Beginnings

“James. It is a horrible thing we have not fully utilised our skills in all areas,” Sirius says as he prods the fire in the Gryffindor common room with a poker.

“What areas are you talking about?” James asks. “As we are highly proficient in most.”

“Potions,” says Sirius, the word slow and delicate.

“Potions,” James repeats.

“I’m not here,” Remus says. He picks up his essay-in-progress, quill, ink and a small mountain of books. “I have to do this essay for McGonagall. I did not hear anything.” He moves to a table on the other side of the room.

“What did you have in mind, Sirius?” James asks. His eyes are wide, excited. He gets the couch he was sitting on and sits next to Sirius on the floor in front of the hearth.

Peter shifts uncomfortably on the couch, alone.

Sirius raises an eyebrow.

“Polyjuice,” James says.

“Of course.”

“How have we not done Polyjuice before?” James says. “Well, we can brew it in the dormitory, no one but us goes in there.”

“More’s the pity.” Sirius bows his regal head. “But yeah, brilliant, James. I had no idea where we could prepare it.”

“Recipe?”

“I’m sure Moony can help us out.”

“No,” Remus says from behind his books. He doesn’t look up.

“But Remus.” James glides over to the boy’s desk. “Think of the books.”

“Yes,” Sirius says, following James. “If you’re not there, well, we might pick up the wrong book.”

“And then, when we decide it does not hold the information we need ...”

“We might put it back on the shelf ...”

“But it will be in the wrong place.”

Remus flinches. “I don’t care.”

“Moony, Moony, I don’t think you understand. Perhaps, one day, a student—”

“—such as yourself—”

“—such as yourself, thank you, Sirius. Maybe you, Moony, will need this book. Because you will have a burning question and you simply must find the answer ...”

“But, oh! look! The book isn’t there! And you will ask Pince, your future wife, but she will not be able to find it either.”

“And how you will sob together. You will lend her your favourite hanky.”

“You two are disgusting.” Remus has put down his quill and is surveying his two friends. It is times like this he wishes he wore glasses.

“You should really wear glasses, Moony. It would make your stares so much more foreboding,” says Sirius.

James snorts. “They’re not foreboding at all.”

Remus gives him a withering look and picks up his quill. “Leave me alone. Deviants.”

“James, we’re supposed to be sweet-talking him!” Sirius says. “Remus. I will write your essay. Just help us find the book.”

“That’s not sweet-talking!” James says. “Remus, oh Remus. My sweet popinjay. Light of my life.”

“Excluding Evans.”

“And your Mum.”

Sirius’s face darkens, all traces of amusement forgotten.

“Er, Moony!” James exclaims with much more enthusiasm than necessary. “Come on. Help us.”

“Why can’t Peter help you desecrate the library?”

“Peter doesn’t know how to use the library, do you, Pete?” James turns around to find Peter is no longer on the couch. “Huh. He’s gone to bed.”

“Remus, think of the books,” says Sirius. He can see Remus is wavering. His handwriting has gone wobbly and he just misspelt ‘transfigure’.

“We’ll probably leave fingerprints on their fragile pages.”

“Sticky fingerprints.”

“Greasy, sticky fingerprints.”

Sirius notes that Remus has now misspelt a word as Why am I friends with these heathens?

“Moony, think of the state the shelves will be in.”

“But you two can use the library perfectly well,” Remus says finally.

“We don’t need well,” James says. “We need perfectly perfect.”

Sirius nods. “Our times is precious.”

“Evidently.” Remus puts down his quill. “Fine. When?”

“Tonight, of course.”

“Right now, in fact. I’ll get the Cloak.” James dashes up the staircase.

“So what are we looking up?” Remus asks as he packs up his things. He stacks the books neatly on top of each other.

“I’ll write it for you, don’t worry. I’ve perfected your handwriting over the years.”

“My handwriting? Why?”

“It might come in handy.”

“Might, or did?”

