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For most of his life, Remus John Lupin had perfected the skill of avoidance.
Remus avoided people. It was hard for him to make friends, because if people got too close, they would figure out what he was. He couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to get close to him anyway. He was thoroughly boring, preferring books to conversation, and… well, there was his face.
Remus avoided mirrors whenever possible. It wasn’t fair, in his opinion, that vampires had no reflections in mirrors just because they were a little bit pale. Whereas werewolves had to constantly look at themselves and what they had become. Every full moon, when the wolf inside of him showed itself, he was forced to bit and scratch himself. Magic couldn’t heal werewolf wounds, even when you were a werewolf yourself. There were deep scars that crisscrossed his face. Nasty red gashes then went clear across, ripping open his skin and healing with puffy, thick white scars. The marks were raised, so if he ever dared touching his fingers to his face, he could feel them—there more scars than regular skin, in fact. And every time he looked in the mirror after a full moon, there seemed to be more scars, worse scars.
Remus avoided the spring, with its flowers that tickled his nose—damn his heightened senses—and shirts with short sleeves that showed off more skin. He had scars all over, but the worst ones were absolutely the ones on his face. Why the bad ones couldn’t have been on his chest or back, easy to cover with a shirt, he didn’t know. If required to wear casual dress, Remus wore a sweatshirt, the hood pulled up but kept loose, letting it hide parts of his forehead and cheeks. If he hunched over and hung his head, the hood blocked even more. If he had to wear robes, he did the same with his robes, keeping the hood on whenever possible, even indoors when it was warm and he was sweating. Discomfort of that sort was far better than letting anyone see his face.
Remus avoided giving the right answers in classes. He never raised his hand to add to a class discussion, because that would only draw attention to him. Instead, he hid in plain sight at the very front of the classroom and on the side. He could slip in through the doorway and immediately take his seat, walking in front of the minimum number of people, and ensuring that most people in class could only see his back, not his front. Over the years, he had learned that if he were ever called on in class, it was best to give the wrong answer. A right answer would cause people to look at him, perhaps impressed by his knowledge or wondering why he knew something they didn’t. Even worse, a right answer might prompt a follow-up question from the professor, causing him to be in the spotlight for a longer period of time. The more he talked, the more people would look. And the more people looked, the more they would see what a sickening mess he had made of his face. If he gave an incorrect answer, people would merely think him stupid and not worth their time or attention, and the professor would move on to someone else.
Remus avoided life as well. It looked suspicious to only be ill or visiting his mother during the full moon. Surely wizards and witches, who would learn about dark creatures, would figure it out sooner or later. It was better to pretend he was ill at other times as well. Thankfully, the wolf in him weakened his immunity at other times of the month, so it wasn’t difficult to pretend the little sniffle he caught was a symptom of something much worse, allowing him to stay out of sight behind the curtains of his four poster bed or in seclusion in the hospital wing. He wasn’t really ill, but it was an easy way to hide his face, hide his condition, hide himself.
*
Once Remus developed his tricks and techniques for avoidance, Remus’ first year at Hogwarts passed relatively uneventfully. He even developed a sort of understanding with his roommates. Two of them—James Potter and Sirius Black—were pretty much inseparable. They were the best of friends, almost from the start. And the third one, Peter Pettigrew, constantly tried to insert himself into their friendship, clearly needy and envious of it. Remus sort of admired the kid for that. He would have liked friends like that. Hell, he would have liked friends of any sort. But friends would, surely, want to see his face, and he couldn’t cope with that. Once they caught a good look at him, they would probably kick him out of their room. Why would anyone want to sleep in a room with someone so hideously disfigured?
The guys were nice. Heck, they were more than nice: they were amazing. They didn’t ask him about what bits of him they saw. They never asked how he felt when he got back from the hospital wing or how his supposedly ill mother was. They never asked anything personal, not even how he liked the current book he was hiding behind. Though, sometimes, they asked him for homework assignments or what book he was reading. Sometimes they sat in the dormitory room with him and didn’t even mind that they were sitting near a complete freak. Sometimes they even smiled at him.
But, then, sometimes they got a little too out of hand. Sometimes they joked around or teased each other. And Remus, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, worried what they would say to him if they saw him properly. The teasing would be relentless, he was sure, and he just couldn’t take that.
