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The Myth and the Truth


“Here yeh are,” Hagrid said, pushing open the compartment door for Sirius. He could barely fit shoulders across on the Hogwarts Express and a long line of students were bottlenecked behind him, unable to get by the half-giant’s width. He certainly wasn’t about to squeeze into the compartment himself. He was barely able to get one of his dust-bin lid sized hands through to plop down Sirius’s bag. “Ev’ry thin’ looks a’right then for yeh?” he asked.

Sirius squeezed into the compartment. “Yes, thank you Hagrid,” he said. “You really didn’t have to come onto the train,” he added, seeing a Hufflepuff girl try to squeeze past Hagrid from behind, glaring around the wide moleskin-jacket-encased gamekeeper at Sirius, as though this were his fault, as though he’d asked for the escort.

“Dumbledore tol’ me ter see yeh off, and help yeh with yer luggage an’ all. I had ter be sure you was off proper-like so as ter tell the headmaster I done my duty,” Hagrid said. He reached in his pocket and took out a little bag, “Here yeh are, some rock cakes for the ride. Hold yeh over ‘til the sweets trolley, at least. Made ‘em myself,” he added, grinning, as Sirius unrolled the top of the little sack and took a sniff of the cakes. They smelled of molasses and dates.

“Thanks Hagrid,’ Sirius said.

“Happy Christmas, Sirius,” said Hagrid, and he waved and shuffled off down the train, a flood of students pouring into the compartments behind him.

Sirius waved, and pulled his compartment door shut with his good hand, trying to block out some of the glares he was getting. He sat down on one of the benches in the compartment, pulling one of the rock cakes out of the bag. Despite having smelled quite delicious, they were harder than real rocks, he realized, and he tapped it against the wooden wall and half expected it to leave a dent. “Blimey,” he muttered, “Those would shatter my teeth, they would!” He dropped the hard little cake back into the sack and rolled the top up tight. It was nice of Hagrid to bring them, anyway, even if he didn’t get to eat them, he thought.

James and Peter arrived some time later, when the train was nearly full. Sirius had had to turn away several hopeful first years to keep the compartment to themselves. He felt awful telling Frank Longbottom that all the seats were taken - especially when Frank sighed and said he’d have to sit in a compartment with a bunch of first year girls all the way back to London - but he really needed to be able to talk to James and Peter alone about what had happened to his hand. And it was a good thing, too, because James burst into the compartment already firing questions. “Alright,” he said before he’d even put down his bag, “What happened to your hand?”

“The truth, or the myth?” he asked, grinning.

“The myth?” Peter asked, confused.

“Well the myth is that I was practicing transfiguration in the corridor because you lot were snoring too loud and turned a tea cup into a rat and my tea cup ran off and I had to fight Mrs. Norris for it. I’ve got detention for being out of the common room after dark,” Sirius said, then added, rather proudly, “And Filch got reprimanded, told to control his cat and teach it better manners. It was brilliant.”

James smirked, “Poor Mrs. Norris.”

“Serves her right for being bloody awful,” Sirius said, not feeling a bit of remorse for the cat.

“So what really happened that you had to make up a story about it?” James asked, “Did you go down the wrong pit in the Trophy Room?” he sat forward, eager to hear the tale.

Peter looked surprised, “What were you doing going down the pits in the trophy room?” he asked, eyes wide, “There could be anything down there!”

Sirius shook his head, “I went down the right one. Ended up in the laundry room, just like we’d planned, and I got the blankets --”

“You planned this?” Peter stammered, “Where was I?”

“Sleeping. Shh, he’s telling a story, don’t interrupt,” James replied, waving Peter off, “Go on then, Sirius.”

Sirius told them about his journey with the blankets across the grounds and through the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. He told them about his confrontation with the werewolf - making Peter squeak in terror - and how he’d only narrowly escaped and run all the way back to Hogwarts, only to be found by Derek Bell on the front steps to the castle.

“Why didn’t Derek tell them he found you outside?” James asked, confused.

