Chapter Text
Remus woke in the forest.
He was in a clearing, lying sprawled in the dewy grass, sunlight filtering through the treetops above him. His cheek was pressed against the ground and his right arm was sandwiched awkwardly underneath his body.
His limbs ached. He moved slowly, rolling over onto his back and pausing to assess the pain. He could feel a shallow cut on his neck where Sirius had grabbed him with his mouth, and there were striped wounds across his arms and chest.
Memories of the night before flashed through his mind. He had transformed not far from the castle entrance and Sirius had transformed too, using his similar size to control the wolf. They had struggled, and Remus had led them both into the forest. He remembered the dementors coming, remembered slashing Sirius across the chest so that he fell, and then Remus had fled, the wolf frightened by the dark, hooded creatures.
Remus’ insides twisted with worry. What had happened to Harry, Ron and Hermione? Where was Peter? And Sirius⎯the dementors had been closing in; Remus remembered little else, except flickering images of the forest as he crashed through it, howling. Had they administered the kiss?
Remus struggled to his feet. The pain in his limbs intensified and he leaned against a tree, breathing hard.
If only he had taken the potion. They would have reached the castle with Peter in tow, and they’d have had a chance to clear Sirius name.
But now?
Remus was sure Peter had transformed right after he, and they wouldn’t have had any hope of finding him in the dark. Without Peter, Sirius’ story was impossible to verify. Harry, Ron and Hermione had believed it, but they were only children, hardly credible witnesses.
Remus berated himself silently. If he had not been so distracted by the map, by the names he saw upon it… but it was no use thinking about it now. There was nothing he could do except find his way back to the castle.
At that moment, he heard a rustling in the bushes to his left. He swung around, reaching for the wand that was no longer in his pocket. Cursing, he called out, “who’s there?” and tried to stand up a little straighter.
A centaur emerged from between the trees; he was a huge, roan beast with long, shaggy hair, which was plaited in long ropes down its back. Remus squinted up at his face and recognised him instantly.
“Castor,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“You are deep in the forest, werewolf. This is centaur territory, you know.” The centaur pawed the ground and came a little nearer.
Remus stood up straighter. “Forgive me, Castor. You know that I⎯”
“Long has it been since your howls echoed through these woods. Tell me, where are your companions?”
“My⎯companions?” Remus blinked, slowly. “You mean James, and Sirius, and⎯” He paused, swallowing. “They are⎯well, you haven’t⎯you didn’t hear?”
“You have suffered much, I can see that.” Castor’s brown eyes regarded Remus thoughtfully. “I have seen things, in the stars. Terrible things.”
“Yes.” Remus nodded gravely. “I must get back to the castle. Castor, how far from Hogwarts am I?”
“Far,” said Castor, “I will lead you part of the way. Follow me.” He turned and moved into the trees from where he came. Remus staggered after him, hurrying to keep up with the centaur’s swift gait.
***
The journey through the Forbidden Forest took the better part of an hour. In that time, Remus remained lost in his thoughts, speaking nothing to the centaur. He kept picturing Sirius’ gaunt face in his mind, those sunken cheeks and grey, mirthless eyes. He looked so unlike the Sirius Remus remembered. Yet he was the same man. Remus had trusted him long ago, trusted him with his life, and for twelve years that trust had been betrayed.
Now it was restored again.
But would Sirius even be Sirius when Remus returned to the castle? Or a shallow vessel of a man, nothing more than a pile of skin and bones? Remus shuddered and walked on, stepping carefully over the tree roots as he went.
At last Castor came to a standstill. “This is where I leave you, werewolf.” He turned to look at Remus, not unkindly. “You have changed much, since we last met. I was glad to see you again.”
Remus nodded. “Thank you, Castor.”
He seemed to hesitate, then spoke in a sonorous voice, “beware the clashing of snake and lion, and blood on a silver blade. This I have seen in the stars.” He frowned, then shook his great shaggy head. “But I can say no more. Farewell.” The centaur gave Remus one last searching look, then turned and cantered away.
Remus, shaking off the cold feeling of dread he felt at Castor’s words, hurried towards the edge of the forest and emerged near Hagrid’s cabin. He hastened up the grounds towards the castle and entered through the great double doors, heart beginning to pound. Without a second thought he went straight to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore’s office, muttered the password, and ascended to the landing above.
***
It was better than he could have hoped for. The story of Harry and Hermione’s rescue effort was astonishing, but Remus was not as surprised as he might have been; Harry was so like James, it was disconcerting.
Peter had escaped, as Remus had feared, and he could not help but blame himself. Sirius was still a wanted man, but he was alive and remained in possession of his soul. This knowledge comforted Remus as he climbed numbly through the castle to his office.
Inside, the room was dark and musty and Remus suddenly felt unsure of his place here. Dumbledore had not relieved him of his post, but he was sure he could not teach at Hogwarts any longer. Not after his mistake last night. If he were to ever forget the potion again⎯well, the consequences could be most dire indeed. It had been lucky, extraordinarily lucky, that he had not bitten anyone.
