The nights of the full moon were always a trial for Sirius. The sun had set a few hours ago, and Remus had smiled gently at them before leaving the dormitory.
This time he hadn't been too angry, even though in all the texts Sirius had read, people said that werewolf transformations would become more painful in adolescence.
Remus, however, seemed to be coping; he was always filled with rage as the full moon approached, but this time he had come to the Quidditch training to sit in the stands with Lily Evans, James' so-called future wife, and had been reading his big book.
Letting his gaze wander above the pages from time to time to watch Sirius fly. He loved seeing Remus blush whenever he made a gesture toward the stands and engage in small trick competitions with James or Marlene.
But this time, Remus hadn't lifted his eyes from his book once and had left as quickly as he had come. As it was a Saturday, they all returned to the Gryffindor common room. All except McKinnon, who had challenged Dorcas, the Slytherin beater, to a course around the castle.
Upon returning, Remus was already seated in his favorite chair by the fire with the big book on his lap. Lily had congratulated James on his training and agreed to come with him for a Muggle kids' Quidditch class.
Sirius sighed under James' amused gaze, conjuring a Galleon into the room for James to catch, pleased to have won the bet. Remus hadn't spoken at all until the evening when he simply put his book down, ran his hand over his tired eyes, stood up, and James, in the adjacent chair, gave him a friendly pat on the back.
Sirius always felt fear as the full moon approached. Not because he was afraid of Remus' wolf, no. Fear wasn't an emotion he knew well. It was rather a helpless anguish that tormented him, the idea that one of his best friends was suffering without him being able to do much to relieve it, the idea that he might kill himself and drown in his blood, and Sirius would only discover it the next day after a good sleep. It was ridiculous. It had been a month since Sirius had become an Animagus, he and the others, but James still categorically refused to talk to Remus about it.
The first few times Sirius had learned the true nature of Remus, he had felt a complex mix of curiosity, fascination, and horror. Curiosity because Remus' secret seemed straight out of a fantasy tale, a werewolf curse that forced him to transform into a raging beast every full moon. Fascination because Remus, despite his burden, was one of the brightest, kindest, and most talented wizards Sirius had ever met. Horror because no one should have to endure such suffering, especially not his Remus.
Over the years, horror had given way to sadness and anger. Sadness every time Sirius saw Remus exhausted, the circles under his eyes showing the aftermath of the transformation, new wounds on his arms and legs. Seeing him limping back as discreetly as possible to the Great Hall. Anger at fate, at society that didn't offer Remus the support he needed, at the unjust fate that had befallen him, at himself. He had the ability to help him, but he did nothing.
That evening, as the moon shone in the sky, Sirius stood by the window of his room. The stars twinkled, indifferent to the drama unfolding below. Remus would be in the Shrieking Shack, locked up for his own safety, in the grip of the inner beast that possessed him.
An idea had sprouted in Sirius' mind, an idea he had pushed away many times before. That night, however, something had changed. Perhaps it was the painful glint in Remus' eyes when he had bid his friends goodbye, knowing what awaited him. Perhaps it was that Sirius was tired of feeling powerless.
Slowly, Sirius moved away from the window and sat on the edge of his bed. He ran a hand through his unruly black hair, a familiar gesture of frustration. Why was he hesitating so much? Why was he afraid of doing what he felt was the right thing?
His mind returned to Remus, to all the times he had seen his friend pale and decline invitations to go out on full moon nights. Maybe what he had always thought was caution was, in fact, forced solitude. And if tonight, Sirius could make a difference?
He got up abruptly and headed for the door. The air was cold and invigorating as he left the Gryffindor tower. His steps mechanically guided him through the familiar corridors, then out of the castle and into the castle grounds. The Shrieking Shack loomed in the distance, illuminated by the silvery glow of the moon.
The closer he got, the more doubt grew within him. What was he doing here, anyway? What did he hope to achieve by coming to see Remus in a state of uncontrollable rage? Perhaps it was a foolish idea, an unwelcome intrusion. He discreetly approached the shack, under the Invisibility Cloak, and sat on a rock, high enough to promise some safety, but at the right height to catch a glimpse of his friend. Remus, clad only in pants and a thick blanket over his shoulders, calmly reading a book while waiting for the monster to take its place. In the dim light, no one would have recognized Remus Lupin. But Sirius wasn't just anyone. He was Remus' best friend, his Marauder mate. He descended without injuring himself and transformed.
