The Tameness Of A Wolf

Remus had promised his parents that he'd write every day, but by his second day at Hogwarts, he realized that this wouldn't be possible. The days were so busy that he rarely had any time to himself, and though the older students and teachers said that it would get better he wasn't so sure. He hadn't realized that school would be this much work! Yet despite his heavy workload, he was happier than he'd been in a long time. His classes were fascinating.

The Potions dungeon was overwhelming at first, with its exotic mix of scents, sights, and sensations. Professor Tramer, the teacher, was stern but good at his job, giving precise instructions and demanding his students to take detailed notes before setting them to work brewing their latest concoction. As they worked, he carefully circled the room, observing as silent students measured ingredients or stirred cauldrons, stopping every so often to dispense advice or praise. He was the head of Ravenclaw, eminently fair, favoring no one and making sure that everyone earned their grade.

Charms was taught by tiny little Professor Flitwick, a youthful wizard so short that he was forced to teach standing on a pile of books. In his rather squeaky voice he issued instructions and lauded students' achievements, maintaining a cheerful smile all the while. His students soon grew to appreciate his sense of humor, but all attempts to take advantage of his good nature ended in failure; assignments were to be handed in promptly, no if's, and's, or but's.

Although Remus' mother loved to work in her garden, Remus didn't share her green thumb and he struggled in Herbology from the start. Professor Felle was nice enough - a businesslike witch who knew how to teach - but she took a definite disliking to those students without talent in her subject. What Remus couldn't do in practical lessons he made up for with his carefully written, well-researched essays, yet he still felt as though he'd never manage to meet her high standards.

History of Magic was the only subject that Remus found to be genuinely boring. It was taught by Professor Binns, a monotonous old ghost who stood at the head of the classroom and lectured for the entire period. There was no use in trying to get his attention; he was oblivious to raised hands, whispered conversations, flying notes, and even mild shouting. As his class was first thing in the morning, many students (Sirius included) elected to spend the lesson sleeping, but Remus took an interest in the subject and was rewarded for it when their first assignment was marked.

Astronomy, taught by Professor Estrelle, was pure misery. None of the students liked being dragged out of bed at midnight, but many declared that the spectacular view from the Astronomy Tower was well worth it. Remus didn't agree. He'd been dismayed to learn that the phases of the moon were the first thing on their curriculum, but he had reasoned that he'd do well, being very familiar with the lunar cycle. Unfortunately, he had reckoned without the teacher. Professor Estrelle had taken a disliking to him from the start, and soon Remus was relieved that he only had Astronomy twice a week.

Many Gryffindors had hoped that Transfiguration would be an easy subject - it was taught by Professor McGonagall, their head of house; perhaps she would cut them some slack? But they soon discovered that this was not to be. McGonagall was as stern and demanding as Professor Tramer, yet doled out praise much more sparingly. Still, she managed to inspire her students, and all worked hard in her class.

But Remus' favorite subject by far was Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He hadn't expected to be good at it - in fact, he'd assumed quite the contrary. Who ever heard of a werewolf with a talent for Defense? Yet he loved the subject more and more with each passing class. Professor Candace had them starting out by learning simple spells for dueling, and frequently she asked Remus to demonstrate something for the class, telling him that he had great talent. Although he didn't like being singled out in classes, Remus had to admit that he was pleased with his own progress. The spells came to him so easily, and he was quick to grasp the theories behind defensive magic.

It seemed as though for every hour that Remus spent in classes he spent another doing homework. Luckily, the Gryffindor first-years were quick to bond with each other and they formed a sort of informal study group, meeting in the common room every evening to help each other with their homework.

There were nine of them - Remus, James, Peter, Sirius, and five girls - and each soon displayed a talent for a different area. Remus was often enlisted to help with Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. Peter's History of Magic notes were immaculate, and very much in demand. For help with Transfiguration, James couldn't be topped, and Sirius was glad to aid anyone who was falling behind in Potions.

And then there were the girls.

Remus thought he'd never understand girls. From the moment that they'd been Sorted, the five of them had divided into two informal groups. In one group - well, pair - were Julie Ann Ferris and Alice Perkins, two nearly identical girls with blond ponytails and hazel eyes. Because they looked and acted so alike, the teachers often confused them. They were complete mysteries to Remus - always talking about makeup and boys and reading magazines with names like Magical Maid and Teen Witch under their textbooks. Alice was clearly the more dominant of the two, with a cheerful, vibrant personality; Julie Ann tended to follow whatever Alice said and did. The two were annoying, but Remus had to admit that they were the best Astronomy students he'd ever seen, and he frequently found himself going to them for help.

