Chapter 1
In the year of 1993, when the candles in the castle grew dim and the night drew nearer, whispers flooded every corridor and dorm room as students huddled around newspapers, trading nervous glances and expressing their own concerns about the events stirring in the Wizarding World. They fell silent during his classes, afraid he might overhear, but Professor Sirius Black knew better than anyone what every headline had been reading for the past months:
NOTORIOUS WEREWOLF REMUS LUPIN ESCAPED FROM AZKABAN
Every article was the same, scrawled in big, bold lettering, an enlarged mugshot of the man under the headline as he laughed at the camera, eyes glistening with madness that made Sirius’s stomach churn. But it wasn’t the black letters or the famous portrait that disturbed him most, no. It was the fact that they didn’t address him as a murderer, but as the creature he was: a werewolf.
Werewolf. Lycanthropy. A disease that Remus had been cursed with at such a young age, one that was already so controversial and was only made worse when he was sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban.
In those late nights where the quiet seemed overwhelming and the whispers of the past haunted his mind, Sirius couldn’t help but think back to a time during their sixth and seventh year when Remus would stay up late at night, reading everything he could about werewolves, infatuated about the vague history of the creatures.
His shoulders taut and his jaw clenched in his pure frustration, he’d pace the room, book clutched in his arms as he scoured the pages, ranting, “I cannot believe the way they treat werewolves! There are better ways to handle full moons than locking them in cells at the Ministry!”
Sirius would always rub his eyes, sprawled out on his back in the bed they had begun sharing, a concept that was still hard for James and Peter to grasp, and groan. “Moony, come to bed. It’s too late for this.”
“They might be werewolves, but that doesn’t mean they’re not people, Padfoot. They’re human. I’m human.” He pointed at his small chest as if to emphasize, his soft brown eyes wide. Purple crescents rested under his lids like an ink stain on a page.
“Remus,” Sirius would always say softly, reaching his hand out to the other, “I’m not disagreeing with you. But this is a conversation for tomorrow. You need rest. I need rest.”
And he’d sigh and shift on his feet, as if the idea was too much to bear. “Fine,” he’d finally agree, and he’d put down his book and climb into bed with Sirius.
And stupidly, he couldn’t help but wonder if Remus Lupin still stayed awake at night, alone in a dingy, cold cell, angry for his kind. Did he rant to the empty room like a madman? Did he believe he had done nothing wrong? Wherever he was now, was he safe? Was he with other werewolves, chasing rabbits in some enchanted forest far away?
But Sirius’s conscience would scream at him any time Remus Lupin slipped into his thoughts, because he was the man that killed his best friends, how could he still think about him? And he’d force the man he’d once loved out of his mind, disgusted.
That was until one late afternoon in 1993 when a young boy with jet black hair and green eyes had accidentally revealed to him a secret waiting to be discovered.
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The wind nipped at the nape of his neck and made his hair stand tall as he stared up at the gnarled Whomping Willow, thinking to himself, what have I gotten myself into?
He raked his hands through his long, dark curls as he rushed towards the base of the tree, and he plunged a hand into his robes, revealing his wand. Without hesitation he pointed the device to the Willow and muttered, “Immobulus.”
Then he ducked into the darkness and returned to the very place he hadn’t seen since 1978.
The Shrieking Shack. The first place a runaway prisoner would hide, yet the last place he knew Remus Lupin wanted to be.
“I had to spend half my childhood in that musty old shack, trapped in a monster’s hold. I never want to go back,” Remus had told him on their last full moon as students at Hogwarts, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, utterly exhausted from the night’s transformation and yet still in high enough spirits to joke. But Sirius had known then and he knew now that Remus had been truly serious that night, and he wondered if the werewolf remembered that statement all those years later.
He had to duck even further down now so that he wouldn’t bump his head on the walk through the tunnel. The front door was dilapidated and nearly fell off its hinges when he wrenched it open. Floorboards were broken and the steps groaned under his weight as he rushed up the stairs, chest heaving and palms sweating, cries erupting from the room upstairs.
And before he was even through the door, stumbling over his feet and yet his wand still grasped firmly in his hand, he aimed and declared, “Expelliarmus!”
