. "So, why did you leave Germany?"

"Well, I received a letter from Dumbledore saying Professor Snape was fairly certain he'd managed to duplicate Gisela's potion. If I was agreeable, he said he'd be pleased to offer me a position teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. He explained we could use the Shrieking Shack to test Snape's potion for my first transformation and, if it worked, I could lock myself into my office for the subsequent months."

"He sounds like a good man."

"One of the best. I owe him every happy moment of my life before I met you. He also stayed with me for my first transformation, although I wasn't nearly as afraid that time."

"You trusted Professor Snape to make the potion for you?"

"Yes. He's a very talented potion-brewer."

"But I thought you didn't like him?"

"I don't particularly like him. And he's nowhere near fond of me, either. He fought my appointment to Hogwarts vehemently, partly out of loathing for me personally, and partly out of concern for the students. But as much as I dislike him, I do trust him to prepare the potion. He's the last person who would want me to hurt someone ... Besides me, that is. And Dumbledore could have handled me if I'd attacked. He's one of the most powerful wizards living, if not the most powerful. It's rumoured he's the only wizard Voldemort ever feared."

After that, he talked about Sirius' escape from Azkaban, the dementors coming to Hogwarts, his private lessons training Harry to summon a Patronus, Sirius' breaking into the school, how he, Harry, Hermione, and Ron had learnt of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal, how Harry and Ron discovered he was a werewolf that night, his forgetting to take his potion, and how Sirius was still a wanted man because of his "defect." He also told me he resigned his position, although Professor Snape had still been supplying him with the potion regularly.

"I thought you'd been sacked," I said. "That's why I thought you didn't want to talk about it."

"Harry came to see me one last time after he'd heard I resigned," he said sadly. "I don't think he'll ever be able to forgive me. I know I didn't have anything to do with his losing his father, but I could have prevented his losing his godfather, as well."

"I'm sure he doesn't blame you," I said soothingly. "That would be like blaming you for forgetting your medicine and having a seizure. From everything you've told me about him, I'm sure he's wise enough to see it was an oversight. After all, you thought you were running off to protect him from a cold-blooded murderer, didn't you?"

"I know." He sighed. "But he didn't even shake my hand before I left. I suppose I was expecting too much to think we could still be close after everything that happened. He just looked and acted so much like James, I wanted to befriend him, naturally."

"It's almost like losing James all over again?"

He nodded. "Basically."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly." He sat up and put his arm around me.

"When you were bitten, you said you'd been mauled badly, but ... well ... Those scars don't look that bad."

"These scars on my chest are the only ones I'll ever have, since they are from the werewolf who infected me. The wounds were much worse than the scars appear. I'd lost a great deal of blood and nearly died. But the accelerating healing properties started to take effect as soon as the werewolf's saliva entered my bloodstream.

"Werewolves heal much more quickly than normal and without scarring, unless we are injured with silver, that is. Wounds from silver heal more slowly than normal, if at all, and scar badly." There was a pregnant pause, and I wondered if he was thinking about whether or not he should broach another taboo subject. I didn't have to wonder for long. "You'd never know from my forehead that I'd had a huge gash on it five months ago, would you?"

"When did you have a gash on your forehead?" I asked, astounded.

"After I jumped out of your car," he replied with shrug.

"You never jumped out of my car," I said, shaking my head. "I would have remembered that."

"You know that Memory Modification Charm we talked about?"

He then told me the real story of what happened after we'd come home from the jeweller's. My eyes grew wider and wider as he talked.

"You did that to me?!?" I practically screamed.

"It was necessary. You'd seen me heal far too rapidly, and I knew you were entirely too stubborn to let the matter drop. I had a concussion and broken ribs that day in addition to the cut, all of which simply ... went away. When I realised no one else had seen my injuries, or even knew I was here, I didn't let you go looking for aspirin.

