~Prologue~

Sirius:

“Prepare to execute the werewolf,” the Minister of Magic ordered in a steely tone.

The two wizards nodded mutely, raising their wands in unison.

Numbly, my eyes raked over the crowd of people that had gathered to watch the murder.  There was a satisfied glint in their eyes.  It was as if they were witnessing a neighborhood pest being put down.  Not one of them seemed to grasp the atrocity that was about to be committed.  I wanted to scream at them.   Don’t you realize!? I wanted to shout, don’t you realize this is a person we’re killing?  This wasn’t a rabid dog or deranged psychopath who had tortured and raped fifteen women.  This was a human being.

My stomach gave a lurch.  I was going to be sick.  God, how could this be happening?  How could they execute someone for doing something he had absolutely no control over?  It wasn’t his fault!  He was the victim of a horrible condition that cursed him with madness once every month.  He wasn’t a murderer!  He wasn’t–

This wasn’t real.  This couldn’t be real.  This had to be some sort of sadistic nightmare.  Any moment now a hand would grab my shoulder and shake me back into wakefulness.  I would open my eyes and see Remus leaning over me, face gentle and concerned.  He would ask me if I was all right and I would say that I was and thank him for waking me.  Smiling, he would return to his bed and I would fall asleep again, knowing that everything was all right.

However, looking into Remus’ tortured and fearful eyes, I knew the truth.  This wasn’t a nightmare.  This was very real.

~Part One~

One month earlier:

Wearily, I strolled into the dormitory I shared with my three best friends.  My Potions exam had been grueling.  It was as if the fumes from all the different concoctions we had prepared had sucked all the energy from me.  I had no idea how I was going to make it through the full moon tonight.  I didn’t even want to think about getting through my classes tomorrow.

I glanced around the quiet room.  James and Peter were in the library, studying, but Remus was sitting on his bed.  I was about to greet him when I noticed that he was holding something to his lips.  It was mostly concealed by his hand but it looked like some sort of flask.  Judging by the expression that contorted his face, whatever he was drinking tasted vile.

“What’s that?” I asked when Remus set the now empty jar behind him on the bed.

If Remus was surprised by my presence, it didn’t show.  “Perhaps the worst-tasting brew to ever be created,” he smiled.

It was an evasion.  He didn’t want to answer so he called upon an irrelevant response in hopes that it would satisfy me.  Or, if nothing else, that I would simply let the matter drop.  Normally, I would have.  Remus was a private person and I understood that there were many things he didn’t share with me even though we were very close friends.  A twisting in my gut prevented me from doing that now.

If the potion had been given to him by Madam Pomfrey to cure some injury or sickness, he would have told me.  If it was part of some assignment for one of the classes we didn’t share, he would have told me.  His avoiding an honest answer could only mean one thing.

I crossed the room in two strides and reached around him to pick up the flask.  A black sticker ran down its length.  It was labeled with only one word: werewolf.

Worried and annoyed, I met Remus’ cool gaze.  He had shifted on his bed so that he could lean back against the wall.  His pose was deceptively relaxed; I could see the slight tension that wracked his frame.  Being considerably less impulsive than me, he didn’t rush to take the small container back or chastise me for having invaded his privacy.  He simply held out his hand.

Sighing, I returned the jar.  “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.” I demanded, sounding angrier than I intended.

Remus didn’t respond, not verbally anyway.  His eyes shifting downward was answer enough.

Was he trying to get himself killed?  “Damn it, Remus!” I exclaimed sharply, “Don’t you remember what happened the last time you took a potion that was supposed to counteract the madness of the wolf?”

“Of course I remember,” he spoke with deliberate slowness, emphasizing each word.

“Then why are you taking this?” I gestured towards the flask in his hand.  Why was he doing something so reckless?  I was the one who was supposed to do brash, idiotic things.  Remus was the calm, rational one.  He was the one who always thought everything through and never took any unnecessary risks.

His eyes fluttered shut briefly.  “You’ve been there for almost every full moon for nearly seven years, Sirius.  You know why.”

“Remus, I realize that it’s hard and painful but this isn’t the answer.  It’s foolish to take a potion that is supposed to help you but has never actually been tested on werewolves before.  You have no idea what it could do to you!”

“I see.  And you’re obviously an expert on doing the logical, safe thing,” he replied, a hint of cynicism creeping into his tone.

“That’s the point!”  He was infuriating.  “Doesn’t it mean something if even I think it’s reckless?”  He couldn’t keep doing this.  He couldn’t keep risking his life on the hope that an experimental potion might lessen the pain or lunacy of his transformations, not when the consequences could be so destructive.

“All right!” he snapped, surprising me with his sudden outburst.  Taking a deep breath, he collected himself and proceeded more sedately.  “All right.  It’s…not exactly the soundest or most intelligent thing to do but…Sirius, I have to.  Having you and the others there is… I can’t even describe how much it’s helped me, how much you’ve helped me.  But…” he shook his head, “it still hurts so much and it’s still so difficult.  I just…want it to stop.”

I settled myself across from Remus on the bed.  “I understand that you’re desperate, Remus,” I softened my tone to a whisper, “but you can’t keep putting yourself in jeopardy like this.  Last time–” I swallowed.  “Last time you drank a potion your transformation into Moony took nearly forty minutes.  You were screaming the entire time.”  I shuddered at the memory.  “I-I’ve never seen you in such pain.  Then–” my throat tightened and my voice wavered. 

“Sirius–”

“Then you just lay there, curled into a tight ball, the entire night.  When you changed back you practically went into convulsions.  Your skin was clammy and burning.  I thought – I thought you were going to…” –die.  I had thought he was going to die.  As James and Peter had helplessly looked on, I had drawn his head into my lap and tried to rouse him.  He had grabbed my wrist and choked out my name before losing consciousness.  Madam Pomfrey had kept him in the hospital wing for three days while he recuperated.

I felt a hand on my arm.  “Sirius, look at me.”

Reluctantly, I raised my gaze and met his expressive emerald eyes.  They were filled with understanding, gratitude, annoyance, and an abundance of emotions I couldn’t put a name to.

“I’m sorry that I worried you.  I’m sorry.  I just–” he bit his lip, “I can’t read about these potions in the paper without testing them.  Because…what if one of them actually works?”

“And what if one of them actually kills you?” I countered.

Remus didn’t have an answer for that.  At least, not one he cared to share.  Instead, he just silently stared at me, conviction and stubbornness blazing in his eyes.  I wasn’t going to talk him out of this.  Not now, not ever.  His mind was set and there was no reasoning with him.

It just filled me with such anxiety.  Not having any idea how he would react to the potion was frightening.  I didn’t want anything to happen to him.  “You must promise me one thing,” I entreated.  “Next time you take one of these potions…tell me.  Last time, part of what made it so horrible was the fact that we didn’t have any idea why you were–”

“I promise,” he interrupted me, tightening his hold on my forearm for a second.

“Thanks,” I paused, floundering for something to say.  “Where did you get the potion?”

He lowered his hand.  “The only place I could afford it.”

Frustration surged within me once more.  That meant he had gone to the cheap side of Knockturn Alley.  No wonder he hadn’t joined James, Peter, and I at Hogsmeade last weekend.  “If you’re going to buy these potions you at least need to be sure they’re made properly,” I seethed between gritted teeth.

He didn’t respond.  It went without saying that he didn’t have the kind of money that took.  His family was quite poor and, for obvious reasons, he had had trouble finding a summer job.

“If you had asked me I would have given you the money.”  I had saved up quite a bit from my last employment.

“I know,” he assured me, “but I don’t want your charity.”

Damn it.  Why did he have to be so stubborn?  I was trying to help him.  “I don’t care if you want it!” I exploded, startling the both of us.  “You’ll take the money anyway.  If you insist on using these potentially unsafe potions then I’m going to insist that you buy them at reputable stores.”