The wand flew out of Harry’s hand. Sirius nodded towards his friends and the boy stumbled off of Remus, who lay on the floor in ragged robes, his matted hair clinging to his forehead and his skin caked in dirt and grime, and all at once Sirius’s heart broke all over again. Remus’s brown eyes swiveled in Sirius’s direction, and immediately, the ice in his gaze melted away, hardened from years of hurt and suffering suddenly gone, the boyish behavior creeping in.
And despite himself, Sirius smiled.
“Well well, Remus,” he said softly, fondly, and his heart constricted in his chest, “Looking rather ragged, aren’t we? Finally, the flesh reflects the madness within.”
Moony’s lips broke into a grin. “Well,” he prompted, and Sirius swore he’d never yearned so dearly for that lilting Welch accent of his. “You’d know all about madness within, wouldn’t you, Padfoot?”
Padfoot. A nickname he hadn’t heard leave someone’s lips in so long, especially…
He pulled Remus up within seconds and the taller man practically barreled into his arms, laughing in what probably seemed like an insane manner as he bent down slightly to hug him, his thin arms slithering around his waist, and Sirius fully gave into the embrace, all past accusations forgotten- at least for the moment. Because if he could revel in just one minute where he felt like a kid again, wrapped in his friends arms, their biggest worry failing their exams, he’d be satisfied.
Suddenly, Remus grabbed him by the shoulders with a shockingly incredible grip, his eyes wild, almost like an animal’s. He shook him and whispered shakily, buzzing with excitement, “I found him! I found him, Padfoot, after all these years!”
“I know,” he responded in that same gentle tone that he used to on those late nights he’d stay awake reading, “I know, Remus. I know.”
“He’s here!”
“I understand, Moony.”
And with a pure look of crazed glee, he exclaimed, “Let’s kill him!”
“No!” Hermione, the bright young girl that Harry was close friends with, shouted suddenly, bringing him back out of the past and into the present where he was standing next to a sentenced murderer and three children who had no idea why their professor was hugging an escaped werewolf. “I trusted you! And all this time- you’ve been his friend.”
Oh, these poor kids. If only they knew the whole story.
Remus giggled to himself, his laughter reverberating through the room like a ghost. Sirius shot the man a worried glance, but the other didn’t look in his direction, but maybe that was a good thing. Remus had never been one that wanted sympathy and he couldn’t help but be afraid of how he would react if he saw it now in him.
Hermione pointed at Sirius in an accusatory manner, turning back to Harry, who couldn’t seem to stop looking between the two, and the Weasley’s son Ron, who was completely dumbfounded.
“He’s an animagus! That’s why he’s been missing from classes. He’s been sneaking around Hogwarts. That’s why we keep seeing that black dog!”
Sirius paused for a moment, perplexed, but then a small smile began to spread across his face. He looked to Remus, who seemed to be thinking the same thing: she’s just like Lilly.
“How long have you known,” he asked, and although he wouldn’t admit it, he was impressed.
Hermione’s lips were set in a firm line, her mind made up, but her eyes betrayed her confident behavior. “Since Professor Snape set the animagus essay.”
“Well, Hermione, you really are the brightest of your age.”
A smile tempted the corners of her mouth, but she didn’t dare give in, her eyes trained on Remus as he fidgeted with his hands, his fingernails bitten down to stubs. He could see faded scars peeking out from under his torn sleeves and creeping up his neck, a long, jagged scar across his left eye and one on his jawline. How long had he suffered alone in that cell? One hundred and forty four full moons alone?
“Enough talk, Sirius! Come on, let’s kill him,” he shouted, and Sirius’s heart plummeted into his chest.
“Remus, wait-”
“I did my waiting,” he screamed, voice raw, “Twelve years of it!”
He looked at Sirius, his voice shaky with emotion, his brown eyes glassy with the reflection of his mindful youth, a thirty-three year old man trapped with the mind of a young adult.
His words were choked, like glass was caught in his throat. “In Azkaban..”
There was a silence that rippled through the room like a pebble sinking into water.
“Very well,” Sirius prompted, his voice low, casual as he handed Remus Harry’s wand, “Kill him. But wait one more minute.”
He held up a finger as if to emphasize his point, then he gestured to Harry. He’d gotten to his feet at some point, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes swiveling between them behind his glasses.