The other group was perhaps more of an enigma than the first. Rhea Rosenblum was nice enough - a short girl with frizzy brown hair and an olive complexion. She was very kind and good at Herbology, and she often tutored Remus in exchange for his help with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Remus couldn't understand how she'd fallen in with Marya Donahue - a spunky Quidditch player with short, dark hair - and Lily Evans, a Muggle-born redhead with a gift for Charms and a fiery temper.

From the start of the school year, Lily - although nice enough to Rhea and Marya - had established herself as being someone to watch out for. She had a sharp mind and was good in class, yet her fellow students knew better. On the second day of classes she got into a fight with Evan Rosier, a Slytherin first-year, after he called her a Mudblood. Rosier found himself in the hospital wing with a bloody nose and a split lip; Lily was sent to Professor McGonagall's office and narrowly escaped detention. She protested vehemently when Professor Estrelle assigned them thirty-six inches of parchment, due in two days. And for some reason she'd taken an intense disliking towards James and Sirius. Granted, they had spilled ink all over her bookbag on the first day of school; but Remus was fairly sure that was an accident, and besides, it hadn't been that difficult for her to clean up. After the first few days of school, all of the Gryffindor boys had made up their minds to give her a wide berth.

The first four days of school flew by, and before Remus knew it, the full moon had arrived.

"Remus. Hey, Remus! Wake up!"

Two hands grabbed his shoulders, shaking him roughly; the covers were thrown back, and Remus shivered at the sudden change in temperature.

"Remus!" the voice repeated, and he opened his eyes, blinking as they slowly adjusted to the bright light.

Sirius was the one who had him by the shoulders; Peter and James stood at the foot of the bed, both grinning.

"Let go," Remus mumbled, sitting up and pushing Sirius away.

"It's nearly time for breakfast," Sirius continued, unfazed. "Say, are you okay, Lupin? You look a bit . . . pale."

Remus nodded and noticed dully that his head hurt. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Well, we're going to breakfast," Peter said. "Meet you in the Great Hall?"

"Sure."

The three boys left, and Remus lay back, eyes closed. Already he could tell that it was going to be a long day; his throbbing head had only been exacerbated by Sirius' shaking, and his whole body ached slightly. Mum said I can stop by the hospital wing any time I needed to . . . no! he decided. I've got to act normal. I can't let anyone suspect that anything's wrong. The moon's rising at quarter to seven; I'll have to leave dinner early. I can pretend I've got a stomachache or something. But I've got to go on as usual, especially in my classes! With this in mind he got out of bed, head spinning slightly, dressed, and hurried to the Great Hall to join his classmates for breakfast.

~*~

By the time Remus reached the Great Hall everyone else had begun to eat. He glanced up and down the Gryffindor table and saw James waving.

"Hey, Remus!" he called. "We've saved you a spot!"

"Thanks," Remus said, gratefully slipping into a seat next to his friends.

"No problem," Peter replied. "Here, have some breakfast." The smell of the food made Remus feel slightly nauseated; he swallowed tightly and helped himself to minuscule portions of bacon and toast.

"Does anyone know what class we've got first?" Sirius asked, violently spearing a piece of sausage on the end of his fork. "I've lost my timetable."

"Again?" James asked incredulously. "McGonagall's going to kill you!"

"You can copy mine," Peter volunteered.

"Thanks, Pete," Sirius replied.

"It's Peter," Peter protested. Sirius nodded, mouth full of food. Sighing, Peter pulled a crumpled schedule out of his bookbag. "We've got . . . Herbology, History of Magic, lunch, double Potions, Transfiguration . . . "

James sat up suddenly and rummaged in his own bag. "Oh, bugger - I've forgotten my History of Magic book."

"It doesn't matter," Sirius advised. "Binns won't even notice. I never bring my book to History of Magic."

"Sirius, you don't bring books to any of your classes," James pointed out.

Sirius' face flushed. "Well . . . "

Just then Peter raised an arm and pointed up at the ceiling. "Look! Owls!"

