Of Wolf and Wizard

Zelda Moore was true to her word where the willow tree was concerned. Barely had the next week begun when Remus and his friends returned from their afternoon lessons to find an official-looking message posted on the Gryffindor notice board. It was signed by Professor Harker, who was both teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts and head of Slytherin House - and it was about the tree.

Three pairs of eyes scanned it anxiously, half curious about what the verdict would be and half curious as to whether or not any of their names would be mentioned, and James began to read aloud when they got to the important bit. "On behalf of the headmaster and the staff, I would like to issue an official warning to the students of Hogwarts that this particular Willow is very dangerous, especially when provoked."

"Provoked?" echoed Peter. "All you've got to do is stand there...."

"When provoked," repeated James, and read on: "For their own safety, students are encouraged to keep a safe distance from the Willow."

"Probably a good idea," said Remus, as they dropped their bags to the floor and sank onto the nearest couch.

"I didn't think Zelda would actually say anything," said James with a slight grimace.

Peter smiled slightly at the mention of the girl's name, but remained quiet.

"And now we're not even allowed to go near it," concluded James in a voice filled to the brim with despair.

"It didn't say that," Remus pointed out.

"Yes it did," said James with a dramatic sigh.

"It said we're encouraged to keep our distance," said Remus. "Encouraged doesn't mean we're not allowed."

James looked suspiciously at Remus, who realized immediately that sharing this view of the situation with James might not have been the best of ideas. "I mean, it'd be stupid to go too close again," he amended quickly.

But James seemed not to have heard him. "But the point is, could we get in trouble for going?"

"Probably not," supplied Peter.

James grinned.

As it turned out, Remus and his friends were not the only ones who took this view of the warning. Notices on every common room board served to raise the awareness of the unusual willow tree from casual to frantic, and it didn't take long at all for the general student population to realize exactly what Remus and James had: that as long as there was no punishment involved, a warning was nothing more than a warning.

Within a matter of days the willow became a prime lunching spot, at least when it was warm enough to have lunch outside. Groups of students would sit just out of reach of the tree's limbs, eating their sandwiches to the constant background noise of the branches hitting the ground in their vain attempt to reach their human targets. The whomp, whomp sound was loud enough to frighten some of the more jittery students, and these were the ones who made a point to sit a bit farther away from the tree.

If you were cool, though, you sat as close as you could without actually getting hit, just to prove that you weren't afraid. And just as Remus could have easily predicted, Sirius Black was one of the ones who sat closest.

"We should move closer," whispered James excitedly on Thursday afternoon, as they sat and ate their lunches.

"No," said Remus firmly, not even pausing long enough to take his eyes off the turkey sandwich he'd brought out from the Great Hall.

"Yes," said James just as quickly. "Ear Boy's closer than we are, and--"

"And it's stupid," Remus cut in, "to sit closer just because he is."

Peter gave a nervous chuckle, and Remus suspected that he was remembering his own rather unpleasant encounter with the willow.

James studied Remus for a moment before wrinkling his nose at him. "You're awfully moody today, Lupin," he said, opting to change the subject instead of admitting defeat. "What's got into you?"

Remus took a defiantly silent bite of his sandwich, and James shrugged and looked away.

They ate the rest of their lunch without speaking much, which Remus felt was at least a little bit his fault. The full moon was only two days away, and he felt its forthcoming presence very strongly this month. He knew he was restless; he knew he was cranky; he knew he was a veritable storm cloud when faced with the presence of other people; but he also knew that there was very little he could do about it. If he annoyed people - well, that was their problem, not his.

Not that he went out of his way to annoy people, of course. In fact, he did quite the opposite; he took part in fewer conversations, he took notes during his lessons instead of letting James show him his latest rude drawing, and he merely smiled and shrugged whenever either of his friends asked why he was being so quiet.

This tended to be a perfectly good answer as far as James was concerned. So James never pried, and that was just fine with Remus.

The subject of moving closer to the tree was dropped, and James and Peter spent the rest of their lunch talking about some Hufflepuff girl who'd allegedly turned her hair into seaweed a few days ago. Remus listened with interest but made no comment, instead finishing his sandwich at a rather alarming rate.

