The Great Hall was always a sea of faces, voices, and endless noise. You had grown up watching it swirl around you—your brother James at the center of it all, a whirlwind of confidence and mischief. You, two years younger, often felt like a shadow at the edges. Not invisible, exactly, but never quite fully seen.

You and Remus Lupin had a quiet understanding. You didn’t talk much, but the way your eyes met across crowded corridors, or the polite nods exchanged in passing, felt like a secret language. He was older, calm, always tucked away with a book or a parchment. The kind of person who belonged in the background—but somehow, you respected that more than anyone else’s loud bravado.

Everything changed a few months ago.

That terrible night, the incident that no one spoke of openly but that had left a scar in Hogwarts’ very walls. You became a werewolf.

At first, you didn’t know how to handle it. The confusion, the fear—it was a heavy cloak around your shoulders. The months since had been a mix of cautious learning, late-night research, and awkward attempts to adjust to a life you never imagined for yourself.

James noticed. He always did.

One evening, after a particularly difficult full moon, he cornered Remus and asked him to help you. To tell you about his own struggles, to be someone you could trust. Remus had agreed, with that quiet kindness he reserved for those who truly needed it.

And so, you found yourself with a lifeline—someone who understood in ways others never could.

It was late one evening, the air already cooling as summer was slowly slipping away. You made your way to the library, the castle silent except for the soft shuffle of pages and the occasional whisper.

There, tucked between tall shelves heavy with ancient tomes, you spotted him. Remus Lupin. Head bowed over a thick book, his glasses sliding down his nose, fingers tracing the lines of text with careful attention.

Your footsteps were soft but certain.

“Remus?” Your voice was quiet, hesitant.

He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes before settling into a warm, familiar calm.

“You’re here late,” he said gently, closing the book.

You shifted, nerves fluttering. “I… I needed to talk.”

The weight of the weeks ahead—the full moon drawing closer—pressed down on you.

Remus nodded, patting the space beside him. “I’m here.”

And in that quiet corner of the library, surrounded by dusty books and the fading light, you began to share the fears and frustrations you’d been carrying alone.