The hospital wing really should introduce a subscription service for regulars.
...
Remus' POV:
The night of the full moon had passed, and consciousness slowly returned. My body ached, dizziness clouded my thoughts - though such sensations were hardly unfamiliar. It felt as though only moments ago my eyes had closed, but in truth, hours had slipped away. Hours in which I had roamed the Forbidden Forest as a monster. A small part of me was relieved to remember nothing; ignorance spared me from reliving it. Yet, the worst aspect of this memory void was the gnawing uncertainty - had I hurt someone?
The absence of the metallic taste of blood and the sharp throb of injury suggested no further altercations with Phil. Yet, the fear of harming my friends lingered, prompting me to examine my hands as my vision steadied. They were caked in dirt, but otherwise unmarred.
I sat on the forest floor, the cold seeping into me until a cloak was draped over my shoulders. Grateful, I pulled it close, not out of shame for my exposed state - werewolf transformations had long since stripped me of such modesty - but for the warmth it provided.
»How are you?« James crouched beside me, his voice steady as he helped me to my feet.
My legs, unsteady beneath me, trembled as I brushed dirt and debris from them. »The same as always,« I replied, exhaustion thick in my tone.
I glanced around the dim forest. The eastern sky had begun to shift, the faintest hint of grey creeping through the darkness. Dawn was still hours away, and the winds, though no longer biting, left me cold. The cloak was drawn tighter around my frame as my mind wandered to practicalities. My shredded clothes would undoubtedly be nearby; repairing them with magic was a small solace.
»Where's Padfoot?« I asked, noting the absence of Sirius. Only Wormtail and James stood nearby. James mirrored my concern, scanning the forest before offering a helpless shrug.
»He disappeared.«
»Disappeared?« The word felt wrong in my mouth - utterly uncharacteristic of Sirius. »What do you mean, disappeared? Did something happen?«
»No, it's not what you think,« James assured me quickly, though his gaze remained restless as he oriented himself. My fingers curled instinctively, the dizziness ebbing as I forced myself to focus.
»Padfoot!« James called out, his voice cutting through the stillness. »Are you out there?«
For a moment, there was no reply, and dread began to settle over me. Searching for a missing Sirius in the aftermath of a full moon was the last thing I wanted to face. But then, faintly, a response: »Yes, we're here!«
We?
The question barely formed in my mind before rustling in the underbrush caught my heightened senses. Two figures emerged from the shadows - Sirius, with Phil stumbling just behind him. Her gaze was fixed downward, her steps hesitant. Confusion prickled at my thoughts; what was Sirius doing with her?
As Phil lifted her head, the answer began to take shape. Her eyes were red, tear-streaked despite the absence of fresh sobs. She looked hollowed, as though she carried a weight she wished desperately to shed.
»What happened?« James asked, his concern mirroring my own.
Sirius glanced at Phil expectantly, an unspoken nudge to speak. His expression was unusual - was that compassion?
Understanding?
It was hard to reconcile with his earlier words that evening. Yet, people could change, even Sirius. My gaze shifted to Phil, who appeared to be grappling with her thoughts, searching for the right words. Then, haltingly, she began to speak.
Phil's POV:
The full moon was over, and I was human again. Something my father always claimed I could never truly be. Yet, I wanted to try - try to be human, even if it meant breaking under the weight of it someday. That's why I had followed Black through the forest after the full moon. I had expected him to call me foolish, to mock my decisions. Instead, he told me you don't choose your family, and he seemed to mean it.
Soon, I would have to tell Dumbledore about my encounter with my father. I would also have to tell the boys standing before me. Not that they needed to hear it from me - Sirius would surely relay the story if I didn't. So, the choice was mine to make. It struck me, oddly, that Black had once again become "Sirius" in my thoughts.
How marvellous...
Even better, I stood there feeling utterly wretched - drained, empty. Oddly enough, speaking with my father had quelled some of my inner turmoil, though I still felt as though tears might erupt at any moment.
»What happened?« James Potter's voice broke through the haze.
All eyes turned to me. Their stares felt heavy, especially those of Remus and Sirius. Guilt gnawed at me for once again burdening them with my problems. Yes, Black had trailed me through the forest, but he had also sensed something was wrong. The boys likely suspected that my abrupt departure during the last full moon had been tied to something more, so I began my explanation there. My gaze remained fixed on the ground as I spoke:
»The reason I ran into you lot during the last full moon was because I saw something - a shadow. I followed it. I told you that I lost it after the fight, but that was a lie. I kept following, and I caught up to it. The figure wanted to be found. It was another werewolf. My father.«
The reaction was exactly what I had expected. It wasn't every day someone announced that one of the wizarding world's most notorious criminals was still alive.