He sank down into his chair and stared down into the Marauder’s map, still open on his desk. Small figures roamed over it, students and staff members going about their business, most unaware of last night’s events. There was the passage to the Shrieking Shack, so carefully charted by he and his friends. He scanned the grounds, searching for Peter’s name, but he knew it was pointless. Peter would be long gone by now; he had probably fled to Hogsmeade and disapparated. After a final, agonising glance, Remus tapped the map with his wand that he had retrieved from Dumbledore, murmured mischief managed and set the map aside.
Slowly, he opened the drawer in his desk and took out parchment and quill. Dear Padfoot, he wrote, his throat constricting as he scratched the familiar nickname into the yellowing parchment.
He paused, lost for what more to say. It seemed a lifetime ago that he had seen Sirius, though it had only been a few hours. What could he possibly say? How could he express… what? He hardly knew himself.
With a sigh he put the quill onto the paper once more and scribbled a brief message:
Glad to hear you’re safe. Be careful.
Write me if you can.
Yours faithfully,
He hesitated, then signed his old nickname, Moony. He folded the paper and stuffed it inside a small envelope quickly.
Where would Sirius go? He wondered, sinking back into his chair. Would he leave the country? Or try to stay near Harry? Probably the latter, Remus decided; he had seen the warmth with which he had looked at the boy. Sirius was as loyal as ever, he had proven that last night.
What could Remus do? He felt useless, hollow, exhausted.
The sound of footsteps at his office door interrupted his melancholy and Remus snapped his head up to see Severus Snape entering the room, a cold, angry look on his face.
“Ah,” drawled the professor. “I see you made it back to the castle in one piece. What a pity.”
Remus ignored this. “Hello, Severus.” His voice sounded strained, even to himself.
Snape smiled nastily. “I have just come to inform you that I, ah, let slip this morning about your little problem. You won’t be teaching here any longer; my students are quite concerned about the danger you pose.”
Remus’ heart sank. He had hoped to leave quietly, without causing a stir, but there was no chance of that now.
“Very well,” Remus replied resignedly. “I am sorry we could never overcome our differences, Severus.”
Snape sneered. “Black will be found, you know. And when he is, you will not be there to save his hide.”
The man was impossible to argue with, Remus decided. He waved Snape towards the door. “I cannot make you see reason, Severus. I thank you for your help this year and now I hope you will leave me in peace.”
The potions master looked smug. He turned away and strode out the door, his long robes slithering across the stone floor as he left. Remus, tired and aching, began to pack his things into a battered suitcase.
***
He did not take the train this time, could not face the students’ stares and whispers. Harry, Ron and Hermione had come to see him before he left; they had asked him to stay at Hogwarts, and though he had felt cheered by their kind words, he knew his time teaching was finished. Even without Snape’s admission, he could not trust himself to be near so many students.
In Hogsmeade, Remus adjusted the Grindylow tank under his arm, gripped his suitcase tightly, and disapparated from the street.
There was a moment of sickening weightlessness, and then he landed in the backyard of his parents’ old house. The yard was overgrown and wildflowers had sprouted up all over the place. A troop of ugly gnomes had moved in and they had dug little trenches all around the perimeter, as if to keep intruders out. Their beady little eyes stared at him as he passed.
Remus sidestepped a particularly poisonous looking toadstool and made his way towards the back door of the ramshackle house.
It was a small, comfortable cottage, nestled at the edge of a quiet, largely muggle hamlet. The yard backed onto a forest, which stretched for miles across the countryside. It was, in fact, the very forest where Remus had been bitten as a young boy.
Inside, the house was dark and dusty; Remus had not been back to visit since his appointment at Hogwarts, and he’d had no one looking after it while he was away. He dropped the large tank and his suitcase on the floor beside the door, then with a wave of his wand he drew back the curtains and let the sunlight flood into the house.
Dust had settled on every surface, illuminated now by the bright light streaming through the windows. He had entered into the kitchen, in the middle of which was a large oak table with benches either side. He picked up the tank, placed it on the table, and carried his suitcase through the sparse living room and down the hallway into his room.
He laid the suitcase on the bed and sat down next to it, sinking into the springy mattress. It was odd to be home, after the events of the past year. He felt suddenly isolated, a feeling that ought to be familiar to him, but which now sat uncomfortably, like a lead weight, in his chest. What could he do here, cut off from the entire wizarding world?
Even the muggles thought this house was abandoned; he kept the lawn untidy and overgrown, let the weatherboards crumble and the paint peel. The muggles rarely came this way, and when they did they looked past it, seeing nothing except an old, derelict cottage.
He comforted himself with the knowledge that Sirius would make contact in time. At least, Remus hoped he would.
Remus pulled off his shoes. He slumped back onto the bed, not bothering to crawl under the covers, and fell into a restless sleep.