“Harry deserves to know why-”
“I know why,” the younger one interrupted, and his voice cracked when he turned to Remus. “You betrayed my parents. You’re the reason they’re dead!”
Sirius tried to remain patient, but his tone came out sharp and his words quick. “No, Harry it wasn’t him. Somebody betrayed your parents.” He glanced at Remus, who despite his towering height, looked so small in the way he held himself, as if he were trying to hide. “Someone who, until quite recently, I believed to be dead.”
Harry looked at him skeptically, and although his chest ached that his godson couldn’t trust him, he knew that he would’ve been the same way at his age. “Who was it, then?”
“Peter. Pettigrew,” Remus declared, and Sirius flinched at the name of their childhood friend.
“And he’s in this very room!”
The werewolf laughed sharply and sang in an off tune note, “Come out come out, Peter! Come out and play!”
A loud creaking noise filled his attentive ears, and he craned his neck slightly, heavy footfalls moving closer and closer…
“Moony,” he warned, but it was too late.
Suddenly, in the doorway, appeared Professor Severus Snape in all his greasy glory, his wand extended and in his monotone draw he cried, “Expelliarmus.”
Sirius’s wand flew out of his hand and he swore under his breath. Remus’s eyes were comically wide, and if not for the shock of the situation, he expected him to start laughing again.
“Oh, vengeance is sweet,” Snape said fiercely, his voice like a slithering snake through a sandy desert, “How I hoped I’d be the one to catch you.”
He jabbed his wand towards his old friend’s throat, but Remus did not flinch. Instead, he smiled, revealing yellowing teeth.
“Severus,” Sirius attempted to warn, but his voice trailed off, a hopeless fight.
“I told Dumbledore you were helping a friend in the castle, and here’s the proof,” Severus accused, and if he weren’t mistaken, he swore a smile was hinting at the corners of his lips.
But Remus pushed through in that calm manner he always had when they were younger and had crossed paths with Snape, always able to finagle his way out of any punishment or confrontation if need be.
“Brilliant, Snape,” he said, “You put your keen mind to the task and yet you still come to the wrong conclusion. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Sirius and I have business to attend to.”
He attempted to slip past their childhood enemy, but Snape pressed the tip of his wand to his throat and the werewolf immediately stopped in his tracks. “Give me a reason. I beg you,” he dared, his words venomous.
“Don’t be a fool,” Sirius said.
“Oh Padfoot, he can’t help it, it’s habit!”
“Be quiet, Remus.”
“Be quiet yourself!”
“You two quarreling like an old married couple? How times have never changed,” he mocked, and Remus’s chest puffed with heavy breaths, like a lion preparing for an incredible roar.
“Oh, run along and play with your chemistry set,” Remus spit in his face, but Snape only pressed harder into his pale neck, just above a scar Sirius used to kiss so long ago.
Snape stood tall, his black hair curtaining his face, his head tilted ever so slightly. “I could do it, you know. Kill you right here. But why deny the dementors? They’re so longing to see you.” A beat, Remus’s daring expression falling instantly, and Snape ate it up.
“Oh? Do I detect a flicker of fear? Oh, yes. A Dementor’s Kiss. One can only imagine what that must be like. It’s said to be nearly unbearable to witness, but I’ll do my best.”
“Severus,” Remus said, and to Sirius’s shock, a pleading tone slipped into the simplicity of Severus’s name, “Please.”
Snape nodded towards the door. “After you.”
“Expelliarmus!”
In a whoosh and a blur of blue light from the tip of the wand Harry had found in the time they’d been talking, Snape was blasted backwards and sent flying into the old four poster bed. The front legs snapped from the sudden impact and fell flat upon the floor, unable to stand the weight. And Snape did not get up.
“Harry,” the Weasley boy cried, his eyes blown wide. “What did you just do?”
“You attacked a teacher,” Hermione exclaimed fearfully, but Harry remained persistent, the girl’s wand in his hand.
“Tell me more about Peter Pettigrew.”
“He was at school with us,” Sirius explained as Remus fidgeted anxiously at his side, playing with Harry’s wand like a first year student, the object unfamiliar in his hands. “We thought he was our friend.”