Remus opened his mouth, clearly intent on arguing, but I cut him off.  “This is not up for debate,” I stated firmly, getting up and quickly leaving the room.  I needed some air before Remus came at me with his rebuttal.  I needed some air before I was forced to watch the effects that potion would have on his transformations.  I was too worried and annoyed to wait inside.  What if it was worse than last time?  What if it really did kill him?

~~~~~~~~~~

Sighing deeply, I jogged away from the Forbidden Forest.  Usually, strangely, standing at its edge and staring into the darkened mass of gnarled trees soothed me.  Tonight it did nothing.  I was just as apprehensive going into this full moon as I had been leaving the dormitory an hour earlier.  My worry for Remus’ wellbeing was not easy to forget or push out of mind and thought.

“Sirius! Wait up!”  Coming to an unwilling stop, I turned to see Jeremy running towards me.  He seemed to have come from out of the Forbidden Forest; perhaps he was returning from an errand for Hagrid.

Jeremy Mikkena had recently arrived from America.  He was a Squib that had been born into a very…prosperous and proud family.  They, like my own delightful parents, were great supporters of the belief that only pure-bloods should be allowed to practice magic.  According to Jeremy, they had been shamed to have such a ‘defective’ son and had effectively disowned him.  Having very little money he had worked his way to England in hopes of ‘starting a new life’, as he put it.  As fate would have it, he had chanced to run into Dumbledore who had offered him a position at Hogwarts.

Jeremy grinned as he caught up with me.  “You’re troubled again,” he noted, forgoing a greeting, as usual.

I smiled faintly.  “And you, shockingly, are not.”  It was one of the things that had first drawn me to Jeremy.  Honestly, he was a rather homely looking young man.  He had short black hair, small brown eyes, and a thin, drawn face.  Faint scars ran down both his cheeks, a permanent testament to the brutality of his father.  He was, however, always smiling, always happy.  No matter what obstacles life directed his way he accepted them cheerfully and without complaint.  It was refreshing to meet someone who simply took things as they came and made the best of them.

“Life’s too short to spend it brooding,” he reminded me, eyes bright.  “What’s wrong this time?”

I waved a dismissive hand, trying to pretend it was a minor irritation.  “I’m just worried about a friend.”

“Hmm.  Remus?” he surmised.

I frowned.  That was eerie.  “How did you know?”

“Well, James has been insanely happy ever since he got together with Lily.  I can’t see why you’d be worried about him,” he shrugged.  “Remus is your closest friend after James, I’d say.”

How perceptive.  “He’s just doing something I’d rather he not,” I explained vaguely.  I was glad that Jeremy and I were friends but I wasn’t about to elaborate regarding Remus.

He nodded.  “Hopefully everything works out there.”  Wonderful, he wasn’t going to probe.  “I’d better get going now.  There’s a lot I need to get done for Dumbledore tonight.  He needs this…mushroom pileus…thing jarred so that I can send it to someone in New Zealand the day after tomorrow.  Any idea what it is?”

I smiled.  “We use it certain potions. You’ll be at the Quidditch game tomorrow, right?”  I had invited Jeremy to sit with Remus, Peter, and I.  He had very few friends and I thought they’d take well to him.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he promised.  “I’ll see you then.”  Having said that, he turned and ran towards his hut, which was near the forest.

“Bye!” I called after him.  Looking up at the sky I realized I needed to be going as well.  Moonrise was in less than ten minutes and I had to meet James and Peter in the dormitory so that we could sneak out to the Whomping Willow under the Invisibility Cloak.

Turning, I sprinted towards the castle.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you suppose is wrong with him?” James asked.

Placing my hand on Remus’ heaving chest I stayed close as he was overcome by another fit of violent coughing.  “He took another potion today,” I explained to Prongs and Wormtail, smoothing back my shaking friend’s tangled and sweat dampened hair.

I should have known that my relief had hit too soon.  Remus’ transformation had passed without incident; it had been no more painful or horrific than usual.  As a wolf he had behaved no differently than I had come to expect over the last seven years.  With moonset approaching fast, we had returned to the shack and I had allowed myself to think that we had gotten lucky and that the potion had had absolutely no effect on Remus whatsoever.  It wasn’t until his body had twisted itself back into human form that I realized something was wrong.

Instead of falling into a quiet daze as he usually did post-transformation, he had started wheezing frantically for breath.  Then tremors had seized his body as he coughed and tried to curl into himself.  Every so often he would quiet down but just when I thought the sickness had passed he’d start up again.

“Remus,” I murmured just to ensure he knew I was here.  I wasn’t certain he had heard me, though.  His face was red and his eyelids were quivering but never quite shutting entirely.  Darting frantically about without settling on anything, his pupils were glazed and abnormally dilated.  I could barely see a sliver of emerald green surrounding them.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.  He would be fine.  This wasn’t nearly as bad as the result of the last potion.  He wasn’t screaming or convulsing.  Soon, this fit would pass and he would be fine.  Maybe he’d even recover normally and be able to go to the Quidditch match with us.  If he didn’t, maybe he’d be well enough for me to stay in the dormitory with him and-

“S-Siri…?” he tried to gasp my name but was cut short by a ragged cough.  Suddenly, he groaned and rolled away from me.  Using unsteady hands to lift himself slightly he sputtered and vomited onto the already filthy floor.

My friend sagged back down.  Scooting forward, I settled my hand on his shoulder.  His breathing had evened out and he wasn’t shaking anymore.  A hint of healthy color was livening his cheeks and he had even closed his eyes.

I felt my heartbeat return to normal, or at the very least, stop pounding.  He was going to be all right.  Until the next time he reads about a new potion that he has to ‘test’, a voice inside my head reminded me.

I shook away that nagging concern and instead asked, “How are you doing?”

A hint of a smile teased the corners of his lips.  “Better now,” he croaked faintly.  “I suppose I have an ‘I told you so’ coming.”

Frowning, I shook my head.  “No.  Of course not.  You know I want–”

“Do you guys hear that?” Peter interrupted suddenly.

I fell silent and cocked my head to the side.  There were several sets of loud footfalls approaching and…voices.  I couldn’t make out any words but they sounded agitated.  “Something’s wrong,” I muttered, feeling a pulse of uneasiness clench my chest.  I turned towards James and Peter, who were hovering behind me.  “Get under the cloak.  Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore still don’t know about you.  No one should see you here.”

James nodded and picked up the Invisibility Cloak.  Fortunately, he had already retrieved it from the cupboard.  Peter stepped close to him and, sharing a worried look with me, my best mate spread the silvery material over the both of them and vanished from my sight.  Moments later, a tumult burst through the opening that led to the Whomping Willow in the form of at least seven witches and wizards, a very frantic Madam Pomfrey, and a troubled Dumbledore.

One of the wizards, flanked by two others, approached Remus and I.  He was an elderly man with graying shoulder-length black hair and piercing blue eyes.  My stomach flipped unsettlingly when I recognized him.  Barrington Vladimir Beechcroft.  The Minister of Magic.  What was he doing here?  He wouldn’t have come unless something was seriously wrong.

Automatically, I positioned myself in front of my friend.  Remus was strong, stronger than James and I sometimes gave him credit for.  He was, however, unarguably at his most vulnerable directly after a transformation.  I wouldn’t let them overwhelm him.

Seeking reassurance, I glanced at the Headmaster.  I couldn’t catch his eye, though.  His gaze kept flickering back and forth between Remus and the Minister, seeming to grow more somber with the passing of every moment.  I swallowed, my apprehension mounting.  I had never seen him this grave before.  Not even when I had explained why I had told Snape how to get past the Whomping Willow.

“Remus J. Lupin?” the Minister looked past me as if I wasn’t even there.  I didn’t like the disdainful glimmer in his eyes or the contempt in his voice.  He was behaving as if it was repulsive to merely be in the same room as my friend.

“Yes,” Remus replied, sounding remarkably collected.

“Registered werewolf since the age of five?” his eyes narrowed.

“Yes.”  I felt him inch closer to me, no doubt in an unwitting search for support.

Beechcroft smirked.  “You’re under arrest for the murder of Evelyn Milay.  You are to accompany us to the Werewolf Confinement Center at the Ministry of Magic.  If you resist we will use any amount of force necessary to subdue you.”