The room filled with a cacophony of hoots as a few hundred owls swooped through a high window near the roof and made their way through the hall, seeking out students and dropping notes. A folded bit of parchment landed on Remus' plate, and he unfolded it, anxious for a distraction from the sickening smell of food. It was a letter from his parents.

Remus, dear,

We've received two owls from you so far, and it sounds as though you're having a wonderful time at Hogwarts. James, Sirius and Peter sound very nice. Perhaps you can introduce us to them at Platform 9 ¾ when you come home for the Christmas holidays? We're relieved that you've been doing well in your classes so far. I recall Professors Tramer, Binns and Felle from my own days at Hogwarts. No, I'm not disappointed by your difficulty in Herbology! Keep working hard and I'm sure you'll do well.

I'm glad that you're doing well in school - hopefully it will make tonight easier for you. Remember that you can go to Madam Pomfrey at any time if you're not feeling well, and try to eat something - it will help, I promise. We'll be thinking of you tonight.

Mum

Remus -

Your mother seems to have covered most of the important things, but I wanted to add a little note of my own. We can't emphasize enough how proud we are of your success at Hogwarts! Keep up the hard work, and don't give up in Herbology or Astronomy. They will get easier, I promise.

And as for tonight - above all, relax. Try to stay calm, and don't stress about it. Everything will be all right - as all right as possible, anyway - and Madam Pomfrey promised to write first thing in the morning to let us know how you are. We love you, and as your mother said, you'll be in our thoughts. Relax and hopefully things will go smoothly!

Much love,

Dad

Remus folded the letter and blinked several times to ensure that he didn't cry. He knew that his parents' intent had been to reassure him, but now he realized that he was truly afraid of what the night held. He had adjusted well to Hogwarts, but he wasn't so sure about the wolf - and more than anything he wanted to spend the full moon at home. His parents knew and understood what he went through each month; Madam Pomfrey had never met a werewolf before, and would probably be shocked despite his mother's letter telling her what to expect. And above all else, he was unable to confide in his friends. He would have to carry on that day, through all his classes, as though everything was normal, even as the sun moved in a graceful arc across the sky and moonrise grew closer, with the wolf fighting to get out . . .

There was a loud chime as the school clock struck eight-forty five, and suddenly a mob of students was pressing toward the door, in a rush to leave the Great Hall and make it to their first class at nine.

"Come on!" Sirius urged, grasping Remus' upper arm and pulling him after James and Peter. "We've got Herbology with the Slytherins, and it's a long walk to the greenhouses . . . "

Professor Felle smiled cheerily as the students seated themselves in front of her. "Good morning, Gryffindor and Slytherin!" There were a few mumbled greetings in response, and she continued. "Next week you will begin our first project of the year, in which you will research and grow certain varieties of magical plants which I will assign. For now, however, we'll spend a few days learning about one of a herbologist's most valuable tools: mooncalf manure. Can anyone tell me why mooncalf manure is such a helpful item? Miss Martin."

Eileen Martin, a short and rather pretty Slytherin with red hair, responded, "Mooncalf manure is important because, when used as a fertilizer, it causes plants to grow extremely quickly and strengthens their uses in potions."

"Five points to Slytherin. And where do we get mooncalf manure? Mr. Black."

Sirius had been busy copying over Peter's schedule. He looked up, startled. "Er . . . from mooncalves."

"Partially correct, but I was hoping for more information. Please put that away and pay attention," she added. "Yes, Miss Evans?"

Lily grinned. "Mooncalves leave their burrows on the full moon and go outside to dance. They often leave dung behind, which must be collected before the sun rises if one wants to take advantage of its properties as a fertilizer."

"And for ten points, does anyone know the color of the manure?" There was silence, and then a hand was tentatively raised. "Yes, Mr. Potter."

"Silver?"

"That is correct. Ten points to Gryffindor." Lily rolled her eyes. "Now, because mooncalf manure must be collected on the full moon and used while it is still fresh, we don't have any on hand. However, your schedule has been slightly rearranged. As the full moon is tonight, instead of Astronomy, you will come to the Forbidden Forest with me to search for mooncalf manure. Tomorrow we will utilize it in class. For today's lesson, I'm putting you in pairs. Together you will spend the class period researching two things about mooncalf dung: how it was discovered and which plants it works most effectively with. There's a stack of reference books at the front of the room for you to use." She paused, and surveyed the class. "The pairs are as follows: Sirius Black and Simone Jennings, Julie Ann Ferris and Marjory Archard, Rhea Rosenblum and Carter Wilkes, James Potter and Evan Rosier, Remus Lupin and Severus Snape . . . "

Reluctantly Remus picked up his bookbag and walked over to where Severus Snape stood. He was a tall, lanky boy with shaggy dark hair and a prominent nose. His antipathy toward Sirius was legendary; in the five days that the two had been at school, they'd managed to land themselves in a professor's office three times for fighting. Sirius refused to explain why.

