The Shrieking Shack

Homesick

The Shrieking Shack always creaked in the wind. It even creaked when there was no wind. It was just a creaky, creepy building. But to Remus Lupin, the Shack was, in some strange way, home.

He was standing outside its front door, gazing up at the broken shutters, feeling a surge of emotions course through him, but none of those feelings showed on his face.

"Oooh, don't go in there! There's a monster in there!" Remus turned. A little girl was running past on the path, playing some sort of muggle ball game with a boy who was probably her brother.

Remus smiled weakly, amused. "A monster, you say? Have you ever seen this monster?"

The girl stopped, picking up the ball.

"Hey, I call 'hands'!" said the boy.

The girl stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to Remus. "Merlin, mister, I've never seen it!" She shivered. "I wouldn't want to! But I've heard it's something awful fierce, something that would rip the flesh from your bones!"

Remus smirked. True. "Well, if you've never seen it, how do you know it's there?" he asked her.

"I've heard it! We all have!" the girl exclaimed. "It howls and growls and moans at night. It's horrible."

Her brother approached. "You've never heard it," he said to her. "You just hear stories. Silly stories."

"I have!" the girl insisted. "Every full moon, I hear it."

"It's all just myth," the boy said to Remus. "She's heard the tales, and she's come to believe they're true. She has an overactive imagination, don't you, Arabelle?"

The girl punched him in the arm, and the two children ran off, yelling at each other and fighting.

Remus Lupin knew the truth: The girl had never heard the monster. He was the monster. And he hadn't been in the Shack since before she was born.

Now here he was, standing outside, staring at it like some sort of creepy stalker, wondering if he should go inside or not, wondering if he could even handle going inside.

The weathered façade of the front of the shaking building didn't arouse many memories in him, at least; he had always entered by the "back door."

Remus shrugged. He was thirsty and tired, and he felt like having a drink. So he turned and headed back into town--Hogsmeade--to get a beer or some nice tea.

He pulled open the door of the Hog's Head, where he'd reserved a cheap room (of dubious quality) for the night. Creak! Remus stared at the door and sighed. Must everything creak in this stupid village? He walked up to the bar and nodded at the young man standing there; he was presumably the assistant bartender. "Can I get a pint of lager, please?" Then he sat down at a table in the corner to rest his legs.

"Remus?"

He looked up. Professor Pomona Sprout, of all people, was sitting a few tables away. What on earth is the Herbology professor doing here? "Hi there," he replied, giving her a wave. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I'm just here for a drink." As if she could read his thoughts, she added, "It's much quieter here." She gestured to him. "Come join me."

Remus got up (his chair creaking as he did so--Gee, I didn't expect that)--and sat down next to her. "You're looking well," he remarked.

"As are you," she said. "Um, how are you holding up?"

He shrugged. "As well as can be expected, probably."

She frowned and looked down at her glass. "I feel I should say something--"

"Don't," he interrupted.

Remus had never spent much time talking with Sprout, not when he was a student or a teacher at Hogwarts. Perhaps this explained the awkward silence that came over them then. Or maybe it was just the unspoken tragedy that had occurred only three years before.

"Do you live around here?" he finally asked. He found it odd that she was in Hogsmeade when school wasn't in session.

She smiled. "Yes. I have a little cottage on the edge of town. I have to see to the plants all year, and it's just easier this way. Charlie--that's my husband--he's happy here. He doesn't like the big city."

He thought for a moment. "You're going to think this a strange question, Pomona, but...what do you know about the Shrieking Shack?" He had used that Shack many times and was well aware of the rumours surrounding it but had never actually asked anyone specifically; he had never asked what Hogsmeade villagers thought about it.

Pomona looked at him, her eyebrows raised. "The Shack?" she asked. "Why are you asking about the Shack?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Just curious."

"Well, I would have thought you knew more about it than anyone, Remus." She smirked.

Remus took a sip of his beer. "Yes, I know about it, obviously. But...I don't know. I just wondered about it, what people thought about it."

She grinned. "They think there's a monster in there," she said simply. "Of course, I suppose there isn't one there now." She frowned.

"What kind of monster do they think it is?"

"There have been plenty of theories. Name a monster; I'm sure someone's suggested it as the inhabitant at some point."

Suddenly, a slightly drunk old man at the next table turned around to look at them. "You talking about the Shack?" he asked. "Place is haunted. Evil place, that. People go in there...they never come back out."

"Oh, don't be silly, Thomas," Pomona chided him. "Those are just stories."

"True stories," the man insisted, warming up to the subject. "My neighbour's cousin went in there once as a little boy, curious-like, and no one's ever seen him again!"

Remus snickered, but he suddenly noticed the man seemed vaguely familiar. Pomona scoffed. "If you mean little Edmund, he was sent away to live with his aunt and uncle."

"Well, explain the noises!" the man said. "Some say it's just the creaking of the old building, but it's obviously haunted. Every full moon, I hear the howls."

Pomona looked at her drink. "Well, it is true about the howling."

Remus smiled and spoke quietly so Thomas wouldn't hear him. "Well, there haven't been any noises in years, though. Not for decades, Mrs Sprout."

She smiled wanly. "Well, that's just it, Remus. We hear noises still."

"Excuse me?" His blood ran cold.

"They started in...well, they started in the '70s, as you know. It did stop, for a while--about 20 years. But they started up again recently."

Remus chuckled. "Excuse me, but that's not possible. It must be a case of overactive imagination. Or some kids sneaking in there, playing a prank."

She shrugged. "Maybe it is. Maybe it's not. I'm just telling you what I know. I live pretty close to that shack, and I can hear it. It keeps us up at night."

"It's not possible! You know that!"

"I know." She finished her drink and sighed. "Hey, if you figure it out, let me know. I need to get home." She picked up her shopping bags and shook his hand. "It's been good seeing you again, Remus."