Remus remained completely silent and motionless behind me but I was unable to contain a startled gasp.  Murder?  Evelyn?  Remus?  The words swarmed my thoughts before settling into a concept that I could grasp.  Even then, even with the Minister of Magic standing no more than five feet away from me, I wanted to disbelieve what was happening.  They were arresting Remus for murder? This had to be someone’s idea of a twisted joke.  And ‘any amount of force necessary to subdue’ him?  An image flashed in my mind, an image of Remus on the floor, clutching his stomach as he was pounded into unconsciousness.

Feeling as if I would be violently ill, I swallowed past the dryness of my throat. 

Wait.  Dumbledore was speaking.  What was he saying?  “...have no evidence that proves he is connected to this tragedy.  You–”

“He is a werewolf!” the Minister yelled without even glancing at the Headmaster, “that is all the evidence we need.  Get up,” he ordered Remus in an unpitying tone.

“I’ll have to check him over first,” Madam Pomfrey protested shrilly, “he might need–”

“You will do no such thing.  Get up,” he repeated coldly.

Such hate.  They were treating him with such hate.  It was one thing to know that the law had very little regard for people with his condition.  It was quite another to witness it.  Dazedly, I climbed to my feet and turned around.  Remus was lying on the floor staring at the Minister and the witches and wizards that flanked him.  His eyes were wide and his face was pale.  He was frightened.

Mustering a reassuring smile, I extended my hand.  When Remus gripped it tightly, I helped him stand.  “His clothes are in the cupboard,” I said, squeezing his fingers for a moment before releasing him.  “I’ll get them.”

“He’s a werewolf.  He doesn’t need them,” was the sneering response.

Spinning to face him, I was quick to defend my fellow Marauder.  “Remus is my friend, he’s not–”

“Sirius,” I was stopped by both Dumbledore and Remus uttering my name in a warning tone.  “Do not concern yourself,” the professor continued, “I will accompany Remus and these…gentlemen – and women – to ensure that your friend is not harmed.”  He watched the Minister avidly as he said the last two words.

Disconcertingly, Beechcroft’s smirk returned.

I wanted to throttle him for treating Remus as if he had already been convicted of this murder.  God, he was treating him even worse than that!  Even convicted felons were shown more respect than this!  Remus was not a monster!  He was not some mindless demon who was going to devour the wizarding world in its sleep. 

I held my tongue and glared balefully at the Minister.  It was safe to assume that at that moment I felt as much hatred for him as he did for my friend.

“Seize him,” the Minster ordered with a flick of his hand.

Two of the wizards immediately stepped forward and approached Remus, one on either side.  One of them roughly grabbed my friend’s arms and yanked them behind his back as the other pulled out his wand and muttered a charm that would keep Remus’ wrists bound together.

Then they pushed him with such force that Remus had to stumble forward a couple of steps to prevent himself from falling.  Two witches separated themselves from the rest and hastened to walk in front of my friend as he silently and calmly approached the exit of the shack.  Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, and the Minister of Magic and his remaining wizards followed.

Helplessly, I watched them lead my naked and restrained friend away.

~Part Two~

The footsteps and hushed murmurings faded into silence.  They were gone.  I stared at the vacant spot where Remus had been lying only minutes earlier, my eyes focusing on the pinkish vomit.  It seemed almost abstract, like something from another lifetime…

I most likely would have stayed like that, gazing unblinkingly into space, for an indefinite amount of time if it hadn’t been for James.  “Sirius,” he said.

I forced my eyes to follow the sound of his voice.  He and Peter were standing in the far corner of the room, no doubt having moved there to avoid being run into and discovered.  They both looked as confused and shaken as I felt.

“What, exactly, was all that about?” he asked as he folded up his Invisibility Cloak.

I scoffed.  “Am I supposed to know?”

“Remus is closer to you than he is to anyone,” Peter pointed out the obvious.  “He would have told you if he’d–”

“If he’d what?” I snapped, venting my maelstrom of emotions on the first available victim.  “Murdered someone?  Remus did not do this – whatever happened, it wasn’t him!”

“–if he’d known he was in trouble,” Peter finished, sounding defiant and looking to James for support.

“I think that Remus was just as surprised as we were,” James interjected smoothly.  “We’re not going to figure out anything by staying here.  Let’s get back to the common room.  In the morning, when people start waking up, we’ll see if anyone knows what happened to Evelyn.”

“Yeah,” I agreed moodily, almost not wanting to learn what had occurred while we were off gallivanting through the Forbidden Forest..  Why did they suspect Remus?  Was it simply because he was a werewolf?  “Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe that no one has heard anything!” I wearily allowed myself to fall onto my bed.  An announcement had been made early this morning that had sent all sorts of rumors flying back and forth.  The common room was abuzz with speculation as to why all students were confined to their house dormitories and why Quidditch had been canceled but there was no talk of Evelyn being murdered.  Apparently, whatever had happened was being kept very quiet.

“Lily doesn’t even know about Evelyn.  Do you reckon I should tell her?” James asked, leaning back against his dresser.

Evelyn was a seventh year in Hufflepuff.  She was also Lily’s best friend.  “Not until we know exactly what happened.  Besides, she’ll want to know how you know that Evelyn’s dead.  What are you going to tell her?  That you overheard it while hiding under an Invisibility Cloak so that the Minister of Magic wouldn’t see you as he arrested Remus?”

James shrugged.  “I need to tell her something.  Sooner or later she’s bound to notice that Evelyn’s missing.”

Honestly, what did it matter?  Remus had been arrested and my imagination was all too eager to provide images of what the Ministry might be doing to him.  There were very few laws protecting werewolves.  A simple interrogation could easily turn into something else if the people asking the questions were ignorant bigots.  I sighed.  There were very few people who weren’t ignorant bigots when it came to accepting werewolves. It was more important to discover why they thought Remus had killed Evelyn than to explain said murder to Lily. 

“Does the Ministry of Magic have some sort of screwed up policy of arresting every local registered werewolf every time there’s a crime?” Peter asked.

“No,” I answered immediately.  “Even they aren’t that prejudiced.  They only do that if–” Oh my God.  I was an idiot for not having thought of it before.  The only reason they’d arrest Remus for a murder they didn’t have proof he had committed was if that ‘murder’ had been the result of a werewolf attack.  “Evelyn wasn’t murdered!” I exclaimed.

“Did I miss the news bulletin that just announced that?” James asked skeptically.

Shaking my head, I stood up and began pacing back and forth.  “She was killed by a werewolf.  Think about it.  Whenever an unidentified werewolf commits any sort of crime, all werewolves in the area are arrested until they discover who the perpetrator is.  Evelyn no doubt was killed somewhere near the castle.  Remus is a registered werewolf – probably the only one at or near Hogwarts – so they automatically took him into custody.”

Before either of them could answer, Professor McGonagall’s voice resounded throughout the dormitory.  “All classes for the remainder of the week have been canceled.  Students are to remain in their house dormitories at all times except for when meals are served in the Great Hall.  Thank you.”

“Well.  This is shaping up to be quite a day.  Evelyn’s dead.  Remus’ been arrested.  And classes have been canceled,” James said, voice tired.  In the seven years we had been here they had never canceled classes.  Of course, in the seven years we had been here no one had ever been killed either.

If Evelyn really had been killed by a werewolf then we needn’t worry about Remus.  We had been with him all night.  He hadn’t killed anyone.  He’d tell them as much when they gave him Veritaserum.

It certainly sounded reasonable in my head.

My eyes drifted to Remus’ empty bed.  Something told me it wasn’t going to be that simple.  How could it be?  Nothing regarding the Ministry and werewolves was reasonable.  We were dealing with the same organization that would perform a Dementor’s Kiss on a werewolf that converted another person.  Did I honestly expect them to treat him at all fairly?

“James,” I spun to face him, “What are we going to do?”

He frowned.  “Do?  There’s nothing we can do, Sirius.  Except wait.”

Wait?  He expected me to wait?  Remus was in prison and he expected me to wait.  I wasn’t going to wait to be told what had happened last night.  James and Peter could do that if they wanted to.  I wasn’t going to wait and see what the Ministry did with Moony.

Letting out a choked cry of frustration, I hit the mattress with my fist.  While I had many skills, waiting wasn’t among them.  That was why, when James snuck off to find Lily, and Peter disappeared to keep an eye on what was being said in the common room, I determined to figure out everything I could about Evelyn’s death.  Grabbing my best friend’s Invisibility Cloak and snagging the Marauder’s Map, I used one of the many secret passages we had discovered to leave the dormitory unnoticed.

