Seven Moons of Varying Severity

September 9th, 1995

Harry knew he was awake. Although the whispering continued in his dreams too, he knew these whispers were real from the distance of them—not in his ear, but out on the second floor landing of Grimmauld Place. Harry got the idea that most of the portraits in the house talked, not just Mrs. Black…the rest of them murmured quite restlessly, but it was often so quiet that you could only hear it if you really listened for it, or if the house was as quiet as it seemed to be now.

Harry groped around in the dark for his glasses. Ron snored softly somewhere to his left and the voices continued to whisper, but aside from that it was dead silent. It must’ve been early morning, then, in the hours between the switching of the guard. Members of the Order were always coming and going, but not now. Not at this horrible hour. 

Still, Harry hoped someone was awake somewhere. The murmurs were beginning to remind him too much of the voices in his dreams. He climbed out of bed and slipped out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him. The landing was empty, but there was a light on in the dining room. The portraits quieted as he descended the staircase. 

He squinted in the light from the dining room, blinking away sleep until he made Sirius' figure sitting at the table.

“Harry,” he said, looking up. A magazine sat in front of him, but it was closed. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry croaked. He shuffled through the tight gap between the wall and the table and sat down in front of Sirius. “Why are you up so early?”

“It’s not so early.”

Harry glanced at the wall clock. “It’s not even five.”

Sirius absently pinched the spine of his magazine. He looked to the left, towards the front door, though Harry was sure he couldn’t see it from here. “Are you waiting for someone?” 

“Yes,” Sirius answered.

“Is it Professor Lupin?”

“Yes.”

“He’s off on some Order business, then.”

“No, no. It’s the full moon.” Sirius frowned. “Or it was. Moon should be going down about now.”

“Oh. I’d forgotten.”

Harry watched him carefully. His godfather’s eyes ran up and down the table, which vibrated as his knee bounced. He was antsy. Restless, even. Harry wanted to reach out and grab his wrist to comfort him, though he couldn’t think of what to say because he didn’t know what was wrong.

“I can’t help it, you know,” Sirius said absently. “Even in Azkaban I felt a horrible pit in my stomach every time it happened. It’s not so easy to forget.”

“What, the moon?”

He nodded. “I wanted to go with him, but Molly won’t—Dumbledore won’t allow it. I’m supposed to stay put.”

“It’s for the best though, don’t you think, Sirius? You could get caught if you’re not careful.”

“I would be careful,” Sirius said harshly. Then his eyes widened immediately, shocked at the sound of his own voice. “I—I’m sorry. I just hate that he’s got to do it alone. It isn’t fair.”

“But Lupin’s had to live through plenty of full moons without you.” Harry found that the reassurance came to him easily, even if it didn’t put Sirius’ mind at ease. “Did it really make a difference? You three being with him on those nights?”

“Oh, every bit of difference.” Sirius flipped open the magazine in front of him. “Last month there was a werewolf—young girl, only twelve years old—who gouged her own eyes out on the night of the full. Her parents kept her in the shed during her transformations. When they came out to get her, she’d already bled to death…It made every bit of difference, us being there. Lone werewolves thirst for blood, you see. When they can’t get it from others, they take it out on themselves.”

“But Lupin didn’t attack you when you and Dad stayed with him,” Harry said, mouth gaping.

“No, we were enough of a distraction. And even on those nights when he got a few nicks, we were there to make sure he was alright until the nurse showed up. That little girl…she died alone.”

Harry shuddered. It was a horrible thing, to come back to your senses only to feel your life drain out of you. He could picture the inside of that shed—shredded wood, splattered blood, and darkness—he imagined staring at the locked doors and waiting so desperately for someone to come. “That’s awful,” he said. 

Sirius nodded. “That’s why I want to go with him. I tried to convince Remus to transform here—we’ve got a cellar just below—but he refused. He doesn’t feel that it’s appropriate to change in such close proximity to you all.”

“We don’t mind—”

“Well, I know that, Harry, but Moony is different. He doesn’t think he’s—” 

The door slammed. Both of them jumped up, and Harry whipped out his wand, but Sirius leapt over the table and rushed to the foyer without arming himself. Three figures huddled together there. The person in the middle seemed to be sagging, arms draped across the shoulders of the other two.

The door shut behind them loudly, but Mrs. Black did not wake up. Molly Weasley was holding the curtains shut with white fists. “Goodness,” she whispered. 

Sirius charged forward. “Remus.”

“He’s alive,” said the largest of the figures. Kingsley’s voice. 

“And why shouldn’t he be?!” Sirius hissed. He shoved his shoulder in between Lupin and the third person—Tonks—who staggered away looking horrified.

Kingsley didn’t answer. Instead, he looked up at Molly and said, “It’s bad. You don’t have any Blood-Replenishing Potion?” 

“None,” Mrs. Weasley breathed. 

“I’m fetching Snape.” 

Kingsley passed Lupin’s full weight to Sirius and turned abruptly, vanishing through the door again. 

“Harry,” Sirius said urgently. “Help me.”

Harry obeyed without hesitation. He took Lupin’s other side and immediately felt something hot and warm spreading onto his shirt. He didn’t dare look down to see what it was, but followed Sirius as he led them down the hallway to the parlor.