“I reckon he didn’t want to have to answer questions about why he was outside,” Sirius replied with a shrug, “Dunno. I haven’t had a chance to talk with him. I was thinking of going to find him on the way to London.”

James shook his head, “He’s staying at Hogwarts for the holiday.” He lowered his voice, “He hasn’t got a family to go home to now, remember? I reckon he didn’t want to go to his cousin’s just yet… and who could blame him, I can’t imagine how awful the holiday will be for him.”

“Nor can I,” Sirius said.

“Does this mean you’re a werewolf now, too?” Peter asked tremulously, eyeing Sirius’s bandages suspiciously, as though the arm was going to turn wolf and attack him on the spot.

Sirius answered, “I dunno. I couldn’t very well ask Madam Pomfrey about it, could I? I don’t think so though. I looked in our Defense Against the Dark Arts book and it only mentions werewolf bites as being a way to turn wolf in there.” The question had been nagging him, too, and he’d worried about it a good portion of the night in the hospital wing, laying awake, staring at the full moon outside the window. He’d have turned then if he was going to, since the moonlight had been falling right on his bed the whole night. At least, that’s what he told himself. There was a little part of him that was absolutely terrified… yet another part, a much smaller part, had almost hoped he would have the condition just so that he could keep Remus company every month. It seemed that also being a werewolf would be the only way anyone could get near that awful beast that had taken over his friend.

“Is it terribly nasty?” James asked, nodding at Sirius’s bandaged arm, “The cut, I mean?”

“You wanna see it?” Sirius asked, grinning.

James nodded as Peter shook his head no.

Sirius unraveled the bandages to reveal his arm mostly healed. The skin was hot pink and seared together along the lines where the werewolf’s scratches had dug in. Pomfrey had done her best, but since they were created by magical claws, the cuts were much harder to mend than regular ones. ”I didn’t think that old cat had enough magic left in her to cause this much trouble,” Pomfrey had complained while she had smeared some sort of potion over the skin that mended it as best she could. But Sirius didn’t mind the scar. It looked rather cool - like a muggle tattoo, sort of.

“That doesn’t look so bad,” James said, though Peter looked a bit queasy.

“You didn’t see it when it was gushing blood and oozing pus,” Sirius replied, “It looked right terrible then. There was loads of blood! Pomfrey had to throw out the robes I was wearing.”

James looked more impressed at that.

“I just don’t know what I’m going to tell Remus about it,” Sirius said, wrapping the wound back up in the bandages carefully. James reached over to assist him. “I don’t want him knowing he’s done it, he’d be really upset.”

Peter’s eyes were wide, “But he’s attacked you!”

“Doesn’t mean he needs to be feeling guilty,” said Sirius sternly, “It isn’t his fault. He was in werewolf form, totally not himself.”

Peter was quite incredulous. “You’re mad as a bag of ferrets!” he said, “You told me last year that Remus was perfectly safe - would never attack us, you said - but here we are, not even a year later and he’s done attacked you!”

“I told you, Peter,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes, “I’m the barmy idiot that went into a werewolf’s territory on the full moon!”

“That doesn’t mean a thing!” Peter said, “He still attacked you. You could be - be one of them and you don’t even know it yet.”

Sirius groaned and rubbed his forehead angrily, “How many times do I have to say this? It’s not his fault, Peter. It isn’t like he woke up in his bed a raving wolf, drooling all over and attacking me for no good reason. He was in the shack and I went out there when I should’ve known better. Besides - what would you have me do? Tell McGonagall?”

“YES!” Peter shouted, “Tell McGonagall!”

“And then Remus would be kicked out of school!” said James, “That’s not very fair.”

“Fair?” Peter looked at James with raised eyebrows, “You’re worried about what’s fair for Remus? What about the fact that you’re being forced to share a room with a werewolf? Is that fair? I don’t think it is!”

Sirius glowered at Peter, “You’re such a ruddy coward.”

“I’m not a coward,” Peter said, “I have an ounce of smarts is all! I think you’ve got a death wish of some sort - not being afraid of a werewolf!”