"Oh!" said Peter suddenly, in the middle of a comment that James was making. James looked mildly peeved at having been interrupted, but Peter didn't notice. "I forgot - I ran out of ink this morning, and I left my spare bottle under my bed."

Making an absolutely tragic face, Peter turned toward James, but before he could even ask, James had already made an overly dramatic sigh and said, "If you must go and get it, I suppose I ought to go with you."

Peter tried and failed to hide a grin. "I wasn't going to ask," he lied, "but thanks ever so much for offering." James, all pretense gone, grinned back.

"Remus?" asked Peter as he got up, gathering his lunch things and book bag.

Normally Remus wouldn't have hesitated before agreeing to accompany them, but there was just something about the thought of all those flights of stairs that made him feel a little queasy. "Actually," he said slowly, and thought about how to finish the sentence. "Er, I actually have some work to finish before lunch is over," he lied, smiling weakly at them.

"Sure thing, mate," said Peter amiably. "We'll see you in Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"See you then," replied Remus.

As they walked off toward the castle, Remus faintly heard James remark, "I think he's getting sick or something...."

He didn't hear Peter's reply, assuming there was one, but it didn't matter. So long as they imagined he was sick, it would be much easier to disappear on Saturday night when the full moon approached. Perhaps he could even play up his sickness a little more; perhaps he could act so very sick that they'd be glad when he left to go up to the hospital wing. After all, considering what he'd told them about his mother's alleged illness, they couldn't be too careful around him.

Once James and Peter were out of sight, Remus too began to gather his things together. He still had a considerable amount of time before his afternoon lessons began, but he was planning on walking very slowly back to the castle, so as not to disturb his stomach. If he left the grounds early, he reasoned, he might well make it to the classroom right on time.

As it happened, he arrived at the Defence classroom with time to spare. He considered going in early and rereading the assignment from their last lesson, but immediately dismissed the idea. As much as he enjoyed the class, he didn't want to appear overeager. In his old school, he'd seen what happened to anyone who got the misfortune of being labeled a "teacher's pet." Remus wouldn't wish that kind of label on anyone - least of all himself.

So instead he lingered in the corridor, not too close to the classroom door. There was a tapestry nearby, and he began to study it with interest. There were dragons. He liked dragons.

"Hello."

A quiet voice interrupted his thoughts, nearly making him jump. When Remus turned, standing a few feet away from him was the strangely pale student he'd encountered the previous weekend. Edgar Montgomery. Pointy-eared, likely vampirical Edgar Montgomery.

Standing beside him was Severus Snape. Both of them were giving him thoroughly suspicious looks.

"Hi, Severus," said Remus uneasily, and turned toward the older boy, who'd been the one to address him in the first place. "And... Edgar, right?"

Edgar nodded. "May I ask what you're doing, wandering the corridors?" he asked. Remus realized for the first time that he'd never heard Edgar speak before; his voice was just as strange as his appearance. Not so strange as to be jarring, but strange enough to leave the listener slightly unsettled. Deeper than the voice of any other teenager that Remus had ever heard, it had an unusually soft quality, as though its sole purpose was to lull people to sleep.

It was a vampire voice if ever Remus had heard one.

"Nothing," said Remus defensively, and then added, "I'm waiting for my next lesson to start. Defence Against the Dark Arts. I got here early," he added needlessly.

"Ah," said Edgar, though it was more a sigh than a word. "And how is your friend?"

"My friend?" echoed Remus blankly.

"The one who was attacked by the tree," said Edgar.

Even with this clarification, it took a moment for him to realize that the friend in question was Peter. "Oh! He's just fine. He was just pretending it was worse than it was, see, so he could make James feel bad."

Remus let out a nervous chuckle, and Edgar gave him a thin smile. A smile which, Remus noticed, did not show off his teeth.

A sure sign that he had vampire fangs and was trying to hide them.

Remus dearly wished that Severus hadn't been there as well, or else he might have used this brilliant opportunity to ask Edgar just what it was like to be a vampire in a school full of people who were fully human. But if he was going to have a serious conversation about this subject, now was definitely not the time. There was the strong possibility that Severus didn't know - or even suspect, as Remus did - about the vampire thing. And if Remus unwittingly gave away the secret, then Edgar would certainly never trust him enough to tell him anything more....

