The Marauders and the Arenotelicon

Albus Dumbledore took his bottle of butterbeer outside The Hog's Head Inn and began walking slowly about town as he waited for the sun to set and the moon to begin its nightly journey. As the silvery orb crested the horizon, Dumbledore noted that it was a huge one, seeming to swallow the dark sky. As it broke over the trees of the Dark Forest the screaming began.

Dumbledore choked on a swallow of butterbeer. It had been a long time since he'd heard the anguished and agonized screams of a werewolf in transformation. A swell of pity and sorrow pierced his heart as he tried to imagine the quiet, young boy turning into a large, four-footed wolf, snarling and uncontrollable. It was almost unimaginable.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Dumbledore took a look around the townsfolk on the streets of Hogsmeade. Everyone was looking toward the shack, staring in bewilderment. The shack had always been there, but only recently had it been reboarded closed. Dumbledore had also taken the liberty of magically strengthening its foundations and framework, just in case.

As the screams continued to rent the air, people began to talk, trying to identify the sound. Sensing that he hadn't thought of the townsfolks' curiosity and chiding himself for it, Dumbledore stopped a couple of the men who were walking toward the shack to investigate.

"Its just the ghosts, gentlemen," he explained with a laugh.

"Ghosts?" one of them said. "There ain't never been ghosts in there before, Headmaster!"

"Certainly there have! I thought Headmaster Dippet had gotten rid of them a long time ago, but I guess he did not. It seems he merely temporarily banished them." Dumbledore gave a considering frown. "Took him sometime you know, even as clever as he was. Then again, it might be a fluke. If it becomes a bothersome thing, let me know and I'll work on the problem."

The other man looked puzzled. "Certainly, sir, but it's very odd, isn't it?"

Dumbledore laughed easily. "Very odd, I do agree, but let it alone. They never left the shack and merely just made a lot of noise every once in a while." He pointed upward. "Full moon brings out the worst in ghosts. You should see Peeves, the school poltergeist. It's all I and the Bloody Baron can do to keep him out of horrible mischief some full moons."

The few people around him laughed, no doubt remembering the pranks Peeves the Poltergeist had played when they too had attended Hogwarts. "Just mind his water bombs, Professor!" someone shouted and there were a few more hoots of laughter.

A few moments later, Dumbledore stood outside the shack, giving the impression he was investigating the noise. This was partly true but he was actually investigating how the shack was holding up. Inside he could barely hear anything now and what he could hear was disheartening. Tearing and snarling noises were coming from upstairs. Dumbledore assumed the werewolf was tearing up the beds.

"Perhaps furniture wasn't such a good idea," he murmured. "Oh well, live and learn..."

After two hours of checking on the activity within the shack, Dumbledore decided that his precautions had been sound. While convinced that he did not need to stay, concern that a miscalculation might work in the werewolf's favor later in the evening prompted Dumbledore to sit behind the shack until the sun's rays began to push the moon away.

Remus awoke in darkness with only a few shafts of light squeaking in through the cracks in the boards over the windows. It took him a few minutes to orient himself but when he did, he looked around in horror. One of the chairs from the table downstairs was mangled and chewed on, pieces scattered about the floor. The bedsheets were what he assumed were the white tufts of material littering about the chair's remains. He'd long ago torn apart his infirmary robes, no doubt when he'd transformed.

What truly horrified him was when he glanced down and saw his own body.

He was cut, torn, scratched and mauled beyond anything he'd ever seen before. For a wild moment he thought perhaps another werewolf had been with him and he looked frantically around for someone else. He rose shakily to his feet and wandered into the other bedroom, only to discover that the bedside table was missing.

Afraid to see the condition of the downstairs and muscles screaming protest, he stumbled nude down the hall and down the stairs. He walked mechanically around the room, dazed at what his eyes told his brain they were seeing. Not a single peice of furniture was not chewed on or torn apart. The sofa seemed to have taken the bulk of the damage. In a sudden panic, Remus began to scramble around for his wand, finding it underneath one of the toppled bookshelves, unharmed and unmarked.

His hand shaking, Remus began to use the repairing charm on the furniture. He didn't know why but he did it. While he couldn't rid the furniture of the chew marks, he could put them to some semblance of what they had been before. Or try too; some of the peices were beyond anything he could do.

Sore, aching, and ashamed, Remus found the tunnel and staggered down it, wand lit once again. He carefully pulled on his robes and his shoes, not bothering with anything else, bundling the rest in a wad he clutched tightly to his chest. He waited sometime before he realized he would have to find his own way out.

He found a small lever by the door of the tunnel and the entrance slid open. Shaking, Remus stumbled from beneath the tree's frozen limbs, collapsing on the ground after a few steps.

"Hagrid! Hurry!" exclaimed a female voice and Remus felt the gentle touch of Madam Pomfrey. "We need to move him before the tree comes to life again." He felt himself being lifted and carried a distance from the tree and set down again. Madam Pomfrey's face swam into view. "Are you all right, dear?" she asked worriedly.

"I - hurt," he murmured, turning his face away in shame. At home, in his father's basement laboratory, he and his father took special precautions. He was chained at each limb with magically cushioned shackles, making it almost impossible for him to move before or after the shift. Even as strong as a werewolf could become, such strength had limits of what it could break. Never once had Remus been free of the shackles that protected himself and his father, so he'd never experienced what he'd gone through last night.

"It's all right," soothed Madam Pomfrey, frowning as she pulled his robes up to examine his injuries. He went beet red when he realized he'd not put on his underwear, but in true medical fashion, Madam Pomfrey was unconcerned by his lack of clothing. "Some ointment will take care of that. Obviously you and your father take other precautions that has stopped you from hurting yourself during transformation before this. Unfortunately, we have not, so it's just something we'll have to work around."

"I'll have the headmaster think of something else, Remus," said Hagrid, keeping his distance for the sake of Remus' modesty.

"No!" Remus said, struggling to sit up despite Pomfrey's attempts to keep him still. "I have to get used to it. There won't always be precautions when I'm grown up."

"Wise words, Mr. Lupin, wise words indeed." Dumbledore appeared in the small clearing, looking tired. "However, if you ever feel we need to find another way..."

"No." Remus looked defiant. "I have to get back to the school. My friends will wonder why I'm not at breakfast."

Dumbledore looked at Remus long and hard for several moments and then gave one, small nod. "If you are certain?" Remus nodded again. "Here is a change of clothes for today. Something we overlooked last night, but will remember from now on." The headmaster smiled. "Allow me to teach you a charm that will immediately clean you up as neatly as any shower and toiletry. Abluo!"

With a wave of his wand and the spoken word, Remus looked as fresh as if he'd just bathed, dressed, and brushed his teeth like any other morning.

"Now off to breakfast with you, Mr. Lupin, and remember, your mother was most pleased to see you."

Remus smiled weakly and limped away, his staggering gait the only sign visible that something had transpired beyond visiting a sick parent. No, Dumbledore amended to himself, there was another sign, deep within the haunted brown depths of Remus' eyes.