~~~~~~~~~~

I suppressed a sigh.  Dumbledore was pacing.  Again.  He had arrived in his office over a half hour earlier.  Instead of calling in Professor McGonagall to discuss the situation he had passed the time by intermittently sitting next to the fire or walking back and forth in front of it.  This was pointless!  I had thought – obviously mistakenly – that if I trailed the Headmaster I would learn something important.  Instead, he had returned to Hogwarts only to shut himself in here to…contemplate.

Dumbledore came to a stop and slowly turned away from the fire.  He was gazing in my direction, towards the… Wait.  Was he looking directly at me?  I tensed, almost imperceptibly.  It was unsettling to have his avid blue eyes fixed on me from behind his half moon spectacles.  It was almost as if he could see me. 

An amused sort of smile fluttered across his lips.  Then he turned away and I relaxed slightly, feeling foolish.  Of course he couldn’t see me.  An Invisibility Cloak would hardly be useful if you were still visible and I hadn’t made so much as a whisper since following him in here.

“Evelyn Milay’s body was found by Hagrid just outside the Forbidden Forest,” he announced as he reclined in the armchair by the fire.  “It was shortly after moonrise.  Hagrid, of course, immediately brought it to my attention.  Upon determining that she was killed by a werewolf I contacted the Ministry of Magic.”

My eyes swept over the room.  There was no one else here.  Who was he talking to?  He had always seemed a bit…mad but this was rather peculiar, even for him.

“A team of investigators – led by the Minister of Magic, no less – was sent to confirm my findings,” he continued as if he frequently had conversations with no one. “Which they did, of course.  Having already come prepared with a list of all registered werewolves in the vicinity, they demanded to know where Remus was confined during the full moons.  He, as you might suspect, is the only registered werewolf for this area.”

’As you might suspect’.  As who might suspect?  He wasn’t…talking to me, was he?  He had seemed to be watching me, though.  And that smile, just before he had sat down and begun telling me exactly what I wanted to know…  He could see me.  He was talking to me.

Idly, I wondered if I should remove the Invisibility Cloak.  It seemed a rather pointless endeavor, after all.

“Despite my attempts to convince them to wait until after moonset, they insisted on entering the Shrieking Shack and taking Remus into custody as quickly as possible.”  It was strange for Dumbledore to be speaking into the fire.  One might have thought he was talking to it.  “Surprisingly, Remus was not there.”  Of course Remus hadn’t been there.  He’d been with us.  They didn’t know that though and it was a pretty damning piece of evidence against him.  “This, in the mind of the Minister, ceiled the case.  Obviously – at least it seemed obvious to him – Remus had found some way to escape and had come across the unfortunate Ms. Milay.”

“More investigators were immediately called over from the Ministry to begin an extensive search of Hogwarts.  It was just after moonset when one of them noticed that the Whomping Willow’s branches were immobilized.  This prompted us to renter the Shrieking Shack to see if, by some miraculous chance, Remus had returned.  Which,” he paused, “he had.”

Oh no!  Peter!  Peter had scurried to the trunk of the Whomping Willow and pressed the notch that froze its deadly branches.  Obviously, he had forgotten to press it again after we had all entered the secret passageway.

“I needn’t explain what occurred once Remus was located.”  No, of course not.  I very clearly remembered his humiliating arrest.  “Once Remus was secured in the Werewolf Confinement Center at the Ministry, I convinced the Minister to give him Veritaserum, which is not normally used in these cases.  Unfortunately, Remus’ responses did not clear him.”

What!?  Remus couldn’t have killed Evelyn!  James, Peter, and I had been with him throughout the entire night, if he had attacked someone we would have noticed!

“However, they did not condemn him either,” Dumbledore added after a beat of silence.

What was that supposed to mean?  Remus had either killed her or he hadn’t.  What could he have possibly said under the influence of Veritaserum that would prove neither his innocence nor his guilt?

“Since his responses were no less than ambiguous, I convinced the Minister to investigate the possibility of having captured the wrong werewolf.  I was about to argue that Remus be released until his guilt could be ascertained when the Minister was called away on urgent business to Romania.” 

Professor Dumbledore abruptly rose to his feet.  Briskly, he walked across the room.  “I was assured he would return this afternoon.  At that time, I will insist that Remus be released to Hogwarts.  If someone – say a friend of his – would like to accompany me, he should know that werewolves in custody are allowed one visitor daily.  He should also be aware that the Ministry will not have clothed or fed Remus.”  Having said this, Dumbledore promptly left his office, whistling as he went.

~~~~~~~~~~

When I returned to the dormitory, via a secret passage, James and Peter were not there.  According to the map, they were in the common room with Lily and about half of the Gryffindor house.  I set the food I had snagged for Remus on my bed.  Then I grabbed him a change of clothes and put those on my bed as well.

What else would he want?  Oh yes, of course.  I approached Remus’ nightstand, pulled out my wand and cast a small revealing charm.  As I had suspected, my friend’s journal appeared.  I was about to add that to the things I was going to bring him when I thought better of it.  What if the guards took it from him?  What if they humiliated him by reading it aloud?  Better to simply give him some parchment and a self-inking quill.   He could copy whatever he wrote into his journal later.

Setting the journal back where it had been I re-cast Remus’ concealing charm. 

What else?  He’d be able to change, eat, and write if he wanted to.  My eyes fell to the book that Remus had left on his pillow.  I smiled when I saw what it was.  The Hobbit.  Knowing that my friend had greatly enjoyed the Lord of the Rings series, I had given him its prequel for his birthday, as well as a new set of the trilogy because his copies belonged to his parents and were falling apart.  He had been delighted as well as surprised that I had remembered his love for Muggle fantasy.

I placed the book on top of his clothes.  Then I carefully packed everything I was taking to Remus inside a daypack.  The Ministry no doubt had strict policies regarding what visitors could and couldn’t give to confined werewolves.  Deciding that it was better to not take any chances, I cast a word-activated concealing charm on the pack.  ‘Padfoot’ would trigger its invisibility and ‘Moony’ would make it visible again.  That way Remus would be able to keep it hidden from the guards.

I sighed.

 It was the day after the full moon.  Instead of resting or at the most, attending classes, he was in prison.  With any luck, Dumbledore would get Remus released into his custody.  What about the murder charges, though?  If Remus couldn’t clear himself with Veritaserum then how else would he be proven innocent?  I’d gladly testify on his behalf but what could I say that he probably hadn’t already?  Madness or no, he could remember the full moon as clearly as I did – if he wanted to.

I sighed again.  Midday meal would be served soon.  I wasn’t hungry.  Or rather, I was hungry but didn’t feel like eating.

Getting up, I spread the Invisibility Cloak around myself.  I needed to go for a walk.

~~~~~~~~~~

Without meaning to, I found myself in exactly the same spot I had been standing just before moonrise.  Like then, it did nothing to erase my worries.  If Remus was found guilty, he’d be executed.  He wouldn’t even get a trial.  He’d–

I was relieved when the sound of a door slamming interrupted my thoughts.  Looking down the long line of trees towards Jeremy’s hut, I saw my friend making his way to the castle.  He didn’t seem very animated, though.  Usually, he went about his everyday duties as if he had a boundless supply of energy.  He was always cheerfully running or jogging his way around Hogwarts.   For the first time since I’d met him, he seemed troubled and weary.

Realizing that a distraction from worrying about Remus would be a good thing, I decided to figure out what was bothering my American friend.  “Jeremy!” I shouted.

Jeremy came to a halfhearted stop and turned around.

Trying to appear unperturbed, I smiled and waved.

A confused frown wrinkled Jeremy’s forehead.  Shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, he continued on his way.

That was odd.  He acted like he didn’t even see me!  Groaning, I very nearly slapped my forehead.  That was because he couldn’t see me.  I was still wearing the Invisibility Cloak.  “Brilliant, Padfoot, simply brilliant,” I mumbled disparagingly.  “Poor fellow probably thinks he’s losing his mind.”

