The Marauder Monologues

REMUS LUPIN: "By The Light Of The Moon"

Sirius asked me about it on the Hogwarts Express the first day, and I nearly died of shock. A lot of children our age did not know about the legends of Kelly Forest. Sirius Black did, however, and he asked me if I had ever seen 'anything weird' coming out of the forest. And I told him no - except that's not really the truth...

I was only five years old. My family had been picnicking by the lake right outside of Kelly Forest. There were other families there as well, it was a holiday; it was growing dark, and all of the adults were sitting on the bank, watching the moonrise. The children, myself included, were racing around the bank. I was following a cousin who was older than me - the older children were supposed to be looking out for me. We had toy wands in our hands that let off heatless sparks, and we were waving them and calling to each other - that's what drew the werewolves to us.

We didn't really hear the howls, at first, or pay attention to the full moon. And by the time our parents started to get antsy and call to us to come back to them, that it was time to come home, the howls were closer. Maybe I was closest to the forest, or maybe I just couldn't run as fast as the older children. But when the werewolves burst out of the forest, it was chaos. Children and parents shrieking, people running everywhere, parents trying to pull out their wands and cast spells as quickly as they could. There is a spell that temporarily drives werewolves away, I've learned, and they were using that. No one was fast enough, though - they hit the leader of the pack with it after he'd jumped on me and sunk his teeth into my left shoulder.

What I know from there is only what others have told me - I passed out as soon as he bit me. My parents raced over to pick me up, my mother was screaming when she saw the blood on my shoulder, my father grabbed me in his arms and Apparated us into the nearest hospital. That's illegal and dangerous, to Apparate two people and to do so without arranging when and where first, but I suppose when you're afraid your child will die you'll risk breaking the law. By holding me as closely as possible he'd managed to carry me with him - lucky I was small for my age. My mother followed a minute later, into the emergency ward of the Kelly Magical Medical Institute. Fortunately they'd had close calls with werewolves before...but no one else had actually been bitten. The doctor looked at my parents and said I'd probably be dead by sunrise. Not many small children can survive the potency of the werewolf's bite.

My parents insisted on taking the Emergency Floo Network to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, which certainly had more 'expertise' doctors, by virtue of the fact that it was the premiere wizarding hospital in the U.K. There they were at least able to do something to keep me alive - a fact I'll admit I have many times regretted. My parents lost count of how many potions and pastes and charms they used on me: Skele-Gro to mend the bones that were crunched together in my shoulder, antidotes to all sorts of diseases carried by wild animals, wound-healing pastes, and a dozen other things. All the medicines in such strong doses made me sick to my stomach for days. I didn't wake up 'til four days after the bite.

The first thing I saw was my mother, who'd fallen asleep in a chair next to me, resting her head on my bed. Both of her hands still held one of mine. I tried to move my arm and found it had been bound still with a Petrificus charm, and then noticed the bandages on my shoulder and the pastes peeking out from beneath it. There was a bad taste in my mouth as well. Just as I was beginning to get really confused, I saw my father enter the room. When he caught sight of me, finally awake, he did something I've never seen him do since: he burst into tears.

"Remus," he said, his voice cracking. He bent over me and held me in his arms so tightly, I felt crushed. "Moira," he called to my mother, "Moira, he's awake!"

My mother's head lifted off the sheets and she saw my father holding me. She, too, began to sob. "Oh, Remus," she said, kissing my face. She sounded hysterical.

This was too much for me. I didn't know where I was, and my parents were frightening me to death with their hysterics. I started to cry too. "Mum, what's going on? Mum?" I asked, beneath my parents' embraces. "What happened?"

That was when my mother let go and hid her face in her hands. "You tell him, Tris," she instructed my father, sobbing still. "You tell him, I can't."

So my father was the one who cupped my face in his strong hands and told me, calmly but through tears, that I had been bitten by a werewolf from Kelly Forest four nights before. That I was in St. Mungo's, that I was lucky to be alive - that I now might transform into a werewolf myself during every full moon.

I didn't understand this then. It made no sense to me - I didn't know how serious this was. A five-year-old can't understand that in an accidental instant, he can go from a healthy, normal child to a bloodthirsty fiend who would not be able to play with the neighborhood children anymore. Fortunately, I spent the remainder of the month and the first half of the following one in our house, sleeping about fifteen hours a day, barely eating, trying to recover from the combined forces of the wolf's bite and the treatments I'd received. I didn't have to see my former friends pointing and their parents looking away from me yet.

