The day after Remus arrived at Hogwarts (having been happily sorted into Gryffindor), he was shown the place that would be his werewolf abode for the next seven years. He thought Dumbledore had been clever with this: a tree covered the entrance, a tree that would smack anyone who dared try to enter. He only had to press a hole in the tree to stop the branches from moving. Under the tree was a passage to a wooden shack. It contained a flight of stairs. On the top floor lay a mattress and pillows. It wasn’t fancy, but Remus kept in mind, I’ll just rip apart everything in here.



Over the next year, he made friends with many of his fellow Gryffindors, but there were three people who stood out to him. There was James Potter, a boy with jet-black hair and (Remus had to admit) a rather cocky demeanor. Sirius Black had a mane of hair that reminded Remus of a dog, but he was fairly more humble than James. Another boy named Peter Pettigrew had started to trail them around. His face was, unarguably, similar to a rat’s. Remus didn’t mind his company, and he thought that James and Sirius were being too hard on him. They kept trying to leave Peter in the dust, yet Remus always convinced them not to. If anything, he could understand Peter’s need to fit in. Remus planned on revealing his secret to him first. That is, if he ever had the courage. Gryffindors were prized for their bravery, but this was a unique exception. He thought, what would they think of being friends with a werewolf? Will they still want to be my friend? Will they always run at the sight of me?

Near the end of his second year, Remus found himself alone with Peter in their dormitory. If there was any time to speak up, it would be now.

“Peter, how much do you know about werewolves?”

Peter gave his friend an incredulous look. “Well, I know that they only-”

“Remus!” James and Sirius had burst into the dorm. “We were just wondering something,” Sirius began.

“Where do you go on the nights that you’re not asleep in your bed?” James sounded as though he’d been wanting to ask this for ages.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Remus answered, not daring to look him in the eye. “I always sleep here.”

“Then why have I seen you out by the Whomping Willow with Madame Pomfrey?”

“Yeah!” Sirius agreed. “And more specifically, every full moon night?”

“What were you two doing out of bed?” Remus tried to argue.

“Answer our question!” demanded James. “We’re not stupid. We’ve paid attention to the signs.” He rattled off each symptom with his fingers. “You’re absent during the full moon. You’re ill for days afterwards. And let’s not forget the scars on your face. Are you, or are you not, a werewolf?”

That did it. Remus was cornered. They’d already figured it out for themselves.

He breathed deeply. “It’s true. I was bitten about four years ago.”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Were you just about to tell me this before they came in?”

Remus nodded. His friends fell silent as they processed the news. He fell onto his bed, covering the back of his head with his pillow, wishing for nothing more than to take a nap. Sirius tapped him on the shoulder.

“I promise, we won’t tell.”

Remus poked his head out from under the pillow. “You’re still talking to me?”

“Of course.”

James spoke next. “So what if you have a furry little problem?” Remus chuckled. “I think it’s kind of cool.”

Remus shot dagger eyes at James. Did James really think it was cool to be a potential murderer?

“Sorry… I mean, it sets you apart from anyone I’ve ever met.”

“It doesn’t change anything for me, either,” said Peter. “Were you thinking that we’d leave you alone?”

Remus watched the faces of each boy and knew the answer. They were never going to abandon him.

“How can I ever thank you enough?” he said in earnest. That was all he could manage to say without crying.

“Well, you could always do our homework for us,” Sirius joked.

Remus gave a sarcastic laugh. There was nothing like friendship at this moment.