He Knows
February 16th, 1980
Regulus
Regulus is about to give up on the book in front of him, sure that there isn’t any information of value in the thick text. He’s ready to throw it across the room when another book is dropped on top of it, open to an odd illustration depicting black flames devouring the terrified wizard shown to be casting them.
The caption below the image piques Regulus’ interest.
Fiendfyre, while one of the most destructive spells known to wizard-kind, is also highly unpredictable and near impossible to control.
“If it’s that dangerous to the caster, it must be some real shit,” Remus says when Regulus looks up at him with an eyebrow raised. “You think it could destroy a horcrux?”
“It’d be worth a try,” he allows. “If it didn’t appear that it would destroy us as well.”
Remus shrugs. Shrugs, like the idea of messing about with dark magic that nearly guarantees one a very painful death is just another Tuesday for him. Regulus honestly can’t keep up with the back and forth of the man’s morals and danger gauge.
“One minute you’re judging me for having used unforgivable before, and the next you’re suggesting that we try out the next best thing.”
“The difference is that this would only hurt us, not anyone else,” Remus stares blankly at him.
“Oh, right. Because that’s so much better,” Regulus deadpans.
Remus’ lips twitch upward at one corner. “Well? You in or not? Because I’m willing to bet that if anyone can master that spell, it’s you.”
February 15, 1976
Regulus
Something’s definitely wrong with Lupin, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. The chronic illness the older boy uses as his excuse makes less sense the more Regulus thinks about it. It seems to come around every few weeks, going through bursts of getting worse before it gets better again. There aren’t many incurable illnesses that fit his symptoms, what with magical medicine.
The possibility had crossed his mind that Lupin might be… well, that’s just ludicrous. One of those wouldn’t be allowed in Hogwarts, around other kids. And Lupin, he’s too… nice, too soft, too sweet.
Lupin makes a show of checking his watch, then begins to pack up his things. “I’m exhausted,” he says. “Should probably get an early nights sleep for classes tomorrow morning.”
He’s used this excuse often enough for Regulus to recognize it as one, but he’d thought before that the older boy just didn’t want to offend him by admitting that he wanted to head off for no particular reason. He accepts it anyway, and unceremoniously stuffs all his own things into his bag as soon as Lupin is out of sight around the bookshelves. He follows the other discreetly out of the library, watching him go in the opposite direction from the Gryffindor dorms, taking a right instead of a left outside. He waits a moment before going after him, doing the same at every corner so if Lupin were to turn around, it wouldn’t look so much like he was being followed. Regulus could play it off that he was heading to the hospital wing for something to soothe a headache.
The hospital wing.
Regulus comes to a halt, halfway down one corridor. Of course, that’s where Lupin is going. Normally, Regulus thinks, he could just leave it be, chalking it up to the other boy feeling ill, but something still itches at him. He takes a sharp turn, sprinting down the halls along a longer path to the wing, trying to make it there before Lupin.
He does, after nearly crashing into several students, and stops outside the door, looking around the room to make sure no one else was there. It was, as luck would have it, empty. None of the beds were occupied, and Madame Pomfrey sat in her office, back turned to him.
Regulus steps quietly inside, pressing himself into the corner and casting a disillusionment spell over himself. He barely makes it in time for Lupin to enter, going straight to knock on the doorframe to the nurse’s office. Pomfrey turns around and immediately brightens at the sight of him.
“Cutting it close, Remus,” she says, light but firm. “I almost was going to go looking for you.”
“Sorry, Poppy, but I still have the time.”
Time for what? And he’s on a first name basis with the school’s healer?
“Oh, you’ve still got time alright,” she scoffs, hands on her hips, “But you, my good sir, are far too anxious about time to be getting here just now. You’d have usually been here twenty minutes ago.”
“That’s true.” He shrugs. “Suppose we have to go straight down, then, huh?”
“Right you are.” She wraps an arm tightly around his back, the way a mother would hang one around her child’s shoulders- except he’s much too tall for her to reach- and guides him out of the hospital wing.
“Regulus isn’t skilled enough in his disillusionment charms keep one steady while on the move, so he’s forced to stay back and refrain from following them any further.
Stumped, and unsure what else to do, he walks over to sit on one of the beds on the far end of the wing, underneath a window looking over the grounds. If he had any doubt before that there’s something suspicious about Lupin’s condition, it’s certainly gone now. Regulus sits there for a while longer, contemplating how else he can find out what’s going on, when he catches sight of three figures moving down the hill outside. Even from a distance, he can make out Lupin and Pomfrey, and he can recognize McGonagall’s dark emerald robes and pointed hat- she’s practically the only witch or wizard that actually wears one around Hogwarts.
