A Year in the Life of a Wizarding Werewolf

A Year in the Life of a Wizarding Werewolf

- The Full Moon

The full moon. It was tonight. Remus heaved a sigh as he slid out of bed and got ready for breakfast. Following it would be double Herbology. Charms. Lunch. Double Transfiguration. And finally, the Shrieking Shack.

The students carried about their daily grind of lessons, point-earning (Slytherin, unfortunately, were leading), homework and meals, mixed in with laughter and the odd detention. It really was just like any other day. The Hufflepuffs were to have their Quidditch practice that night, and throughout Herbology, Michael Murray and Sean Hurst, their two Beaters, had been discussing tactics on how to best Slytherin in their match against them that Friday. Charms passed without much incident except where Peter had sent a bookcase crashing to the ground when he had missed Stunning Remus by several inches. Then in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall had given them the usual piece of reading to do for homework, with added practical practice for those who had difficulties turning their rats to snuffboxes in class. All in all, it would appear to everyone that it was just a regular day.

Sirius, back from the hospital wing as good as new, was on overdrive. He hardly ceased talking about the Animagus loot which James, Remus and Peter had come across that night last week. He had wanted to try it again at once, but James and Peter had reminded him that both the salamander eyes and cockatrice liver had to be respectively steeped in alcohol and brine for two weeks before they could be used. Remus had also reminded him that, should this fail again, he did not want to have to come up with yet another explanation to an already suspicious Madam Pomfrey so soon after last week's incident.

The winter days were growing shorter and shorter, with sundown occurring well before evening time. Anxious to leave for Madam Pomfrey before the moon rose through the sky, Remus had left the Great Hall almost as soon as he had gotten there after his last class, pausing only to grab a bread roll off the table. As he exited the Hall in the direction of the hospital wing, he heard the shouts of laughter and the chatter of students recounting their daily events filling up the Great Hall. Yes, it was just like any other day. Except for me.

He had long since been used to this loneliness, this sort of extrication from the others. The hustle and bustle floating from the Great Hall gradually faded away as he felt himself drawing further and further away from their world. Yes, Remus would view his life from the perspective of two worlds. The wolf and the human. Two of them, so dissimilar, yet co-existing within his one being. It was the wolf that separated him from the rest of those he so longed to be a part of. And the seclusion that came with being the wolf was one that Remus found hardest to come to peaceable terms with. The feeling of isolation was mostly tolerable now, present only as a nagging, humming knot of emotions vibrating just underneath the surface. But there were times when these feelings would erupt and overflow, flooding any other human senses he possessed, so much that he had the compelling urge to howl, as if to purge all his being of emotions.

Without realising it, he had reached the hospital wing. He rapped lightly on the door as he peered round it. Madam Pomfrey came out of her office, saw the pale, thin boy framed in the doorway, and her eyes flickered over to the clock mounted on the wall.

"You are a bit early, dear," she said, looking him up and down as though inspecting him for something.

"Yeah," mumbled Remus. "I didn't want to leave it too late."

"Did you get you dinner?"

Remus held up the half-eaten roll he was clutching in his right hand. Madam Pomfrey tutted reprovingly.

"You need more than that, boy," she said sharply. "Here."

She tapped her wand on a tray lying on the table beside her, and a plate of roast chicken and vegetables appeared at once, accompanied by a bowl of bread and butter pudding.

"Eat that up. You've got plenty of time."

Remus sat down and ate in silence as Madam Pomfrey busied herself with some paperwork in her office. The last of the sunlight was disappearing over the horizon when Madam Pomfrey came out of the office, pulling on her coat. Remus had just spooned up his last drop of custard. Swallowing it quickly, he followed the nurse out onto the school grounds, across the lawn and towards the Whomping Willow. The Hufflepuffs seemed to be winding down from their practice session and Madam Pomfrey was walking rather swiftly, keeping near to the shadows so as to avoid the possibility of being seen. Behind her, Remus was scurrying to catch up with the brisk pace. His mind wandered over to what James, Sirius and Peter would be doing now. They might be finishing up that Potions essay that had to be handed in the next day. Remus, who had planned ahead as usual when it came to deadlines around the time of the full moon, had finished it a couple of days ago. But then again, they would more likely be discussing about Animagi, a topic they hadn't dropped at all for the past week. How I wish they were here now!

Apologising again, quite needlessly in Remus's opinion, during Herbology for botching up the last Animagus procedure, Sirius had asked if Remus would like to maybe take the Two-Way Mirror he and James often used in their separate detentions.

"You can call out for us and we will appear and just keep you company that way," he had suggested, genuinely sorry, and by all means looking as if having his friend locked up was entirely his fault.

Remus had shaken his head rather despondently. "No," he said wearily. "It's not going to work. I'd be smashing it to smithereens when I'm a wolf."

He didn't want to add that it was the ferociousness of the wolf that would be the cause of the smashing. Admitting to losing his humanity as he transformed into a wolf was painful, and humiliating. He never revelled in the fact that he turned into a bloodthirsty animal once a month. Besides, he didn't need to say it. His friends knew anyway. They had often reassured him that they understood, and that they knew the wolf, although part of him, was not under his control on nights of the full moon. In fact, they never thought of him as anything but a best friend who happened to have a different lifestyle to theirs once per month. Instead, they had been willing to go to massive extents to fit into that difference in lifestyle. Never before had he came across people who were so accepting and supportive of his condition. And he would say outright now that he himself wasn't nearly as accepting of his alter ego as his friends were.

