the turning
the wolves were in a tragic scene
things falling apart at the seams
“I think,” I pause, “that there’s something wrong with me.”
Smudgy Smudgerson gives me a silent but judgemental look. I glare at him.
“Well, you’re not great either, princess. You’re just a suspicious smudge on the wall!” I point angrily, before stopping, leaning back on the floor.
“Maybe there is something to the whole ‘moon causes crazy’ theory.”
Smudgy Smudgerson is silent. I think he agrees with me though.
“But then again, what the fuck do I know? I’m just a teacher, not a biologist or behaviour psychologist!” I stop, scowling. “Ashana is a biologist though.”
Smudgy scoffs. I nod. “Yeah, she was a real bitch. I bet she’s having a fun time though. None of this interdimensional bullshit.”
The cellar’s ceiling was nice. Drippy in spaces.
It had been ten minutes since Lyall had left me, and I was already losing my mind.
The sun was slowly retreating from the cracks in the walls, and I sighed, mentally bracing myself for what was yet to come.
Oh, who was I kidding? I was terrified, like piss my pants kind of terrified.
Wait.
Pants.
I quickly stripped out of my clothing, folding it up and rolling it into a burrito. I threw it up out of the ring.
I wasn’t sure if JK Rowling was to be trusted in the matter of werewolf shifts. Where do the fucking clothes go? I didn’t really want to be choked by my own shirt.
I know it’s stupid to be looking for logic when it’s impossible by ordinary means for a person to become a wolf, but still.
A little bit of logic in the face of madness.
At least I wasn’t one of those super logical, anal-retentive people who need an explanation for everything. My father used to say I’d believe anything if I tried hard enough.
Like my mother. Except, she believed in monsters because she was a writer, and because her head was too dark for monsters not to exist.
I always believed in werewolves, though, and look where it got me. I became the werewolfiest werewolf to wolf.
Remus, the poor, scraggly thing, was freaking out. I tried to calm him, but honestly, I couldn’t. What was coming was going to hurt.
My bones already ached. They felt heavy as led, which was why I was laying on the floor like a limp noodle.
“Come on, Sammy, we just have to get through this.” My muscles began tensing unconsciously to the moon’s pull, and I sucked in a startled breath.
“Calm. Calm. Project the calm.” I could already feel the tears welling up in my eyes and I dug my nails into my shoulders, trying to keep my breathing even.
I was an adult. I’m an adult. I can deal. Think about how real Remus must’ve felt. I try to comfort myself by telling myself the situation for me wasn’t as terrible, but it just upsets me to know how much worse the original had it. I knew what was coming to some extent- did Remus?
No. He didn’t.
I patted my own hair, pretending someone else was trying to comfort me. It doesn’t really work.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “Distraction time.” I wracked my head for things I could do, which basically amounted to singing. I would tell myself stories, but I was too easily distractable.
Okay. Singing. I can do that.
My voice in my old life was kind of shit, but Remus had a soft, clear voice, so maybe this would work out better? I tried to think of any songs that would fit the surreal environment and then I laughed because I was so, so tired and it would be so easy to die. My body was going to break, betray me, and I-
I laughed even louder, tears streaking down my cheeks. The laughter turns into breathy little sobs.
“I’m so sorry Remus, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you went through this, I’m so sorry I’m here, I’m so sorry that you were alone for this so many times-” I laid on the ground, pressing my cheeks against the dirt floor as I cried.
My voice wavered as I tried to sing the old nursery rhyme my mother had sung me. “Nilla, Nilla odi vaa. Nillaamal odi vaa. Malai mela aeri vaa. Malliga poo kondu vaa.” I sobbed harder as I tried to sing the second verse, giving up temporarily to catch my breath.
“Vatta vatta nilavay, vanna mukil poove, pattam pola parantu vaa, pamparam pol sutri vaa,” I hummed the end, choked with sobs as I pretended I was okay-
My skin began tightening, rippling slightly. Then it began itching, tightening to a choking point, and I gasped.