"Would this be James Potter you're talking about?" said Severus, and Remus couldn't help but notice a hint of a sneer in his voice.

"Yeah," said Remus. "He's a friend of mine."

"So I've noticed," said Severus; this time the sneer was impossible to ignore.

Edgar raised his eyebrows. "I'll leave you lads to it, then," he said. "I trust you can find the Great Hall from here, Severus?"

"Of course I can."

Without another word, Edgar continued down the corridor. Remus watched him until he disappeared around a corner.

"Find the Great Hall?" Remus repeated, turning back to Severus.

"Oh," shrugged the other boy. "I went to find a professor, and lost my way back. Edgar brought me this far, and obviously I can find my way from here."

"Obviously," said Remus, who understood perfectly well that as a first year, it was absolutely imperative that you learn your way around the castle as quickly as possible, if only to avoid ridicule.

"So," said Severus. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"Nope," said Remus, and quickly decided not to mention his suspicion that this was largely due to the other boy adamantly avoiding him. "Different houses," he said with a shrug. "And you've taken to partnering up with that girl in Potions."

"Melanie. She's rather good at chopping ingredients just right."

"She fancies you, I'll bet," grinned Remus, clumsily trying his hand at Potter-esque humor.

Severus only set his already thin lips in an even thinner line, and glared. "No, she doesn't."

Something in Severus' expression made Remus want very much to turn and run after Edgar instead of continuing the present conversation.

But as Edgar's name popped into his mind, so did a new idea: what if Edgar's secret identity wasn't such a secret after all? If James Potter had heard rumors about it, then it was very likely that someone in Slytherin had heard the same things - and possibly more.

So instead of running, Remus decided to change the subject.

Turning slightly, he peered thoughtfully in the direction that Edgar had gone. "Hm," he said.

"What?" said Severus.

"Just wondering about something," said Remus lightly.

"Wondering what?"

"Don't you think Edgar's a bit... odd?"

As Remus watched, Severus raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. "Odd?" he repeated. "What makes you say that?"

He nearly replied, "Isn't it obvious?" but bit his tongue just in time. Maybe it wasn't obvious to Severus; after all, now that he thought about it, Severus was nearly as odd-looking as Edgar. He was just as pale, and while he didn't have the same pointy ears, he instead had an exceptionally large nose that reminded Remus of a rather large and dangerous bird of prey.

"Oh," said Remus, casting about for a diplomatic reply. "Nothing in particular. He just seems it. Odd, I mean. Seems odd."

Giving him a quizzical look, Severus only shrugged. "He seems fine to me."

Numerous thoughts occurred to Remus, including things like "Maybe all Slytherins are just naturally weird," and "Maybe Severus is a vampire too." But he dismissed the former as irrelevant and the latter as ridiculous, and merely settled for a frustrated sigh.

"Well," said Severus.

Remus waited for him to finish, but it appeared that he didn't have anything more to add.

"Well," replied Remus uneasily, casting about for something to say. He recalled something Severus had brought up earlier. "Do you know James? Potter, I mean?"

With the mention of the name, the other boy's sneer returned full force. "Oh, him," he said scornfully. "No, but everyone knows about him. He's about as Gryffindor as they come."

Remus frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

As if realizing for the first time that he was speaking to a student from the very house he was insulting, Severus winced ever so slightly. "Nothing," he said quickly. "I mean... nothing."

"Yeah, right," said Remus. "Gryffindors are all big, dumb oafs, right? That's what everyone seems to think."

Eyes narrowed, Severus countered, "Just like you lot think Slytherins are all evil, you mean?"

"I never said--"

"That's what you were thinking about Edgar. You think he's evil."

"I do not!" Remus said, practically gaping. "I never said that!"

"You didn't have to say it," spat Severus. "You all think that. Stupid Gryffindors."

Head held high, he brushed past Remus and stalked off down the corridor.

For his part, Remus was stunned. The conversation (if it could be called that) had reminded him eerily of the encounter he'd had with Sirius Black that night in the Gryffindor common room. All the talk of Gryffindor and Slytherin and prejudices and evil and such - it was all the same. Just... different.