That night, Padfoot let him witness the whole scene, leaving Sirius in control, surely understanding the gravity of the situation. Yet, as he stood at the door of the shack, he remembered the determination that had driven him out of his room. He remembered how Remus' tired eyes seemed to shine when he talked about his friends. He remembered every disillusioned smile, every burst of laughter that brightened the dark moments.
Without hesitation, Sirius opened the door with a well-placed paw. An instant of silence, then the creaking of the door as it swung open. And there, on the threshold of the shack, stood Remus, a look of astonishment in his eyes.
"Uh, what are you doing here?" Say Remus
Sirius said nothing. Of course, he couldn't. He closed the door, trying to appear as dog-like as possible. He approached Remus and rested his head on his lap. Remus seemed surprised, but his arms closed around Padfoot in a gesture of silent gratitude.
He stayed near Remus, feeling every tension in the young man's body. As the transformation began, he realized that words were useless. They couldn't express the intensity of what he felt.
Remus tensed, his breathing quickening. Sirius could see the internal struggle, the battle against the pain and ferocity of the transformation. Bones cracked, broke, and reformed, blood began to flow, and Remus cried out. The young man leaned forward, letting out a muffled cry, his growing nails scratching the floor.
Padfoot could have run. He could have obeyed the survival instinct, left the shack to escape the terror of the transformation. But he was Remus' best friend, his heart's brother. And there was no room for escape in his heart. He wanted to confront the one who had haunted his best friend for so long, he wanted to see it, to face it.
Remus' golden eyes widened, terror dancing in their depth. He frantically waved his arms, as if trying to chase the dog out of his sight, as if he wanted to prevent him from seeing this nightmarish metamorphosis.
Padfoot didn't back down. He bared his teeth, not in a threat, but in an assertion. He wouldn't let Remus face this trial alone. He would stay by his side, as a protector, as a friend.
"Come on, out! Go away!" Remus ordered in a strangled voice, his tone oscillating between fear and despair. He made a sudden hand gesture, trying to shoo the dog away.
But Padfoot stayed there, unmoving, teeth bared. He fixed Remus with an unrelenting intensity, as if telling him that leaving wasn't an option. He showed the way out but didn't move.
Remus' features twisted in pain, his muscles contracting violently. His nose cracked in all directions, elongating to make way for a distorted wolf muzzle. The walls of the shack seemed to tremble under the force of his transformation. He was fighting against himself, against the inner monster that raged within.
"Quick, go!" Remus yelled, his voice resonating in the enclosed space.
The last remnants of Remus' humanity fixated on Sirius as fur covered his ears and hands.
"RUN!" His voice cried loudly, mixing with a wolf's howl.
It was a cry of despair, the cry of someone who had reached their limits, who didn't want his friend to see him in this state. But Padfoot didn't leave. He retreated to a corner of the room but didn't hide; he watched his friend disappear amid cries and blood. Remus, his eyes still fixed on Sirius'.
Then, in a rush of fury and pain, the transformation reached its climax. Bones cracked, muscles tore and reformed. The remains of Remus' human form transformed into that of a wolf. His golden eyes pierced the darkness, blending confusion, fear, and anger.
And in the ensuing silence, Padfoot and the wolf stared at each other, two creatures separated by a veil of incomprehension. But in the wolf's eyes, Padfoot no longer saw anything that reminded him of his friend. It was someone else who was there. Not a monster. Just a misunderstood creature. It didn't seem particularly violent, at least not in the eyes of a dog.
The wolf slowly approached Padfoot, its movements cautious and curious. The two creatures stood face to face, their gazes meeting in a silent exchange.
And in that moment of meeting, Sirius knew that his decision was right. He had broken through the barriers of fear to be there, by Remus' side. He had found the strength to face the unknown to offer unconditional support to his friend.
Padfoot remained still, observing with a silent intensity. The wolf's growls filled the shack, echoing the pain Remus endured. The wolf lunged at an old armchair, overturning it with a roar of frustration. It was consumed by uncontrollable rage, a rage that drove it to destroy everything in its path. It lunged at the windows and the door, injuring itself in the process. Tearing blankets and scratching doors.
Suddenly, the wolf made a sudden movement, knocking over the bed with a paw. A heart-rending cry escaped its throat, mixed with pain. Padfoot remained motionless, but his instincts awakened suddenly. Something was wrong. Something in the way the wolf behaved, in the way it blamed itself for kicking the sharp corner of the bed.
