Professor Dumbledore had insisted that he came to
Hogwarts for his transformation, the events of the past month were so similar
to those almost fifteen years ago, that Remus didn’t even argue. He didn’t want
to risk anyone’s life normally, but the Wolf would not be willing to accept the
loss of the last member of his pack, his motley, mismatched, mischievous pack.
Remus absolutely refused to go to
the Shrieking Shack, for there were too many memories and smells that would
simply drive him nuts. They settled on a nice, secluded spot deep in the
Forbidden Forest. That is how Remus came to be laying on his back, on a pile of
leaves staring up at the sky, waiting for the torture and pain to come. He knew
it would come.
Dumbledore had placed spells and
wards to keep out the other animals of the forest, and then Remus could also
roam the area to his hearts content and Dumbledore would have an easier time
finding him in the morning.
The trees were too thick for Remus
to see the stars, but he knew that Sirius would be shining brightly tonight.
And the real Sirius would be watching from wherever with James.
At least, some of his crazy pack
would be together tonight, Remus though. The moon will start its final
pull in a few minutes. I should get ready for it.
Shifting, Remus got into a more comfortable
position. He also stripped off a few layers, and placed them in a bush.
Hopefully he would be able to be near here when he transformed back.
As the moon pulled, the pain
started. His limbs started to shake and then his body contorted and lengthened.
Every hair that sprouted was like a tiny pinprick all over his skin. Against
the pain, he curled and as his hands met the ground they became paws; paws with
claws made for ripping flesh. Finally, it all stopped.
The wolf was free. Recognizing the
surroundings, the wolf started sniffing for his pack mate. Somehow he didn’t
fully register right away that the one closest to him in shape and demeanor was
gone. Dead, lost; the words formed in the tiny part that was Remus. These were words
the wolf had heard before, knew the meaning of. He lifted his head and let out
a long, lonesome howl. At Hagrid’s hut, Fang heard the noise and mourned with
Starting to pace, the wolf soon
knew how far he could roam. The trees are hardly noticed as he races past them.
There is nothing that can stop his search, the loss that he feels. A hole
starts to grow in his heart. It is in a place that is shared by the wolf and
Remus. He raced from one end to the other, welcoming the pain of bashing into
the wards that Dumbledore had set. The smell of a human was faint in two spots,
and he kept racing to them.
Every now and then, he would stop
and sniff. Hoping for the smell of a stag coming to keep him company, or a dog
coming to wrestle and play; or just maybe a rat, that would make a good meal.
Lots of rat to munch on, they could be swallowed in one bite. Once when the
wind shifted, he caught the smell of Grawp, but that was of no interest to the
He craved human meat, but would
settle for a rat. There was nothing to eat; all the other animals were far from
the place where evil played.
As the loneliness settled over the
wolf, he sat down and just howled at the moon. Between a tree and a bush, one
mahogany and the other dogwood.
Over and over, he mourned the loss
of Prongs, the stag that had been always ready for adventure. He mourned for
the loss of Prongs’ mate, who would be waiting up ready to tend wounds after a
night of adventure. Somehow he managed to mourn the loss of Wormtail’s innocence,
the friend that had betrayed his pack, it was the highest crime that was paid
for by death. Then he mourned the loss of Padfoot, his brother, and his mate.
The one who would howl with him on the few nights that Prongs had been unable
to come with them. Padfoot had come back, after all those years of not being
there. Then in a few seconds, he too had been taken away, forever.
He wouldn’t come back; the wolf
would never see his beloved pack member again. All night long he howled at the
moon and stars. It was the wolf’s only way of mourning.
When the moon started to release
him, the wolf knew that something had been lost to him that night. A part of
him had died, like his pack mates. Never again would he be whole, even the moon
couldn’t make him feel whole again.
Even in the early morning light,
the trees were as dark and unwelcoming as they had been during the night. Yet
even they would not tell of the wolf that lost something in him that
As he lay curled into a tight ball,
Remus wept. He wept for the loss of James, Lily, Peter, and the still fresh
memory of Sirius. The only thing he remembered from this transformation, and
would always remember, was that somehow part of the wolf was dead. Something in
his heart was gone.