Silently, I debated whether to remove the cloak and catch up with him.  It most likely wouldn’t be a good idea.  If a professor saw me out here I’d be in trouble.  Normally, that wouldn’t concern me but the last thing I needed was to not be able to go with Dumbledore to the Ministry because I was stuck in detention with McGonagall.

Speaking of which, it was well past midday and Dumbledore had said he’d return to the Ministry in the afternoon.  I needed to be in the dormitory when the Headmaster came looking for me.  He was, after all, doing me a favor by allowing me to go with him to see Remus.

~~~~~~~~~~

Werewolf Registration and the Werewolf Confinement Center, as it turned out, were not on the same floor.  The latter was located underground on the lowermost floor of the Ministry of Magic.  One couldn’t even arrive there by using a lift.  After passing through security and registering my wand, Dumbledore had directed me to a rather obscure and well-hidden staircase and instructed me to follow it all the way down.  He had then excused himself to go speak with the Minister.

After descending an interminable number of steps, I had arrived in a small lobby.  Near the entrance was a sign that read: WEREWOLF Confinement Center.  Curiously, I noted that there weren’t any doors in the lobby, except for the one I had just entered through.  Where, exactly, was the prison?

On the opposite end of the room was a small desk.  Sitting in it was a man who appeared to be thoroughly immersed in a book.  He was young – probably no older than twenty-five – and very thin.  He had buzzed brown hair and large yellow eyes that reminded me of those of a cat, of a predator.  I didn’t know why – he hadn’t even said anything – but I automatically took a disliking to him.

“Excuse me,” I addressed him as I approached the desk, “I’m here to see Remus J. Lupin.”

“What?” the young man drawled without setting his book aside or even looking up.

“Remus. J. Lupin,” I repeated very slowly through gritted teeth.

“What’s his registration number?” he asked, sounding bored and completely uninterested in helping me.

Registration number?  As in, werewolf registration number?  How was I to know?  It wasn’t as if, on the train to Hogwarts, Remus had introduced himself with: ‘Hello, I’m Remus Lupin.  I’m a registered werewolf.  In case you should ever need to visit me in the Confinement Center, my registration number is 1785-99.’

“I don’t know,” I said, wanting to seize the man’s book and throw it across the room.

“I’m not given any of their names.  Only their numbers,” he stated as he flipped a page.

This man was infuriating.  How could he not have their names?  Even animals in zoos had names!  Thunderscales – the famous one-winged dragon – was never referred to as Norwegian Ridgeback 784! 

“He was brought in early this morning by–” I stopped short when I realized he was gleefully ignoring me.  Leaning over the desk, I grabbed the book from his hands, shut it, and slammed it down hard.  “Listen to me,” I grated at the startled wizard, “I’m here to visit the werewolf that was arrested this morning and you will take me to him even if I have to hex you.”

“All right, all right,” he held up his hands and climbed to his feet, “No need to get ugly.  I’ll let you see your murdering friend.  First…”

This was unbelievable!  Were Dumbledore and my friends the only wizards alive that had any sense at all?  “He is not a murderer,” I interrupted icily.

He gave me a strange look but decided to let my comment pass.  “First, you must sign in here,” he indicated a piece of parchment that had been stuck on my end of the desk.  Bending over slightly, I saw that I was expected to print and sign my name, indicate the time of my arrival and departure, and detail the nature of my visit.

After filling everything out, I looked up at the obnoxious wizard expectantly.

He grinned falsely, sending a chill down my spine.  He wasn’t as inept as he led on.  A gleam in his eyes told me he was really quite alert and calculating.  “You must also check your wand.  You may recollect it on your way out.”

Reluctantly, I parted with my wand.  The man took it and placed it inside one the desk’s many drawers.  Then he turned around and approached the wall directly behind his desk.  Taking out his own wand, he tapped the wall several times in what seemed to be entirely random places.  He murmured a few words that I couldn’t make out and tapped the wall a few more times.

There was no gradual shifting or fading of concrete beams.  The wall was entirely solid and then, suddenly, it wasn’t.  Instead, a door had appeared.  On the door, in glowing red letters, it read: Werewolf Confinement Center Cells 01-50.

Lowering his hand, he opened the door.  As he entered, he looked over his shoulder and said, “Well don’t just stand there, come on!”

Sighing in irritation, I walked around his desk and followed him through the door, which disappeared behind us, leaving only a wall.

Before I could even take in my surroundings, I was struck by a fowl, pungent odor that nearly made me gag.  It smelled like…shit.  Like a centuries old bathroom where the toilets didn’t flush, one that had never been cleaned.  It was nauseating.  The stench was so strong that it made my eyes sting as I tried not to choke.

By the time I got used to the odor, my head was throbbing. 

Too revolted to form coherent thoughts, I examined the Confinement Center.  We were standing on one end of a long, narrow passage that had a row of cells on either side.  From where we were I could only see into the first couple of them.  Each one appeared to be no bigger than a twin size bed and contained nothing on which the prisoners could sit or sleep.  Just a floor.  And a medium-sized bucket.    I felt like throwing up when I realized what it was for.

No wonder it stank.

It was filthy.  Everything was filthy.  At some point the cells had probably been a sterile white.  Now, they were stained in different shades of brown.  Coagulated beads of moisture ran down the walls.  In places, the paint was pealing.  There were pools of dried blood on the floor and trails of crimson on the lower half of the walls, as well as what looked like claw marks.

They had to endure transformations in here.  In a room that wasn’t a sixth of the size of the Shrieking Shack.  Remus’ full moons had been horrible when he was alone, confined in that wretched place.  He had torn everything in it to shreds and had always turned on himself.  For these werewolves, confined here…it was unimaginable.  In wolf form they’d hear each other’s howls and practically kill themselves trying to get to one another.

The man was speaking and walking.  He was already a good twenty feet in front of me by the time I realized.  I forced myself to follow him, forced myself to move.  One foot in front of the other.  One foot in front of the other.  I wanted to focus on him, wanted to focus on what he was saying, but I couldn’t.  I couldn’t keep my eyes from examining the cell as we passed them.

Now, I was seeing what perhaps, before, my mind had kindly blocked out for me.  The people.  The poor people who were trapped here.  Were they people?  I found myself wondering that in an entirely different manner than the rest of the wizarding world, which seemed to loathe werewolves.  Were they people or were they ghosts?  They looked like ghosts.  They looked like skeletons.

Some of them, the ones who had obviously been here less time, were skinny.  The rest… The rest were more than skinny.  They were like an outline of bones with sunken flesh attached to it.  Flesh that was riddled with old scars and fresher looking claw marks.  Many of them had purplish bruises covering their stomachs and sides, or black eyes and split lips.  As if… I swallowed.  As if they had been beaten.

That wasn’t the reason they looked like ghosts, though.  They looked like ghosts because it seemed like there was no spirit left in them.  It seemed like this place had sucked the life out of them.  They had nothing left.  Only despair.  Their blank, wandering eyes didn’t even posses the smallest glimmer of hope.  They weren’t people.  They were the shell that was left once the soul was destroyed.  The broken shell.

Oh God.  What was this?  What was this place?  Hell on earth.  A Dementor short of Azkaban.  This was more sickening than anything I had the capability to imagine.  This was… I couldn’t even describe the atrocity that this was.   If I hadn’t already known that werewolves were executed or given a Dementor’s Kiss for killing or biting people, I wouldn’t even have believed that this was real.  I would have thought it was a nightmare the likes of which I had never before endured.

“Why – Why are they here?” someone asked, voice dry and strained.  My voice, I realized dimly.  My question.  I had spoken without even being aware of it.

“They’ve been deemed a danger to society,” he answered as casually as if he was discussing something as bland as the weather.  “Personally, I think the whole lot of ‘em should be here.  Or, better yet, in Azkaban.  Azkaban only gets the ones that have killed more than one person.  The Dementors get the ones that have bitten people.  We get the ones that have committed any other sort of crime.  We also hold the murderers until they are executed, sent to prison, or soul-sucked.”

My fists clenched until my blunt nails were digging into my palms.  I wanted to pummel him.  I wanted to throw him to the ground and just punch and kick him until he was a bloody mess.  He was so narrow-minded.  He was so intolerant.  I wanted to hurt him so badly.  Don’t.  Don’t do it, I told myself.  It was more important to visit Remus than it was to get myself kicked out of the Ministry for sending one of its employees to the hospital.

“How long do you hold them here?”  I tried my best to keep the hate from marring my tone but it was still dangerously malevolent.

“Oh, just until they’re too old and feeble to cause any damage.”  He sounded regretful, as if he thought they should be here forever.

I tried to sort it out in my mind.  A werewolf was convicted of petty theft.  Instead of getting the punishment any normal witch or wizard would receive, he’d be thrown in here for a good portion of his life.  How grand.  What was wrong with the Ministry of Magic?  They were the ones that deserved to be locked away like this, for enforcing such barbarism

“Do you ever–” I searched for the right words, “–clean them up?”

He shot me a look over his shoulder, eyes narrowed.  “We hose them off every once in a while.”

’Hose them off?’  Like dragons?  Like animals?

I focused on the werewolves again.  This time I noticed something I had missed before.  There were no bars.  There was nothing but air separating the cells from the passageway.  What in the world was keeping these people imprisoned?

“Er…why aren’t there any–”

“Energy fields,” he interrupted me, as if he knew what I was going to ask and had been expecting it.  “We use energy fields instead of bars.  They zap anyone who touches them.”

“Right!” I erupted bitterly, “So, on the full moons when they’re in wolf form and are throwing themselves against walls and tearing themselves to pieces, they also get the added torment of a zapping energy field.”

He looked back at me again, frowning.  It was as if he couldn’t believe I was outraged by this.  “They’re only werewolves,” he reminded me.

I bit back my furious reply.  It’s not worth it, I told myself.  Just hold your tongue.

He came to a stop in front of me.  “Here we are.  Prisoner thirty-three.”

Thirty-three?  Was that all?  It seemed as if we had been walking down this hallway for an endless period of time.  It seemed as if we had passed hundreds of cells, not just over thirty.

I walked forward until I was standing in front of the same cell that this despicable man was peering into.  Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and shifted to look inside it.

There, huddled into a filthy corner, was Remus.

~Part Three~

Remus had taken what was his normal pre- and post-moon position.  Sitting with his back against the wall, he was hugging his legs with the desperation of a man clinging to floating planks of wood while drowning.  His chin was settled into the space between his knees.  His eyes were open but unmoving, almost unblinking. 

His gaze…his gaze made me want to cry.  It wasn’t distraught.  It wasn’t frightened.  It was…dead.  There was no discernable emotion there at all.  It was as if he was just…there, as if he wasn’t processing anything, as if he had shut himself off from his surroundings because it was simply easier than being aware of this wretched place.

He didn’t even realize that I was here.  He was staring right at me but he didn’t even see me.

I swallowed thickly.  Get a hold of yourself, Sirius.  I needed to be strong.  I had no right to feel as if I was about to fall apart.  This Confinement Center was revolting but I was just visiting, Remus…Remus was trapped here.  I had to pull myself together and be here for him.  He needed a friend.  He needed me.