* * * * *

Remus managed to get through the rest of Thursday without becoming overly tired, very likely because their double Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson had been highly entertaining - far more so than it had ever been. For the past month and a half, Professor Harker had confined the lessons to textbooks, parchment, and quills. But on this day, his lecture was accompanied by an impromptu demonstration.

Twenty minutes before they were due to leave, he had just finished a speech about how certain jinxes and hexes could be used to attack a person, even though they were not intrinsically dangerous.

James Potter had raised his hand. "If they're not dangerous," he said, "could you show us some of them?"

An excited whisper flowed through the classroom; the idea was clearly a popular one.

However, Professor Harker furrowed his pockmarked brow in a thoughtful expression. "I don't know that that would be the wisest idea," he said uncertainly.

"Come on, Professor!" said James eagerly.

Professor Harker raised a sly eyebrow. "Would you like to be my first test subject, Mr. Potter?" he said, evidently thinking that such a suggestion would decrease James' interest.

Remus and Peter, who knew James far better than their teacher did, exchanged grins.

"Yes sir!" said James, promptly leaping out of his seat and racing to the front of the room.

Taking a moment to adjust his robes (though Remus suspected that he was really thinking quickly about what he ought to do next), Professor Harker said, "Right then."

He proceeded to cast a very impressive Jelly-Legs Jinx on James, which made James wobble and fall to the floor, unable to get up until the jinx was removed. By the end of the ordeal, both James and his classmates were howling with laughter.

Professor Harker, smiling by now, asked for another volunteer. Remus decided to opt out of this particular experiment, but several hands, including Peter's, shot up into the air. Trilby Grenville (who Remus would now forever associate with hairbrushes) was selected for a Hopping Hex, which made her jump like a frog around the room for a very amusing thirty seconds.

Several students later, when Sirius Black was selected, James called from the back of the classroom, "Do a spell to make his ears bigger!"

The professor, who didn't know the history behind this particular suggestion, seemed to think this was a splendid idea. Pointing his wand at Sirius, he said, "Auris maximus!"

To James' delight, Sirius' ears grew even larger than they'd been on the train - and even Remus, who still thought the rivalry between James and Sirius was a bit stupid, had to laugh.

But he also couldn't help noticing that Sirius, standing at the front of the classroom with his ears flopping down against his shoulders, was laughing too.

* * * * *

"Do your ears hang low? Do they wobble to and fro?"

The quietly bouncy voice from the other side of the couch caused Remus to look up from his essay in annoyance. "James," he said warningly.

But James just continued singing: "Can you tie them in a knot? Can you tie them in a bow?"

"James, please."

"Can you throw them over your shoulder, like a continental sol -- ow!" cried James, cutting himself off mid-song.

Peter, who had thrown a small book at James and succeeded in hitting him in the shoulder, smiled innocently.

James scowled, glaring at Peter as he pointedly finished the verse in the loudest voice he could muster:

"Do your eeeeears haaaaaaang looooooooooow!"

"Are you quite finished?" said Remus in annoyance.

"Well, not exactly, see--"

"You are quite finished," amended Remus, turning his narrowed eyes back to his essay. There were only two inches left, after all, which he intended to fill before he had to leave. And he had to leave quite soon, if he was to make it up to the hospital wing before Madam Pomfrey began to worry.

Their corner of the common room remained mercifully quiet for the next ten minutes or so, giving Remus enough time to finish the essay before James quietly started on the second verse: "Do your ears hang high? Do they reach up to the sky?..."

Peter sighed loudly as James continued. It had been like this ever since their Defence lesson on Thursday; as they were leaving, James' eyes had gone wide as saucers and he'd said in a hushed voice, "I just remembered the most perfect song...."

Claiming that his parents had serenaded him with it when he was just a baby, James had proceeded to serenade his friends in turn, making sure that he sang loudly enough that Sirius could hear. It had been quite funny, the first time.

After the thirty-seventh time, it'd begun to grate on Remus' patience.

And by Saturday afternoon, it had just become downright exasperating; Remus's nerves were frayed to the point where he was almost glad there was going to be a full moon that night. Somehow, when compared to the prospect of listening to James sing that dreadful song all weekend, the idea of turning into a wolf for a few hours didn't seem all that bad.

