Party Animals

* * * * * * * * * *

Party Animals

CHAPTER SEVEN:

'The Wolf, the Dog, the Stag, and the Rat'

Minutes before Remus had transformed into his beastly state, Phiona Love finally caught sight of Peter nervously scurrying around the crowd of intoxicated Hogwartians. She roughly grabbed the Marauder by the neck of his dress robes, causing the boy to squeal with sudden fright.

"Oh, it's you." Peter breathed a sigh of relief as he realized who his capture was. "I thought you were Remus."

"I'm not nearly hairy enough to be Remus. And I don't have a tail," Phiona retorted dully. "Let's go. We need to find Mooney before he decides to pick out a midnight snack from the crowd."

"Oh God," Peter moaned in fear as Phiona pulled him past a group of Hufflepuffs who had taken up singing 'One thousand bottles of butterbeer on the wall.' "Those pills you gave Sirius must have been pretty strong."

"Not particularly," the frizzy-haired witch replied as she tried to stare through the crowded and chaotic dance floor, desperate to find any sign of the young werewolf. "One pill just wipes everyone's memory clean. No one will remember tonight if they tried. Sirius just put too many in, that unbelievable knob. He doesn't realize how much those things cost-"

Phiona's grand speech about Sirius Black and his overwhelming stupidity got cut short by Peter, who had begun to tug on her sleeve, pointing a shaky hand towards the back corner of the Great Hall.

"There he is," Peter said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Er . . . Why don't you talk to him first? I don't think he ate anything tonight."

Phiona rolled her eyes irritably. "You're a useless little coward, Peter. It's just Remus, for God's sake."

"It's not Remus I'm scared of." Peter's face went extremely pale. "It's the fact that he could bite my head off every time there's a full moon . . . That's what scares me."

"Bloody coward," Phiona repeated as she shook her head in complete revulsion. "Fine then. Wait here and I'll go get him."

Peter gladly stayed back, ringing his hands nervously as he watched Phiona walk into the far off shadows. "We're not going to make it . . ." he mumbled to himself, glancing at the full moon which now shown brightly through one of the windows. "We're not going to make it . . . Not going to make it . . . We're all going to die . . ."

Leaving Peter to drown himself in his own flooding fear, Phiona quickly made her way through the thickening crowd, finally coming to within reach of Remus. The Marauder was all by himself, whiter then the full moon itself, sitting at a table in which all the candles had burnt out. Without the much needed candlelight, darkness cast a wicked shadow over his face.

"Hullo, Moony," Phiona said softly, sliding into a chair next to Remus. "Why don't I take you out of here to go visit your tree?"

Remus said nothing. He sat there, motionless, staring at one of the smouldering candles.

"Let's go Remus," Phiona said, a little more forcefully this time. "Before you turn into a real live party animal."

Remus did not even acknowledge his friend's presence. He was transfixed, almost enthralled with the white candle which lay before him. The shadow in front of his face slowly seemed to darken.

"Lupin." Phiona's voice grew hard, finally getting fed up. "Let's go. You're over your time limit, mate."

Fully frustrated, Phiona's short line of temper snapped. She gave Remus a sharp shove, trying to gain some much needed attention. The jostle did break Remus away from his dream world; this was, however, not a step towards the better. As her friend spun around, Phiona locked glances with him. Remus's eyes were no longer their normal bright grey . . . they were now a fiery yellow, glowing unnaturally in the dark.

"Oh sweet Jehovah." Phiona swore briskly, stumbling out of her chair in sudden fright. Her heart began to beat faster, pounding frantically against her chest.

Remus's body went rigid as he rose slowly out of his chair. A thick, menacing growl echoed from the depths of his throat. He began to advance on the witch, carrying a ruthless look in his monstrous eyes.

"Remus . . . Remus it's me, Phiona Love." She was quickly getting backed into the corner; it would only be a matter of time until she would be hopelessly trapped. "You know, good ol' Phinny? I put that skunk in the boys' locker room last week, remember? I'm the one who put that farting hex on you last year. Oh God, please say you remember . . ."

Thick, grey hair began to sprout out over Remus's stiff body. His teeth began to grow to a preternaturally long length. And those eyes . . . those yellow, demon-like eyes . . .

"Okay, maybe the farting hex wasn't the best thing to mention in this situation," Phiona mumbled, looking around for anyone to help her. Not one Hogwartian had noticed that Remus was in the process of transforming. And Peter . . . well, dear Peteykinns was probably long gone by now, saving his own skin. Oh yes, Phiona would remember Peter's desertion . . . She now sees Pettigrew for what he really is . . .

But none of that mattered now. She first had to deal with the ever-changing Remus Lupin before she could go off and disembowel Peter Pettigrew for deserting her.

Seeing no other options, Phiona took out her wand, ready to defend herself. "Okay, mate," she snarled, holding her wand in front of her like a protective sword. "You and me . . . You're furry little arse is mine, Moony . . ."

Before Phiona had any chance to throw a hex at him, Remus let out something which sounded horribly like the combination of a human's yell and an animal's howl. He leapt forward, knocking the wand from Phiona's sweaty hands. It made a loud explosion, sending up red sparks as it landed on the ground . . . out of her reach. She was defenceless now . . . No wand . . . No tricks up her sleeve this time . . . So, as her final resort, Phiona did the last possible thing she could think of:

She screamed, hoping to God that some sober person would hear her cry. . . .

The werewolf bellowed. In a fit of rage, he swung an arm as dense as a wooden-beam, hoping to finally silence its screeching prey. The arm and claws connected with Phiona with the power of a wrecking ball. Before she realized it, the Gryffindor seventh year witch found herself flying through the air. Then, with a sickening thud, her body smashed into the corner of two hard limestone walls.

