Remus

He grabbed James' cloak before leaving, just in case Mary and Lily were still in the common room.

He was just reaching for the doorknob when he had a sudden flash of sense.

What on earth was he doing?

Going to see Professor Ferox, and then what?

Whine to him about his dead father?

Cry to him about how nobody would ever understand him because he was a murderous, dark creature with a working-class accent?

Moan about how his friends were all going girl-mad and he felt left behind?

Remus retreated back into the room.

What on earth would Ferox think of him?

That he was a big wuss, that's what.

You can't just go crying to teachers whenever something bothered you.

You couldn't just expect everyone to feel sorry for you.

No one owes you a happy life, Matron always said.

He lay on his bed and stared up at the canopy.

He felt worse now.

He didn't know what had come over him.

He was never normally one to act on impulse, not anymore, not since his first year.

He'd just felt so strongly that he ought to see his teacher.

Ah, there it was again, that flutter in his midsection.

It wasn't excitement at all.