Questions
Now that Madame Pomfrey has turfed him out, Remus has no choice but to return to his dorm room. Having skipped an entire day of lessons, they are bound to have limitless questions, and he doesn't particularly fancy an interrogation this soon after a full moon.
Golden light beams into the corridors, illuminating the ornate brickwork decorating the walls. It gleams off the trophy cabinets and picture frames that line them. Remus glances at a grandfather clock, tolling loudly. 6pm.
Relieved he hasn't missed dinner, he continues his journey back to the dorm. He still hasn't quelled the churning of his stomach, sick with dread, wondering what awaits him.
He drags his feet, begrudgingly ascending the large stone staircase towards the Gryffindor Tower.
"Graphorn tongues." Remus says to the portrait guarding the entrance.
The rather infamous 'Fat Lady', known for her horrendous singing and skittishness, swings open without hesitation, allowing him to pass.
He scours the room for a sight of the three boys, anxious to avoid them. Continuing his search into the dorm, Remus feels the nerves leaving his body when he finds it empty. He raises a fist in triumph, elated to have missed them again, even if it's only for an hour longer.
Knowing better than to go look for trouble by going down for dinner, Remus stays in his dorm, electing to read. That way, if the boys turn up, he has the excuse of hunger to leave them swiftly.
Remus loses himself in his book, unaware of how much time has passed, when James, Sirius and Peter barge into their dorm, laughing obnoxiously.
Remus' eyes widen, frozen like a deer in headlights, yet still firmly fixated on his book. The three boys stop in their tracks, seemingly shocked by his appearance.
"Woah, woah, woah. The man of the hour. Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence." Peter quipped.
"Looking for me; were you Pettigrew? How cute." Remus snipes back, sporting a satisfied smirk, revealing a dimple on his left cheek.
"Where were you last night? Not that we were missing you." Sirius asks sassily, anticipating Remus' inevitable rebuttal.
"Wouldn't you like to know Black?" Remus says, rolling his eyes. However, the brief expression on Sirius' face, close to a wince, when he uses his surname doesn't escape Remus' notice. He offers a quizzical eyebrow to the raven-haired boy in return but it goes unseen.
"Seriously, where were you?" James chimes in, an air of concern in his voice.
"I spent the night in the hospital wing. What's it matter to you anyway?" Remus gives up reluctantly.
"Why? What was wrong? Are you okay?" James asks, panicked.
"Jesus Christ mate, don't fret yourself, I'm fine. Just didn't feel well. Stop interrogating me, it's weirding me out."
"Fine, we'll stop, no need to bite his head off." Sirius holds his hands up in surrender and turns round, directing his attention to something Remus won't waste his time paying attention to. Instead, he tosses his book into his bag and stands abruptly.
"I'm going for my tea, hope I don't see ya later," Remus announces, fleeing their dorm, bag slung over his shoulder and clothes rumpled from sitting.
---
Whilst Remus does, in fact, go to the great hall for his tea, he makes no effort to stick around, opting to scarf down the meal at record speed instead.
Disinterested in returning to his dorm and with two hours to go until curfew, Remus ends up wandering aimlessly about the castle, gazing curiously at portraits and exploring new routes to his classes. That is until he finds himself in front of a certain threatening willow tree, as seen yesterday.
He cocks his head to the side and eyes the tree suspiciously.
'The Whomping Willow.' one student had called it. Apparently, it had been planted over the summer, much to the outrage of students and parents. Dumbledore addressed the new flora during the sorting ceremony announcements, strongly advising students to keep clear. Naturally, Remus became curious and looked it up in one of his textbooks.
The Whomping Willow
A highly dangerous tree with a degree of sentience and a tendency to destroy approaching objects and persons.
Rating: Endangered and near extinct
Remus is entirely aware of the risk it poses, yet somehow, when his legs carry him closer, he allows them. His jaw clenches, and his eyes screw close, bracing for impact.
