Year One: Relentless Shadows

Remus quickly learned that flying was not one of his skills. Granted, he did not fall to his death or otherwise embarrass himself horribly during their first flying lesson, but he also didn’t do more than awkwardly hover five feet off the ground and hope no one saw that he was shaking with fear. Meanwhile, many others zoomed around on their broomsticks, racing around the pitch.

Remus was very glad to nestle himself in a common room alcove with a new potions book he’d checked out of the library. He spent the rest of his afternoon reassuring himself he was, in fact, safely back on the ground, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of his stomach doing loop-de-loops even as he lay in bed at night, listening to James and Sirius whisper as he tried to fall asleep.

Remus had practised the set spells and made a convincing needle, although it would still break in half if he tried to bend it. Nonetheless, McGonagall was impressed and gave him five points. Peter, on the other hand, even struggled with lighting his wand. Flitwick had been less than pleased.

Remus had found Peter in their dormitory trying to practise after class. He made Peter sit in a quiet spot in the common room with him, Remus’s textbooks open and scattered across the floor as he tried to walk Peter through the spell. It turned out to be harder than Remus had expected.

He couldn’t figure out what Peter was doing wrong—and there wasn’t very much he could mess up. Peter luckily offered Remus to share his enormous stack of sweets he’d been sent from home while they worked together. So, Remus sat cross-legged on the floor while chewing a chocolate frog and explained the three principles of transfiguration for the hundredth time.

By Friday evening, Peter had at least lit his wand, although it extinguished after only a few moments. In the time that Peter had practised, Remus had read ahead in the textbook and was itching to try out the unlocking charm next. He’d have to find a locked door, though, and he wasn’t sure how easy that would be.

“Hello, Lupin.”

Remus looked up from his book to see James plopping down on the ground with them and picking a chocolate frog from the pile. “Hello,” Remus said before going back to his text.

Peter had stiffened and no longer tried to light his wand.

“We were wondering if you would like to join us on a late-night stroll,” James said.

Remus flipped the page. More often than not, James’s late-night strolls landed him and Sirius in detention. “No, thank you.”

“Come on,” Sirius said, his voice coming from somewhere above.

“What are you going to do? Blow up a toilet?” Remus asked. “I prefer to spend my weekend in the library.”

James laughed. “We’re not going to get caught.”

“Of course,” Remus said.

“We’ll come,” Peter said. “Won’t we, Remus?”

“I have an essay to finish,” Remus said. He smiled at Peter, who looked at him with big pleading eyes. “But you go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

“Alright.”

Peter trotted after the other two, looking over his shoulder before clamouring out of the common room.

Remus waited, glancing at the grandfather clock standing by the portrait hole every few minutes. Most students left in the common room were older, sitting in groups chatting and sipping on large amber bottles, or couples huddling in the shady alcoves, thinking no one could see them. Remus pretended they weren’t there and helped himself to another chocolate frog. It helped overshadow some of the strange smells in the castle, but only while he was chewing.

When an hour had passed, Remus gathered the books and sweets, stuffed them in his pockets and headed upstairs. His eye caught on the notice board on the wall leading up to the dormitories. Quidditch tryouts would be held on the pitch at eleven the following day. James was bound to drag them out of bed by seven. Remus wondered why James talked about anything else. He insisted he would make the team, even if he had to use one of the school brooms. Remus was inclined to believe him.

Alone and bored in the dormitory, Remus practised the unlocking charm on their door. He had no unread library books left and couldn’t fathom anything better to do with his time.

It didn’t take him more than an hour until he could perform the charm perfectly. He worked on the locking charm next, but that wasn’t much harder. Frustrated, he got ready for bed and shut his curtains.

He was fast asleep by the time the others returned.

***

James sat ashen-faced and silent across from Remus the following day. Remus buttered his toast and speared a sausage on his fork. Sirius hummed under his breath as he cut his bacon into bite-sized pieces. Peter looked almost as nervous as James.

A general buzz filled Gryffindor table. Up and down the Great Hall, students were talking about the tryouts. Remus expected every moment that James was going to announce he expected them to join him in the stands—but he stayed quiet.

The staff table was as empty as it had been every weekend they’d been there. Only McGonagall sat straight-backed beside the golden chair with her eyes glued to the Gryffindor table.