“Well,” Sirius says. “I was going to tell you.”

“Who have you been writing to?”

“James!” Sirius exclaims. He rushes to the bottom of the staircase where James has just emerged. “Let’s go!”

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Remus says as he lets Sirius drape the Cloak over him.

“It’s my astonishing good looks.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” James says as they bunch up to crawl awkwardly through the portrait hole.

“Moony was talking, too!” Sirius whispers. The castle is silent. Filch could be anywhere; he has a way of sneaking up on one when one is least expecting it. Even though they are hidden from view by the Cloak, their voices can still be heard.

“But he’s not a pompous idiot like you.”

“Like us,” Sirius says.

“Shh!” Remus stops the other two, alert. He can hear something. Whilst Sirius has the best hearing when transformed, Remus has always had a heightened sense because of his lycanthropy.

“Filch?”

“Mrs Norris?”

“I can’t hear if you’re talking!” Remus whispers.

“We’re not talking, we’re whispering.”

“Sirius, be quiet.”

“Okee-doke.” There is a pause. “So is it them?”

“Sirius!”

* * *

The library is quiet. This is the main reason Sirius isn’t overly fond of it. That and Madam Pince. He has always thought that she had been cross-bred with a dragon or, at the very least, a highly vicious kind of bookworm. Sirius wonders if she sleeps in here as he looks at the towering shelves. Sirius has never seen her on any of his midnight wanderings yet, but that does not mean anything.

“So what are we looking for?” Remus asks as he steps out from under the Cloak. He takes a lantern from a nearby table and lights it. He always prefers looking up books with the lamp light rather than his wand’s, though he is not sure why. He thinks Sirius probably thinks he is odd.

“A recipe!” James rips the Cloak off of himself and Sirius dramatically. “A most evil recipe.”

“Are you going to poison my breakfast again?”

“That was an honest mistake, Remus. We didn’t realise you would have such an ... extreme reaction.”

“It’s not food, don’t worry,” Sirius says as he lights another lamp. “’Tis a potion, fair maiden.”

“With which we plan to woo you.” James cackles.

“Good word, ‘woo’,” says Sirius, scanning the spines of the books on the shelf nearest him. “We’re looking for a recipe for Polyjuice Potion.”

“Polyjuice?”

James and Sirius nod eagerly.

“That’ll probably be in the restricted section.” Remus leads them to it. “I’m fairly sure I heard Slughorn talk about it.”

“When he wasn’t fawning over Evans,” Sirius says, with a sideways, evil glance at James, who has turned a shocking shade of pink.

“Yes, well, anyway.” Remus drags Sirius into the restricted section by the elbow. James follows. His face is not completely recovered, yet. “James, you do that aisle. Start from the middle. A little to your left ... yep, there. Sirius, you start down the end of this one, I’ll start from here.”

“I love when he’s in library mode,” Sirius says.

James grins at him before turning to the shelf in front of him. He gives a yell of horror. The other boys turn to find him holding a book oozing some kind of black liquid.

“Put it back!” Remus rushes toward James but Sirius gets there first. He slams the book shut and shoves it back onto the shelf.

“James,” he says, trying not to panic. “James, are you okay?” He puts a hand on James’s shoulder. “James?”

“Um, I-I think so.” James takes a few deep breaths. “I don’t feel any different.”

“Nothing’s tingling or itchy or anything?”

James shakes his head. “The book ... It, I don’t know, it told me to open it.”

“First things first, you blithering idiot,” Sirius says. “Never listen to book if they can bloody well speak to you!” Except, of course, in a metaphorical way.” He directs the last sentence at Remus.

Remus nods. “Just let us know if anything starts to feel ... weird.”