When he saw Remus approaching him, Severus sneered. "Ah, so it's one of Black's friends. Which one are you?" Remus didn't respond. "You're not fat enough to be Pettigrew, and you don't look stupid enough to be Potter - so you must be Lupin." Another pause, in which Remus stared fixedly at the ground. "I take that back; you're stupider than Potter. Too thick to talk, perhaps?"

This behavior was completely new, and it startled Remus. When others were around, Severus was quiet and meek, rarely speaking. Perhaps he had sensed a victim in Remus, and thought that he would be easy to tease. Well, he'd just have to prove Severus wrong . . .

The other groups were settling down to work. Remus gathered all his courage and looked up, meeting his partner's malicious black eyes. "W-we'd probably better start working if we're going to finish this assignment by the end of the period. I think it would be easiest if we broke up the work. Which part do you want to do?"

Severus said nothing. Remus stifled a yawn; he was exhausted, and didn't feel as though he had the energy to deal with Severus' attitude.

"Researching the discovery of mooncalf manure sounds interesting . . . if you don't mind, I'd like to cover that topic," he stated when the other boy's sullen silence continued.

"You do that," Severus said. When he didn't speak again, Remus crossed the room, took a book from the pile at the front, and returned to where Severus stood. The other boy had not moved. Sighing, Remus pulled out parchment and a quill, and began to search the index of the book for information about mooncalf dung.

It felt as though hours had passed before Professor Felle called, "I'm afraid we've run out of time. Please bring your completed essays to me and you may leave."

Remus glanced down at the paper in his hand. It was hardly complete, but he felt as though he'd covered most of the important aspects of his topic. He turned to Severus.

"Are you done?"

Severus nodded and wordlessly handed him a sheet of parchment. "You can hand them in," he added. Remus nodded. As he turned to walk over to Professor Felle, he thought he heard Severus say something. "What?" he asked, turning around, but Severus wasn't looking at him. I must have imagined it, he mused as he made his way to the professor, handed her the papers, and turned to leave.

"Mr. Lupin!" a voice called, and he turned back to see Professor Felle frowning at him. "This is unacceptable!"

"What?" Remus asked, head spinning. What had he done? He was sure that he hadn't left anything out of his essay . . . "What did I do?"

Felle held up the parchments that he'd handed her. "I think it's perfectly clear!" she exclaimed. "Making Mr. Snape do all of the work! I understand that you have difficulty in my subject, but I don't think it's too much to ask that when I partner the class in an activity you pull your own weight instead of shirking like this."

Face rapidly reddening, Remus took the parchment she was holding out to him and thumbed through it. The first sheet was Severus' part of the essay, and he appeared to have done it quite well . . .

Remus froze.

The second sheet of parchment was clearly his essay - he recalled writing it, and he was positive that he had done it - yet it was written in Snape's spiky handwriting.

"I - Professor, I - " Remus struggled to explain what had happened. I knew I heard him say something! He must have cast some sort of spell on the parchment - I don't know how, but it's the only way . . . Sighing, he pulled out his wand and waved it at his essay. "Finite Incantatem!" Nothing happened. "Finite Incantatem!" he repeated. Still, nothing. Professor Felle was watching him, eyes shooting ice.

"I'll have to give you a zero for today's work," she said, taking the essays from him. Sighing, she added, "I wouldn't have expected it from you, Mr. Lupin - but apparently I misjudged you. Go on, now, or you'll be late for your next class." Remus nodded briefly and trudged out of the greenhouse, fighting back tears for the second time that day.

~*~

"The git!" Sirius exclaimed. It was lunchtime, and Remus had just finished telling his friends what had happened in Herbology. "I could kill him!"

