Survivor's Guilt: Moony's Tale

The feast itself went well enough. Nothing tasted as it should on these nights, but he knew that if he did not eat now, he would be ravenous in his wolf form. The potion would not only slowed the change, but should cause him to sleep through his time as a wolf. But if he was hungry tonight ... well, locked in his room, he should not be a danger to anyone, but he might make a mess of the room out of frustration. Also, he would wake tomorrow faint with hunger. Better to eat now, even if it did not taste quite right.

During the Hogwarts ghosts' hilarious reenactment of Nearly-Headless Nick's near-beheading, he felt the tingling sensation beginning to spread, and began planning his escape back to his rooms. He knew from long experience that the shift in sensation meant that he might have as little as half an hour before the change was upon him. He thought he might make it to the end of the feast. Things seemed to be wrapping up.

The ghosts' show ended, and all the children applauded. Remus could see Nearly-Headless Nick beaming with pride at his part in the performance, and bowing to the audience, carefully holding his head in place. The children stood and began filing out of the hall, back towards their respective houses. He smiled and waved to Harry, who waved back, and leaned to whisper something in his friend Hermione's ear. She also turned and looked towards Remus, then realised he was watching them, and waved awkwardly.

He was just beginning to think he should make a quick exit out a side door rather than wait for the students to clear the hall, when suddenly a breathless first year came bursting back in through the crowd. He saw Remus, and grabbed the sleeve of his robe urgently.

"Professor Lupin, sir, have you seen Professor Dumbledore? Only, he's needed right away at Gryffindor!" The boy scanned the crowd frantically, looking for the silver beard, half-moon spectacles and comforting face of Albus Dumbledore. Remus had the advantage of height, and caught sight of the Headmaster much more quickly. He pointed him out to the boy, then followed to see what was so urgent that a first year -- usually so meek and easily cowed -- would seek out and speak to the Headmaster.

He caught up with the boy just as he was saying, "... slashed clean in half, Professor. I saw it, sir. Me and Aurelia were the first ones there, and I came right down to find you, sir."

Professor Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Thank you, Julius, you did the right thing coming to me." They were already walking towards the stairs that lead up to Gryffindor tower. Remus's legs were long enough to keep pace with the Headmaster, but Julius and several other curious students were having a hard time keeping up. Remus followed Dumbledore up the stairs, and noticed out of the corner of his eye that Professors McGonagall and Snape were hurrying after him.

The crowd of students at the tower entrance seemed to part easily before the Headmaster, but Remus and the rest had to push their way past. When he finally made it through and saw what all the excitement was about, he went pale. The portrait that guarded the entrance to the tower was slashed to ribbons, its occupant vanished. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, drowning out all other noise. The tingling was beginning to spread down his back. The only thing he heard before he turned and hurried away down the corridor was a voice saying, "nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

Once he was out of sight of the students, he practically sprinted back to his rooms. He wanted to stop, just for a moment, to think about what all this meant, but he could feel the change coming. He slammed the door behind him and fumbled for the lock, shrugging out of his robes at the same time. With Severus's potion in his system, he might not be a danger, but he did not want anyone seeing him like -- well, like that.

He rested his forehead against the door, breathing hard. Any minute now. His senses were becoming sharper. His hearing, his sense of smell. Suddenly, he knew he was not alone in the room. He turned, and just had time to register the large, black dog lying on the bed, looking at him with big, pale eyes before the change took him.

Light. Sunlight. Light falling across his eyes, waking him. He had dreamed .... No. He opened his eyes wide enough to squint, at the same time putting up a hand to block the dawning daylight streaming into his room. He was lying naked on the cold stone floor with his quilt dragged over him, and the room was a mess. He sat up.

Must have been full moon last night. Yes, that was it. It was coming back to him, slowly. He remembered taking the potion. Harry had been there. He remembered the feast. Things got a little confused after that. He knew there was something important. Something he must remember.

Eyes. Pale eyes looking at him. No, that must have been a dream. But then the image of the slashed portrait came floating to the surface of his mind. Sirius. Sirius had been in the castle last night. And he had been in this room. Remus turned his head so quickly, he felt his neck pop.

He half expected to see the big black dog still lying on the bed, pale eyes taunting and tongue lolling in that sardonic doggy grin he had once known so well. But the bed was empty. Like everything else in the room, it was in complete disarray -- the blankets, sheets and pillows torn off, bunched up or strewn around the room. It looked almost as if .... He cut the thought off with guilty shock. No. Surely not.

He picked up the quilt from the floor and drew it back across the bed, over the crumpled sheets, hiding them from view. Smoothing the quilt into place, Remus encountered a scattering of shiny, coal-black hairs clinging to it. Instinctively, he reached out trembling fingers to touch them.

Dammit! It was not fear or anger or hatred that caused his trembling, and he knew it. Love still owned him, and the longing to touch that one still beloved ran deep with Remus. He traced the curve of a single hair with the tip of his finger. Then he lay down on the bed, wrapped the quilt around his naked body, buried his face in its folds, and wept for Sirius, his love, his betrayal, one more time, until the relief of sleep found him again.

Remus knocked on the door of Professor Dumbledore's office. A cheery voice from within invited him to enter, and he did so, closing the door behind him. The Headmaster sat at his desk, and Professor McGonagall was seated across from him.

"Remus, dear fellow!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "I trust you're feeling better today? You seemed not quite yourself yesterday evening, but I suppose that's understandable."

"Yes, thank you Professor Dumbledore. I am much improved today." He attempted a weak smile.

"Dear boy, you really must start calling me 'Albus'. You're not a student anymore!" He beamed at the younger man. "I've just been having a chat with Minerva about one of our young wards. I think you'll know the one." He winked at Remus.

Lying on his bed after he woke for the second time, Remus had thought a great deal about what he was going to say to Dumbledore. Everyone already knew Sirius had been in the castle. The halls were buzzing with the whispered news this morning, and the students kept glancing nervously over their shoulders, as if they expected armed madmen to pop out from behind the nearest statue. Just on his way here, he had heard a dozen whispered theories about how Sirius had gotten into the castle. Was there really any need to tell the Headmaster that he had had an unexpected visitor the previous evening?

But what it came down to was shame. Everyone -- well, the professors anyway -- already knew of the close association between himself and Sirius. And if anything had ... happened last night, well, he would rather no one found out about it.

The only real concern was for Harry's safety, and that was the reason he had come to Dumbledore this morning.

"He must be told the truth," he told the Headmaster in a firm voice. "Harry deserves to know all of it. We're all being so careful of him because of ... well, because of how things are right now, but he needs to know that Si -- er, that Black is after him." He looked pleadingly from Dumbledore to Professor McGonagall. "I have every confidence that, if the boy only knew the danger he might be in, he would not put himself in harm's way. He should be on his guard. Surely you can both see the wisdom in that?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I was just saying something very similar to Minerva. You are right. Harry must be told. Not all of it; I think that would be folly. The boy does have a tendency to go out and find trouble as soon as he knows where to look for it." The Headmaster smiled ruefully and shook his head. "I have known few students in my time with such a nose for trouble." His eyes twinkled over his half-moon spectacles.

"As the head of his house," said Professor McGonagall, "I shall take the responsibility of informing the boy. I'll be sure to tell him as much as I think it is prudent for him to know."

Dumbledore nodded. "In that case, Minerva, I leave the matter entirely in your capable hands. I have never found myself to be in the wrong, trusting in your good judgment. Does that satisfy you, Remus?"

"Thank you, Professor -- Albus," he replied, and with a nod to both, he left the office closing the door behind him, descended the phoenix staircase and headed back to his rooms.