I was already on the ground, but the tightness made me collapse entirely, and my fingers curled and uncurled, twitching-
My skin itched, and my breath was laboured as my ribs felt too sharp, and my heart was pounding out of my skin. I rested my cheek on the dirt floor, saliva dripping out as I cried out.My back arched and my knees began vibrating and pushing back, and then my leg twisted and I screamed as my leg became a hind leg-
(bone-cracking bending, breaking-)
I sobbed as my fingers curved and my nails grew, hair sprouting up on my arms, my tailbone burning as my skin tore open for a new limb-
(a bone tail, a bone tail ripping out-)
My nose began growing, my jaw being pulled like taffy, my nose so far ahead of my face that I can see it darken, a snout-
(smells, too much, too sharp-)
I whine as my head throbs with the new information, and my gums bleed as my teeth reshape and I screamed-howled- in pain and I looked up to the see the silver wards dancing around me with new strength and-
And my eyes sharpen even more and I can see the dust motes in the dark, displaced under my heavy breath, and my nose flares because I can smell living, breathing people a distance away, two people, magic and honey and herbs-
The woods and water in the creek and the bugs buzz around-
The rabbits in their burrows, the cardinals in the trees-
(wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong-)
(toomuchtoomuchtoomuch)
(themoonthegloriousmoon)
(andallthewolveshowl-)
(Umma, Idontwannabehereanymore-)
(̈́͠U̒̈́̕m̐̾͘m̓̓͒a͛̾,͐̐I̿̚͝d͛̾͛ö́͑͝n͘t͆͠͝w̾̈́͝a̚͠n̒̈́̒n̓͘͠a̽̓͒b̓͛e̐͠h̐e̓͝r̓̕e͆͒̈́a͆̓̓n̔̓͝y͑̓m̔͝͠o͑̒̚r̐͆̕e͋͝-͐̚͠)̒̈́͝
(h̒̚e͛͋̕l̐͝p͛͒̕m͐̿̕e͛h͒̈́e̒̈́̓l̔̕͝p̿͌͒m̈́̽͆e͛̈́͆s̽̓͝o͊̾͝m̒̚͠e̒̐̈́o͛͆͝n̈́͝͝e̽ḧ́͒̚e̿̚͠l̾p̓̿͘m͌͊̒e̒̈́̚)
(a͋̚n̚͝d̿͌͝ s͛̓͒e͌̓͌e͛̚͝ t̓͠h͒͐e͊̓̒ m̈́͑o͒̓̕o͊̾̚n̈́̚ a̾͑͝n͐̚͝d̐͊ h͊͑̚o̾̿w̔͋̓l̈́̿-͒͠ )
Awareness comes in flickers, like a stray candle in the wind. The wolf wavers inside me, and I briefly hold control in my mind as my body begins to change once again.
The wolf’s paws and legs straighten out, pale skin peeking through as the fur is sucked (?) back into my skin. I momentarily realise my fur is a lovely pink.
Well. Not pink. But a very orangish, pinkish colour, maybe strawberry blonde? Which was nice, and stuff, but also made no sense? Remus had the same hair as Hope, honey-golden with hidden streaks of brown, except his curled. Lyall’s hair was black as night, and Greyback’s was…dark, in the night.
I stop thinking about it when I catch sight of my wrists and knees. Everything is mottled purple and green, bruises at my joints from the strain of magical stretching. It hurts like crazy, and I catch my reflection on a dull grey barrel, golden eyes staring back at me.
I was certain that I was, indeed, a wolf though. Not a weird wraith thing like Remus was in the movies. I didn’t know if that was an inaccuracy or if I was just weird.
My mind flashed with too sharp memories, and I cradled my head gently, temples throbbing.
So new fact- the transformation wasn’t completely unremembered. There are flashes of coherence but after the fact. So, I could see the play by play, but I couldn’t actually make decisions while wolfing out, and that kind of sucked.
There’s the smell of burning hair lingering at the edge of the wards, and my singed hands and arms further corroborate my theory. The wolf had tried to break free, only to get burned. I touch my face, only to find the same burned skin scabbing on my nose.
The sun was rising, yes, but until sunrise ended, I found that I still possessed the wolf’s extraordinary senses.
They faded rapidly as the sun rose higher and higher, the cellar door clanging open as my father undid the wards. His face, I could see from a distance, was tired, sleepless.
His eyes darted over my prone form, and he flinched when I looked into his eyes.
“You eyes-” I blink, a little off-balance, and watch as my superior vision flickers into normal enhanced human vision.
I could no longer make out the wood grains on the cellar doors in the dark, but I could see the flecks of blue in his eyes. My eyes back to normal, I watch quietly as he says something in Latin, the spells around the four silver coins unweaving themselves. He pushes one silver coin out of the arrangement, and the silver threads fall. I don’t get up, nor do I really look at him.
“Are you alright?” My father’s eyes are observing, mouth downturned in guilt. He gently takes my wrist in his hands and looks at me.
“Burns. On my face and arms. Bruises on my elbows and knees.” He nods before pulling out his wand. He murmurs healing spells, white light fading the burns on my arms to dull scars. My joints balloon before shrinking, the bruising progressing rapidly before healing. He touched the tip of the wand to my nose, and I flinch back.
He sighs, pulling me closer, and the burned skin nearly peels off as it heals.
He gives me another look before wrapping me in his arms, resting his head on top of mine as he rocks back on his heels, standing up.
“It’s going to be okay, Remus.” I smile into his shirt.
“Okay,” I whisper, even though I know it’s a lie. Nothing is going to be okay, not now, not ever. He continues to hold me as the tears well up in my eyes and I sob into his shirt. “Okay.”