Padfoot had a sudden understanding. Remus was trying to regain control, to save what could still be saved. If the wolf could blame itself, inflict pain upon itself, maybe Remus could calm it down. Maybe his own desire not to hurt Remus was stronger than the madness of the transformation.
With impressive speed, the wolf rushed to the foot of the bed, trying to impale itself on the sharp corner. Padfoot lunged forward, growling fiercely.
He wouldn't let this happen.
Not if it meant Remus would be hurt.
The wolf growled in frustration, its fury now focused on Padfoot. The two creatures clashed in the Shrieking Shack, a dance of power and rage. The wolf tried to break free from Padfoot's grip, its sharp teeth seeking to bite, to harm. Padfoot used his own weight to keep the wolf at bay, his bared teeth showing he was ready to fight to the end.
The night passed slowly, the fierce struggle continuing relentlessly. Growls and cries resonated in the shack as the dawn's light crept through the windows. Sunlight gradually infiltrated, touching the room's edges with a golden hue.
As the first rays of sun entered the shack, the wolf seemed to falter. Its movements became less ferocious, its resistance weakened. Padfoot felt the transformation beginning, bones shifting, flesh reconstituting. The agony of retransformation was clearly etched on the wolf's face, but Padfoot didn't release his grip. He was there, against the wolf, until the end, and with his friend until the end.
Finally, the wolf seemed to calm down, its movements becoming more jerky. Padfoot held it firmly, the wolf's golden eyes turning to him with a look of gratitude. Then, with a final breath, the transformation was complete. Padfoot met the tired eyes of Remus, now human again, but still bearing the pain of the night.
Padfoot slowly sat down, maintaining his hold on Remus. Silence enveloped the Shrieking Shack as the two friends stared at each other. Then, with a cautious gesture, Padfoot gently lowered Remus' head onto his own legs, which were returning to human form, while Padfoot slowly transformed back into Sirius, enveloping him in a protective embrace
"I'm sorry, Remus," Sirius whispered, his voice heavy with emotion.
"I'm sorry, this stuff, this stuff is torturing you, it's awful, it's destroying you and..." His voice trailed off in tears as he sat on the floor with Remus' head on his legs.
The destroyed body of his friend lying on the ground.
Remus' eyes closed for a moment, a flicker of gratitude passing through their depths. Then, slowly, they reopen and land on Sirius.
"Sirius," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm here," Sirius replied reassuringly, gently stroking Remus' hair.
"I am here. You are here, you are with me."
Remus let out a shaky breath, a mixture of fatigue and slowness. Sirius felt a tear escape his eyes, falling on Remus' face.
"I'll be fine," Sirius whispered over and over, as if trying to convince himself as much as Remus.
Remus smiled tiredly, gently stroking Sirius' hair. "Were you the dog?"
"Don't tell me that it's my dog-like appearance that disturbs you when your wolf almost impaled you?" Siris laughed, stroking her friend's hair.
Remus sighed smiling.
A flash of understanding flashed in Remus's eyes as he stared at him.
"I can't believe I never realized it was you... You, the dog that followed me around the park. Or the dog stubborn enough to stick around during my transformations"
Sirius remained silent, listening intently to Remus' words. It was almost as if, for the first time, Remus was actually seeing him. His eyes shone with a new light, imbued with understanding and affection.
As Remus' transformation finally ended, Sirius held himself close to him, every grunt, gnashing of teeth, every moan a painful reminder of the pain his friend was enduring. But he didn't back down. He was there, with him.
The pain in his eyes turns to confusion as he realizes his situation. Sirius' tired gaze met Remus's eyes as he stepped forward cautiously.
"Remus..."
Remus closed his eyes for a moment, as if absorbing the meaning of those words. Then, slowly, he let himself fall back, lying on the ground, an expression of fatigue, exhaustion and an emotion that was difficult to define.
Without hesitation, Sirius moved closer and put his hand on Remus' arms, stroking him gently.
"It'll be fine, Remus. You're not alone anymore."
Remus turned his head to look at Sirius, a grateful smile forming on his lips.
"I should have known" Remus' eyes widened in mischief.
"I should have known. You're the stubbornest dog I know."
Remus's words warmed Sirius' heart, dispelling the doubt and fear that had driven him to come to this cabin. He had done what had to be done, and he was at his friend's side. Nothing else mattered.