He had gotten over his anger and resentment at receiving the curse itself. His mother, and her endless patience, had helped him a lot through that. As his bitterness subsided, the acceptance, however grudging, that ensued had helped him to just deal with everything a lot more. He had the chance of a normal life twenty-eight days out of the twenty-nine. He had a loving mother, relatively good health, a place at a wonderful school with the trust of a great wizard Albus Dumbledore. And of course, the most fabulous friends one could hope for.

But one thing still plagued Remus's mind, and it was the fact that he could be ruthless and terrifying as a wolf. It was the part of him that he reviled, the part that invoked many feelings of self-doubt and loathing. To lose his mind, to have his control over himself and his actions stripped away, was unquestionably the worst element of the transformation. A beast. That's what he was. Professor Quirrell had said so himself during that Defence Against the Dark Arts class when they had been covering werewolves. He had eyed Remus rather edgily throughout the lesson too. What was it he said? Werewolves, following their transformation on nights of the full moon, are bloodthirsty, highly dangerous creatures who lust after one aim. To hunt down, maul and kill humans. Should a victim survive, they would then be cursed as one of them. Their ferocity and cold-bloodedness strike fear into the hearts of all wizards (as well as myth-taken Muggles), although this killer instinct does not appear to extend to other animals.

Yes, thought Remus mirthlessly. That's me. The cold-blooded, treacherous serial killer. Remus had sat through that class in a state of stupor, listening his teacher describe the creature he was so familiar with, yet so estranged from. In listening to studies describing his kind in such a cold, detached manner, Remus had felt like a lab rat. It had been like one of those nightmares where he'd show up to class completely naked, and everyone would be pointing and staring at him. Only it had been real. No one knew what he was of course, and there had been no pointing, nor staring, but he still had felt as if every eye in the classroom had born into him. As if the words themselves in the book were dancing round, mocking him. A werewolf can be killed by a silver bullet, aimed straight at the heart. Remus had almost gagged. Professor Quirrell might as well have shot a silver bullet right into Remus's own heart. He had tried to muffle a shriek, causing several people to stare at him strangely, while James and Sirius threw him looks of concern and sympathy. Peter, on the other hand, had darted several nervous peeks at him throughout that class, which made Remus flush and flinch as if someone had taken a whip to him. Getting through that hour while trying to maintain a sense of normality had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. He had felt physically sick, his mouth bitter from the taste of bile, when the bell had finally rung and he made his way to the Great Hall.

James and Sirius had laughed about that lesson that evening in the common room, and Peter too, had slowly come round, brushing aside the apprehension he had displayed earlier on during class. But the fact that he was the topic of study among students and scholars was just a tad bit disconcerting.

There you go then, he thought to himself wryly, forever immortalised in texts and tests.

"There you go then." A voice, rather distant, came filtering through his head, echoing simultaneously with his own thoughts.

Madam Pomfrey, gripping a long wooden stick in her hand, had prodded a knot in the trunk of the Whomping Willow. Remus hurriedly crawled in through a gap in the roots before the tree, which stood frozen, began its fierce thrashing of its branches again. Remus could hear her call back, "I'll be back at dawn tomorrow morning, dear," before the sound of vicious swishing of branches drowned out her voice.

Remus turned away from the entrance and starting making his way down along the passageway which lead to the Shrieking Shack, crawling on all fours as the roof of the tunnel dipped lower and lower. He was alone now. Truly alone. He drew a deep breath as a pang hit his heart. He hadn't felt this abandoned on a full moon in a long while. If anyone asked him at that very moment, he would gladly throw all caution to the wind and be firmly supporting his friends' decision to continue their Animagus project. In fact, he would be badgering them to hurry up with it.

Upon approaching the Shrieking Shack, the emotions inside him churned over and over in the pit of his stomach, becoming impossible to differentiate. They consisted of the whirlwind of sensations that had taken place over the past week - the anticipation of the possibility of his friends finally becoming Animagi, the sharp disappointment at its failure, the heavy guilt he had felt over Sirius, followed by the renewed hope and excitement of attempting the task again. These emotions soon became more pronounced, channelling into raw passion as the wolf began to rear itself.

Remus had learnt from experience that there was no point in trying to control the transformations. No matter how hard he tried to focus on retaining his humanity, the beckon of the moon always won out in the end. The wolf in him would emerge, and he would lose what he held on to most dearly - his sense of self.

He stepped into the shack and firmly locked and bolted the door. As he turned to face the bleak, half-barren room, he felt the familiar prickling and tingling in the muscles and tendons of his limbs. It rapidly became a sharp, ripping sensation, as his ligaments stretched and pulled into that anatomy of a wolf. The throbbing soon spread throughout his whole body - his neck, his shoulders, his chest and hips. It felt as if every fibre of his body was on fire, as if he was being stretched very thin and branded with white-hot pokers. Remus let out a deep breath and shut his eyes, trying to block out the spasms. He had found out that the pain became tolerable, if he could shut his mind off from what was happening to his body, as if the two were separate entities. He focused on creating a schism between himself and the pain he was going through, and gradually felt it becoming more distant, more surreal. Instead, his mind now turned towards his friends. James. Sirius. Peter. They, who would have liked to join him tonight, and who were probably thinking about him and wondering how he was doing. Images of the warm fire crackling in the Gryffindor common room flew past him. Sounds of chatter and laughter from his housemates, the scratching of quills and the shuffling of parchment, the barbaric cries and clashes associated with an intense game of wizard chess rang in his ears. Yet, here he was, in the Shrieking Shack just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade town, alone. A wave of isolation crashed over him as he lifted his head and howled shrilly. The blood-curling cry filled the shack, penetrated through the shut windows and pierced through the night. He lifted his head again, to howl once more, wishing to rid himself of the throbbing sense of abandonment. Then, as the last of his senses succumbed to the resurgence of the wolf, he remembered no more.