"Do your ears hang out? Can you waggle them about? Can you--"

"All right," said Remus quite loudly. "I'm going to go."

Stopping abruptly, James inquired, "Go where?"

Pausing only for a split second, Remus replied, "Home. I'm going to visit my mum."

"Is she sick again?" asked Peter.

"Yeah, " said Remus. "Poor Mum," he added for effect. "I didn't visit her last month like I'd planned, so I can't miss it this time."

Gathering up his Astronomy book as well as his finished essay and quill, Remus began to head upstairs. Peter and James followed inquisitively behind him.

"Does she get sick every month, then?" said Peter.

"No, " said Remus quickly as he climbed the stairs. "It just happened that way this time. Completely by accident. Nothing to do with months."

As they filed into their dormitory room, James asked if he'd be back in time for their Astronomy lesson that night.

"Don't think so," said Remus uneasily. "But I've already told Professor Sinistra that I won't be there. I'm supposed to turn in my essay next week instead... unless you want to hand it in tonight for me, James?"

"Can I copy it?" said James promptly.

"No."

"Then no, I won't."

"Fine," sighed Remus. "You can copy some of it. Not all, though."

James grinned. "Excellent."

Remus handed him the essay, smiling a tired sort of smile. "I'll see you later," he said, and headed for the door.

But Peter's small voice stopped him before he could make a clean escape: "Don't you need to pack?" he said.

Remus turned and looked back at them. "What?"

"If you're staying the night at home," said Peter, "don't you need to pack?"

"Oh," said Remus. "Er. Well, I've got plenty of clothes at home."

"Toothbrush?" suggested James. "You've got to bring your toothbrush. Otherwise... ew."

The image of a wolf suddenly appeared unbidden in Remus' mind: a huge wolf, mostly grey with bits of brown in, trying to brush its teeth. The thought was so incongruous - so ridiculous - that he burst out laughing.

James blinked, clearly annoyed at having missed the joke. "What?"

"Nothing," said Remus, and ran to get his toothbrush. "I just - thanks for reminding me!"

Clutching the toothbrush in his left hand, he sprinted out of the room before either of them could stop him again. Once he was outside the common room, however, he had to stop and catch his breath. Running about on the day of a full moon was never a good idea.

So it was very slowly that he made his way up to the hospital wing, and even though he arrived well before his appointed time, Madam Pomfrey had already worked herself into a frazzled state over his forthcoming transformation.

"I'll be there at moonset to get you," she repeated for the fifth time as they quietly walked across the grounds together. "No later than moonset."

"Right," said Remus, smiling encouragingly at her. It seemed that the previous month had rattled her severely, causing her to chatter incessantly at him, promising every few seconds that she would get it right this month. But instead of annoying Remus, her uninterrupted monologue made him feel sort of grateful. It was nice to have someone this worried about him. Someone besides his parents, anyway.

She found a long stick and opened the tunnel beneath the willow, then turned to him with an expression that was half pity and half... well, he didn't know what the other half was. It was the sort of expression that made him sure that she was about to hug him.

But to his relief, she didn't. She just put one protective hand on his shoulder and said firmly, "I'll see you at moonset. I promise."

He nodded and, before she could change her mind about the hugging, lowered himself into the ground. Eager to explore a bit more of the old house while he could, he set off at a fast pace through the passageway. He had time before his transformation - but not a lot of it. He could already feel, in the tips of his fingers, the slight tingling sensation that preceded the rising of the full moon.

When he reached the other end, he closed the door with a firm "Colloportus" (which, to his surprise, worked this time on the very first try), and jumped in surprise when the room immediately filled up with blue light.

He'd forgot about the light. But there it was, same as the previous month, dimly illuminating the same bare, dusty room with the same broken chair in the corner. And on top of it all, the air of disuse that pervaded the old house was the same too - and it made Remus smile. Nobody had been here all month except him. The thought was somehow exciting and comforting at the same time.