Harry shook his head, brows pinched in concentration as he tried to process Sirius’s words. “No. Pettigrew’s dead.” He pointed his wand at Remus, who barely seemed phased by the action. “You killed him!”
Without hesitation, Sirius rushed towards Moony, standing in front of him, both boys too unpredictable to trust. “No, he didn’t. I thought so too until you mentioned Pettigrew on the map.”
Harry shrugged dismissively. “The map was lying then-”
“The map never lies, I would know,” Remus suddenly snapped, “Pettigrew’s alive!” The man looked at the redheaded boy and lifted an arm, pointing a grimy hand at the youngest Weasley boy. “And he’s right there!”
“Me,” Ron exclaimed, clutching his pet close to his chest. “Me? He’s mental!”
Remus groaned frustratedly. “Not you! Your rat!”
If Ron’s eyes could have grown any wider, they did. “Scabbers has been in my family for-”
“Twelve years,” Remus cut him off, a nasty smile playing across his lips, “Curiously long life for a common garden rat! He’s missing a toe, isn’t he?”
“So what?”
But unlike his friend, Harry’s eyes glistened with understanding. “All they could find of Pettigrew was his…”
“Finger!”
Remus walked towards Ron, who shrunk into himself slightly as the supposed murderer gained closer. Sirius couldn’t blame him. He hardly recognized Moony himself. “The dirty coward cut it off so everyone would think he was dead, and then he transformed into a rat!”
“Show me,” Harry demanded.
Remus wrapped his filthy hands around the creature as Ron protested and Hermione attempted to get the boy to let go, and finally Ron budged despite his own worry and Remus had the creature by the hide. The rat squealed and flailed its little pink legs. He threw him onto the piano and quickly dove for Harry’s wand, pointing it at the rat as it sailed across the strings.
Sirius grabbed his own wand, but Remus was determined, chasing him and jabbing his wand as if he couldn’t remember how to correctly use it. The rat leaped through a hole in the wall as Remus stabbed at it one last time, and before their eyes, with a yelp, the rat transformed into the shape of a hunchbacked, crusty man with bulging eyes and rodent like teeth- head turning this way and that as he gasped for breath.
Sirius and Remus shared a quick glance before they both lunged forward and grabbed Peter by the robes, pulling him out of the wall and onto the floor. The man looked around with beady eyes, and to his own disgust, a part of his heart broke as he looked at the man before them, one that had been so kind and innocent long ago.
Finally, Peter spotted them, and a twisted smile spread across his face. “Remus? Sirius? My old friends!” He scrambled forward in plan of escape, but the two were too quick and threw him back.
“Harry,” he gasped suddenly when his eyes landed on the young boy, who looked just as startled as Sirius felt as Peter neared his godson. “Look at you. Oh, you look so much like your father- like James. We were the best of friends-”
“How dare you speak to Harry,” Sirius exclaimed, his racing heart getting the best of his calm demeanor, wand pointed at the rat as he and Remus chased him around the piano, cornering him. “How dare you speak to my godson about James! You sold James and Lily to Voldemort!”
“I didn’t mean to,” Peter whined like a child who’d gotten in trouble. “The Dark Lord! You have no idea what power he possesses! Ask yourself, Remus! What would you have done? What would you have done!”
“I would’ve died,” Remus screeched, eyes blazing like twin flames. Pettigrew tried to move, but they stayed on his tail, following him around the piano with every step he took. “I would’ve died rather than betray my friends!”
But Peter was quick despite his looks and he rushed towards Harry, whispering in his ear, “Harry! James wouldn’t have wanted me killed! Your dad would have spared me! He would’ve shown me mercy!”
They dragged him backwards and back onto the floor, and the rat let out a cry as he was pulled away.
Remus spoke, both their wands pointed at Peter, “Should have realized if Voldemort didn’t kill you then we would. Together!”
“No,” Harry exclaimed before either of them could mutter a spell.
“Harry, this man-”
“I know what he is,” Harry cut Sirius off, “But we’ll take him to the castle.”
“Bless you boy,” Peter cried, bowing at his shoes, “Bless you!”
“Get off!” He stepped away and Peter uprighted himself again. “I said we’d take you to the castle. After that the dementors can have you.”
If only they had known what else had been in store for them that night.