The trio gets to the Whomping Willow, stopping a safe distance away, when McGonagall shifts into a cat, the grey tabby he sees her as around the castle every now and then, and stalks forwards, reaching the trunk. The branches still, and Lupin goes to it as well, stepping down and disappearing into an opening that Regulus hadn’t known was there.
He sits straight up, watching as closely as he can, but all else that happens is the two women walking back towards the castle, clinging tightly to each other. The Whomping Willow resumes its mad swinging, and Regulus can’t help but continue watching it for any sign of Lupin, though he’s sure there’s no way he’ll be coming back out.
He's so distracted that he doesn’t realize how much time has passed until he hears a startled voice behind him. “Mr. Black!” He turns to see Pomfrey and McGonagall both in the doorway. “What are you doing here, it’s nearly curfew.”
“I have a headache.” It’s not entirely a lie, he certainly is getting something of an ache with all the confusion.
“You’re making a habit of these headaches,” Madame Pomfrey says, now sounding weary as she goes for her cabinet of potions. McGonagall just watches him, lips pulled into a thin line. The aforementioned brings him a cup that he downs, and the taste is as horrid as ever. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me give you a good once over?”
“It’s the stress, I imagine,” he quickly shakes his head. “O.W.L.s, you know?” She sighs, placing her hands on her hips. There’s something about her face that looks older than usual, the lines appearing deeper right now, and something akin to sadness lingers in her eyes. He flicks his gaze to the other professor, seeing the same wear on her features. “I’ll just go get a good night’s sleep now.”
“Alright,” Pomfrey concedes too easily for a woman usually so demanding and stubborn when it comes to her job. “But take it easier from now on. If you get another one of these headaches, I’ll be checking you over then.” She points a finger at him firmly. “Stress or no, you’re much too young to be getting them so often.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He nods, and quickly leaves the hospital wing, feeling both of their eyes on him the whole way out.
It’s getting dark outside by the time he finds an empty classroom with a window that overlooks the Whomping Willow, as close as one could get to the tree, as it’s a way out from the castle. He sits down on the windowsill, stretching his legs out across it.
Anticipating a long wait, he pulls the book he keeps for casual reading out of his bag, settling in, when he catches sight of three more figures heading for the tree.
It’s dark enough now that if he didn’t have any common sense, he probably wouldn’t be able to make out their identities, but he knows for a fact that it must be his brother, Potter, and Pettigrew.
When the three of them reach the same distance from the tree that the other trio did, perhaps half an hour ago, Pettigrew seems to disappear, just moments before the tree branches still once more, then Sirius and Potter make their way down the same whole as Lupin.
Nothing about this is adding up anymore. It’s indeed a full moon tonight, and all signs had been pointing to Lupin being a werewolf. The cycle of illness, the increased appetite, that, yes, Regulus had noticed from across the great hall, the scars, the excuses to leave the library and then go to the hospital wing, the sketchy trip to the Whomping Willow and the secret entrance to some place underneath it where he wouldn’t be able to get out on his own? Regulus had carried little doubt about Lupin being one of the dark creatures, until now. It makes no sense that the other three have joined him. There’s no way they’re all werewolves. For one, certainly they would’ve gone down with Pomfrey and McGonagall as well. And for two, Regulus and his parents would most definitely notice if Sirius spent the full moons during the summer sneaking off to turn.
February 16th, 1976
Remus
Remus wakes up, as usual, to his three friends sitting beside him in the hospital wing. Sirius and Peter are tossing a bouncy ball back and forth across the floor to each other, and James just watches them with amusement.
“Are you lot that bored?” He jokes.
“Could never be bored of you, Moony,” Sirius says without looking at him, though James turns around to smile his bright, James Potter smile at him. “I’ve just got to prove to Pete that he can’t beat me at the muggle game.”
“I don’t know that it’s really a game,” Remus muses. “There’s not exactly a point to bouncy balls.” He’s only shushed by both of the competing boys.
A movement catches his eye at the door, and he looks over to see Regulus standing in the hall, though the younger boy turns and walks abruptly away as soon as he realizes he’s been caught watching.
Remus stomach drops and his heart shoots straight to his throat, choking him. He makes a strangled noise, and Sirius drops the ball, turning to him with wide eyes. “All right, Moony?”
“Fine, fine,” he waves them off. “Just a cough.”
Peter takes the reassurance to start boasting that he’s won, and James laughs with him while Sirius complains that it’s not fair since he’d thought Remus was hurt.
Remus stares back at the door, swallowing thickly. Once may be a coincidence, but Regulus showing up the day after a full twice? It can’t mean anything good.