Typically, Remus would hide himself away in their dormitory room, doing his homework or reading. But on the day everything changed, Remus wasn’t in the room. He was, in fact, walking the grounds of Hogwarts alone. It was late fall of his second year and the air outside was cool and crisp. He could wear his robes with the hood pulled over his head and no one would think anything of it. Of course, by now, people were probably used to him wearing it all the time like that anyway, indoors and out.
He walked around the front of the castle, then over toward the lake. He gave the Whomping Willow tree a wave, having mixed feelings about it still. The tree made his presence at Hogwarts possible, and he liked being able to attend, to learn, to sort of be a real wizard. But the tree itself was a little bit creepy, especially if you didn’t prod the knot on the tree trunk to make it go calm. Remus could relate to that. He could be dangerous sometimes, too. It was so much easier just to keep people away, at arm’s length or further.
He walked around the lake, throwing in little pebbles whenever he came across them on the shore. It was a surefire way to get the Giant Squid to pop an arm out and squid arms, well, they didn’t care what his face looked like.
But the Giant Squid must have been down deep near the bottom today. All he got a reaction from were a few grindelows who flicked their webbed feet in his direction, making him smile. He walked a little while by the Forbidden Forest, just skirting the treeline. He didn’t want to go in; he knew the forest was entirely out of bounds to students. But the forest made him curious. It was supposedly full of magical creatures—creatures like him. He wanted to talk with them, understand them, find out if they could understand him.
He walked along, making figure eights around the greenhouses and peering in through the windows. He enjoyed Herbology lessons. He loved helping magic things grow, nurturing them. The greenhouses were usually stiflingly hot, making him sweat under his robes, so it was nice now to get a look at the plants from the outside, safe as well from their magic.
He kept walking eventually reaching the Quidditch pitch. He had intended to do a lap around it and then head back inside. But when he reached the pitch, he found he was not the only one out enjoying the crisp autumn afternoon. Two of his roommates, James and Sirius, were out flying on their broomsticks. And there was a small group of girls—most of them Gryffindors—watching the new team chaser and beater. Remus watched the pair of boys fly around, passing a ball from one to the other.
The two kept trying more and more complex moves—flips and one-armed catches, deflections and barrel rolls. Most of the moves were executed with a rough, unpracticed style but the boys pulled them off just the same. That is, until Sirius, in mid-flip, caught the footrest of his broom up with the bristles on the tail end of James’ broom. James’ broom bucked him forward with a rough jerk and Sirius slipped sideways on his. Sirius held on as best he could, but he had lost his balance and fought hard to get it back. James, however, had no purchase. He fell forward, almost pitched over the front. He tried to catch himself, but it was useless. Sirius, holding onto his broom to keep from falling, twisting his leg around the broom for safety, reached out to James. He grabbed James’ sleeve and yanked hard, trying to get to James’ hand.
And he did. He caught James’ hand just as James slipped completely from the broom. Sirius clasped his hand tightly, keeping James from falling to almost certain death. James’ broom, having kicked off its rider, had no reason to hang in the sky now. The broom dropped straight down, crashing to the short-trimmed grass.
Remus looked over at the girls, seeing that most of them had gone inside by now. There were two left, now, just Lily Evans and Margaret Heller. They had been on their way back to the castle as well but it was almost like they had sensed something exciting was about to happen and had taken their time leaving because of it. Now the girls were frozen on the spot, transfixed, staring up at the boys in the air.
Remus looked up, seeing Sirius trying to pull James up so they could share the broom. But Sirius had not recovered his position on the broom. And with James hanging there, he wasn’t just off balance. The broom apparently couldn’t take the weight of both boys, undistributed as it was, and it was sinking back the ground. The more it sunk, the faster it went, as if picking up momentum.
They were going to crash; there was just no way around that. Lily Evans pulled out her wand, trying to help, but no student starting her second year in school could possibly save them. Remus got his wand out as well, trying to slow the fall.
Maybe the fast thinking and quick spellwork worked a little, because when they hit the ground, the thud was powerful and painful, but the boys weren’t killed on impact. Lily got there first, while Margaret ran in the opposite direction, going toward the castle. When Remus got there, wheezing, out of breath, Lily looked up into his face. “Margaret went for Madam Pomfrey, but I’d better go get McGonagall. If she’s in her classroom, she’ll be closer than the hospital wing. But someone’s got to stay with the boys.”