Phiona teetered on the brink of unconscious. Something stung in her eyes; her head felt as though it had been spilt in two; she tasted the nauseating rusty flavour of her own blood. The werewolf had fully transformed now, not a scrap of Remus Lupin left in it. Dropping down on all fours, a snarl crossed the beast's muzzle. Phiona wanted to run but the feeling in her legs had left her along time ago. The monster in front of her became unclear, her eyes sliding in and out of focus.

'This is it,' she thought. 'This is how it's all going to end . . . Life just played the ultimate prank on you, Phiona Love, and you fell for it like a fucking amateur . .'

'Well then,' retorted a little voice in the back of her spinning mind, "if I have to go out, I'm going out fighting.'

Using every scrap of her failing energy, Phiona struggled to stay awake, ready to do what she could to defend herself. The werewolf crouched down for that final, lethal leap. The moment before claws and teeth struck flesh, a loud bark sounded from across the hall. An enormous bear-like dog bounded forward, its teeth bared fiercely. As the werewolf wrenched itself to the side to face the new enemy, the dog seized it about the neck and pulled it backward, away from Phiona. They were soon locked, jaw to jaw, claws ripping mercilessly at each other.

Phiona used the last of her strength to get back on her feet. She reached out blindly, looking for something to support her, and touched some large and furry object. Looking up, her eyes sliding out of focus again, Phiona could hardly make out the outline of a great stag which stood before her.

She gave it a week smile. "I think Padfoot needs your help more then I do, honey."

The stag looked back at her with its large, black eyes.

"I'm fine. A little bloodied up, but nothing a few bandages couldn't fix," Phiona said softly, as if she was reading the animals mind. "Please Prongs . . . just get Moony out of here and, for the love of God, don't get anyone killed."

Rearing its head back, the stag snorted in high agreement and trotted off towards the noises of the fighting dog and werewolf. Phiona felt something little trip over one of her feet. She looked down to see a fat rat madly scurrying after the stag, desperate not to get stepped on.

Phiona suddenly felt quite light-headed. 'Ha,' she thought to herself as the sense of balance swiftly began to drain out of her. 'Good old Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs . . . Hogwarts' real party animals . . .'

Finally letting go of the last bit of conscience she was clinging to, the witch collapsed, her head hitting the floor as her world went black.

* * * * * * * * * *

Needless to say, the stag had a hard time leaving his friend lying in the corner of the hall. She could have fatally wounded. Or dead. The stag, however, could not afford to fret about the condition of Phiona Love at this point. She would be fine. He needed to help finish what he had started. Making its way to the other edge of the hall, the large stag was relieved to find the black dog was holding its own, pinning the werewolf down roughly by the neck.

{Let's get Moony out of here.}

{I agree one hundred percent, Prongsey. Do you have Wormtail?}

{I'm down here. You almost stepped on me!}

{Er . . . Sorry 'bout that, mate.}

The stag threw its head back impatiently. {Let's go, Padfoot. Time get the hell out of this bloody death trap.}

{Load 'em up and head 'em out,}The black dog barked in agreement. It then snapped at the werewolf's heals, herding the monster forward.

Several drunken students pointed and laughed hysterically as the werewolf, with the dog and stag on either side of it, raced towards the door, the rat leading the way. In a desperate attempt to get out of there as soon as possible, the four animals ploughed through an alternate route; instead of taking the chance of cutting though the crowded dance floor, they bolted across the tables, knocking over everything in their way. As the dog ran across the refreshment table, it went out of its way to knock over the tainted punch. The crystal beverage bowl hit the floor, shattering into millions of pieces and flooding the dance floor with sticky, blood red punch. The dog let out a howl of triumph as it leapt off the table to join its fellow animals at the front of the Great Hall. At the doors, a frustrated werewolf let out a disgruntled growl. The stag pawed at the ground, giving its vicious companion to keep its temper in check. Scurrying around the floor, the small rat began to screech with utter anxiety.

{Er . . . how are we going to get through the door?}

The dog glanced at the stag, its lolling tongue hanging out the side of its mouth. {Wormtail's got a point. I don't know about you, mate, but I'm in serious lack of opposable thumbs.}

The werewolf snarled. It was quite tired of being cooped up inside.

{We're working on it, Moony. Christ, keep your tail on.} The dog then shot another meaningful look at the stag. {Well, Prongs, I guess this is where your thick head comes into play.}

{Excuse me?}

The rat squeaked furiously. {Oh, for heaven's sake, just ram the door! Moony's starting to look hungry.}

{Mmmmm . . . rat-kabob . . .}

{Shut up, Padfoot!}

The stag narrowed its huge eyes at its animal companions. {Right then. Back up, I'll take a run at the door.}

The dog took the werewolf by the scruff of the neck and pulled it out of the way as the stag took a few steps backwards. With a loud snort, the stag ran full speed towards the door, its head lowered so that its antlers would take the full impact. The door splintered and swung open, letting the outdoors burst through the Great Hall. At first, the entire Hogwartian persona just simply stood there, gawking openly at the four animals and the gaping entrance. Then, in a great coordinated wave, the people of the Great Hall broke out in drunken applause.

{Wow, Prongs. I didn't know you had such a thick head.}

{Comment while you can, Pads. Comment while you can . . .}

The dog nipped at the werewolf's heels again, making it run out the gaping doors. The two canines were followed closely by the stag and, finally, the rat. As soon as the animals bolted out of the door, the Hogwartians quickly forgot about the deed and went back to signing 'One thousand bottles of butterbeer on the wall', ignoring the fact that a rat, a dog, and a stag had just rushed a man-eating werewolf out of the castle.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*