Sirius replied, baldly honest, “I am afraid of a werewolf. But I’m not afraid of Remus Lupin and there’s a very big difference between the Remus we know and the werewolf I encountered in the shack. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s not the same thing, and I’m not about to get Remus our friend in trouble for something that the ruddy werewolf’s done. Alright? Now drop it. Nobody is telling McGonagall. That would be a betrayal of friendship, Peter! Nobody betrays my friends -- none of them -- if you do and I ever find out you’ve betrayed one of us, I’ll bloody kill you.” Peter stared at Sirius, and so did James. The seriousness in Sirius’s voice was absolute. He meant the words as sure as he’d ever meant anything he’d ever said in his entire life. There was not a single ounce of apology. “I swear it,” he added after a pause. “I bloody swear it on my soul.”

Peter got up and hurried out of the compartment, slamming the door behind him.

“Well,” James said, nervously laughing under his breath, “Guess you told him.”

“The little tosser needs to know,” Sirius said, “It’s serious stuff we’re dealing with there. Remus gets found out and his entire life could be wrecked just like that. We can’t go exposing him.” He sighed, “Peter’s a git.” He stared down at the bandages.

“Just tell him something happened on holiday,” James said.

Sirius looked up at him.

“Remus. When he asks what happened to your arm. Tell him something happened on holiday. He’ll never know the difference.”

A smile broke across Sirius’s face, “Good idea.”

“I have them now and again,” James replied, laying back against the cushioned bench.




Peter couldn’t find a compartment to go to that wasn’t already full up, so he ended up squashing into one toward the back of the train with Frank Longbottom and three first year girls who were ooh and ahhing over a copy of Teen Witch magazine, clustered all together on one bench, leaving Frank alone on his side. Peter sat down next to him and Frank glanced over at Peter’s podgey body and said, “Weren’t you in with Sirius Black and James Potter? What happened?”

“We’ve had a row,” Peter replied, still angry. He crossed his arms and stared out the window at the trees that zipped by as the Hogwarts Express moved across the countryside.

“A row?” Frank asked, “What about?”

Peter shook his head, “Just something stupid is all. They’re wazzocks is all.”

Frank smirked, but didn’t comment. He sighed and turned back to the book he had open across his lap, deciding that Peter was too sullen to provide any sort of good distraction. Peter was fine by that, he didn’t know Frank Longbottom much and he wasn’t interested in investing the time to find out anything, either. He just turned to stare out the window as the scenery went by.

James and Sirius were absolutely mad, he stewed, thinking it wise to keep a secret like that. Remus Lupin was dangerous, the proof was in the scars that hid beneath Sirius Black’s bandages. Maybe this time it had been claws and scars but what would it be next time? A bite? Their lives? Sure Remus had done alright so far remembering to leave before the full moon, but what if he couldn’t for some reason? What if he got angry with them and decided to use the werewolf within to seek revenge upon them? Peter had seen a movie like that once. He wouldn’t put it past a werewolf, either.

The train moved ever southward until it finally arrived at King’s Cross Station at Platform 9¾ and the students of Hogwarts shuffled off with their bags to their waiting families. Peter struggled with his trunk down the steps onto the platform until suddenly there was a hand holding on the other end and he looked up to see Sirius holding onto it, James by his side. Sirius stared into Peter’s eyes very solemnly as they moved across the platform where Mrs. Pettigrew was waiting for her son with a gleeful expression on her face.

“Oh Peter!” she said with joy, “Are these your little friends I’ve heard such a lot about?” she asked, excitedly.

James grinned, “Hullo Mrs. Pettigrew,” he said, greeting Peter’s mum with a full blast of the most charming personality that he possessed. “Yes, we are Peter’s friends - I’m James and that one’s Sirius,” he said, thumbing at Sirius.

Mrs. Pettigrew smiled widely, fussing over the three of them and saying she wanted to take a photograph of her little Peter with his mates from school and the three of them clustered together, Peter standing in front as he was much shorter and wider than either James or Sirius. Sirius bent low to be closer to Peter and just as Mrs. Pettigrew was about to snap the photograph he whispered, “I wasn’t kidding before, Pettigrew,” he smiled at the camera.