»I've known for a while that he's alive. Dumbledore knows, too. There were signs before the school year began. The same day we had our fight in the courtyard, I received a letter from him. He said he'd contact me, and he did - tonight. I spoke with him. Sirius found me, and now I need to tell Dumbledore.«
»Sirius?« The man in question arched a knowing brow at me.
»You've earned your first name back, for now,« I muttered, running a hand over my face. I offered no more details to the boys. Exhaustion seeped into every part of me, leaving me feeling simultaneously numb and restless.
The past hours have simply been too much.
Without another word, I moved, my legs carrying me away from the forest. I could not bear to remain there any longer, not in the place where my father had so recently stood. How I should feel about that was unclear.
The boys were gentler with me on the way back to the castle. Our quarrel was not resolved, but it felt like one of those conflicts that did not require an explicit apology. Mistakes had been made on both sides, and in some strange way, I had proven my naivety tonight.
Or had I?
I was not sure. I only knew that every decision had consequences, and I would have to live with mine. I had to accept that I was Ethan J. Aquila's daughter - a maniacal figure obsessed with creating a legion of werewolves. I had to accept that my past had shaped me into someone unlike others. And, hardest of all, I had to accept that the past could not be changed.
The past and the present were entirely separate things, just as the future was its own mystery. Yet tonight's encounter with my father reminded me of one crucial truth: I wanted this, my new, life.
That realisation stung because it meant I was utterly alone.
Alone, even though people surrounded me - people who cared, even if I could not always see it. The boys spoke to me now, asked how I was, just as the girls often did. They were there. They had always been there.
So, take care of them, Phil.
Find your anchors in this human world.
You are not the mad Aquila, even if your mind feels fractured.
That was my inner voice speaking, and it was right - not in the way I had once believed my father's voice to always be right, but in a way that felt grounding. My father lived in a world of his own making, a place where he was not the villain. Tonight, I had learned much that would take time to process. But not now. Not tonight.
After arriving back at the castle and Remus heading to the Hospital Wing, I made my way to Dumbledore. Briefly, I had stopped by Madam Pomfrey's office to let her know I needed to speak with the Headmaster urgently. She had nodded, her expression concerned, and sent word through one of the portraits. By the time I reached his office, Dumbledore was waiting, looking as composed as ever. He did not seem as though he had been roused from sleep, and in that moment, I wondered if he even slept at all.
I recounted everything - driven partly by the boys' unspoken encouragement and partly by a need to prove to myself that I could make rational choices. I told Dumbledore about the last full moon, my father's plans, and the terrifying implications of his ambitions.
I explained how full-blooded werewolves seemed capable of far more than we had understood - like my ability to resist the effects of the full moon, even temporarily. My father, I realised, was a far greater threat to the Wizarding World than anyone had anticipated. His desire for equality between werewolves and humans was not inherently wrong, but the means he pursued and his lust for power made it dangerous.
Since childhood, I had endured his twisted philosophies.
Had they shaped me?
Had they broken my mind?
I did not know the answers, but I did know that Dumbledore was not angry. He had listened with calm understanding, commending my honesty despite my clandestine meeting with my father. As I left his office, a mix of relief and emptiness washed over me. I felt lighter, yet far from whole.
Instead of heading to my dormitory, my feet carried me to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey greeted me, and though I did not visit often after full moons, I thought I caught a flicker of warmth in her eyes. Whenever I did show up, she was quick to offer her famed strengthening potions.
But at that moment, all I wanted was sleep - to escape my thoughts, even if only for a little while. She handed me two vials: one to help me rest and another of her beloved restorative concoctions.
After draining them both, I faced a choice.
Which bed should I pick?
Something inside me nudged me toward Remus. Quietly, I made my way to the back of the wing, where I spotted a figure in one of the beds. He appeared to be asleep.
I sat down on the bed beside him, slipping off my shoes and cloak. Pulling my legs up, I glanced at the boy who had always been there for me. Even as I felt my eyelids grow heavier, I noticed his eyes flutter open.
Remus stirred, propping himself up slightly as he realised I was there.
»Do you want to talk about it?« he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
His question, his concern - it caught me off guard, even though it should not have. That he thought of me, even in this state, touched something deep within. What had I done to deserve this?
He did not fuss over me the way the girls often did, but since my first day at Hogwarts, he had been there. Whether in the library or by my side in moments of quiet despair, he had always shown up. And what had I done in return?
I should have done more. I should have been there for him the way he was for me. Remus was like me in so many ways, though not entirely. In the future, I resolved to let him in more, to make an effort to care for him as he did for me.
But in that moment, I was too tired to think any further. »Maybe another time... Pomfrey's potion...« I murmured drowsily, settling onto my side. »Thank you... for everything you've ever done for me.«
With those words, I drifted into a dreamless sleep. And for the first time in a long while, the monsters in my mind fell silent. Hopefully, for a good while longer.