Minutes pass. Everything is silent except for Remus, who is quietly muttering the book titles under his breath. Sirius regards him fondly. He likes that Remus likes books. He does not quite understand why. He likes the way Remus’s face crinkles in a lopsided kind of secret smile when Sirius finds (steals) yet another mouldy old book from his family home and gives it to Remus. He always turns the pages so carefully, like they’re something precious. And Sirius especially likes when Remus sniffs the pages when he thinks no one is looking. Sirius tried smelling old books a couple of times, but whatever magic they brought to Remus was lost on himself.

Sirius is glad when Remus finds Moste Potente Potions because he’s not sure these are the kinds of thoughts he should be having about one of his best friends.

* * *

The book is old and smelly and Sirius laughs because Remus looks as though he could die of happiness.

“So, we need lacewing flies, leeches ...” James scans the page. “It’ll be easy enough to nick these from Sluggy.”

“The fluxweed has to be picked at the um, at the full moon,” says Remus.

“Where are we supposed to find fluxweed?” Sirius asks.

“We’ll find it, ye of little faith,” says James. “So, Remus, you in?”

“No.” He shuts the book.

“You don’t even know what the plan is, yet!”

“I’m going to bed.”

Sirius and James watch him leave. When they hear the dormitory door open and close, James speaks. “That was weird.”

“Must be his time of the month.” Sirius rubs his eyes. He wouldn’t mind going up to bed with Remus. Not to bed with Remus, he tells himself. Just to bed as well as Remus. He doesn’t want to go to bed with Remus. But oh, he does. Don’t think about it.

“That’s it!” James says. “The fluxweed’s picked at the full moon. That must be why he’s all beddy.”

“Beddy?”

“Yes. Technical term.”

“Right. Well, I’m going to join Moony.” Sirius blushes. “That is, I’m going to bed. To sleep.”

“Okay.” James is reading the book and takes no notice of Sirius’s blush. “Night.”

“Night.”

When Sirius enters the dormitory, he knows Remus is not asleep. He cannot hear the slow, sleep-breath pattern he is used to. Peter is snoring quietly.

Sirius gets into his pyjamas but, instead of going into his own bed, he pokes his head through the drawn curtains of Remus’s four-poster.

“Moony?”

Remus doesn’t speak.

“I know you’re awake.” Sirius climbs through the curtain and sits on the end of the bed.

“Ow.” Remus shifts. “That’s my foot.”

“Sorry. Thought your mattress was a bit lumpy.”

“Har har.”

“No need for sarcasm, now.”

“You said there was always need just last week.” Remus sits up and Sirius sees that his hair is tousled.

“Do you remember everything I say?”

“Yes.”

Sirius gives a small, quiet laugh.

“What are you doing here?”

“I go to school here, Remus. Don’t you remember the last four years?”

“I meant why are you sitting on my bed at three in the morning? On a school night, I might add.”

“Why were you pretending to be asleep at three in the morning? On a school night, no less.”

There is no response.

“Moony?”

Remus sighs and Sirius sees him run a hand through his own hair. The other day, whilst Sirius was not paying attention in History of Magic, he noticed a grey hair in Remus’s hair. At first, he thought it had been a trick of the light, but no. If it had been anyone else, he would have made fun of them, but not Moony.

“Is it because of the fluxweed?”

A pause. Sirius knows Remus is deciding whether or not to lie. “No.”

“What, then?”

“Nothing. I have to sleep.”

“Remus, come on.” Sirius edges closer up the bed.

“It’s Polyjuice Potion, Sirius.”

Sirius blinks for a few seconds. “What? So?”

“It’s for humans only.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sirius.” Remus’s tone is urgent. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, but for the life of him, Sirius has no idea what Remus is on about. “Humans.”

“We’re not going to turn you into a pigeon or anything.”

Remus sighs again. “I’m not human. Me.”

Sirius stares. “Wh— Moony. Of course you are. You’re human.” He moves so he is sitting next to Remus, acutely aware that this is probably not something most other fourteen year old boys do in the middle of the night. He places a hand on Remus’s arm.

“I’m not.” Remus’s voice cracks.