“Can I go in?” I asked weakly, noting that Remus didn’t even move, didn’t make any sign of having heard me.  It didn’t seem as if they had harmed him, though.  There were just a few scratches from last night.  That was something, at least.

“You can stay for a half hour,” the man informed me.  “Be ready to step inside as soon as I release the energy field,” he said, raising his wand.

Of course they would have time limits on how long someone could spend visiting a werewolf.  It wasn’t as if they could show the simple decency of letting them have the comfort of their friends and family. 

The wizard murmured a charm and flicked his wrist in a half-circle.  There was a loud hum as a sort of electric flash shimmered across the opening of the cell.  Tentatively, I stepped forward into the filthy abode.  Behind me, I heard him mutter a few more words.  The following buzz told me the energy field was in place again.

“I’ll come get you when your time is up,” he said.

I waited until his footsteps had faded into silence before I did anything.  Crouching in front of Remus, I lightly touched one of his hands and smiled.  “Remus,” I whispered, “It’s Sirius…I’m here to visit you.”

My friend didn’t shift.  His eyes didn’t move.  He didn’t speak.  He remained exactly as he had been before.

Merlin, what had they done to him?  “Dumbledore was kind enough to bring me to the Ministry.  He’s talking to the Minister about letting you come home to Hogwarts.  With any luck, you’ll be out of here by tonight.”

Nothing.  No reaction at all.

Fighting off the embarrassing urge to cry, I moved my hand so that it was resting against his head.  Slowly, I caressed his hair.  Not knowing what else to do, I continued talking.  “I brought you some things.  See…I cast this concealing charm on a daypack and walked in with it strapped around my shoulder…so that no one could see that I was carrying anything.  I thought – I thought they were going to find it when we went through security but Dumbledore’s a well-respected man so they didn’t even search us.  They just registered our wands.”

I sighed wearily.  Couldn’t he just give some indication that he was hearing me?  It was as if he was in the trance that normally followed his transformations at moonset.  “I brought you clothes and…and food.  I think I remembered all your favorites… I have fettuccine Alfredo with chicken and mushrooms.  I cast a warming charm on it so it’ll be hot for you.  There’s strawberries too… I even grabbed about ten bars of chocolate.  I know it’s not as good as Honeydukes’ but…” I trailed off into a defeated silence.

“Oh God, Remus…please say something,” I pleaded, searching his face for some hint of recognition.

Finally, his eyes met mine.  The dead look vanished and was replaced by one of utter helplessness.  “I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered so softly that it was almost as if I was reading his lips.  “I – I’m sorry…  I didn’t mean to worry you.  I don’t know why I didn’t…respond.  I’m just trying to sort things out.  I can’t–” he shook his head, “I don’t know–”

I frowned.  I had never seen him at such a fumbling loss for words before.  I was so often the one who wasn’t able to accurately express myself.  He always seemed to know how to string words together to say exactly what he meant.  “It’s all right,” I stopped him before he could continue.  “You don’t have to explain.”

He lips twitched.  I suspected it was a failed attempt to smile.  “I’m so glad you’re here,” he repeated earnestly.

I wasn’t.  I wanted to help Remus but I didn’t want to be here.  I never wanted to be here.  I wished I had never had to see a place like this or know one existed.

“Can I have my clothes now?” he asked with the slightest hint of humor.

“Of course.  Saying your nickname will reveal the pack, saying mine will make it invisible again,” I explained.  “That way you can hide everything so they don’t take it from you.”

He nodded.  “Moony.”

I looked down at my left side.  The pack had become visible in response to Remus’ use of the trigger word.  Letting my hand fall from his hair, I shrugged the daypack off of my shoulder.  Then I shifted back so that there was enough room to set it between us.

Opening the pack, I pulled out Remus’ clothes and handed them to him.  My friend shakily climbed to his feet and began dressing himself.  As he did, I told him about the rest of the things I had brought him.  “There’s parchment and a self-inking quill…in case you want to write something.  Also, there’s the Hobbit, so that you can read.”

A fully dressed Remus settled himself on the floor again.  This time he sat cross-legged.  “You’re very thoughtful,” he said by way of thanks.  Reaching into the daypack, he pulled out the container of pasta.  Then his hand delved back inside the pack again, fishing for something else.  “Did you…er…bring silverware?” he asked after a few moments of fruitless searching.

The most likely horrified look that crossed my face must have provided him with his response.  Before I could say anything, he briefly touched my shoulder.  “Don’t worry.  I can eat with my hands.”

Utensils.  Of all the things to forget!

Remus opened the container and grabbed a mouthful of steaming fettuccine Alfredo.  Bringing it up to his lips, he ate the noodles and sauce off of his fingers and then hurriedly delved back for more.  Obviously, he was starved.  Not wanting to slow him down, I let him eat in silence.

I couldn’t help but notice how his hands shook.

I was worried about him.  It wasn’t because of how he had been behaving when I first entered, at least not entirely.  After all, there were times when I didn’t feel like speaking or having anything to do with anyone either.  It was this place.  It was the knowledge that he was being held for murder, the horrible fact that they would execute him if he was found guilty.  It was seeing the hate in everyone’s eyes.   How was he coping with it all?

When he had devoured the entire meal, I asked, “How are you holding up?”

Remus paused in the licking of his fingers, eyes clouding.  For the first time since the shack, I saw fear in them.  He didn’t respond until after he had finished lapping up the Alfredo sauce from his hands.  “Not very well,” he replied openly, honestly.

Feeling it best to let him continue without prompting, I waited.

“I need you to tell me something, Sirius,” he turned very solemn eyes to me, “Did I kill Evelyn?”

What? I cocked my head to the side.  That I had not been expecting.  “Don’t you…remember?”

Remus bit his upper lip and shook his head.  “All I remember from last night is waiting in the Shrieking Shack for my transformation to begin.  Then, suddenly, I couldn’t stop coughing and I threw up.  Next thing I knew, I was being…arrested.”

“But why?” I asked, trusting him to make sense of my question.

“The potion.  It’s my best guess.”

The potion.  I had forgotten about the damned bloody potion.  That had to be it, though.  Remus always remembered the full moons.  He might try to suppress the memories but they were there nonetheless.  The only thing that had been different about the last full moon was his taking that accursed potion.  Of course his getting sick after moonset couldn’t miraculously be its only effect.

No wonder Remus hadn’t been able to clear himself with the Veritaserum!  He couldn’t very well tell them he hadn’t killed anyone if he himself didn’t know.

“Sirius…I need to know,” Remus pressed, studying me with an intense, questioning gaze.  “Did I kill her?”

“No!” I responded immediately.  “We were with you all night, you didn’t kill anyone.”

Remus continued to stare at me intently.  “Are you certain?”

I scoffed.  “Of course I’m certain!  How could I not be?  I think I would have noticed something like that.”  ’We were with you all night,’ my own words echoed in my head, making my throat go dry with the realization that they weren’t true.  We hadn’t been with him all night.  We had been with him nearly all night. 

In the excitement that followed moonset, I had forgotten.  I had forgotten about the time Prongs, Wormtail, and I had spent searching for him in the Forbidden Forest because he had managed to get away from us.  We had found him though.  It had been a matter of minutes.  Five, probably.  Not nearly enough time for him to go to the edge of the trees, kill Evelyn, and return to the clearing where we had come across him.  No, not nearly enough time.  So it didn’t matter.  It didn’t matter at all.

“No, Remus, you didn’t kill her,” I assured him, deciding it best not to mention the five minute gap.  I didn’t want him to have any doubt.  Being in this place had to be torture in and of itself, I wouldn’t allow him to keep questioning and doubting himself.

Remus smiled for the first time since I had entered his cell.  When he spoke, relief clouded his voice and sparkled in his eyes.  “I was so worried, Sirius.  All my live I’ve been afraid of this…afraid that I would hurt someone, turn someone into a werewolf, or even kill someone. 

“Then…this morning I was arrested and it terrified me because I didn’t know.  I didn’t know whether I had done it or not.  I’ve been in this cell… I spent all that time trying to force myself to remember but there was nothing…just blackness,” he paused and continued more softly, sadness marring his tone as reality intruded on his joy.  “I was scared that the monster inside me had finally tasted human blood.”

I reached forward to touch his shoulder but Remus captured my hand in his and held it tightly.  “This place–” he choked, eyes fleeting about the barren cell, “I think it would kill me.  I think that eventually…it’d kill me.”

I rubbed my thumb over his clenched fingers.  “Dumbledore will get you out of here soon, Remus,” I promised, praying that it was true.

“What then?” he demanded.  “They won’t drop the charges unless they find another werewolf.  Do you think they’re even looking?  I’ll be found guilty, Sirius, and they’ll–”

“No.  No they won’t,” I interrupted, hating to see his control stripped away.  “I’ll testify for you, Remus.  I’ll go to Dumbledore and tell him to give me Veritaserum.  I’ll tell them that you didn’t kill anyone.”

“You’ll can’t,” he shook his head.  “You’ll have to tell them about Padfoot.  You, Prongs, and Wormtail will be expelled.”

He was right.  I hadn’t even thought about it, but he was right.  There was no way I could explain how I had been with Remus all night without revealing that James, Peter, and I were Animagi.  “So we’ll be expelled!”  How could he even suggest that his life wasn’t worth it?  “I don’t care, Remus.  If it’ll prevent them from executing you for murder, I don’t care.”

Remus smiled wanly.  “I care.  I’m sure that Prongs and Wormtail will too.”

Was he daft?  “Do you honestly hold us graduating from Hogwarts as being more important than saving your life?  Do you honestly think that James and Peter won’t feel the same why I do?”

“James will lose his dream of being an Auror.  You won’t be able to do any of the things you’ve considered doing after Hogwarts either.  Eventually, you’d all grow to resent me.”

“That’s assuming that we even get expelled.  Dumbledore might not–”

“It’s illegal to become an Animagus while you’re underage.  It’s also illegal to become one without registering with the Ministry of Magic.  Not to mention that it’s illegal to release a werewolf into a populated area.  Dumbledore won’t have a choice.  No,” he shook his head, “I won’t let you do it.”

He wouldn’t let me do it?  “If it seems like they’re going to convict you of murder then, I’m sorry Remus, you won’t be able to stop me from doing it.”

“Sirius, I don’t want you to–”

“It’s not your choice, Remus,” I interrupted, voice quiet and firm. “It’s mine.”

I thought that he would continue arguing with me but when he opened his mouth all he said was, “Padfoot.”

I frowned.  I was about to question him when I heard them.  Footsteps.  That horrible man from the desk was coming to tell me I had to leave.  Had it really been a half hour already?  It didn’t seem like it.

Remus released my hand and together, we stood up.  Wanting to give him one last reassurance, I moved forward and hugged him.  My friend immediately responded in kind, holding me close.  “I’m glad you came, Sirius,” he whispered against me.

“I won’t go to Dumbledore unless I have to,” I told him.  “If – if for whatever reason, he can’t get you out of here today, I’ll come back and visit you tomorrow.  Unless…unless you’d rather see James or Peter.”

“Please come,” he pulled back and smiled.  “James and Peter are brilliant but…you’re my best friend, Padfoot.  You know that.”

I nodded.  Yes, I knew.  “I wish…I wish I didn’t have to leave you here.”

Remus didn’t respond.  His eyes were distressed.

Giving his right shoulder a parting squeeze, I turned to face the disgusted looking man.  Obviously, he couldn’t grasp how someone could be friends with a werewolf.  Shaking his head bemusedly, he released the energy field.  When I stepped through, he raised it again.  Then, without saying a single word, he led me out of the terrible Confinement Center.