"After my cut was gone, I removed the bandage and kissed you whilst pulling out my wand. I cast a charm to knock you out first. Then I laid you on the sofa, shoved the bandage in my pocket, wiped the afternoon from your memory, ripped the seam of your blouse, located the ice pack, and woke you up."

"I can't believe you did that to me! I feel so ... dirty ... now."

"I'm sorry, Melinda. I only did it once, and I swear I won't ever do it again."

"How can I believe you?"

He shrugged. "You'll just have to trust me, I suppose."

"Your track record isn't so good in that department," I said, pouting.

"Well, you got what you wanted anyhow," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "I moved in, didn't I?"

It was true. I had forced his hand.

"Why did you kiss me first?" I asked. "You could have just wiped pulling your wand from my memory as well, couldn't you?"

He smiled slyly. "I wanted to kiss you first."

"Oh." Damn him! He knew exactly what to say. He was instantly forgiven. "If you're so free with Memory Modification Charms, why didn't you cast them on the librarians so they'd forget we were noisy?"

"I'm not free with Memory Charms. I use them only when I feel there is no alternative. And I wanted to be less than welcome in the library, as well," he added, shrugging.

"Why?"

"I was determined you'd have dinner with me, one way or another. Besides, I knew my chances of wooing you in a library were fairly slim. What could be less romantic than making eyes over dusty books and date stamp pads?"

I laughed and he smiled. "Where do you go to transform?"

"I've been going to the Shrieking Shack, actually, since Hogwarts is so close—" His eyes grew wide. "Wait! How did you know I left to transform? Did you go into my room?"

"I didn't hear any noises coming from your room ... And you never said I couldn't look in through the keyhole."

His eyebrows rose, but then he smiled.

"When you said you were hiding from too many people to name, you actually meant was—"

"I'm hiding from everyone in the world, at least one night out of every month."

I nodded slowly. After a long silence, I asked, "So ... what's it like being a werewolf?"

His expression turned stony, as if this were the stupidest question he'd ever encountered. "It's dreadful," he said, his voice dripping contempt. "Why do you ask?"

"It can't be too bad when you transform after taking the potion ... But the rest of the time—when you haven't transformed—what's it like?"

He smiled, shaking his head. "Well, I won't deny there are some interesting aspects. I never get ill, for one thing. I can abuse my body mercilessly for months on end without collapsing. No colds, no flu, and any injuries heal surprisingly rapidly. I have a cast-iron stomach, unless I ingest something that would make a dog ill. Then I'm in a terrible state. Even if I don't care for not being able to afford regular meals, I won't die from starvation.

"Not to mention heightened senses of smell and hearing. James and Sirius were particularly fond of my eavesdropping abilities at school. Not only did that allow me to hear conversations through closed doors, but it also facilitated our successfully locating all the secret passages of Hogwarts castle without the teachers' knowledge. The downside is dog whistles are intolerable."

I laughed again and pecked his cheek. "I only have one more question. Why did you insist on going to your own room for an entire week before the full moon?"

"Oh! Well I have to take the potion every day for a week prior to, and including, the night of the full moon. So I'd excuse myself, Apparate away, meet Snape, take my potion, and then come back and go to bed."

"Why not come to my room afterward?"

"In addition to tasting horrid, the potion smells awful. I wouldn't be able to hide the smell from you." He smiled. "You know, I feel so much better after telling you all this."

"I knew you would. Hiding your true self from those you love is hard."

"Well, it's not just that. I knew I couldn't hide these letters from you much longer." He pulled a sealed piece of parchment out of his robe, turning it back to front. "I've been getting them for a while, of course, but the latest one is for you." He handed me the letter, which was addressed in green ink, as follows:

Miss Melinda Rhoades
c/o Professor Remus J. Lupin
3rd Door on the Left of the 1st Floor Landing
Boar's Glen Boarding House
31 Callon Avenue
Boar's Glen, England

"How—?" I asked, wide-eyed.

"How did he know the address so precisely? There is little Albus Dumbledore doesn't know, I imagine."