James grabbed Sirius' arm, restraining him from banging it against the table, but he too was upset. "I can't believe he got away with that," he said gravely. "You've got to talk to Professor Felle, Remus - she'll understand - "

"I doubt it," Peter commented. "You've seen how she treats Remus."

"I deserve it," Remus mumbled. "I should try harder - I'm no good at Herbology, it's no wonder she thought I tried to shirk . . . "

"Nonsense," Peter insisted. "It's not your fault, Remus!"

Remus looked down at his plate and didn't answer. He really didn't feel like arguing. He was all too aware now that moonrise was in five hours, and if he were to make it through all of his afternoon classes, he wouldn't be able to spare any energy.

"Talk to Professor Felle anyway," James urged. "If you don't, I will. You definitely heard Snape say something - there must be some sort of spell that would switch handwriting like that. It'd be just like him to know it! He knows more hexes than all the Slytherin fifth-, sixth-, and seventh-years put together!"

"I'm not sure if I heard it," Remus said wearily. "It might have been my imagination - I'm really tired, I was probably hearing things."

Now Sirius did bang his fist on the table. "Stop talking like that, Remus! You can't let Felle give you a zero when you don't deserve it."

Remus sighed and smiled, though he knew not why. "All right. I'll talk to her next time we have Herbology. Though I don't see the point - I've got no proof that Snape did anything."

"Remember what she said to you?" Sirius pressed. "'I wouldn't have expected it from you, Mr. Lupin.' If you try to explain, I bet she'll listen."

All four boys paused to contemplate this new argument, and eventually even Peter agreed. But for the rest of the meal Sirius was unnaturally silent. Remus prayed that he wasn't planning some sort of fantastic revenge on Snape. That was the last thing that anyone needed.

~*~

One hour later, Remus found himself in the dim Potions dungeon, working on a potion to cure boils. It was a fairly simple one, but Remus was finding it nearly impossible to concentrate. The ferocity of his headache had increased tenfold. Keep going, keep going, he told himself as Professor Tramer swept past. It's almost over now. Just carry on until the end of this class; then it's only Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts before dinner . . .

He added another handful of dried nettles to his set of brass scales and watched as they swung slightly, then stopped, perfectly even. Idly he dumped them into his cauldron and glanced at his notes, squinting slightly; the letters seemed blurred. Stir fifty circles, counter-clockwise. He pulled a stirring rod out of his bookbag and bent over the potion to stir.

Its scent was strong and unmistakable, like rotting fish mixed with petrol, and it made his head reel. He leaned back in his chair and waited for the world to stop spinning.

"Fifty circles, counter-clockwise," he repeated firmly and moved forward again to stir the potion. This time he was barely able to fight the wave of nausea that hit him, and he fell back, coughing.

"Remus? Remus, it's okay." A hand grasped his forearm, pulling him to his feet. He looked up; it was Peter. "What's wrong?"

Remus struggled for breath and finally managed to find his voice. "N-nothing. It was just the smell, that's all. I'm fine."

Peter peered at him anxiously. "I don't think so. Professor Tramer?"

In an instant the venerable teacher was at their sides. "Yes, Mr. Pettigrew?"

"I'm worried about Remus. He's been looking rather ill all day, and the smell of this potion isn't helping much. Do you think he should go to the hospital wing?"

Professor Tramer was silent, studying Remus. Remus straightened up and met the teacher's gaze. I'm well, see? Just look at me! I'm fine! he thought, but he caught a whiff of the potion again and couldn't help but cough.

Professor Tramer frowned. "I agree with you. Why don't you accompany Mr. Lupin to the hospital wing?"

"I-I can walk down on my own," Remus protested weakly. He didn't expect Peter or Tramer to believe him, but to his great relief the teacher nodded. "Very well, then. Do get well soon; I'd hate to have you miss too many classes so early in the year." Nodding, Remus headed for the hospital wing as fast as he could go.

When he arrived, Madam Pomfrey was bandaging the arm of a burly-looking Slytherin boy. Remus hesitated in the doorway, unwilling to interrupt, but she looked up and caught his eye almost instantly.

"Ah, it seems as though we have company. Why don't you go sit down, and I'll be with you in a moment." She nodded toward a small chair near the door, which Remus sank into. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. The long walk from the dungeons to the infirmary had drained him of his energy; what a relief it was to sit down!

All too soon the Slytherin was sent on his way and Madam Pomfrey knelt next to Remus, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. "I'll need your name, house, and year."