Together they lowered Professor Lupin’s lifeless body onto the carpet. Sirius did not hesitate at the sight that had frozen Harry on the spot—Lupin was as pale as if all the blood drained out of him. Deep, claw-shaped cuts marred his bare chest and arms. Some of them were teeth marks; in fact, a large chunk of flesh had been taken out of his arm by a pair of massive jaws. Trousers had been shoved unceremoniously onto his lower half. Harry couldn’t imagine that Lupin had done it for himself, considering the mangled mess that was his chest, the broken ribs that pushed brutally against a thin layer of skin. 

“Move, Harry,” Tonks said. He was hastily shoved away as she planted herself on Lupin’s other side and pressed a towel to the largest wound hard enough to make Harry wince. Lupin’s back arched, but he didn’t wake up.

“What—” Harry stammered. “W-what—”

“Harry!” said Mrs. Weasley sternly, bustling into the room. “What are you doing up—”

“What’s it matter!?” Sirius growled. “Quickly, Molly, help me.”

Mrs. Weasley came to herself immediately. She dropped to the ground beside Sirius and flicked out her wand. Without looking away from Lupin’s body she said, “Harry, in my bedroom. Essence of dittany and there ought to be a healing potion up there too—don’t bother if you wake Arthur up—quickly, go, now!”

Harry’s legs moved for him. He sprinted up the stairs in twos until he reached the third floor. He tore into the left-most bedroom and cast light with his wand. Arthur blinked awake, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Who—”

“Where’s your healing supplies?” Harry asked urgently. “Mrs. Weasley asked me to—”

“In the dresser there,” Arthur said, pushing himself out of bed at once. “Is it Remus?”

“Yes.”

The tone of Mr. Weasley’s question told him this was a regular occurrence. The older man reached for a drawer and gestured to the supplies Harry had requested. “Take that downstairs. I’ll fetch the gauze.”

He disapparated. Harry heard a resounding crack on the floor above. Shoveling the materials into his arms, he dashed madly out of the room and down the stairs as quietly as he could manage.  

Snape was downstairs when he returned. He knelt in the place of Tonks, who now paced the room feverishly. Her hair had switched to a deep blood-red. Sirius was on his feet at once, pulling the supplies from Harry’s arms. “Now get back, Harry.”

“But I—“

“I said get back!” Sirius snapped, and Harry obeyed at once, retreating to the doorway of the dining room. He sat so that he could still see most of the parlor, but it was so crowded with people that Lupin was nearly hidden, except for the blood stain that slowly grew on the carpet beneath everyone’s feet. 

The whole thing lasted forever. Tonks paced. Sirius mumbled soft words to Lupin, dodging Molly as she flicked around covering wounds with dittany. Snape, too, muttered something like an incantation under his breath and the bite wound on Lupin’s arm began to suck in some of the lost blood, leaving a dry but dark hole behind. At one point, Lupin wailed in pain and the portrait began to scream, but died abruptly just moments before Mr. Weasley arrived with bandages. 

Snape and Sirius didn’t look at each other, but Harry noticed that neither said a word either. Normally they’d be at each other’s throats regardless of the circumstances. Once the chaos died down and Mrs. Weasley began to wrap the wounds, Sirius lifted Lupin’s head and whispered encouragements as the Potions Master poured a red liquid down his throat. Lupin choked and spluttered and fell still again. 

The first floor fell silent. Snape stood and turned to Kingsley, speaking quietly with him before billowing out of the room. Mr. Weasley joined Kingsley by the wall and watched his wife tie off the last bandage. 

Still kneeling by Lupin’s head, Sirius spoke finally. “Harry.”

Harry took this as an invitation to re-enter the room. He stood and inched his way along the wall until he stood just behind Sirius. 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” his godfather said quietly. “Come, sit.”

Harry did. Up close, Lupin looked no better than he had before. His face was still drawn and colorless, his forehead screwed up in pain. Harry knew the bandages only covered up the damage. “Is he…”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Is it like this every time?”

“No.” Sirius looked up at Kingsley and Tonks for an explanation. “This month was particularly nasty…”

“We found him that way,” Kingsley assured him.

“Never seen so much blood,” Tonks murmured, settling on the carpet by Lupin’s head. She waved her wand and the blood in the carpet vanished. “Poor bloke used the last of his energy to pull on his damned trousers. When we found him, I was certain he’d died.”

Sirius shook his head. “Not Remus. He’s lived through worse. I only wish he could have someone with him when things like that happen—”

“Sirius,” sighed Mrs. Weasley. 

“I don’t deny it’s the wiser option,” Sirius said coldly. “I’m only saying it’s a shame. He’ll want to be taken up to his room before the others wake up.”

“Surely you can’t move him like this,” Harry whispered, watching Lupin’s gaunt face twitch. 

“Then we’ll stay here,” Sirius said. “The rest of you, out. And close the door behind you.”

Harry didn’t want to leave, but Mrs. Weasley didn’t give him a choice. She grabbed him under the arm and gently pulled him to his feet. Together they followed Kingsley out of the parlor. The doors shut behind them with a sharp and decisive click. 

