Full Moon

I feel it from the moment my eyes flickered open, just as I always used to. I feel it, for I move just the waves do: following the waxing and waning of the moon.

The morning, at any rate, passes pretty miserably, dragging on so slowly it seems interminable. Too tired to get up and do anything yet too anxious to sleep, I merely sit quietly on my bed, attempting unsuccessful to relax my mind while willing myself to forget the various feverish aches and pains spreading through my body. At various points in time I half-heartedly leaf through various books, but it is useless; I simply cannot concentrate. Instead, almost inevitably, my golden eyes end up tracing the patterns the light forms on the floor as it floods through the window, following the sun's shine as it passes through the morning into the afternoon.

At five o'clock, I get up from my bed at last, the strange nervousness that possessed me the previous night starting to return once again. I move about the Shack anxiously, trying to put away as much as possible so that my few possessions might be safe from the wolf once he bursts out from within me in the long night that is to come. Before long it is six o'clock, then seven --- and as the hours slip by the anxiety that beset me sharpens into panic, a panic that is not much helped by the shadows that still haunt my every hour. I have learned to control them, but once the moon's call starts to bring out the poison in the silver I start to shake once again, breathing shallowly as my gaze jumps from one side of the room to the other, my eyes wide with terror. Terror --- terror is what comes first, but it is not merely terror this time, for before long the terror turns into something almost thrilling, something exhilarating, and the crystalline quality that crept into the past night starts to burn even more brilliantly now, shining and shimmering until the whole room reverberates with the richest, most euphoric sounds I have ever heard...

I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO ALIVE!

The crystals are crashing and colliding in every corner, forming and fizzling like thousands of flickering, flowing flames. The crystals and the lights and the shadows are moving, moving beautifully, moving enchantingly and enthrallingly and ecstatically until I cannot help but start to join them, swaying from one side of the room to the next again and again and again until---

---an agonized howl tears out into the night.

I'm Remus Lupin. I'm Remus Lupin. I'm Remus Lupin.

The howl rages through the Shack, soon joined by another and another and another as my very bones bend and break and burst within me.

I'm Remus Lupin. I'm Remus Lupin. I'm nononoithurtsithurtsithurts Remus Lupin. I'm Remus cantthinkithurtsithurtsithurts Lupin. I'm freefreefreeletmeoutletmeoutLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUT Remus LETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUT Lupin. I'm NOWNOWNOWNOWNOWNOW Moony.

The howls continue, turning somehow sadder as the silver wolf looks about at the Shack that holds him in. He is alone; he is alone, and as he sees this the howls that cascade out into the night again and again and again until suddenly---

---they stop.

There is absolute silence. Moony lies still on the ground, feeling strangely sickened.

sicksicksickwhatiswrongithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsalonealonealone

Then, finally, Moony gets stiffly to his feet, considering his surroundings. He sniffs the air once, twice, three times; he searches the Shack with his golden eyes; he pricks up his ears to catch the sounds of coming prey.

But Moony is trapped --- and he knows it.

ALONEALONEALONEWANTOUTWANTOUTWANTOUTWANTOUTNOW

The growl that then reverberates through the room is a horrid, low roar of rage.

WANTOUTWANTOUTWANTOUTDESTROYDESTROYDESTROYDESTROYITALL

And, without waiting one more second, Moony is flying through the air. The tables are the first to go, of course, demolished by his sharp, scraping claws; the bed is next, the mattress is then torn to shreds and the bed chomped through by his teeth. But, eventually, every object in the room has its turn, and before long only splinters of wood remain along with Moony's deep, bloody claw-prints set all over the walls.

Yet it is not enough.

It is not enough, for Moony must attack further. He must attack, and attack he does, for before long rich, red blood is spilling everywhere as he tears at his fur, biting and scratching and howling as he throws himself against the walls. The once silver coat is quickly streaked red, and as he flies about the Shack the scent of it spreads onto everything, only spurring him on to do it over and over, for the well from which Moony's anger is drawn has depths that are unfathomable, and his energy seems infinite indeed. Once and again he does it, his fury forcing his body to bash itself against every corner and bite into itself until the blood bursts out and flows down into the floor.

It is only when the sun rises, then, that Moony finally fights a battle that he cannot win --- and it is then, too, that I reopen his eyes for a moment, gasp, and lose consciousness once more.