* * *

Remus felt his shoulder digging into a hard surface. Opening his eyes, he made out the image of a mass of table and chair legs. He was lying on the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack. Memories came flooding back to his mind. The full moon, it was last night. It is over, he thought with a torrent of relief. He wouldn't have to worry about it for another four weeks. He lifted his head off the floor and slowly pushed himself up. A piercing pain shot up his side. He glanced down and winced as he saw a jagged gash running down from below his shoulder to under his ribcage. Gingerly, he got up from the floor, his joints throbbing dully, his muscles stiff and aching. There was another deep slash down along his left arm, and the several smaller bites, scratches and bruises were beginning to hurt all over.

Remus straightened up wearily and ruefully surveyed the room, rolling his head in an attempt to rid his neck of some of its rigidity. There was a fresh gnash on the door, though the door was so thick and heavy it barely registered the damage. The chairs and tables were strewn across the room. A leg of one of the chairs had been ripped off entirely, and a scattering of splinters littered the dusty floor. There, and on the walls and window, were several shiny streaks and patches amid the dust and grime, where the wolf must have hurled itself against in its desperation and rage. He really must have made a racket last night.

Remus walked round the room cautiously, so as not to jar the cut down his side, and tried to straighten up the mess as best as he could. Sunlight was streaming in through the smeared patch on the window, and Remus realised the sun was high up in the sky already. It was way past dawn. He moved as quickly as he could out of the shack and back into the passageway, gasping when a burning sensation which accompanied every sudden movement seared up him. He panted slightly, as he crept back up the passageway, bent over double, willing his aching limbs to move. Partway through the journey, he heard Madam Pomfrey's voice calling out for him. She must have come down to check on him when he hadn't shown up by the entrance of the Whomping Willow.

"Here," he called back weakly, not wishing aggravate the gash any more than he could help. It hurt just to breathe.

He met up with the nurse a couple of moments later. Making his way back to Hogwarts was an ordeal Remus would not wish to experience again. His breath was coming in short rasps and his arms and legs were shaking by the time he climbed out of the entrance through the roots of the Willow.

Madam Pomfrey turned round to study him with a look of concern. She took in the chalk-white face, the dark circles under the eyes, and the bruise on his forehead, which was turning an angry shade of purple, and quickly Magicked him up to the hospital wing on a stretcher.

A steady stream of dismayed tuts, mutters and clicks of the tongue escaped from Madam Pomfrey's lips as she assessed Remus's condition.

"Haven't seen you this bad in a while," she commented briskly, puffing up some pillows on the bed and tucking Remus in under the covers. "What have you been doing?"

Remus, thankful to be snuggling down into a soft bed, lowered his eyes and didn't say anything.

"And that nasty-looking one there is going to take at least a couple of days to heal, even with my Ultra-Strong Cuts-B-Gone cream," she shuddered, eyeing the deep gash down his side.

Remus sank into the pillows and closed his eyes, exhausted. The smooth, thick cream stung a bit upon its initial application, but gradually become cool and soothing. Madam Pomfrey handed him a vial of potion ('to ease the pain a tad, dear') and then left, drawing the curtains round his bed shut. Remus sighed, rolled over and fell into a deep sleep almost right away.

He slept right through till dinnertime, aside from being woken up in the middle of the day by the nurse with a bowl of steaming thick soup and another vial of potion, this one, for putting him on the mend faster.

He was just polishing off his pudding, ravenous following his long rest, when Sirius and Peter came in, armed with Chocolate Frogs, Pepper Imps, Chocoballs and a huge tub of Dumbledore's favourite Muggle sweet - sherbet lemons.

"Where did you get these?" asked Remus, indicating the sherbets.

"Courtesy of my cousin Andromeda's in-laws," beamed Sirius.

"The Tonks'?" guessed Remus.

"Yup. Freshly Owled in just this morning. Here, take one," he offered the tub to Remus, and then Peter.

"Where's James?" asked Remus, looking at them, sucking on the sherbet.

"In detention," answered Sirius, crunching up his sweet noisily.

"Again?" asked Remus incredulously. "With who? McGonagall?"

Sirius and Peter exchanged amused looks, trying to curb their mirth.

"No, not McGonagall. Professor Sprout."

"Professor Sprout!" exclaimed Remus, even more incredulously. In all his years at Hogwarts, he had never heard the teacher dole out a single detention.

"Yup," answered Sirius cheerfully, as Peter chortled into his robes, choking on his sweet in the process.

"What on earth did he get himself up to for her to lose it?" asked Remus, his mind boggling.

"Well," Sirius was grinning wickedly now. "He had nicked a ton of Puffapods during our Herbology class yesterday, you see."

"Then he sneaked down to the greenhouses before breakfast this morning," continued Peter, breathless with laughter. "He levitated the Puffapods in through the windows Sprout had left slightly open last night, scattered them all over the floor, and well-- "

"Let me guess," groaned Remus, sinking back into the pillows, covering his eyes with his hand. "Those Puffapods burst into bloom all over the floor of the greenhouses."