~~~~~~~~~~

James and Peter were waiting in the dormitory when I returned.  They were sitting on their respective beds talking in quiet voices.  Both turned to look at me when I entered.  I could tell, by the disapproving downturn of his mouth, that my best friend was not happy.  Tiredly, I wondered what I had missed.

“They made an announcement while you were gone,” Peter spoke with measured casualness.  “McGonagall said that Evelyn Milay passed away last night and that funeral services would be held the day after tomorrow.  No word on how it happened.  Made it sound almost like an accident.”

I wasn’t surprised. “They’re just afraid a werewolf scare will sweep the school if they tell the truth.”  I fixed my eyes on James.  “How did Lily take it?”  That was probably why he looked rather gloomy.

“As well as can be expected.  I was with her in the common room when we were told.  She was too shocked to say much of anything for the first few minutes.  Then she told me she wanted to be alone and disappeared into the girls’ dormitory.  She’s been in her room ever since,” he indicated the Marauder’s Map, which was unfolded in front of him on the bedspread.

“Are you going to tell her the truth?” I lay down on my bed, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep.

“That depends on what the truth is,” he replied coolly and I realized that his mood had nothing to do with Lily and everything to do with me.

Shifting so that I was lying on my side, I looked at James.  “What, exactly, do you mean by that?”

James frowned and sighed as if he couldn’t believe I was asking.  “You’re not the only one, you know,” was his softly uttered reply.

“What?”  Was I supposed to be able to interpret that cryptic line?