"I'm Remus Lupin - " Remus began, but she cut him off. "Oh, yes, I've heard about you." Her tone wasn't accusatory at all; in fact, it was kind and gentle. "From what your mother wrote, I was quite surprised not to see you earlier. You've held out for quite a long time. How do you feel?"

"I - I've had a headache all day. It wasn't really bothering me earlier, but I was in Potions just now, and . . . "

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Why don't you lie down and get some rest? I assume you won't be very hungry for dinner, but I'll wake you at about six o'clock so that we can get a few things straight and then walk out to the Shrieking Shack."

"Okay." Remus stood up, and Madam Pomfrey led him over to a bed in the far corner of the hospital wing. He tumbled onto it without even bothering to remove his shoes, and within moments he was fast asleep.

~*~

A few hours later, Remus woke to find Madam Pomfrey tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

"Good, you're awake," she said as he rolled over, blinking in the sudden light.

"What time is it?" he asked with a twinge of nervousness. His entire body ached; it couldn't be long before moonrise.

"Relax, it's six o'clock. We've got plenty of time, but I wanted to ask you a few questions." Remus nodded, and she continued. "Tonight I'll walk with you all the way to the Shrieking Shack. There's a wardrobe there which is charmed so that you can store your cloak in there - it might be cold in the morning, so it's a good idea to have warm clothing on hand. You can also put your wand there if you'd like, but I recommend leaving it in the hospital wing; you won't need it, and it will be safe here, I promise." She paused, thinking. "We ought to make it to the Shrieking Shack around six-thirty, which will give me ample time to walk back through the tunnel before moonrise. I hate to leave you alone to wait, but it's the safest way to handle this. Do you have any questions?"

"What's going to happen in the morning?"

"Moonset is at five-fifty. I wanted to talk to you about how you'll get back up to the castle. Do you want me to come and get you?"

"No," Remus replied almost immediately. "I'll make it by myself."

In truth, he wasn't so sure about this - at home he had always required his parents' help to move from the basement to his bedroom after full moons - but he couldn't let Madam Pomfrey think that he was weak! He'd make it if he had to.

"The Ministry has authorized the use of a Portkey, or you can walk. It depends on how you feel."

Remus was silent, assessing the situation. Much as he hated to admit it, it was his first full moon at Hogwarts, and it was bound to be a difficult transformation.

"I don't think I'll be able to walk all the way back. A Portkey would be easiest, but if it's too difficult to make one -"

"No, it's no problem at all. I've already got one made."

There was a long silence as the two considered the night ahead of them; then Madam Pomfrey spoke again. "Do you have your cloak with you?"

Remus shook his head, and she raised her wand. "Accio Remus Lupin's cloak!"

There was a soft whooshing noise, and a moment later Remus' cloak zipped across the hospital wing and landed next to him on the bed.

"What if someone noticed my cloak flying down the hall toward the hospital wing?" Remus wondered, and Madam Pomfrey laughed.

"The older students do it all the time when they've forgotten something. Everyone's gotten used to it by now." She glanced at a large grandfather clock near the door, and suddenly her face grew serious. "It's time we left. Are you ready?"

Remus nodded. Taking a deep breath, he followed Madam Pomfrey out the door of the hospital wing.

~*~

The tunnel underneath the Whomping Willow seemed endless to Remus, but true to Madam Pomfrey's word, they arrived at the Shrieking Shack at exactly six-thirty. Although it was barely dusk outside, the room that they entered was pitch-black. No light could pass through the tightly boarded windows. There were no sconces on the wall to hold torches, nor were there any Muggle lamps. Remus shivered and turned around, but he couldn't see Madam Pomfrey's dim shape behind him.

"M-madam Pomfrey?"

"I'm right here."

There was a whispered incantation, and the room was flooded with light as Madam Pomfrey conjured a lantern. Once his eyes adjusted to the sudden light, Remus was able to look around and get a good view of the room that they were in.

It was huge - Remus suspected that it took up most of the ground floor of the house - and yet painfully plain and empty. A small, square wooden table and two chairs stood in a far corner, covered with dust; a simple wardrobe was at the opposite end of the room. An ancient, rickety flight of stairs led to the second floor of the house, flanked by two closed doors. As Remus turned to look at them, he saw a shimmer of magic out of the corner of his eye and realized that it came from the wardrobe. That must be the charm Dumbledore put on it. I'd better hang my cloak there now, so I know it's safe.

