Hide Your Fires- Wolfstar

Prologue (God Made Man - Young the Giant)

Remus POV

The moon rises from the depths of the sky, seeming to swell and consume the darkness that surrounds it, until nothing is left but its glaring light; the opposite of a black hole, but matched in its ability to draw in and crush. The longer I stare, dread building and tangibly holding me by the throat, the more it seems to mock me, becoming sentient and ever more evil. Is it fair to call it evil simply because of what it creates? Does that make God evil, if all things were created by him, supposedly with benevolence, and yet wickedness thrives? Did God create immorality, or did it spawn because He created morality? After all, everything that is made has to have an opposite to keep the universe in equilibrium. Every light has a darkness, and every darkness a light.

These philosophical ramblings are ultimately irrelevant- I've never been convinced there even is a God. My mother, on the other hand, was raised a devout Catholic. I can't recall ever seeing her without a crucifix around her neck, even when her faith was at its shakiest. When she met my father and was introduced to the world of magic, I think she managed to use it to strengthen her beliefs ("God is so gracious He blessed a chosen few with the gift of harnessing a higher power"), but when... when I was bitten, she realised that while God may have given magic to humanity as a gift, gifts come with a price. Every light has its darkness, and the darkness to magic's light is lycanthropy. For that reason, both my parents have come to resent magic and resent their son for what he represents- the inevitable consequence of a priceless gift.

In much the same way, I resent the light of the moon, for it represents the darkness within me, that festers and grows with the moon's cycle, awaiting the freedom that comes with the full moon. It knows it doesn't have to wait much longer, only another night, and so is restless. I can feel it running rampant through my bloodstream, squeezing its way into every crevasse in preparation to consume me.

When the time comes, I will become darkness, under the moon's light.

*   *   *

Sirius POV

"Calm down!"

Millicent Bagnold's voice is drowned out by the anxious mutterings of the crowd, exchanging conspiracy theories that brew terror throughout the room.

"Calm down?! You want us to calm down when there's a war going on?"

I pity Millicent, usually strong as iron, completely unshakeable, but Merlin does she look shaken right now. How much sleep has she gotten since Voldemort began gathering his army of Death Eaters? Not a lot, by the looks of it. As Minister for Magic, all of us are turning to her to seek answers and assurance that things aren't as bad as they appear. The issue with that is, things are worse than they appear, so the answers she has aren't the ones we want to hear.

"SILENCE!" The word bounces on marble walls, its magnitude so great it manages to stun the crowd into silence. Millicent exhales in relief and allows her shoulders to fall. "Now," she says softly, grateful the crowd are listening to her, "one at a time, if you would. This hysteria really isn't benefitting anyone." She gestures at a figure in the front row with a raised hand.

"How many does He have?"

We all know he means Voldemort. No one dares say his name out loud, though. It's like that muggle story Lily told me of once, about this ghost showing up if you say its name in front of a mirror three times. Ludicrous.

"We're unsure of any specifics," Millicent replies. "We have undercover agents working on getting us the number of his army, but right now it's hard to say."

"I heard the werewolves are supporting him!" an anonymous cry from the other side of the room proclaims. The room explodes into chatter again, which is inevitable if you mention werewolves in a room full of tense wizards. It doesn't help that it's the night before a full moon. If they are on Voldemort's side, tomorrow, our enemies will be at their strongest.

"We don't know that yet," Millicent says, in vain, because no one's listening to her again. She looks defeated already, which doesn't bode well when the war has only just begun.

I wonder if my parents are here. If they are, I bet the chaos is of great amusement to them. They've pledged their allegiance to him already. I don't need to be told that to know it to be true.

This upheaval is going to seem mild soon enough, when the real fighting begins. I know I'll have to fight, I just hope it won't be soon. When the time comes, I'll come face to face with my father for the first time in five years, and only one of us will be able to walk away with a beating heart.