"Better than that," smirked Sirius, helping himself to another sherbet. "He sowed so many, the whole of the greenhouses were crammed to the gills with those bloody plants. Stems and leaves were everywhere."

"And he didn't stop there," added Peter, as Remus began to shake his head in despair. "He dropped the Puffapods around the outside of the greenhouses as well." Remus groaned even louder this time. "Of course, they took so well they covered the whole of the outside of the greenhouses. You couldn't even see the doors!" Peter collapsed into helpless giggles on Remus's bed.

Remus shut his eyes tight before opening them again. "Did Sprout, er, manage to get in after all that?"

"Yeah," Sirius replied, as Peter was still too busy doubling over the bed. "Eventually. It took her quite a while before she could rid of all the stuff though. James did a really good job there."

"He is at the greenhouses now, shelling more Puffapods to replace those he took, and re-potting Mandrakes," gasped Peter, finally sitting up and doing his best to control himself. "He's banned from our next trip to Hogsmeade too."

Remus looked startled. "No Hogsmeade? But it's Christmas!" This sounded to him a worse predicament than that of any detention. "We were going to buy our presents together! And have butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks."

"Well," shrugged Sirius. "He could sneak out using that passageway from behind the mirror, I guess."

"But that ends up by The Three Broomsticks. The teachers are always there. He's bound to be seen," squeaked Peter.

"He's got his Invisibility Cloak," reminded Remus. "It'd be awful missing Christmas shopping." He loved the atmosphere of Christmas. The snow and frostiness of the outdoors, contrasting with the warmth and cosiness found indoors. Even with the enormous crowds, he loved the hustle bustle and excitement that the festive season provided. The Hogsmeade trip before the Christmas holidays was one of his favourite events at Hogwarts.

"There, there now, you two," Madam Pomfrey bustled in, flapping her arms at Sirius and Peter. "Off you go, the boy needs his rest." And with that, she ushered them out of the wing.

Remus snuggled back into his cocoon of blankets, shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he tried to conjure up the image of Puffapod-clad greenhouses and Professor Sprout's expression upon catching sight of them that morning. He then turned his mind to the classes he had missed that day. He was just going over what he might have to make up for in Ancient Runes when a soft scuffle by the doorway caught his attention. He turned round quickly and saw James, sauntering in, his hair even untidier than usual, with flecks of soil embedded within the locks.

Remus swiftly scanned the room for signs of Madam Pomfrey. She was in her office at the far end of the wing with the blinds drawn.

"So," he said dryly, swivelling back round to face James. "How was detention?"

James's face lit up. "Oh you heard?" he asked delightedly. "Oh Moony! You should have been there! It was just bloody brilliant!"

"The detention?" asked Remus in a maddeningly innocent voice.

"No!" cried James with amused frustration, leaping up and pretending to smother Remus with the pillows. "Puffapods! The Puffapods! It was ingenious."

"Until you got caught," pointed out Remus, fighting his way out of the sea of pillows.

"Yeah," admitted James, sitting down and taking one of the Chocolate Frogs Sirius and Peter had left behind earlier on. "That was rather unfortunate."

"How did Sprout find out it was you anyway?"

"Snape," spat James in disgust. "He was part of that morning Herbology class and ratted to Sprout that he saw me sneaking out before breakfast."

"Snape should really keep his abnormally large nose out of other peoples' business," Remus said solemnly. "So, you are banned from going to Hogsmeade?" he asked, changing to the subject that mattered most to him.

James shrugged casually. "So to speak," he said lightly.

Remus narrowed his eyes a touch. "You are thinking of using that passageway behind the mirror again, aren't you?" he asked, mock-accusingly.

"No," replied James, trying, in vain, to suppress a grin.

Remus studied his face intently. James really did not appear to be lying, nor did he show any intention of staying behind for that Hogsmeade trip either. Curiosity got the better of Remus.

"What have you got up your sleeves now?" he demanded.

"You just wait," said James, beaming cheekily. "Look, I'd better scoot."

There was the sound of Madam Pomfrey opening her office door. James gave Remus a parting wink and darted out of the room. Madam Pomfrey came over to check on Remus, handing him one last dose of potion before switching off the lights.

Remus drifted off to sleep, thankful that his aches and pains have, for the most part, subsided. He was woken up some time later by a pair of feet clopping across the floor of the wing, followed by a conversation in hushed voices.

"Poppy? There you are. The Headmaster mentioned I would like a word?"

Remus recognised the voice. It was Professor Noirforre, head of Slytherin house.

"Yes, he did indeed, Norman. I gather it concerns one of your pupils."

"Yes. Severus Snape."

Remus drew a sharp intake of breath when he heard Snape's name. He quietly shifted his head among the pillows so as to free both ears to catch the whispers.

"The skinny, black-haired boy?" Greasy too, thought Remus.

"Yes, that's the one. He seems to be extremely agitated at the moment. Has been for a while in fact. Not been able to sleep, distancing himself from others. Not that he's ever been Mr. Popular, but it appears he is more withdrawn than usual. Quite bad-tempered and sullen as well."

"Hmm." Madam Pomfrey sounded as if this was old news to her.

Professor Noirforre ignored her and went on. "Of course, that trouble he's been having at home for the past few months hasn't helped."

"I'd say it would likely be the source of the problems," Madam Pomfrey corrected him. "A deranged father, one of those Death Eaters for a mother. You can't be get a balanced kid out of that mix," she said darkly.