Remus took a step back, worried that this would ruin his entire plan of avoidance. “I’ll go get—”
But Lily was already standing. “I’m quick, and I know the password to the staff room. And if anything’s wrong with the boys, they’re not likely to tell me.” She glanced at James, who was out cold on his back. “Potter’s been knocked out but Black is somewhat lucid. He might have a concussion, so you must keep him awake.” Remus followed her gaze now and saw Sirius, his eyes slowly trying to close. A shock of dread filled Remus. These were two of the closest things he had to friends; he couldn’t let them die. But he really wasn’t suited for helping in this way.
Before Remus could say anything, Lily was off, sprinting toward the castle. Remus dropped to his knees between the two boys. He felt James’ neck for a pulse and found it. He patted James’ cheek, wondering if he should slap it. “Should I try and slap James?” he asked out loud, partly to hear the idea out loud and partly hoping asking Sirius a question would keep the boy awake.
It worked. Sirius opened his eyes wide for a second then let them close partly, though not all the way. “Better not. He might be hurt worse.”
Remus hasn’t thought about that. What if his neck were broken? What if his spine had snapped? How bad could injuries be before Madam Pomfrey couldn’t fix them any more? There were some unfixable things out there. She couldn’t fix his face, after all.
“Wake me up before dinner, would you, Remus?”
Realizing he hadn’t been paying attention to Sirius, a jolt of panic seized him. “No! Don’t fall asleep!” He gripped Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius shouted in pain and Remus jumped back, startled.
“Hurts,” Sirius whimpered, tears in his eyes. He moved his arm gingerly and hugged it close to his chest. He rolled over on his side, curling in on himself a little.
“I know it hurts,” Remus said. “It probably broke when you hit the ground.”
“It’ll feel better when I wake up…”
“No!” Remus exclaimed. “You can’t fall asleep. You can’t, because you might be concussed.”
Sirius burst out laughing, which made him shake, and the shaking made him cry out in pain again. “Funny word…” he said finally. “Concussed. Sounds silly.”
“Does it?” Remus had never considered the word before.
“Sounds like something from a dream. Mmm. Dream. Sleep…” Sirius closed his eyes.
“Sirius!” Remus wasn’t sure what to do to keep him awake. “You can’t sleep. You have to keep talking to me.” Sirius’ eyes stayed closed, and Remus’ fingers dug into the ground, grasping at grass and dirt restlessly. “Please, Sirius. I want to see those grey eyes of yours.”
Sirius’ eyes opened. They stared up at Remus, who was more relieved than he could express.
“That’s better. Now keep them open. Keep awake. Keep talking. Tell me about…”
“Your face.”
Remus gave a start. He might have fallen backward if he hadn’t been clinging to the grass so tightly. “What?” His heart was racing, breath catching, chest hurting; a panic attack was eminent.
“I never really noticed it before. But you shouldn’t cover it up so much. Your eyes… they’re amber. That’s… so neat… You’re…” He trailed off, his cheeks going red with embarrassment. “You look nice,” he finally mumbled.
Remus looked away and Sirius reached out for him. But he had forgotten his arm was injured, and he cried out. Remus turned back to him, putting a hand on his side. “Sirius, lie still. Help is coming, I promise. You’ll be all right.”
“Ungh…”
James was waking up. Quickly, Remus lunched over, putting a hand on his chest. “You lie still, too, James. You’re hurt.” James looked at him, confused, and tried to sit up. Remus held him down. It required a bit of effort to do and he wasn’t used to standing up to James, but he had leverage and wouldn’t let James hurt himself.
James wasn’t the only one to worry about though. “Remus…”
Remus turned his head, letting Sirius see him again. “I’m here. And I won’t close my eyes if you don’t.” He wouldn’t be able to do this for much longer without resorting to using spells to keep James immobile and Sirius awake. Where was the help the girls had gone for?
He heard it before he saw it. The rustling of fabric, shoes hitting the soft grass, labored breathing. If he hadn’t been a werewolf, he never would have heard it, but the sound calmed him which, in turn, calmed Sirius and James. Madam Pomfrey arrived and conjured stretchers for the boys. Professor McGonagall helped get Sirius and James in place and kept them awake, asking where it hurt and to describe what had happened.
Remus followed behind as the adults took two of his roommates to the hospital wing, knowing the way there all too well, but not realizing until he glimpsed his reflection in one of the mirrors that his hood was down. He pulled it back up, but his hands trembled as he did so.