Mrs. Weasley sighed. “Wash your hands, Harry, dear. I know it’s nearly morning, but maybe you can get a little more rest before breakfast?”

Her tone told him that he wasn’t to argue. But when he reached his and Ron’s room, he did not sleep. Keeping the door cracked, he sat just inside it with his knees tucked up and waited. After an hour or so, he felt it was safe to descend again, having watched both the twins and Hermoine tromp past his door and down the stairs. 

He pulled on a fresh t-shirt and jeans and went to join them, stopping halfway when he reached the door to the parlor. Harry wondered whether Sirius was still inside it. Hesitating, he pressed one side of his face against the clouded glass panes on the door and listened. Two voices whispered softly to each other. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. 

Then suddenly the whispers stopped. A moment later the door swung open, just as Harry was about to make his escape. Sirius watched him blankly. “Morning.”

“How did you know I—”

“I could see your shadow on the glass.” Sirius gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re about as sneaky as a Graphorn. Want to come in?”

Harry wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t suggested it. He replied immediately, “Please, yes.”

He followed Sirius inside. Professor Lupin was on the couch now. Having regained a bit more color as well as his consciousness, he managed to give Harry a feeble smile. “Hello.”

“Professor,” he said, striding forward. He heard the door shutting behind him. “Are you—”

“—alright? Yes, of course I am,” Lupin interrupted. “Trust me, Harry, I’ve had worse.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve told me that,” Harry said tersely, sitting on the carpet beside Lupin’s torso. “I thought you were—well, I thought you—”

“Harry.” Lupin reached out and touched his shoulder. “I’m alright.”

“Moony bounces back quick,” said Sirius. “He wasn’t in Gryffindor for no reason, you know.”

Lupin smiled wanly at Harry, who was suddenly regretting his decision to come visit. He felt uncomfortable, his skin tingling in all the places where Lupin’s was scratched up, wondering what he ought to say or whether it was necessary to speak in the first place. He felt an overwhelming urge to apologize. 

“Harry,” Lupin said again. To Harry’s horror, he swung his legs over the edge of the couch and pushed himself up. Sirius didn’t stop him, but he did move around behind the couch to help him sit up. Lupin simply swatted him away, so Sirius conceded and dropped onto the couch next to him with his shoulder pressed against the other man. Lupin continued, “Harry, you can ask me anything.”

Harry did feel like there were a hundred questions waiting to escape his mouth. Only one of them managed to make it. “I just…I just don’t…how?”

Lupin frowned. 

“How did you do it, I mean?” Harry clarified. “There’s school, for one, and then the Order, and when you were our professor—I don’t understand it. Just look at you!”

Next to him, Sirius chuckled. Lupin shot him a glare and Harry couldn’t interpret the meaning of the interaction, so he continued to speak instead. “I’ve got through my fair share of dreadful terms, but I can’t imagine—this—once a month on top of the rest. How’d you do it?”

“For one, I can confidently say that my time at Hogwarts wasn’t nearly as exciting as yours is,” Lupin said, raising an eyebrow. “Seems you’re a magnet for trouble, Harry. And for another, I had friends to help me through it. Still do.” He smiled softly. “I’ve told you before, your dad…”

“Yes, and Sirius and Pettigrew—”

“Time has passed,” Lupin said hurriedly, when Sirius made a strange, strangled type of sound. “But it doesn’t change the fact that their friendship was…transformative, then. I was a different person on my first day at Hogwarts. I was nervous, lonely—”

“Weird, abrasive, secretive…” Sirius continued. 

Lupin waved a hand. “Anyway. Most moons aren’t like last night. I imagine it was a particularly nasty reaction to Wolfsbane withdrawal. Severus is going to drop by later today—I’ll get his opinion then.”

Sirius heaved a sigh. “Must you talk to—”

“Sirius,” Lupin said in a warning tone, swatting his arm. “I smell breakfast. How about you fetch us some?”

“Of course, princess.”

“Prat.”

Harry grinned to himself. Sometimes he liked to imagine what it would’ve been like to go to school with them and his dad. It didn’t show often—the subtle nuances of their friendship with each other—but when it did, Harry felt a giddy buzz stirring in his chest. 

As soon as Sirius left the room, Lupin pressed his hands to the edge of the couch and made to stand up. “Harry, do you mind?”

Harry stood quickly and helped him up. When Lupin staggered into his side, Harry blurted, “Are you should be—”

“I’m alright, just trying to reach that armchair,” he wheezed. “Come on.”

They moved very slowly across the room to the armchair sitting by the window. Once Lupin was settled he leaned his head back against the backrest and closed his eyes, breathing. 

Harry shuffled uncomfortably. “You waited to get up until Sirius left…”

“Yes, well.” He opened one eye. “Sirius thinks in a glutton for punishment. When you’ve done the thing over a few hundred times, you lose interest in sitting around doing nothing.”

“Then what is it you’re planning to do in that chair?”

Lupin grinned. He gestured to the open door of the parlor. “Haven’t you noticed? I’m a few meters closer to making my escape.”

Feeling much more at ease, Harry grinned back.