The Hunt

The Hunt

Remus Lupin was in agony. His heart was breaking. In less than a year's time he had lost the man who was like a brother to him, his best friend. Sirius. Just a few days ago he lost the man who was friend, mentor, grandfather and more to him. Albus Dumbledore. The one man who was able to look beyond the beast and give him hope of something of a normal life.

Alone in the Shrieking Shack, Remus wept, deep heart crushing grief held him in its grasp. Tonight, the night of the full moon, double the anguish. Long before moonrise he locked himself in the shack, knowing full well that this would be one of the worst transformations he ever had. The pain began as the moon climbed higher into the darkening sky.

The wolf cried out for blood. Remus knew how Dumbledore died. The greatest wizard of the age was felled by treachery. One of his most trusted associates, Severus Snape killed him. Many years before, Remus had almost killed Snape. A prank, set up by Sirius had led the helpless young Snape nearly to the slavering jaws of death. Remus hated himself for that night ever since. But tonight, the hate was replaced by regret. Regret for the action not done.

The pain became physical as his joints moved from their sockets and his bones and muscles stretched. It became almost unbearable when his skull shifted shape and fur grew over his body. When the change was finished the wolf hollowed in anger and sorrow. Long and loud.

Suddenly there was the sound of a horn. A loud, deep wild sound. The sound of a Hunter's horn. Answering the horn was the baying of the pack. Something stirred deep inside the wolf. He answered the sound of the horn with a howl. The horn drew nearer and with each blast the wolf howled louder.

The shack shook to its foundations and the door was split into kindling. Standing outside the door was a man. He stood tall and proud, powerfully built. His skin was as black as coal and glistened in the light of the moon. In his right hand he carried a spear, tipped with obsidian, blacker than his skin. His eyes were glowing and green. From his head sprouted the antlers of a stag and he wore a cloak of the stag's hide. In his left hand he carried an immense ram's horn. Ranged round him were many large, fierce hounds. Each as black as the night. Tongues of green flame lolled from their mouths and their eyes were lit with the same eldritch fire.

The spear pointed at the wolf.

The wolf lowered his head and stepped from the ruined hut.

The spear touched the wolf.

He let out a howl and began to run. The pack and the Hunter followed. Into the night they ran, the wolf following more of a memory than a spoor. After many hours of running they came to a town. In the dirtiest, most rundown part of the town they paused at a house.

The Hunter raised his horn and blew three loud blasts.

Severus Snape woke from a fitful sleep at the first blast. Leaping to his feet, he grabbed his wand and jumped out the window on the back side of the house. He started to run into the night when an unearthly howl rent the air. The wolf began to close on him. He ran like he had never run before. He ran with the hounds of the pack on his heals. He felt their hot breath on his neck. He ran into trees and he ran through briers. He ran, forgetting he was a wizard and feared follower of the Dark Lord. He ran but could not escape the pack, nor the wolf leading them. He fell and the pack descended on him.

The blast of the horn shook the ground.

Remus awoke the next morning drained and with the taste of blood in his mouth.