Slowly, owls streamed into the Great Hall and circled the tables until they saw their owners, dropping letters and packages onto their laps. Remus hadn’t gotten anything so far.

Two large tawny owls dropped scrolls into James’s and Sirius’s laps, and Peter pushed his plate out of the way of a falling parcel, knocking over his pumpkin juice. A letter surprised Remus as it bounced off his head and landed on Sirius’s lap.

“For you,” Sirius said, holding out the envelope after examining it.

“Me?” Remus frowned, twisting to see where it came from. Remus tore the envelope open at once. It said, in familiar penmanship:

Dear Remus,

I hope this letter finds you well. I must apologise for not writing to you sooner. We had some trouble finding out how to get a letter to you. Luckily, your father could borrow one at work. Fascinating creatures, those birds, don’t you think?

Please write to me soon and let me know how you are getting on. Your father assured me Hogwarts had owls you could borrow. We are eager to hear all about your experiences so far. Are you making friends? Are your professors kind? Are you enjoying your classes? I know that starting at a new school can be difficult, especially one as large and unfamiliar as Hogwarts. Please know that we are here for you and love you very much.

Your father fondly remembers his time at school and has said that the library is quite extensive. He wanted me to tell you he’s been thinking of you often, is proud of you, and is looking forward to seeing you at Christmas.

Your father and I miss you dearly. Please take care of yourself. We are looking forward to hearing from you soon.

With love,

Mum and Dad

Remus blushed and stuffed the letter into his pocket. Peter was rummaging through a box of sweets from his parents. Remus stuffed the parchment into his pocket before anyone else could see it and took a big gulp of pumpkin juice. James looked worse than before. Red blotches had sprung up all over his cheeks, and he was tearing a napkin into shreds.

“What’s got you in a twist?” Remus asked.

“Detention,” Sirius said, sliding over the scroll.

Remus unrolled the heavy parchment. “You’re in detention more often than lessons,” Remus said. “Surely that won’t bother you.”

James didn’t answer. Remus studied the note.

Your detentions will take place at ten o’clock this morning. Meet Mr Filch in the entrance hall.

Remus read the note twice to be sure he’d understood it correctly. “What did you do?”

“It was your idea,” James said, stabbing at his eggs.

“What was my idea?”

“Blowing up a toilet,” Sirius supplied. “It was quite the spectacle, honestly.”

“You—Why would you do that?”

Sirius shrugged. “It seemed fun at the time. And we didn’t have any better ideas.”

“But your detention. You’ll miss tryouts, James.”

A high screech came from James’s plate, where his fork scraped against the porcelain.

“We don’t mention the Q-word right now,” Sirius whispered in Remus’s ear.

“What about you, Peter?”

Peter jumped when Remus and Sirius focused their attention on him. “I managed to get away.”

“How?” Remus asked.

“I don’t know. I was in the bathroom one moment and in some corridor the next.”

Remus nodded. He wondered if there were secret passages in all bathrooms. If James’s sour face let anything on, he didn’t know about all the secret passages, or he wouldn’t be in detention during tryouts. “Filch?”

Peter nodded. Sirius set his cutlery in a triangle on his plate and said, “Walked in on us on the second floor. We were already in the third bathroom by then. He was yelling at some Myrtle, and I thought we would get away with it. We hid in a stall, but he opened every single one and threatened to feed us his mop.”

Remus winced. Peter followed Remus upstairs and all the way to the library. Neither James nor Sirius seemed to be inclined to be nice to Peter after he’d gotten away. They simply pretended he was not there. Remus told him to reserve a table in the corner and set off down the rows of books.

Outside, bitter wind smashed against the windows, and if the clouds rolling over the hills were any indication, the Quidditch tryouts would be held in a downpour. Remus had never been more thankful that James had been given detention and made a mental note to look up a rain-repellant charm.

***

The leaves turned all sorts of colours outside, and the pumpkins in the small patch by the Forbidden Forest swelled to such an enormous size that they were visible from the Gryffindor common room. A relentless mist had settled over Hogwarts, and it seemed the last good days were over.

Remus spent every afternoon in the library, where, without fail, the other three boys from his dormitory followed him. He spent much of his time there breaking down the concepts from their classes for Peter and whispering it all to him while James and Sirius pelted unsuspecting students with waste parchment.