Death Eater?

"Yes, yes," agreed Professor Noirforre. "The boy really has a lot in his cauldron, too much, I believe, for him to be dealing with. But," he continued, adopting a bossier tone, "is there anything you could possibly do for him? A potion perhaps, to ease his anxiety and help him sleep? He's intelligent. I wouldn't like to see this affect his OWLs."

"A distilled dose of the Draught of Peace then?" suggested Madam Pomfrey. "I am sure Phaerius Sharkhorn would be able to provide the potion, and I will distill it myself. Don't trust anyone else to do that, I don't."

"Thank you," said Professor Noirforre, sounding satisfied. "Goodnight."

Remus could hear him make his way out of the hospital wing. It was a while before he could drift off to sleep again as his mind replayed the conversation over and over. He lay there, mulling over what was said.

What was a Death Eater?

Remus didn't tell anyone what he had overheard that night when Madam Pomfrey, upon inspecting him thoroughly the following day, sent him back to classes after lunch. It somehow sounded just too private to be converted to common room gossip, even though it concerned someone as despicable as Snape.

* * *

Life dragged on rather uneventfully leading up to the final week before Christmas, and with it the Hogsmeade trip, scheduled a couple of days before the break-up for the holidays. The only thing that put a hiccup on matters was an Owl Sirius had gotten at breakfast one morning from his parents, firmly requesting him return home for the holidays this time.

"And by 'firmly requesting', they really mean 'demanding, upon pain of death'," Sirius had moaned gloomily. "What do they want with me anyway?"

Remus knew Sirius hated his family home in London. His family went against everything Sirius believed in. Or rather, according to his parents, he was the one who went against everything they believed in. The Blacks were a pure-blood centric family who did not look too kindly on whom they considered half-breeds or Mudbloods. Remus had never been to the London home (and was certain he would not be welcome there, given his, ahem, condition), but James had been a couple of years ago, and what was his polite term for it? Quite forbidding, not my cup of tea really, though the décor is quite interesting, and er, regal.

Remus had taken a peek at the rather forceful wording of the letter. "Maybe they just want to see you, seeing you are never home for the hols," he had suggested. He was right there, Sirius never went to Grimmauld Place if he could help it. He typically spent all his time out of school with the Potters, who have adopted him as part of the family.

Sirius had snorted loudly. "They want a chance to praise ole Regulus to even greater heights, for his being a good little boy and upholding the honourable tradition of the noble and most ancient house of Black," he had said sardonically. "With me around, it provides a lovely contrast, you see. In his favour. A bunch of fanatical bigots, the whole lot of them."

No one mentioned the letter after that, though Sirius grew progressively sulkier and more dejected over the following days. His temper grew short and he took to snapping at Remus and Peter every so often. Never at James, though it in all likelihood, it wouldn't have had an effect anyway, as James typically disregarded Sirius's, at times, severe mood swings. It was only the thought of Hogsmeade that kept Sirius going, and cheered him up, giving him something to look forward to.

The day of the Hogsmeade trip dawned clear and bright. The winter sun cast its mild warmth over the grounds, causing the snow, which blanketed the landscape, to glisten in its light. The air was refreshingly crisp and dry.

"What a perfect day for Hogsmeade," sighed Caitlyn happily. "We can even sit out on the benches at The Three Broomsticks with our butterbeers if the wind doesn't start up again.

"Sit outside?" echoed Tamsin in horror. "In this temperature? Better you than me."

"Just because you like hogging the armchairs by the fire every evening," retorted Caitlyn. "It's more fun outside. Less crowded and smokey, and you can get a snowball fight thrown in."

"Oh, that's always fun!" exclaimed James eagerly. "Can I joi-"

A few seats down, Lily was staring at him with a shrewd expression on her face, cocking an eyebrow suspiciously.

".... -ust hear all about it if you do get into one?" he asked, swiftly changing the direction his sentence was going in as he noticed her look. "I mean, people in the streets start them up all the time. You might even get two."

Caitlyn, not noticing the last second adjustment James had made to his question, merely nodded, chewing on her toast.

"Boy, you really are desperate for action aren't you, if you are begging for reports on snowballs fights that took place during a Hogsmeade trip you are banned from."

"Of course," said James cheerfully, casually playing along while keeping a close eye on Lily's disapproving scowl.

After breakfast, the students gathered out in the Entrance Hall before setting off into the village. James so confidently followed Remus, Sirius and Peter in joining the queue that Remus began to wonder if James was actually going to slip off with them right under the nose of Professor McGonagall. He was about to open his mouth and ask when--

"Potter? What are you doing here?"

"Just seeing them off, miss," replied James at once, waving his hand towards the other three.

Professor McGonagall eyed him in a scrutinising manner and gave a disbelieving grunt as she wrapped a tartan scarf securely round her neck.

"Well, we are leaving now. So hurry along," she indicated the doorway that led back into the Great Hall.

James heaved an exaggerated sigh and slowly slouched off, dragging his feet deliberately as he went. Remus was half-appalled, and half-impressed, by the sheer audacity of it all. Professor McGonagall, however, remained utterly unruffled by the act.

"C'mon now, Potter. Scoot."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," protested James under his breath.

"Merlin's got nothing to do with it," said Professor McGonagall tartly, whose acute sense of hearing missed nothing. And with that, she hustled the students down the stone steps where the school carriages were waiting to take them into Hogsmeade.