“You’re not the only one who cares about Remus.”  He ran his fingers through his hair.  Years ago it would have been a useless attempt to keep it from falling on his forehead.  Now it was a habit, one that had only been broken for a short stint in which he’d been doing all sorts of ridiculous things to impress Lily.

“I know that,” I responded, annoyed.  Where was this coming from?

“Really?” he arched a skeptical eyebrow.  “It doesn’t seem like it.  You snuck off to find out everything you could without telling Peter or me.  When we got back we found the map and Invisibility Cloak lying on my bed for anyone to see but there was no sign of you.  You haven’t been in Hogwarts for the last two hours.  Now you’re back and you obviously know something about what happened.  You don’t seem too eager to volunteer the information, though.”

I groaned.  I didn’t feel like dealing with this right now.  “I’m just tired, James.  That’s all.  You have no idea what I…saw.”

“Of course not.  You didn’t let me go with you or even tell me where you were going.”

I chuckled dryly.  “I don’t need to tell you where I’m going.  You’re my best friend, not my mum.”

“I know that,” he replied quietly, dangerously.  “But if I had done the same thing, you’d be furious and you know it.”

My instinctual reaction was to argue but I restrained myself.  He was right.  I wouldn’t have been very happy if he had gone and spied on Dumbledore or if he had gone to the Werewolf Confinement Center without telling me.  It wasn’t as if I had specifically wanted to exclude him, though.  “I went by myself because you said we should wait.”

James jumped to his feet.  “Yeah.  I said that because I didn’t know what else we could do.  I didn’t mean that I wasn’t for doing something, just that I couldn’t think of anything.  You should have included Peter and me in whatever you did because we care about Remus too.  Don’t act as if it’s your own personal crusade to help him just because you know that he’s more important to you than he is to us.”

I sighed.  I should have asked him if he wanted to come with me.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t think about any of that.  I was just…worried about Remus and what might happen to him.”

James settled himself on my bed.  I sat up so that we could be level.  His eyes had softened and I could see that most of his frustration had ebbed.  “Don’t you think I know that?  You care about him just as much as you care about me…just as much as I care about you.  I’d be crazy with worry if you were in this situation instead of him.  Just remember…you don’t have to deal with all of this alone.  Peter and I are concerned too and…even if we weren’t… You and me, we’re best friends.  I’ll always have your back, Padfoot.”

I smiled, not really knowing what to say.  James and I spent almost all of our time together.  We were just about inseparable.  Brothers.  I would do anything for him.  He would do anything for me.  I had always known that.  It was just nice to hear him say it.

James was blushing slightly.  “So…er…tell us what you know,” he said, trying to cover up his embarrassment.

Peter, who I had almost forgotten was in the room, climbed onto my bed as well.  “Yeah, we want to help.”

“All right,” I scooted back towards the headboard to give us more room.  Then I proceeded to tell them everything I had learned, including the fact that I didn’t know if Dumbledore had succeeded in convincing the Minister to release Remus.  Upon leaving the Confinement Center, I had found McGonagall waiting to bring me back to Hogwarts.  The Headmaster was still at the Ministry.

When I finished, James titled his head back and stared at the ceiling for a good long while before saying anything.  “Remus is really in trouble, Sirius.  If he doesn’t remember what happened and they don’t find another werewolf that could have done this…” he let his words fade into silence, knowing he didn’t have to elaborate.

“But we can testify, James,” I protested.  “If they don’t find another werewolf we’ll explain that we’re Animagi and that we let him out of the shack.  We’ll tell them that he couldn’t possibly have killed her because he was with us.  With the Veritaserum, they’ll have to believe us.”

“No,” he shook his head, “We can’t–”

“Damn it, James!” I couldn’t believe it!  I had never thought James would take Remus’ side on this.  “Don’t tell me you’re more concerned about us not being expelled than Remus–”

“Of course not!” he interrupted angrily, “If I thought that us coming forward would get the charges dropped, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“You know I would too,” Peter piped in.

“Then what is it?” I demanded.  “What’s the problem?”

“It’s the time we weren’t with him, when he got away from us.  It was just after moonrise, which is when Dumbledore said they found Evelyn.  The investigators will argue that he killed her while we were searching for him.”

“But he was only missing for five minutes and we found him in that clearing, not near the edge of the Forbidden Forest where Evelyn was killed.”

James finally lowered his gaze from the ceiling.  “We don’t know that.  We don’t know that it was only five minutes.  None of us was carrying a watch.”

“Did you hear something?” Peter asked but both James and I ignored him.

“But you were there; hardly any time passed between him running off and us finding–” I stopped short when I saw that James was already shaking his head.

“It seemed like longer to me, Sirius,” he admitted.  “It doesn’t matter though.  Even if we could prove that it was exactly five minutes…the investigators will still say that those five minutes were around the time that Evelyn was killed.  They hate werewolves, Sirius.  They’re not going to buy that it was just an ill-fated coincidence.  And since we can’t prove how long he was missing they’ll more than happily say that he came across her, killed her, and then ran back to where we found him.”

“Peter,” I said weakly. “How long do you think it was?”

Peter shrugged nervously.  “I don’t know exactly…more than five minutes.  I’m sorry, Sirius.”

They were wrong.  They had to be.  I remembered.  He hadn’t been missing for more than five minutes.  I was sure of it.  James was right, though.  It didn’t matter if I was certain.  The investigators wouldn’t deny that I believed what I was saying – the Veritaserum would take care of that.  They would simply point out that my estimate of time could hardly be used as an accurate gauge.  They wanted to pin this on Remus because he was a werewolf.  Even I – who was not blinded by prejudice – had to admit that everything was against him.  They weren’t about to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Do you guys think he did it?” I asked in a constricted voice.  Any hope I’d had of Remus being found innocent was rapidly dying.  I felt as if my heart was being held in a vice by my chest.  This couldn’t be happening.

James and Peter both shifted uncomfortably and shared a quick glance.  “It all fits, Sirius,” it was my best friend who answered.  “She was killed just after moonrise and he got away from us just after moonrise.  He’s the only registered werewolf near Hogwarts…who else could it have been?”

I stared at them mutely.  I wanted to be angry but I couldn’t.  James was just being honest.  I could tell he wanted to believe that he was wrong; he just didn’t see how he could be.  It wasn’t that he thought Remus was a murderer.  He knew that Moony had no control over this.

“I think – I think that you would agree if you weren’t so bent on proving his innocence,” he suggested.  “And believe me, I understand why.  Even if he did kill her, you know that I don’t think they should execute him.  I think, though, that you might have to accept the possibility that–”

“No,” I stated flatly.  “I won’t accept that.  I won’t accept that we might have to watch Remus be murdered.”

“I know you want to do everything you can to get Remus out of this,” he continued, ignoring my outburst.  “I do too.  I’ll go along with anything you feel you need to do because I’m your best friend and, like I said, I’ll always have your back.  I’ll even go along with your taking Veritaserum and telling them exactly what happened last night, even though I think it would be pointless.  I just think you need to realize that there’s going to be a limit to how much you can do.”

“A limit that’s going to let them execute him for something that’s not his fault?” I asked scathingly.

“It’s the system.  It’s entirely fucked but…we can’t change it.  Not in time to save him,” he lowered his head.  “I’m sorry.  I know you don’t want to hear it but I think you have to.”

Swallowing, I closed my eyes.  Everything had been fine yesterday morning.  Well…not fine.  We were all worried about Voldemort, his dark wizards, and all the murders and disappearances.  But everything had been fine for the four of us, for the Marauders.  How had it all fallen apart so quickly?

“We have to do something, James,” I appealed weakly.

“I know,” he assured me.  “I know.  Right now, I don’t know what but…we’ll think of something.”

“Maybe Dumbledore will be able to keep them from executing him,” Peter suggested.  “He’s powerful and widely respected.”

I wanted to believe him, I really did.  Even Dumbledore wasn’t that influential, though.  He hadn’t even known for certain that he’d be able to get Remus released while they investigated the possibility of it having been another werewolf.  If they found him guilty he wouldn’t be able to stop them from carrying out their twisted form of justice.  Not when the Minister of Magic himself hated werewolves.  

Remus’ only hope was for another werewolf to be found and that was as good as having no hope at all.