From time to time, Remus disappeared into the shelves with the excuse of finding an obscure reference manual and slipped from the library into the chilly corridors. He explored the far corners of the castle a few hours at a time and expanded his map from the start of term, adding secret passages and various nooks and crannies under his covers, holding up his wand for some light. His sheets were perpetually ink-stained. More than once, on his reprieve from the others, Remus looked over his shoulder.

Mrs Norris was always on his heels, watching with her beady red eyes and hissing when Remus got too close. At first, he thought he could befriend her, but a deep scratch across the back of his hand that wouldn’t stop bleeding discouraged him. He refused to go to the hospital wing with it, even after Lily had seen it and interrogated him on where he’d gotten it. Madam Pomfrey was a nice lady, but he already saw her more often than anyone else in the school. Remus’s solitude attracted the suspicion of Mr Filch, the ever-watchful groundskeeper, who questioned Remus repeatedly, unable to believe that he wasn’t covering for James and Sirius.

James wasn’t deterred by his inability to participate in the Quidditch tryouts. He joined the Gryffindor team two evenings a week, bundled in his thick cloak and Gryffindor hat over Quidditch robes he’d inexplicably procured. Remus joined only once, shivering miserably in the rain, huddled close to one of the tall watchtowers, while James stood in the mud shouting advice at the players that they couldn’t possibly hear over the rain. James seemed determined to annoy the captain into letting him join practises.

The evenings James didn’t get soaked at the Quidditch pitch, he spent in detention with Sirius and, once, even Peter. The weekend after they’d blown up a toilet, Remus made the fateful mistake of mentioning a Muggle prank he’d heard about on the radio—a pillow that made obscene noises whenever they were sat on.

Sirius and James saw it as a personal challenge and spent three days researching the proper charms in the library. They performed the spell in the Gryffindor common room on Wednesday night—all pillows immediately began to whistle in a high pitch that drew the attention of all four prefects and the head boy. Even worse was that no one could reverse the spell, and they had to call McGonagall to fix it. The seventh years had chewed them out before McGonagall had ever reached the common room. Apparently, the noise interfered with their exam preparation.

The following week, they tried to get their History of Magic lesson cancelled by dispersing sneeze powder in the classroom and having the whole class moved to the hospital wing. Remus found it a bit excessive, but Sirius wanted to demonstrate what the powder did after Remus had asked about it the night before.

The sneeze powder never made it to the classroom. It exploded in the crowded corridor by the astronomy courtyard when Peter fumbled with the box and accidentally ripped open the packets he was supposed to hand to Sirius and James discreetly. The three of them were covered in it, along with half of their charms class and Professor Sprout’s fourth-year herbology class. Remus sat in History of Magic alone and diligently scribbled down notes, which he copied and dropped off in the hospital wing after class. The others didn’t follow him after class that day.

It gave Remus time to search for the owlery and post a letter to his parents without anyone asking questions—Professor McGonagall had assured him he could borrow one of the tawny school owls.

Remus was aware that the other boys seemed to have money. Nearly every week, one of them had received a parcel from their parents, packed with sweets and more school supplies.

As the next full moon drew closer, Remus tried to avoid the others more. If they were used to him not being around when they went to bed, maybe they wouldn’t notice when he missed one night, so he showed Sirius a passage from a transfiguration manual and suggested he transform the liquorice drops that appeared with every dinner into tiny spiders.

Sirius was thrilled. He and James set off to work on the spell right away, much to the detriment of their marks, which kept falling. Peter, on the other hand, improved immensely. After the shock of detention had worn off, he seemed more confident and motivated. By the beginning of October, Peter turned his match into a decagonal needle, complete with a somewhat pointy end.

Remus, on the other hand, grew restless and sloppy. It became hard to block out the shuffling of feet and parchment, and he spent longer stretches trying to find secluded nooks and crannies. He often returned to the common room, with only minutes to spare until curfew.

***

The morning after the full moon, Remus squeezed into the first row in transfiguration class, ignoring all the others’ attempts to get his attention. McGonagall was irritated and threatened James and Sirius with another detention if they didn’t stop interrupting her. Meanwhile, Remus dreaded the questions that would spill from their mouths the second they managed to speak to him. He’d hoped they wouldn’t have noticed his absence.