The village was already bustling with activity when the swarm of students arrived, even though it was still relatively early in the day. Witches and wizards were doing their last minute shopping, purchasing presents which they had forgotten, choosing large, fat turkeys and picking out the freshest vegetables at the open market stalls that were situated down at the end of the main street by Dervish and Banges.

Remus, Sirius and Peter ignored the turkeys and vegetables (after all, they were going to have their dinner cooked for them at home over the holidays) and weaved their way in and out of the crowds, occasionally stopping to look at the festive displays in the windows of the shops lined along the main street. There were mistletoes floating in the air, fluttering fairies each emitting a shimmering light and enchanted figurines of elves, reindeer and Santa Clauses on powdered snow, belting out carols loudly as they danced about.

Remus ducked into Dervish and Banges for a few minutes, to get a couple of quills for himself to replace those whose tips were worn down. He also picked up the newly published book, "A Goddess Among Witches: The Mythology and Folklore surrounding the legend Hecate by Gwendoline Hildergaint", for his mum as a Christmas present.

Armed with his purchases coming out of the shop, Remus met up with Sirius and Peter who were looking at some Muggle fancy-dress clothing on show at the display window of Gladrags.

"Look at that guy," Peter was saying as Remus made his way up to them. "You call that dress-up? Why, we wear those robes and hats every day. What's so unusual about it?"

"Boring," Sirius agreed. "I way prefer that one with the black eye patch. I like that hat, and look at that hook instead of a hand. I wonder how he managed that. And, hey, are those drawings, there, on his arm?" He peered at an intricate design stamped onto the model's forearm.

"It's called a tattoo," Remus informed them from behind. "Muggles seem to have this bizarre practice of stenciling pictures onto themselves. Why would anyone want to do that is beyond me."

"But it's cool, I think!" exclaimed Sirius. "Do you know where you can get them done?"

"No," said Remus firmly, with a look that clearly indicated he wanted Sirius to be involved with nothing of that sort.

They decided to visit Honeydukes to stock up on sweets before they continued their way round the village. The ever-popular sweet shop, which was normally a hive of activity on the days of Hogsmeade trips, was absolutely packed to the gills this day with additional customers of parents and small children, buying dazzling assortments of sugar quills, Chocoballs, Ever-Lasting Gobstoppers, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and fudge creams as stocking stuffers. Remus, Sirius and Peter threaded their way into the shop, careful not to upset the huge stacks of chocolate and sweets piled precariously on the shelves and tables throughout it. They were by the stand advertised as "New arrivals! Just in! Tired of the same old sweets? Try these and let your taste buds dance!" when a hand thumped heavily on Sirius's shoulder, giving him a fright.

"What the blazes-- " he began, and swung round, nearly emptying the box of Fizzling Sherbet Powder all over Peter.

There, looking at them in their faces, was the irrepressible smirking face of--

"James!" cried Remus. "When did you get here? Is The Three Broomsticks busy? Are the teachers all gathered there?"

"Dunno," answered James, picking up a sherry-filled chocolate elf and sniffing it. "I got here about two minutes ago."

"What do you mean, you don't know? Didn't you just come from there?"

"No," said James, who was now rooting through the pot of Every Flavour Jelly Dragons.

The other three looked at each other in surprise when suddenly Remus recalled what James had said to him when he had visited him in the hospital wing.

"Has this anything got to do with what you seemed so smug about that night when you came to see me after the full moon?"

James nodded, grinning widely. "There is a secret passageway right into the cellars downstairs," he jerked his head in the direction of the back door of Honeydukes. "You get in through that one-eyed witch on the third floor. I came across that by accident when I got back from Quidditch practice just a couple of days before the Puffapod incident."

"And you didn't tell us?" asked Sirius accusingly.

"Well, I was going to, until I was banned from this little trip here. Then I thought I would surprise you by just showing up, and be able to vouch honestly I didn't use the other passageway on the fourth floor."

"We can add this on to the map then," said Peter in a low voice.

"Oh definitely," nodded James. "We still need to come up with a title page for it though. You know, signing our work of art, so to speak."

"I am sure we will think of something soon. At least we have figured out a way on how to activate it now, and to wipe it clean afterwards."

"Yes, I have to say I am rather pleased with those passwords," chuckled Remus. "Nobody would ever dream of tapping their wands on a piece of parchment and uttering the words of 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.'"

They left Honeydukes, their pockets stashed with a bit of everything (or nearly everything - they avoided the Blood Gumdrops and Centipede Crunchbombs), and made their way towards Zonko's. It was here that James and Sirius appeared to be transported to fantasyland. If they could afford some of the things that the shop offered, Remus was sure that no one in Gryffindor Tower, or Hogwarts as a whole for that matter, would be safe from being the brunt of a joke.

"Look at that Biting Quill. That's new, just in for Christmas, I bet. Your hands would be in bits by the time you manage to get rid of it. And that Contorting Mirror. We should give that to Gertrude and Tamsin. It will stop them primping themselves up all the time. Do you see them checking their reflection in every single mirror or glass surface they come across?"

"And those Filibuster's Fireworks. He's got some new stuff out. Look, Ever-Lasting Fizz-Whizzes, Annoyingly Zooming Rocketships, Auto-Spelling Whizzlers. Oh, these are cool!"

"I hate to interrupt," Remus said, clearing his throat. "I think we'd better focus more on getting some more of the Invisibly Revisible Ink to continue writing the map with. We are running low on that, and it is very expensive."