When he peels his eye open again, unharmed, he comes face to face with the tree. He inspects it with a newfound fondness, running his fingers over the rough bark. Gradually, large knots grow on the willow's trunk, large enough to climb. And so, that is what Remus does, eventually reaching a sufficiently high branch and settling down. He nuzzles his back against the large trunk and leans his head back to gaze at the purples and pinks of the dusk. Early September chill nips at his fingers as he fidgets mindlessly with his jumper: a french navy wool jumper his mum had knitted for him as a birthday present a few years back. At the time, it had swamped him, though now, after many a growth spurt, it fit perfectly.
Hope had always been good at crafts. She had even tried to teach Remus how to knit one year. Unfortunately, much to her dismay, he had been abysmal at it, ending with a large knot of yarn by the end. But as he grew older and her tremors grew more severe, she knit less and less.
A muggle disease his father had told him. Incurable by both magic and medicine.
A wave of heartache came over him, tears brimming in his eyes. He longed for his mother, her warm embrace hundreds of miles away. Remus tries his best to put on a brave face, wiping tears away as fast as they come. He gasps for breath between sobs, clawing at his jumper.
Alone, sobbing, missing his poor mummy. Weak. His expression hardens, suddenly aware of his image. God, he must look like a weirdo, sat crying in the school's resident freak tree.
A smile spreads across his face as he silently chuckles to himself, finding humour in the ridiculousness of his behaviour.
Grow up. Grow up. Grow up.
Remus stays there, eyes still glistening and red, nestled in the willow and oblivious to time. He admires the sky, watching the colours fade like a fresh bruise and the stars appear, shining brightly in the quiet midnight blue. He feels the freshly waxing moon menacing him, probing memories from the previous night.
Combing through the contents of his bag, Remus pulls out a small piece of parchment and a lidless biro pen. He never liked quills. They were too finicky and messy for his liking. He begins to scrawl fiercely.
'Dear Vie'
'I miss you so much even if it's only been 6 days. Hogwarts is okay. Would much rather be with you. How is Beauxbatons?? I hope you are having more fun than me. I got sorted into Gryffindor but I can't stand the boys in my dorm. They are annoying and are soooo nosy. Always acting like they want to be my friends. Ugh. My lessons are okay though, I like A History of Magic and Charms but don't get me started on Astronomy and Herbology. There is this one girl I sit next to in Transfiguration who seems nice enough, she reminds me of you in a way. Do you think I could run away to France and live with you? I'm sure there's a way.'
'Write soon'
'Lou'
Remus Lupin and Sylvie Morel were practically inseparable back home. They had been neighbours forever and attended muggle primary school together. Her mother had moved to England after attending Beauxbatons herself, where she married her Husband (a muggle). They would spend hours together, playing in gardens and running wild. Much to Remus' and Sylvie's disappointment, she was to attend Beauxbatons whilst Remus was at Hogwarts. Before they parted ways, they had vowed to write frequently to keep one another updated on their adventures.
Remus takes the letter, folding it carefully and slipping it into his pocket to post later. He slithers back down the tree jumping the last few feet and rearranges his clothes, now adorned with a few rogue leaves.
Begrudgingly, he begins the steep climb back up the hill to the castle which is now illuminated by a vast array of candles and torches. Rather cold given the hour, Remus is thankful for the warmth the flames give out.
He's cut it fine returning to the tower, hearing the deep toll of the bells as he steps through the portrait and into the common room. However, his luck runs out when he steps into the dorm to find three boys lying in wait.
"What's the deal Lupin? You got a problem with us?" Sirius shoots at him, catching Remus off-guard.
"What?" Remus raises an eye, confused.
"You heard him." Peter chimes in.
"I- I don't know. I've barely spoken to any of you, why would you think I had a problem?" Remus replies throwing his hands up in bewilderment.
"That's our point. You don't speak to us, you're never here. Why do you avoid us so much?" James asks, a little less abrasively than the others.
"I mean you guys seemed such good friends, I guess I didn't really want to get in your way." Remus admits, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.
"How about this? You hang with us for a bit, decide if you really hate us or not. Then, if you do we'll leave you alone and if you don't we can be friends. Sound good?" Potter negotiates.
"Deal." Remus agrees uncertainly offering a hand to James.
"Deal." James takes his hand, shaking it enthusiastically.