I finally realized how drastically things had taken a turn for the worse when the next full moon came, and my parents took me back to St. Mungo's for a careful observation session. They thought they'd be able to stay with me, but they had to wait behind a pane of clouded glass, which I couldn't use as a mirror or see through, but through which they could watch me. The rest of the room was rather small and empty, with plain white walls and floor. Through the evening and sunset I sat on the floor, humming or trying to find ways to amuse myself - I hadn't been allowed any toys. When the moon rose, all of my parents' hopes were destroyed - because the wolf's bite had hit home. I was also a werewolf now, and they watched me transform for the first time.

I think the first time was probably the worst, though the transformation is always excruciatingly painful, and I've felt it differently as I've aged. My limbs fold in upon themselves, but my face grows and elongates by several inches. My hands crush themselves into paws. I grow a tail - and anyone who's never grown one has no idea how disturbing it is. I sprout teeth and fur like weeds in an unkempt garden. All in a matter of minutes, all unbelievably agonizing. And I had to do it alone.

From that day forward, I knew that my life probably would have been better had it ended with the wolf's bite. After the first few cold stares and disinvitations to nearby children's birthday parties, I gave up on socializing. Literally - I never left the house...except monthly to be locked into the specially reinforced building my parents soon built on the property. It was a good thing we didn't live close to neighbors. I stayed inside, I didn't want to play or do much of anything. As I grew older, I read quite a bit; my mother called it 'studious' instead of 'isolated.' I didn't like to eat, either. The way I saw it, the sooner I was gone, the better the rest of the world would be.

My parents tried everything. France was leading the werewolf sciences front at the time, and we spent a lot of time there. I was the subject of numerous of tests, frequently underwent new charms and potion tests. I'm surprised none of it had a serious, harmful affect on me. We traveled to countless countries, visited even more hospitals and scientists, but we still found nothing. I gave up hope before they did. I knew what the general populace thought of werewolves.

The Werewolf Code of Conduct states that all werewolves must be controlled during their monthly time of transformation, and that the harming of human beings or the causing of damage to others' property merits the punishments that a normal human would garner. Of course, the most extreme punishments were always given to werewolves. And biting a human being earns the werewolf a life sentence in Azkaban.

Only once did I see the man who bit me, in a newspaper. He had sad black eyes and disheveled gray hair. I knew he was going to Azkaban, but my mother snatched the paper away before I could read it. She didn't want me to see the mention of the boy who was bitten in that paper. So you see, I didn't feel the guilt the others felt when we first began working for Dumbledore in the Order of the Phoenix. I had already sent a man to the Dementors.

Oddly, Albus Dumbledore was determined to get me into Hogwarts. He owled my parents time and time again reminding them what a powerful line of magic had run in our family and that a medical condition was no grounds on which to deny entrance into a school. And I guessed - correctly - that Dumbledore would likely be the only headmaster who felt that way. No one else in their right mind would want a werewolf at their school. He began meeting with my parents when I was nine - four years after the bite, two years before I would be old enough to start school.

I remember him sitting in our living room. I felt all right, because it was during the last quarter of the month's moon, and it had been a while since my last transformation. I sat between my parents on the couch, small for my age, watching the silver-bearded man without fear in my eyes. My mother sat on my left, wringing her hands; my father, on my left, a pleading look in his eyes.

"Tristan," the sage addressed my father, his voice calm, "I would genuinely like Remus to study with us at Hogwarts. I have already begun to look at the few simple exceptions to be made."

"We wouldn't want you to make exceptions for us, sir," my mother said quickly.

Dumbledore smiled. "Forgive me for my poor choice of words. Arrangements," he corrected himself. "Other than at the full moon, he can study and become a wizard just like any other student. I believe we may create a safe place he can stay during his transformations."

My parents looked at each other for long moments, not speaking. Dumbledore cleared his throat, then looked directly at me. "Remus, would you please stand up? I'd like to take a look at you."

I obeyed silently, standing with my hands at my sides in front of the headmaster. Those piercing blue eyes looked my skinny body up and down once; then he leaned forward and placed his hands upon my shoulders. Sitting down, he was still taller than me. "Remus," he said solemnly, not looking at my parents, "What do you think?"