He cast a quick glance at Madam Pomfrey before turning and crossing the room. The bare floorboards creaked eerily beneath his feet, and he wondered just how old this house was. A few hundred years, I s'pose, he thought idly, opening the wardrobe door and peering through the dim light in search of a coat hanger. Unable to find one, he draped his cloak over the clothes rod.

"Remus?"

Remus spun around, startled at the sudden noise, to find Madam Pomfrey standing directly behind him. "Sorry - I didn't hear you," he explained.

"I'm sorry I startled you." She smiled reassuringly. "Are you going to put your wand in there, or do you want me to bring it back to the castle for you?"

Wordlessly Remus reached into the pocket of his cloak, extracted his wand, and handed it to her. I won't need it, anyway. The wolf's got no use for it, and I won't need it to get back to Hogwarts tomorrow, I've got the Portkey . . .

"What about the Portkey?" he asked suddenly.

"Oh, yes. I'd almost forgotten." Madam Pomfrey pulled a small square box out of her pocket and handed it to Remus. He opened it to find a small, round object made of glass - a marble, he realized. Many times he'd watched the village children playing with marbles in the street outside his house. How he'd longed to join them . . . Lost in thought, he reached forward to pick it up . . .

"Don't touch it yet," the nurse said, taking a firm hold of his wrist. Oh - that was foolish! he scolded himself as he realized his mistake. "It'll take you directly to the hospital wing if you do. Put it in the wardrobe right now, it will be safe there."

Remus nodded and moved to set it on the floor of the wardrobe, but as he bent over the world seemed to spin furiously. He lost his balance and fell to his knees, skull throbbing.

"Are you all right?" Madam Pomfrey asked, kneeling beside him and taking his hand.

He meant to say yes, but what came out of his mouth was, "What time is it?"

"Six thirty-seven."

"You'd better go."

Madam Pomfrey nodded, brow creased with concern. "Are you sure you'll be all right? I hate to leave you here - "

"Yeah, I'm sure, but I really don't want you here in five minutes."

She stood and began to cross the room. "Good luck - I'll be waiting for you in the morning," Remus heard her call. Then he heard the eerie creak and thud of the trapdoor, and he was alone. He finished stowing the Portkey in the wardrobe and moved to sit with his back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chin.

He was afraid. No, that wasn't right. He was terrified. He was all alone, in a completely new place, and in five minutes the moon would rise and he would lose his humanity - the one thing he absolutely couldn't bear to lose. Already he could feel a tingling ache spreading throughout his entire body. He remembered last month and all the months before that - the searing pain as skin stretched and bones shattered and reshaped themselves, the sharp prickles as coarse fur sprouted all over his body . . .

No! I'm not going to think about that, not now. Desperate to forget, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on his knees. But he wasn't able to relax; his stomach was churning with anxiety, and the muscles in his arms and legs were becoming tense and rigid in anticipation of the upcoming change. He wondered what time it was. There were no gaps in the boarded-up windows, no clue as to how soon the moon would rise.

Perhaps he would be able to see outside from upstairs. He stood, wincing at the pain in his stiff legs, and turned toward the staircase. It was then that the transformation began.

A burst of pain hit him - sharp and sudden, and although he had known that it would happen sometime, it was still unexpected. Even after five years he still hadn't grown accustomed to changing each month, and this early in the transformation the intense, panicked fear that he felt was much worse than the pain.

Oh, God . . . Remus sank to his knees again and leaned against the wall, curling into a tight little ball as though this would protect him from the agony that he knew was coming.

But it was no use. A moment later another wave of pain came. This one brought the first signs of change, and he moaned slightly as fur began to sprout on his face, his arms, his legs . . . there was no comfort in his tight little ball, and he threw himself backward and lay sprawled on the floor, eyes clenched shut. His entire body shook as his insides reformed themselves . . . a sickening crunch filled the air as his bones shattered . . . all that he could feel was pain, burning, searing pain. His determination failed him, and his throat was torn by an agonized, wrenching scream, and then another. He couldn't breathe . . . . he couldn't think . . .

And then the transformation was over, just as abruptly as it had started. The wolf had completely control over Remus Lupin, and the human part of his mind slipped off into empty blackness.