Sirius, heart hammering so hard he is sure Remus can hear it, hugs him. They have hugged before, but this hug is distinctly different from any other hug Sirius has ever given. He does not know how to comfort—his parents did not exactly practise this notion—but he is certain that he is doing alright with this hug.

Remus is warm. He is always warm and Sirius suspects it has something to do with the lycanthropy. But Remus doesn’t feel any different to himself. He doesn’t feel different to James or Peter. Remus just feels like a boy. Human. Sure he transforms at the full moon, but does that take away the fact that he’s human? Surely not.

As Sirius holds his friend in the dark, he is certain he is right.

* * *

After picking the fluxweed, the potion takes three weeks to make. The four Gryffindor boys stand in their dormitory, each holding a goblet of the potion.

James drops his sample of hair into the potion and it turns navy blue. He sniffs it and his nose wrinkles. “Well, here goes.” He scrunches his eyes shut and downs the potion in one.

Peter follows suit and gags as he tastes the potion. He pits half of it out and it sprays onto James, who is now a very burly Slytherin boy. “Pete!” James says in a very deep voice. “Careful!”

Sirius adds his hairs; the potion turns the colour of kidney beans. “Yay,” he says dully before drinking the potion. He tries not to watch Remus as he drinks his own potion (a light grey), but he can’t help it.

Sirius’s skin feels hot and bizarre and he’s shrinking. He flexes his now-stubby fingers. His clothes and shoes are all too small. “I’ve lost my dashing good looks,” he laments to Remus.

Remus who still looks like Remus.

“Hurry up, Moony,” James says.

“I drank it,” says Remus, who looks very pale. He’s clutching his stomach.

“Oh.” Sirius stares at him. “Oh.”

“I don’t feel good. I think I—” he puts a hand over his mouth and rushes to the toilet attached to their dormitory.

“Shit,” says James. “Moony, you alright?”

The sounds of vomiting greet his words.

“Shit.”

“Should we get Pomfrey?” Peter asks.

“I’m okay,” Remus says, weakly, from the toilet. There are more vomiting sounds.

“Pete, get her,” James says and Peter dashes from the room. James turns to Sirius. “What’s happening? Why isn’t it working?”

“I think ... It’s, well. Moony said that he wasn’t human, but I said that was rubbish and—”

“Of course. We’re idiots!” James bites his lip as he runs a hand through his hair. “Shit.”

“Pomfrey’ll sort him.”

The two boys walk to the toilet to find Remus in the foetal position.

“I think the vomiting’s stopped,” he says in a voice that is not his own, but it is, but it isn’t again.

“Remus?” Sirius crouches down next to him. He places a hand on Remus’s arm but withdraws it immediately. “He’s burning, James!”

James gets out his wand and points it at Remus. “Take off his robes.”

“What?”

“We have to cool him down!”

“Oh.” Sirius’s hands fumble with Remus’s robes. He eventually succeeds in getting them off and Remus is lying there is just his pants.

Water gushes from the end of James’s wand. Remus groans and it is only then that Sirius realises that Remus’s skin looks like it is made of melting plastic and it won’t stop moving and just looking at it in its constant turmoil makes him want to be sick, too.

“Move out of the way!”

Sirius feels a hand yank him away from Remus. Madam Pomfrey gets out her wand and begins muttering something.

“Sirius, come on.” James says in his ear. Sirius realises they are both soaking wet. He can’t remember how his legs work. Surely they’re not supposed to be shaking like this?

James pulls him out of the toilet room and sits him on the nearest bunk. Peter is there. Sirius feels like he is very far away and he cannot hear what Peter and James are saying.

Eventually, they all turn back into their own selves and Sirius’s clothes fit him again.

Remus is on a stretcher when Pomfrey finally emerges from the toilet. He looks at them but doesn’t say a word.

Sirius has no idea what to say.

He watches, mute, as Remus is taken to the hospital wing.