Sirius and James reluctantly pulled themselves away from the fireworks shelf and followed Remus and Peter to the back of the shop where the stationery was kept. They pooled their money together to get two pots of the ink, and James, not being able to resist it, got a Biting Quill for himself as well.

Finally, they made their way to The Three Broomsticks, James now under his Invisibility Cloak.

"I think we'd better sit outside," said Remus, taking a quick look inside the pub. "It is like sardines in a tin inside there. Not to mention the entire staff of the school is sitting right in the centre of the bar."

So Peter, Remus and an invisible James settled themselves on a wooden table outside the pub while Sirius went in to get four butterbeers.

"Don't think you should get into a snowball fight now, James," Peter said as they saw a group of students a few feet away from them starting one up. "I don't think snowballs being hurled out of nowhere it going to go down that well." Somewhere to the right of him, there was a deep, regretful sigh.

The four of them finished their butterbeers leisurely, enjoying a couple of snowball fights near them. James was sandwiched between Peter and Sirius, trying to sip his drink surreptitiously without people noticing a tankard was moving through the air and emptying itself of frothing butterbeer seemingly all on its own. Around mid- afternoon, the teachers trudged out of The Three Broomsticks and rounded up the students, wishing to return to the castle before it got dark, which was at about four o'clock these days.

James had already hurried off round to the back of the bar shortly beforehand in order to get back to Hogwarts in time. As the students noisily piled into the Great Hall, he made an elaborate show of greeting Remus, Sirius and Peter right under Professor McGonagall's nose, asking loudly how their day had been. Remus was thankful that the teacher was distracted by a scuffle between a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw at the other end of the Hall at that point, for she surely would not have missed the knowing glint in James's eyes, the shaking of Sirius's shoulders betraying his silent laughter, nor the muffled snorts of Peter, who had stuffed his knuckles in his mouth in an effort to stem their flow.

The dinner feast that night was superb. Each and every type of food Remus could have ever imagined was served. Even the Fizzling Sherbet Powder that Sirius had nearly split at Honeydukes. When dinner was over, and every scrap of food had been eaten, the four of them could barely make their way up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Oof!" panted Sirius as he clutched his stomach, leaning against the wall where the Fat Lady hung, "I think I'm going to burst!"

"Nimbly Nimbats!" grunted James, and the portrait swung open for them to drag themselves into the common room, before crashing out on the armchairs by the crackling fire.

* * *

With the Hogsmeade trip now behind them, Sirius sunk even deeper into his depression, moodier and more sullen than Remus had ever seen him. James took no notice of this, and behaved much the way he normally did, jovial and teasing. He was probably the only person who could get away with it unscathed. Peter, on the other hand, nervously tiptoed round Sirius, as if he was treading on (very fragile) eggshells. Sirius was getting dreadfully short with his constant gibbering over James.

"I don't titter, do I?" Peter asked Remus huffily, giving his robes a grumpy tug when Sirius had called him a tittering simpleton over breakfast on the final morning before the holidays.

"No, of course not," Remus said at once. "Sirius is just frustrated that he has to go back home. You know how he hates it. So he's just venting."

"Well, I wish he would stop taking it out on us!"

Remus wished so too. Sirius in a bad temper was not a comfortable atmosphere to be in. But still, he thought to himself, they break up the following day and they just had to cope with Sirius for one more day. And when they come back after the holidays, he would be back to his old self, looking forward to a new term out of his parents' house.

There were no classes after lunch that day, and after a meal of roast beef, vegetables and chocolate cake, the four decided they wanted to go for a walk in the school grounds, and made their way back to the common room to grab their coats. They bumped into Snape on the way, his nose, as always, immersed inside a book.

"Oh, lookie who's here?" drawled Sirius, in a sing-song voice.

Snape yanked his head out of the book and pulled out his wand in a snap.

"Expelliarmus!" James was too quick for him, and Snape's wand flew out of his hand and into James's. Snape stood there, his hand held uselessly in the air, glaring daggers at them.

"So what is ole Snivelly reading?" said Sirius, continuing in that sing-song tone of his, craning his head to look at the title. "Ooh, vampires!" He rubbed his hands together, his eyes glinting vindictively. "Interesting."

"Why, are you interested in vampires, Snivellus?" taunted James. "Or maybe," he went on snidely, "you are afraid of them?"

Snape gave a derisive laugh, but said nothing.

"Oh yes, Snivy, I have heard things. Like how you haven't been sleeping properly these last few months. Been lying awake at night. Maybe you are too scared to sleep, in case you have nightmares about vampires," James laughed silkily.

Snape stiffened upon the mention of his sleepless nights. "I don't lie awake at night!" he shot back, a little too defensively. "You are just making it up in that big fat head of yours, Potter!"

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, I don't think so," he said smoothly. "We keep our ears open you see, and little birds have been telling us baby Snape here has been having trouble sleeping this year."

What little colour Snape had in his sallow face drained out of it. "Maybe you should be more careful of what little birds you listen to, Black," he retorted in a croaky voice, trying his best to maintain some sort of dignity.

"Caught you out there then, didn't we?" said Sirius, ignoring Snape's last comment. "You want a hanky, for you to sob into?" His sharp eyes digested every flinch of the face, every tremble of the lip and every blink of the eyes Snape made. He dug out a table napkin from his robes, and levitated it in front of Snape's face.

Remus took in the balls of Snape's fists, half hidden in the sleeves of his robes, the quick, nervous lick of his lips and his slightly trembling frame. He recalled the hushed conversation he had overheard at the hospital wing after the full moon, and he stepped forward.