There were three doors out of the empty room besides the one he'd just sealed shut. Determined to go a different way from the way he'd gone last time, Remus peered through each door in turn, searching for something that looked familiar. The one straight ahead opened into a long corridor; he didn't think he'd seen that before. The one to his right was just a cobwebby old bathroom. And the one to his left held a couch, a couple of chairs, two tables, and several tall bookshelves. He'd definitely seen this one before; the chairs were a shade of bright orange that was far too hideous to forget.

The corridor it was, then. Remus began to close the door upon the orange sitting room - but as he did, something caught his eye and made him look again.

One of the orange chairs was on its side, broken. And he knew it hadn't been broken before.

He let the door creak shut behind him, and a little shiver of anxiety darted through him as it settled back into its frame with a groan. He had a funny feeling that he knew exactly how that chair had been broken, and he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to see... but he crept closer anyway. Another shiver shook him - but this one wasn't anxiety. The tingling sensation was growing stronger.

Kneeling beside the broken chair, Remus surveyed the damage; sure enough, his suspicions were confirmed.

Bite marks.

Claw marks.

And some marks that he couldn't even identify.

For a moment all he could do was stare, taking in all the damage that the wolf - that he - had inflicted upon the now useless chair. And as he ran his hands carefully over the places where the wolf's claws had been, a million questions flooded his mind, mostly beginning with "how?" and "why?"

For one, why had this chair, of all things, fallen victim to the wolf? Sure, his parents had explained to him about bloodlust: that wolves survived by taking the lives of smaller animals, and that werewolves were much the same, except that for them an entire month's worth of bloodlust was condensed into one night. This explained why Remus ended up with so many injuries at the full moon: with the lack of anything living to kill, the werewolf went after its own blood.

But furniture was not alive, and had no blood - so why had the wolf attacked and effectively killed it as well? Was the werewolf so restless, so terribly violent, that it would just destroy anything it could get? Remus didn't think that normal wolves did this, and he found the thought very troublesome indeed.

He touched the jagged edge of one of the chair's legs, where a series of tooth marks had warped and disfigured the wood - and almost immediately pulled his hand away again. The forthcoming change had begun to tug at him, no longer just a mild tingling, but a constant pricking of tiny needles just under his skin. The moon was beginning to rise.

Without another look at the unfortunate chair, Remus jumped up and made his way into the next room; he had to see what else the wolf had destroyed.

At first, it seemed as though nothing had been touched in the little blue sitting room that lay beyond the orange one. Four couches, arranged around a center table, with little end tables at each corner: they were all exactly how he remembered seeing them before.

But no - hadn't there been lamps on the end tables?

The tingling spread through Remus' chest, and he moved further into the blue room. One by one, he found the lamps. They were strewn about the floor, smashed into tiny pieces of blue china.

Remus felt his stomach twist, though he didn't know whether it was because of the lamps or because of the moon. He ran from the blue room, heading down the corridor, at the end of which he knew there was a large room with a domed ceiling, an expansive wood floor, and no furniture. Perhaps the wolf hadn't found anything to destroy in there....

He had.

The far wall of the room had been lined with rich red velvet curtains, but now those same curtains hung in dull tatters, exposing the boarded windows beneath.

Closing his eyes against the sight of the curtains, and against the invisible needles that pricked at his arms and legs, Remus felt himself sway a little. It had been so different in his basement at home, where there'd been nothing down there with him but cement and spells. The only thing he could attack was himself, and all the evidence of that was always gone within a few days. All of this, the broken chair, the smashed lamps, the torn curtains: he didn't know how to fix it. And though he knew it was irrational, he suddenly couldn't shake the feeling that he might have to let all those things stay there forever, a broken testament to what he was capable of doing at every full moon.

A choked sob escaped him, and for a moment he wondered why. He wasn't crying - it would be a bit stupid to cry over a couple of curtains, wouldn't it? But no, this was a different kind of sob - a gasping sob - and when it happened again, Remus realized that it was because of the weight that had slowly but steadily begun pressing down upon his lungs. The pull of the moon was growing steadily stronger. Breathing was harder. His head felt too light. The floor felt oddly uneven.

He didn't have much time.

Quickly removing his clothes and storing them, along with his wand, on a high shelf, he arranged himself on the dusty floor, breathing as steadily as he could despite the increasing pressure on his lungs. In and out. In and out. It was only a matter of time.

