Guest at the Moon
March 29th, 1972
The tension in the castle had only grown since the attack a month ago. Remus tried to ignore it, to focus on school and the Marauders and their ever-expanding map, but the closer the full moon crept, the more the unease pressed in on him.
Dumbledore hadn’t said much about the last incident, but the way McGonagall’s eyes lingered on him longer than usual, the way the professors exchanged quiet conversations in the halls, and the way the patrols had doubled at night—it all told him enough.
Something was coming.
And for the first time in a long time, Remus was afraid.
The Transformation
The trek to the Shack felt heavier that night. The moon hadn’t risen yet, but it loomed, its presence thrumming in his bones like a warning. Madam Pomfrey walked beside him, her grip firm on his arm.
“I want you to listen to me carefully tonight, Remus,” she said.
He swallowed hard. “I always do.”
She stopped just outside the shack and turned to face him fully. Her expression was softer than usual, but her eyes were sharp. “Something feels off tonight.”
Remus stiffened.
“You’ll be safe inside,” she reassured. “The protections are still in place. But if anything feels wrong—”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I’ll be careful.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
Remus frowned.
“I was going to say—don’t fight it.”
A chill ran down his spine.
Before he could ask what she meant, she ushered him inside and locked the door.
The change came fast. The pain, the burning, the tearing—he barely had time to brace himself before he was nothing but raw agony, bones cracking, muscles stretching, mind slipping into darkness.
The wolf took over.
And immediately, it knew.
Something was wrong.
The Presence in the Dark
The wolf prowled, restless, uneasy. It paced the length of the room, claws scraping against old wood, ears twitching at every sound. The Shack smelled different—not just of blood and fear and past moons, but of something new.
Something familiar.
Something dangerous.
It stopped, nose to the air, body tensing.
Then—
A howl.
Not its own.
Not distant.
Not safe.
Another howl followed, closer this time, and the wolf knew.
It wasn’t alone.
The wolf lunged at the walls, claws raking deep, snarling. It could smell him now—his scent thick and wild, something primal that made the wolf inside Remus’s mind thrill with recognition and something else—fear.
Greyback.
The wolf slammed against the door. The Shack held. The spells held. But Greyback was outside, and he was waiting.
The night passed in a blur of fury and blood and desperate, wild howls. When the moon finally began to sink, the wolf collapsed, exhausted, body shuddering, skin peeling back into something human.
And then—
Silence.
The Aftermath
Pain. That was the first thing Remus registered. His body felt like it had been crushed, torn apart and stitched back together the wrong way. He could taste blood, metallic and sharp, on his tongue.
He groaned, barely able to lift his head.
Pomfrey was there in an instant, kneeling beside him. “Merlin, Remus—”
His throat was raw. “Greyback.”
Her face paled. “You saw him?”
He swallowed. “He was outside.”
She pressed a hand to his forehead, checking for fever, but he could see the fear in her eyes.
“Did the spells hold?” he rasped.
She nodded. “You’re safe.”
Remus exhaled shakily, but the relief was short-lived.
Because if Greyback had found the Shack—if he had been that close—then it was only a matter of time before he tried again.
Back at the Castle
By some miracle (or maybe sheer stubbornness), Remus managed to convince Pomfrey to let him go to class. She didn’t like it, of course, but he wasn’t ready to sit alone with his thoughts—not after that.
The boys were waiting for him when he finally limped into the common room.
“You look like hell,” Sirius announced.
“Feel worse,” Remus muttered.
James frowned. “Bad one?”
Remus hesitated. Then—
“He was outside.”
Silence.
Peter’s face went pale. James and Sirius exchanged glances.
Sirius was the first to speak. “You’re sure it was him?”
Remus nodded.
James swore under his breath. “Shit.”
“What do we do?” Peter asked.
Sirius straightened. “We get ahead of him.”
Remus blinked. “How?”
James’s eyes darkened with something fierce. “We finish the map.”
Remus’s stomach clenched. “That’s not going to stop him.”
“No,” James agreed. “But it’s a start.”
Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re not letting you fight this alone, Remus.”
Peter nodded, hesitant but firm.
Remus swallowed hard, throat tight.
He had spent his whole life running from Greyback’s shadow, from the weight of his curse.
But maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t running alone anymore.