"C'mon guys. Just leave him alone," he said, as mildly as he could, ignoring Snape's mutinous glare in their direction and the corresponding leering look of his two friends.

"Why?" asked Sirius, now giving Remus an irritated look at being interrupted.

"Because it's Christmas, the holidays are here, can't you just leave him alone for once?" he implored, now trying to loosen Snape's wand from James's firm grip.

"Snivelly doesn't deserve a break, Remus," growled Sirius. "He got a big enough one from James last year." He swung round to face Snape again. "Saved your miserable, stinking life, so he did," he hissed. "You ungrateful little brat."

"Sirius, please!" cried Remus hoarsely. But Snape now, had a malicious gleam in his black-tunnelled eyes.

"Well, yes," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "But that is because Black, you and Potter, have such a poor choice of friends." He eyed Remus spitefully. "No one with a respectable background would want a werewolf as a friend, right, Lupin?"

Remus froze as the gibe sank in. James and Sirius made to dash forward so as to punch Snape in his abnormally long hooked nose. Remus got a grip on himself just in time to hold them back, struggling with all his might to prevent them from pummelling the Slytherin to a pulp. Snape, watching the spectacle with amusement, now casually called out "Accio wand!" and swept off as his wand zipped out of James's hand and into his own.

"What did you do that for?" bellowed Sirius furiously at Remus.

"Did you not hear him insult you?" snapped James, now roughly trying to extricate himself from Remus's grip.

"He didn't start it," said Remus quietly.

"What, you are blaming us now?" cried Sirius hotly.

Remus tried to ignore the accusatory look Sirius was giving him. "You did start it," he reasoned softly.

"It was just a bit of fun!" Sirius shot back impatiently.

Remus felt his frustration at Sirius and James well up within him. He normally tolerated their antics and pranks pretty well, but he did wish they wouldn't pick on Snape as unwarrantedly as they did, no matter how much the boy may irk them. It somehow just didn't seem right. Snape would at times infuriate Remus too, but Remus coped with it. Why couldn't his friends?

"Until he turned it around on us. Wasn't so funny then, I have to say," he said evenly.

Sirius glared at him. "Who's side are you on anyway? You sticking up for him now?"

Remus looked him straight in the eye and said quietly, but firmly. "I don't think you ever need to question where my loyalties lie, Sirius."

There was a pause, before Sirius's temper rose again, and he said angrily, "Well, maybe I need to question where your sense of fun went. Did it go when you got that shiny, polished prefect's badge? You think you are above all of us now, don't you?"

A ringing silence ensued, broken only by a nervous gasp from Peter, who had hung back in the shadows by the wall throughout the whole incident. Remus stared blankly at his friend, not certain, even, of how to interpret the comment. He swallowed hard.

"You surely don't think that," he said, his throat dry.

"I don't know what to think," Sirius said coldly. "Sometimes, I wonder if it is worthwhile becoming Animagi for you, Moony, if you are such a spoilsport. Maybe you'd go running to McGonagall, telling her what we are if we did. Illegal Animagi, after all, is more of a crime than picking on Snape."

"Sirius! Enough!" James finally found his voice and shot a warning look at his fuming friend.

Remus felt faint. It was as if someone had yanked a rug from underneath him. As if Sirius had pulled a plug from him and emptied him of all air. What Sirius had said made Remus feel worse than any insult Snape could possibly ever hurl at him. Sirius took in James's look, darted a last fleeting glare at Remus and stalked off. Remus dazedly mumbled about needing to go to the library. James gave Remus a long, concerned look before hurrying after Sirius. Peter, hanging around diffidently for a few seconds, decided to follow James, much to Remus's relief, who wanted to be alone.

As he lay in bed up in the dormitory that night, Remus couldn't get the argument out of his mind. He felt he was somehow responsible for it. Don't be silly, he told himself. You did the right thing. Snape was doing nothing to provoke the attack. Sirius was just moody and grumpy, knowing he has to go back home tomorrow. He said so himself. Indeed, he had. When Remus went back to Gryffindor Tower after spending a couple of hours collecting his thoughts in the library, Sirius was waiting for him, together with James and Peter. He had immediately gone up to Remus and apologised without a trace of bitterness, genuinely contrite at his own behaviour towards him earlier on. Still, part of what Sirius had said was nagging him. Maybe he was being too priggish and pedantic. No, you know you aren't. You aren't a Marauder for nothing, you know. But he didn't usually come up with the pranks, James and Sirius did. And this time, Remus had stopped them right in the middle of it. Stop. Didn't you have a good laugh over the Puffapod incident? Aren't you eager about the Animagus project? You enjoy a good joke as much as the next person, as long as it doesn't harm anyone else. There is a difference between fun and bullying. What if Sirius really was right? What if they think it isn't worth it becoming Animagi anymore? They are your friends. They have been working at this for three years. Been your friends for more than that. It doesn't go away with just a single heated quarrel. What if he doesn't deserve them doing this for him? Maybe- oh shut up! There was nothing wrong with what you did by standing up to Sirius today. You know it. Remus sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was to upset anyone, especially his best friends. He just wanted to be liked and accepted. Of course you are. Yes, of course he was, Remus thought resolutely, as he tried to drown out the little nagging thought that had wormed its way in his mind through the niche his self-doubt had created. It was the wee early hours of the morning before Remus dosed off in a fitful sleep.