* * * * *

Pain filled Remus' senses as he became conscious again. Dust, too, and cloth. It took a moment, but eventually he realized that he was lying on something soft. A couch. A faded orange couch, with one bright orange chair on either side - the ugly room just past the first door. His lupine self had found the way in here again, and now his human self was curled uncomfortably on the sagging couch, mouth half open with one cheek pressed against the rough cloth.

He coughed, and a searing pain ripped through his side. "Shh," said a voice.

Fear was his first response - who else was there? - but this turned quickly to bewilderment, and he looked around the room: rather a difficult task to accomplish without moving one's head. But he didn't have to look far; a shadowy Madam Pomfrey was moving toward him, slowly and cautiously, as though she were afraid that some part of him might still be a wolf.

"Hello," he said, but the word came out of his hoarse throat as little more than a grunt.

"Shh," she said again, and this time he obeyed. He watched her through hazy eyes as she conjured a blanket and draped it over him, then conjured a stretcher and eased him onto it. As it moved him slowly out of the room, through the next room, and into the tunnel, he thought to himself that it was sort of funny how a conjured stretcher could be firm and soft at the same time. Firm, soft, and nice against his cheek. And the last one was all that really mattered.

* * * * *

When he woke up, a hand was brushing his hair back from his face. He smiled hazily behind his closed eyes at the familiar sensation. He was home again.

But... no, that couldn't be right. His smile faded, and he jerked his mind awake in order to assess the situation. He was still at school, the transformation was over, Madam Pomfrey had come for him, he was in the hospital wing, and was it night or day? And why, if he could feel the stiff linen of the hospital sheets against his skin, had he thought he was home?

A gentle hand stroked his hair, and Remus tentatively opened his eyes. He was in that same little room, the one he'd been kept in last month - and there beside him, her hand hovering over his forehead, sat not his mother, but Madam Pomfrey. He regarded her warily.

"Hello," he said, and this time the sound vaguely resembled an actual word.

She started, as though realizing for the first time that he was awake, but quickly recovered and reached for a small plastic cup she'd placed on his bedside table. "Drink this," she said. "It'll help your throat."

He did so, and was immediately grateful for the honey-flavored liquid that warmed him from the inside out. "Thanks," he said, and smiled when this word came out sounding exactly as it should.

She smiled with a little sigh, and said after a moment, "You had a rough night last night." There was something in her voice that sounded rather lost, and perhaps sad.

"Did I?" he replied.

"I saw you transform," she said, but then she quickly shook her head and changed the subject: "Your hip was a bit torn up. I've mended most of the skin, and there were no broken bones, but I'll have to check on it again soon...."

But he barely registered any of the second half of what she'd said. "Wait - you saw me transform?"

She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. "I arrived a few minutes too early, it would seem."

He felt himself go pale, and a strange sort of fear filled him. "I didn't," he whispered, "I mean, I didn't... see you... did I? Before I changed?"

For the first time since he'd awoken, she looked straight at him. "If you're asking whether or not you tried to attack me, then no." He let out a slow breath, too relieved to say anything. "And no, I don't think you - the wolf, er - he - you - no, I don't think I was seen. I came just as the moon was beginning to set. You'd just begun to change when I arrived."

He closed his eyes again as she said this; somehow, seeing and hearing suddenly seemed like too much to do at the same time. Especially considering what he was hearing.

But after a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at her. "You saw," he said quietly, and she nodded. "What was it like?"

"I've - I've seen it before," she said, and her tone put him in mind of how his mother sometimes sounded after full moons. "I told you last month: I've seen werewolves at St. Mungo's. But...."

"But what?" he pressed.

"But it was never anyone that I knew." She met his eyes and smiled sadly at him. "I don't envy you, Remus."

He wanted to say something like, "You'd be kind of stupid if you did," but it didn't really seem appropriate at the moment. So he settled instead for not saying anything at all; he was getting a bit too tired for talking, anyway.

After a moment, she reached over to touch his hair again. "You were right, though," she said thoughtfully. "Your wolf. Grey fur with bits of brown in."

When he looked up at her again, she was smiling. So he smiled back and said, "Told you so."