I did look at my parents. But they only stared back at me, not giving me any indication of what my answer should be.

"Please answer honestly," Dumbledore added.

I thought for a long moment before I replied. I loved my parents very much, but my life at home was, sad to say, pointless. I had nothing - no friends, no goals - except my parents and a few books. Life at a school would probably provide just as few friends, but at least it would give me the opportunity to learn something useful. Finally, I came to the conclusion that it could do no harm to attend, and if it did, I could always drop out.

"Yes, sir," I replied, "I would like to go to school."

And I did like going to school. Not just like - I loved it. Everything about it was wonderful. I learned so much even in my first year; I devoured books and lessons. Some of it didn't come so easily, but I wasn't a bad student, and I picked it up pretty well. And for the first time in my life I had friends. Three great friends - Peter and Sirius and James. They were so good to me without even realizing it. The simple rites of friendship they took for granted were the ones I treasured the most. They saved me seats at meals, teased me and welcomed me to tease back, invited me on their adventures around the castle at night, and gave me my assignments when I came back from my monthly disappearances. And Lily had to be the kindest girl I'd ever met.

Once a month, the day of the full moon, Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, would arrange for me to meet them at a designated time in the afternoon in Dumbledore's office. There, they would walk me through the newly-built tunnel, beneath the Whomping Willow, and into Hogsmeade's Shrieking Shack. They would lock me up for the night, where I would be left alone to transform, and would return me to the school the next day. They were really quite good about it.

On the other hand, my friends definitely noticed my absences, and never missed the chance to ask me where I'd been and what I'd been up to. I told them an awful story: my mother was ill. At seemingly random times during the month I went home to visit her - either she was feeling better, or worse, or in the hospital, or any number of things. Unfortunately, these stories attracted the unmerited sympathies of my friends and my other classmates as well. I was ashamed of these sympathies - eventually, I just began dodging their questions altogether. But they were good friends - even when I didn't answer, they still helped me catch up and never made a big deal out of it in front of anyone else.

Once Lily stopped and asked me if I was feeling well. It was the day after, and I must have looked a sight. I was exhausted. But I said of course, I was feeling perfectly fine, just a bit tired. She cocked her head and looked at me with those bright green eyes, then smiled tightly. "Well, if you ever need anything, Remus..." And she left it at that. Lily was so kind.

The first year, I thought my secret was safe. I returned home brighter than my parents had ever seen me in the last six years, full of questions about magic and eager to do my summer assignments. My friends and I owled each other throughout the summer, sending scrawled juvenile letters back and forth. For the first time in my life I had friends.

But the second year, it became harder and harder to answer their questions about where I disappeared to. They tried to follow me to Dumbledore's office in February, but fortunately I saw them before I got there. I whirled around in the hallway, furious. "What are you doing?" I snapped, as the three of them sheepishly stepped out from behind a statue.

Peter shrugged. "Remus, we were just trying to see where you're always running off to--"

"Always? I'm not always running off anywhere!" There was a defensive edge to my voice that was bound to give me away, but I couldn't help it. I wasn't as angry as I was frightened that they would find out.

"Relax!" Sirius cut in. "We're not trying to upset you, we just want to know what's happening. We're your friends, remember?"

"Friends respect each other's privacy." I argued.

James held up a hand. "Where are you going this month?" he asked.

I had practiced this story a few moments before, anticipating I would be telling it to them after the full moon's phase was over. "My mother is in the hospital for surgery."

"You're lying." James said quickly, his voice hard. "Why won't you tell us the truth, Remus?"

I watched them for a moment. They stood there, arms crossed, feet planted firmly. They weren't leaving 'til they got an answer.

Too bad. "I - I have to go. You need to leave," I informed them, and they sighed in disappointment. Sirius turned around angrily - Peter looked as though he wasn't sure if he should follow Sirius or stay with James, who hadn't moved. James watched me from behind his glasses, opened his mouth as if to say something, then decided against it and shook his head. He turned around too, patting Peter once on the shoulder.

"Sirius, wait up!" he called, trotting to catch up with the taller boy. I hung my head, sure that was the last I'd see of my friends.

I returned the next day, a little worse for the wear after this occasion. It was so painful to turn into a werewolf. Most people mistakenly believe that werewolves bite others out of malice or vengeance, but it isn't so - most werewolves bite because it gives them something to focus on other than the pain. Like any animal, when it is suffering and doesn't understand why, it may lash out at the nearest available thing - human or not. But when one thinks about it, humans do the same thing, just with words instead of teeth.

