The Marauders could not help but steal glances at the quiet boy, a fleeting shadow of Remus himself. Lupin remained a neutral presence, while Peter and James’s interest waned. Yet Sirius’ scrutiny persisted, unwavering.

Sirius observed the subtle nuances of his demeanor and the delicate fabric of his appearance, piecing together the puzzle of his distress days later.

He intercepted his path in the hallway, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest, an unyielding barrier against the world.

“You’re a lycanthrope. You’re transforming into a werewolf every full moon.” It was not framed as a question; it thundered forth as an undeniable declaration.