Remus left the class hungry and irritated. James cut him off, trying to duck into the next loo. “There you are!” he said, dragging Remus on.

“Where were you?” Sirius blurted out, walking to his left.

“Nowhere,” Remus replied curtly.

“We thought you had left us,” James added, half sulking, half grinning.

“Well, clearly I didn’t,” Remus retorted.

Charms class didn’t improve Remus’s mood either. Professor Flitwick made them practise wand movements for the levitation charm for the second week in a row. Remus was paired with Sirius and felt foolish, waving his wand around the classroom. At least Sirius had stopped bombarding him with questions. Remus had to force himself not to doze off as the minutes trickled by.

After charms, Remus hurried to the common room to pick up his homework. He avoided the other boys, slipping into a gap next to a seventh-year. With his head held low to avoid all attention, Remus dug in, only to learn that the gnawing hunger was the only thing keeping him awake.

His head felt heavy, and he didn’t know how he’d get through the afternoon potion lesson.

“Remus?”

Remus glanced around. The seventh year had turned to him. He seemed familiar, but Remus couldn’t tell who he was—and why he’d known his name. “Yes?” he croaked.

“Can I get you anything?” he whispered.

Remus shook his head. He didn’t think he looked that bad.

“You look like you’re about to be sick. I could take you to the hospital—”

“No. I’m fine,” Remus said. It took a lot of effort to keep his eyes open. The boy had a long face and short brown hair. A badge gleamed on his robes—Longbottom, the head boy.

“You don’t look it,” he said slowly, his eyes wandering over Remus.

“I only have two more hours left.”

“You can miss two hours.”

“I want to go,” Remus said, straightening as much as his muscles would allow. “Please?”

Longbottom pursed his lips.

“Longbottom,” a girl’s voice called farther down the hall.

He turned and called, “Be right there, Alice.”

Remus gathered his books, hoping he could disappear while Longbottom was busy.

“Not so fast,” he said. Remus groaned. “I won’t make you miss class if you don’t want me to. You can come to me with whatever problem you’re facing.”

Remus nodded, his eyelids heavy and his vision lagging behind. That would be a fun afternoon.

Longbottom stood, adjusting his robes. “Take care, Remus.”

Remus let Peter take over the herbicide potion they had started brewing the day before, responding to Peter’s anxious questions with one-word replies. Snape, sitting on the other side of the table, snickered. Remus half-lay on the desk, flipping through his potions book and skimming the descriptions of various entries. His icy demeanour deterred any further attempts at conversation.

After class, Remus headed to his dormitory, relieved that James wanted to watch the Gryffindor team’s quidditch practice and forced the other boys to join him,  scrubbed a patch of dried blood off his back, and collapsed into bed.

When he woke, it was dark and quiet. A quick glance at the rusty alarm clock on his bedside table told him it was nearly four in the morning. Remus groaned as his stomach clenched painfully. He searched for a patchy jumper at the bottom of his bed and descended to the common room, wondering where the kitchens were.

The warm glow of dying embers bathed the room in a golden light. Remus caught sight of Sirius’s silhouette, sitting almost motionless, his gaze fixed on the dying fire. Without a word, Remus took a seat in the armchair opposite.

Sirius turned his head, his eyes meeting Remus’s. “I didn’t hear you come down.”

Remus shrugged.

“What are you doing up?” Sirius asked, his voice hushed.

Remus shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’m starving.”

“Missing dinner isn’t like you,” Sirius remarked. “Potter tried to sneak out some cake, but Filch busted him.”

Remus salivated. “He did? What’d Filch do?”

“A night’s detention.”

“I—I didn’t want him to get punished because of me,” Remus mumbled, pulling his knees to his chest.

“I hardly think he’s mad. Doubt he’d know what to do with his time otherwise.”

“Still.”

Sirius scrambled to his feet, rummaging in the pockets of his silk robe. “Here, this should help tide you over,” Sirius said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He held out a handful of chocolate frogs.

“I—”

“Take them,” he said.

Remus hesitated for a moment. “Thank you.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Sirius said.

Remus mumbled his approval, his mouth already filled with chocolate.