Anyway, when I was in the Shrieking Shack, which no one ever entered for fear of meeting an "evil spirit," there was nothing for me to lash out at. I could bite furniture all I wanted, but that didn't help - I ended up biting and scratching myself. Usually it was in places no one would see, like my arms or legs, which were of course covered by my robes. This time, however, I had a long scratch across my right cheek, stretching to the bridge of my nose. On top of that was the aching my body always felt after a night of not knowing to what form it belonged. Dumbledore put his hand on my back gently as I limped out of the tunnel and into the castle again.

I stopped in the second-floor boys' bathroom and bent over at a sink to wash my face. It was still early - most of the students would be in bed, not even at breakfast yet. In the mirror I caught sight of the scratch on my cheek, then the dark circles under my eyes and the gray pallor of my face. I looked like a dead man. There was no denying this. Maybe I could just sleep in class today...

I finally made it into the second-year boys' dormitory in the Gryffindor tower and collapsed into my bed with a whuffing sound. I laid there and didn't move, even as I heard the five other boys in the room dressing, arguing over who got the showers first, and horsing around before breakfast. I pretended to be asleep.

"Should we wake up Remus?" Alessandro Dolohov asked above my bed.

"Nah," said James, "Let him sleep. He's been out of town. Probably he just got back." I heard Sirius's distinctive snort somewhere to the far right.

When Alessandro and the other non-Marauder boy, Iain MacGibbon, had left for breakfast, my three friends got down to business. "Sirius, James, we're doing it now, right?" Peter asked, his voice nervous.

"Right, Peter," answered Sirius. My heart began to pound in a sudden wave of fear.

"Remus, we know you're awake," said James simply. In response, I rolled over onto my back and glared at them, too tired to get up.

"Wha...what happened to your face?" Peter questioned faintly.

"An accident," was my curt reply.

The three boys sat down next to each other on the bed opposite me - Sirius's bed, I think. Sirius sat at the head, Peter at the foot, James in the middle. They waited, and finally James began speaking.

"Listen, Remus - we know about your... well, we figured out where you go every month."

I thought my heart would explode from pumping overtime. They knew. They were going to tell everyone, I was going to be expelled, my only friends were going to desert me... So what could I do? I could deny it, of course. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said stubbornly but quietly, all four of us knowing it was rubbish.

"Don't pretend you don't know," Sirius said sharply. Then he softened a bit. "It took us a while, but we finally put it together last night."

My heart stopped pounding and simply quit beating all together, then sank within my chest. This was the end. I couldn't even speak. "We looked outside and the moon was full," Peter put in helpfully.

"We know you're a werewolf," James finally said.

It took a moment for this statement to register with me. "I see," was all I could say, and my vision sort of blurred. I forced myself to sit up, then swung my legs over the bed and onto the floor; I knelt down unsteadily, landing on my knees with a thud, and pulled out my suitcase from under the bed.

"Well - wait, Remus, what are you doing?" asked James in confusion.

"Packing. It's all right, I understand, I know how people feel about werewolves." I snapped open the lid, then wondered if I could stand to reach my locker at the foot of my bed. No, too weak. I'd have to crawl. How humiliating. "I don't blame you at all for not wanting to be in my company. I'd just hoped I could spend another year or so here before someone would send me away."

"No one's going to send you away!" Sirius protested.

"Oh, really? Do you think your parents would honestly want you hanging around with a werewolf?" I asked tiredly, throwing my things to the open suitcase. My aim was bad - a pair of my socks landed at Peter's feet.

Peter picked them up and sort of passed them from hand to hand, responding, "Well, who says our parents know about it?"

I laughed sharply. "Right. If you guys know, who else is going to find out? It'll be all over the school, and Severus Snape or some other git will get their father to write in and have me expelled. Better I do it now, with some dignity left." I threw another pair of socks, which Sirius immediately threw back at me.

"Remus!" he said loudly. I stopped. "Listen, we haven't told anyone else and we're not going to. We don't want to see you expelled, you know. You're our - well, you're one of us. The Marauders."

I sat back on my heels, watching them with blank eyes. "But what am I going to do?" I asked at length, rather hopelessly.

