The Binding of The Beast.
The oppressive silence that had filled the shack was abruptly shattered by the sharp crack of Snape’s voice, filled with dark authority. His wand was raised, his eyes narrowed in cold, practiced calculation.
"Expelliarmus!"
Sirius’s wand flew from his hand, clattering to the floor with a metallic ring. Before anyone could react, Snape advanced, his movements fluid, practiced, and cruelly efficient. With a snap of his fingers, magical chains shot out from his wand, binding Sirius’s limbs with unyielding force. The chains tightened, rendering Sirius immobile.
"Stay put," Snape sneered. "You’ve made enough of a mess."
Sirius growled low in his throat, but he couldn’t move. His body fought against the restraints, but they were too strong. Too much. His glare, full of venom, stayed fixed on Snape, but there was a flicker of resignation behind his defiance. He was trapped, once again.
Harry stood, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of detachment and cold calculation. This wasn’t new for him—not the danger, not the helplessness. He had learned long ago that when it came to the fight for survival, the stakes were always higher than emotions.
Hermione stood beside him, her expression one of shock and concern, but Harry’s eyes never wavered from Snape or Sirius. He wasn’t sure where this was all going, but one thing was clear—he was no longer the naïve boy he had been.
Lupin, still in his human form, stood at the edge of the room, his eyes flickering nervously between Harry, Sirius, and Snape. "Severus, this isn’t necessary," he said, his voice pleading, but laced with uncertainty.
Snape didn’t even glance at Lupin. His attention remained fixed on Sirius, his voice cutting through the air. "This is your fault, Lupin. You let him run free all these years." His voice turned bitter, laced with scorn. "And now, he drags Potter into this chaos."
"You have no idea what you’re dealing with," Lupin’s voice shook with frustration. "The truth isn’t what you think."
But Snape wasn’t listening. His eyes flicked back to Harry, scrutinizing him with that calculating gaze. He could see the potential, the danger in Harry’s cold mask, in the way his stance remained unnervingly still.
Sirius wasn’t the only one who had been bound. Snape knew how to contain people—how to manipulate the power within a room. But Harry, despite the tension in the air, was still holding onto the one thing that none of them could predict: control.
And then, a sharp, guttural noise filled the room, coming from the far corner. The hair on the back of Harry's neck prickled.
Lupin, his face twisted with pain and conflict, was shaking violently. His clothes were already beginning to rip at the seams, his skin pulling taut as the transformation began. His breathing grew heavy, labored, and with every breath, it became clearer that he was fighting it—but losing the battle.
"Lupin!" Hermione gasped, taking a step back.
Before she could react further, Harry’s eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, his movements fluid, almost predatory. His mind raced back to the countless times he had faced Teeth, the beastly, unpredictable force he had learned to live with.
He reached out, his voice calm and even, the slightest edge of command in it.
"Lupin, you have to focus. Listen to me."
The transformation continued, but Harry wasn’t frightened. He could feel the beast within Lupin—violent, untamed, and full of rage. But Harry wasn’t unfamiliar with that kind of power. He had faced it before.
"Focus, Lupin," Harry repeated, his voice firmer this time, as if speaking directly to the part of Lupin’s mind that was still human.
Sirius, still bound by Snape's magic, struggled futilely, but his eyes watched Harry intently, disbelief written across his face.
Lupin’s growls grew more frantic, his eyes wild with fear and anger as he fought to regain control. But Harry, standing there with the icy resolve of someone who had spent years training himself to control things far darker than this, didn’t flinch.
He wasn’t afraid.
"Calm down," Harry said, his voice low and hypnotic. "You’re still in control. You can still think. Focus on my voice, not the rage."
The room seemed to hold its breath. The air was thick with tension, with the scent of transformation, the heavy weight of fear pressing down on them all. But Harry remained unmoving, calm—his eyes locked onto Lupin’s, unwavering.
Gradually, the violence in Lupin’s body began to subside. His jerky movements slowed, the growls faltered, and for a fleeting moment, there was clarity in his eyes. His skin began to shift back to its human form, the fur retracting, the claws dulling. It wasn’t easy—it wasn’t perfect—but the shift was happening.
Lupin collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. His body trembled, and there were traces of the animal still lurking in his eyes, but the transformation had stopped.
Harry exhaled a slow breath, feeling the tension in his own body ease. He turned, glancing briefly at Snape, who stood frozen, his wand still trained on Sirius but his attention now riveted on Harry.
Lupin struggled to his feet, his hands shaking, but there was something in his gaze—something that conveyed a strange sense of gratitude. "How did you do that?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Harry didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t need to. The others—Hermione, Sirius, even Snape—had seen it. The control, the calmness, the power Harry had over the beast within.
"I’ve had experience with... things like this," Harry said finally, his voice distant, almost cryptic.
And oh he has.