A new addition
Two days had passed. Remus was still nowhere to be found, and Sirius and James had concocted a myriad of outlandish theories about where he could be. Their top contenders were:
- He had been kidnapped and was being held hostage somewhere in the woods.
- He had decided to run away, never to return, possibly to escape the dullness of the camp.
And the least likely one in their minds:
- He was a werewolf and couldn’t come yet because it was still too dangerous for him to be around people.
Most of these seemed quite ridiculous, but they had nothing to go on. The counselors were unhelpful, and there hadn’t been any updates from the higher-ups. The activities at the camp were also pretty boring, which only added to the mounting frustration.
At camp, the days were often filled with tedious activities that made the time drag on endlessly. The mornings started with dull sessions where everyone sat in a circle, fumbling through awkward attempts at learning basic English phrases.
It was always the same: campers shouting over one another in a noisy, chaotic jumble, each voice louder than the last as they tried to recall the right words for everyday objects.
The nature walks were similarly uneventful, where they trudged silently through the woods, the only sounds being the counselor’s half-hearted attempts at teaching them the names of trees and birds in English.
The poor kids were expected to remember each one, but it was hard to concentrate on Latin names when you’d just seen the same tree half a dozen times.
By the time the walks ended, everyone’s legs ached, and all anyone could think about was how much they’d prefer to be doing anything else.
As the sun began to set each evening, everyone was herded back to their cabins for mandatory quiet hours. The long stretch of time felt even more suffocating when you knew you couldn’t speak or make a sound, and the only noise to break the silence was the rustling of sleeping bags and the occasional cough.
James, Sirius, and Peter found themselves longing for anything—anything at all—to break the monotony of camp life. They couldn’t wait to get a new puzzle, a new adventure, or even just the tiniest bit of excitement, something to take their minds off of Remus and the unending boredom.
By the third day, the lack of excitement had fully settled in. The trio sat on their beds, passing the time with half-hearted games of chess and random conversation.
Sirius, perched on his top bunk, was doodling idly in his sketchbook, while James and Peter bickered over a chess match that seemed to drag on forever.
“You’ve got to be cheating!” James exclaimed loudly after losing for the fourth time in a row. “There is no way you’re actually that good.”
Sirius snickered from above, but his laugh was cut short when Peter piped up. “Isn’t Arthur supposed to be at that counselor meeting?” he whispered, glancing nervously toward the door.
The boys had learned by now to be cautious when the counselors left them alone, especially with the strange atmosphere hanging over camp.
Sirius, ever the curious one, was far more intrigued than scared. Without missing a beat, he called out, “Who’s there?” His voice echoed through the cabin, breaking the silence that had otherwise settled in.
Ignoring James and Peter’s frantic whispers of caution, Sirius hopped down from his bunk and made his way to the door. He was met by an unexpected sight.
A boy stood in the doorway, his shaggy brown hair curling messily around his ears, his eyes glowing with a warm amber hue that seemed to shimmer in the dim light.
He was massive—probably 6’1”, taller than most of the boys at camp, which made Sirius feel oddly small. His skin was a deep tan, and there was something about the way the moonlight reflected off him that made him seem otherworldly.
“Hello,” the boy said, his voice carrying an unfamiliar accent as he stepped forward. “Rwy'n dyfalu mai hwn yw'r caban 16 mlynedd?”
His Welsh sounded smooth and almost melodic, though Sirius couldn’t understand a word of it. He just stared at the boy, slightly bewildered.
The boy, noticing Sirius’ confusion, gave him an expectant look. Sirius blinked a few times before he managed to muster up the nerve to ask, “Uh, English?”
To his surprise, the boy blushed a deep shade of red, his eyes widening. “Oh—sorry,” he said quickly, offering an embarrassed smile. “I’m used to speaking Welsh all the time, so it’s just a reflex.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, making Sirius' heart skip a beat for reasons he couldn’t quite explain.
No one had ever made him feel flustered like this. “I’m Remus,” the boy continued, still smiling softly.
Sirius stood there for a moment, still unsure how to respond. He didn’t usually get nervous or stumble over his words, but something about Remus’ presence left him momentarily speechless.
Remus, sensing the awkwardness, gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I—uh, I’m supposed to be here. I think this is cabin 16?”
Before Sirius could reply, James and Peter had both appeared by his side, peeking over his shoulder at the stranger in the doorway. They exchanged curious glances but said nothing.
Sirius finally found his voice. “Yeah, this is it,” he said, his voice a little hoarse from the unexpected nerves. “You’re Remus?”
Remus nodded, his smile widening. "That's me."
It felt like the beginning of something new, though neither Sirius nor the others knew it yet. Remus was a puzzle, one Sirius was suddenly very keen on solving, even if he didn't entirely understand why.
later in the night
That night, after everyone had gone to sleep, the cabin was wrapped in an eerie stillness, the only sounds coming from the occasional rustle of sheets or the soft creak of wooden beams.
Sirius lay on his back in his bunk, his hands tucked behind his head, trying to ignore the growing restlessness that kept him wide awake. The others were already asleep—James snoring lightly below him, Peter curled up in his own bunk across the room—but Sirius couldn’t seem to settle. His mind kept drifting back to Remus.
Earlier, when they’d been sitting in the cabin, trying to pass the time, Sirius had watched Remus as he sat cross-legged on his own bunk, pulling out a guitar and resting it on his knee.
Remus had been strumming softly, the quiet notes filling the space between them. Sirius hadn’t said anything, but he couldn’t help but be captivated by the way Remus played, his fingers moving so fluidly over the strings as though he wasn’t even thinking about it.
There was a kind of quiet confidence in the way Remus lost himself in the music, as though everything else faded away and it was just him and the guitar. Sirius found himself watching, mesmerized, wishing he could understand what it was about Remus that made him so different from everyone else at camp.
Later, when Remus had put the guitar down, he pulled out a book—something thick and well-worn. He settled back against his pillow, absorbed in the pages, completely unaware of the world around him.
Sirius had been half-heartedly trying to read his own book, but it felt impossible to focus with Remus so close, his eyes flicking over the pages so quickly, completely engrossed. It wasn’t like the other campers, who often just pretended to read or never finished anything they started. Remus seemed to inhale books, his love for reading obvious in the way he lost himself in the stories.
Now, as he lay in the dark, Sirius tried to make sense of the knot in his stomach. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Remus seemed so effortlessly himself—whether it was with the guitar or buried in a book.
There was something magnetic about him, something that made it impossible for Sirius to ignore, and it was starting to unsettle him in a way he didn’t quite understand.
The way Remus smiled, so genuine and quiet, his voice softer than anyone else’s—it all felt different, like he was seeing something others couldn’t.
Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his bed, trying to brush it off. Maybe it was just that Remus was a little more interesting than the others.
Or maybe he was just so quiet, so unlike the usual camp noise, that Sirius was more drawn to him than he would have been to anyone else. But as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the flutter in his chest remained.
It was a strange feeling, one he couldn’t quite place, and it lingered in the back of his mind long after he should’ve fallen asleep.