"The same as you've always done," James replied. "Except now you've got us to help you. You need it, you name it."

I couldn't believe my luck. "Do you guys mean it?"

"Of course." "Yeah." "Yes."

"Thanks," I said quietly, my throat tight.

"So what can we do?" James prompted.

I thought, and then tried to stand. Sirius and James jumped up and took me by the elbows right away, helping me sit on my bed. I winced as I moved the protesting muscles. Taking a deep breath, I asked, "Do you guys know what it's like to transform?" Of course, they shook their heads 'no.' "It's the most painful experience imaginable. Like every part of you is under a wicked Skele-Gro concoction. And all you can think about is how bad it hurts - like you want to bite something just to get rid of the pain, because nothing makes sense when you're the wolf - and when there's no one else around, you just bite yourself--" I noticed their expressions becoming faint. "Sorry - er - just tell me if you get creeped out."

"No," Sirius said quickly. "It's all right."

I looked down at my hands, folded across my legs. "It's called dementia," I said, then began picking at a tear in my robe. I tried to wear the same one each time I transformed, so I wouldn't ruin all of my robes. "It means that when I transform, I forget myself - I don't know who I am until I'm human again the next morning. It happens to all werewolves. There's nothing mean about them, it's just all...misfortune, really. I got bit when I was five years old. I've been like this ever since."

My friends' eyes were sympathetic. I shrugged. "But if you really want to help, you can just change the subject if you hear someone talking about me disappearing once a month - subtly, you know. And keep helping me catch up on classes like you have been."

"Is there...well, anything we can do to help you when you're..." Peter gulped. "You know, the wolf?"

I shook my head lightly. "No. I wish you could be with me - provided you were safe and all. I think having someone familiar there might help me keep a sense of myself, but that's just not going to happen."

"Well..." James stopped, then stood up and began to pace the length of the room. "What if we could - if we were some kind of...I don't know, some creature large enough to control you. You might remember who you were during the transformation and it would be easier for you."

"That's a fabulous idea," I agreed, "except for the fact that it's impossible."

"Not necessarily," Sirius countered, and I could tell they'd discussed this as well last night. "There are ways."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like becoming Animagi." James's blue eyes were dead serious behind his spectacles. I knew he meant it.

It took them the better part of three years to finish it, and countless readings, stolen library books, trips to the restricted section or into classrooms to practice while hiding under James's invisibility cloak - a birthday gift from his father in our third year - but they finally did it. Sirius and James were catching on much more quickly than Peter, but they helped him, and on Christmas morning in our fifth year they dragged me into a deserted classroom in my pajamas and said, "Okay - Happy Christmas, Remus."

And they transformed. It was astounding to watch. Peter shrank into a long-tailed rat - Sirius became an enormous black dog, at least as big as my wolf - James developed into a magnificent stag. I clapped my hands and shouted like a little boy, I was so ecstatic at their achievements.

"Oh! Thank you! Oh, you did it! That's incredible!" I was shouting as they turned back into their fifteen-year-old human forms. I ran to them, and they were just as excited as I was. "I can't wait to try it out!"

And we did try it out, during the full moon five days later. When I was in the Shrieking Shack and the moon rose, James, Sirius, and Peter used the invisibility cloak to sneak into the passage, then shed it to transform into their Animagi forms. They entered the room where I was the wolf.

The first night was hesitant. We didn't really do much, but just having them there was enough to at least remind me who I was - Remus Lupin. Not the wolf. And the next morning, we were still too excited to really be tired in our classes. I felt better than I ever had after a full moon.

The next time, we were horsing around in the house - howling, pawing each other. If we'd had voices, we would have been laughing all night. The third time, February now, was the first time we went outside. Just once around the Willow, then back into the tunnel and the Shrieking Shack. But by the full moon in March, we left the Shack immediately and spent most of the night prowling around the castle grounds, along the edges of the forest, through the outskirts of Hogsmeade. It was tremendous fun. I was actually starting to enjoy the nights we spent together - it didn't hurt so much to transform any longer.

All that year, and our last two years at school, we learned more about Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds than any other student to ever attend the school, I guarantee it. That's how we came to write the Marauder's Map. Once a month, when we were out running across the fields and having the time of our lives with each other, I would look at the stag, the dog, and the rat, by the light of the moon, and think, 'This is what friendship is about - the Marauders.'