Chapter 1
About half an hour before moonrise, Madam Pomfrey walked with Remus to the Shrieking Shack. By then he had long stopped vomiting but was instead filled with adrenaline. His body knew what was coming, and it was as if it was trying to speed towards the transformation. But Madam Pomfrey helped him over to the familiar mattress on the floor and once she determined he was “safe” she said goodbye.
Remus was alone in the shack for a few minutes of peace. Then, right on time, Sirius arrived. He had a wide grin on his face, this would be playtime for Padfoot. The werewolf was jealous of his friends’ easy Animagus transformation. He had asked each of them what it felt like, they all concluded it “felt strange,” (Peter originally used the word gooey). None of them could say it was nauseatingly painful, terrifying, excruciating, enough to make anyone go mad, etc.
As stressed as he was, Remus was thankful that Sirius was there. There had been a few moons that it was just Prongs with Moony, and while the former could keep the latter under relative control with his antlers, the animals didn’t otherwise interact. They had never attempted a moon with only Wormtail; while the wolf didn’t bother him with the others around, they didn’t want to risk it. With Padfoot, though, Remus felt less self-conscious and more at ease. He wasn’t sure whether it was because the wolf respected him as another canine, or if he somehow knew that it was Sirius. It was probably a combination of the two, if he was honest.
“Hello, Moony,” Sirius said, joining his friend where he lay on the mattress and giving him a peck on the cheek. Like every other night, he would grip his hand until he couldn’t, and he would talk to him until he could no longer understand. When James and Peter were with them, Remus tried to downplay his pain and fear for their sakes. That wasn’t necessary with Sirius.
“Not long now,” he gritted through his teeth. He could feel the energy building in his chest.
Sirius looked at his watch. “Like clockwork, you are,” he commented. “Your presence was missed today, of course. Evans and the other girls send their love. James was so eager to talk to her, he nearly choked on his breakfast. Had you been in Potions today, I’m sure you would have put Snape and his cronies in their place, they were being such dicks today. That’s why we couldn’t visit—”
The first flash of pain went through Remus, causing him to twist unnaturally. He squeezed his friend’s hand even tighter, waiting for the rest to follow.
“Moony, Moony, Moony,” Sirius whispered, continuing to ramble. “One of these days I’m going to bring a squeaky toy, or maybe a rope for us to pull each other around. The Muggles have so many things for their dogs, I wonder if they make anything strong enough for a werewolf…”
Remus’ fingers began to elongate, stretching everything within them. His nails and teeth started to come to a point and were sharper with each passing second. Sirius let go of him, but only to put his hand back on his wrist where he was safer away from the claws. His feet had gone as well, reformed into not-quite-paws.
He had to shake Sirius off of him, for he felt his human consciousness rapidly slipping away. For a few excruciating moments, his mind remained in his transformed body. He tried to fight for his last shred of self, but like always, the wolf won.
But Padfoot was there to greet it, tail wagging like always. When the Marauders first became Animagi, Sirius had thoroughly researched dogs and wolves. He even tried to determine what breed of dog Padfoot was but was inconclusive (Remus called him an “alley mutt”). Either way, as Padfoot, canine body language was naturally understood. That’s why the Marauders think he has the easiest time with the werewolf. Though he hadn’t said so, Sirius was proud to have that honor, whatever it meant between him and Remus.
The wolf stood to its full height, towering over Padfoot. It threw back its head to howl and he couldn’t resist joining in. When Sirius began to read any book about werewolves that he could find, he learned that some people believed that a werewolf’s howl lured its victims in, like a siren. He believed it; to him, the sound was beautiful and irresistible.
Padfoot was distracted, so at first he didn’t realize that the wolf had heard something before him. It stood absolutely still, staring at the far end of the room. Then his ears pricked up and he heard the slow and nearly silent crunch of glass. He caught the scent at the same time as the wolf—a human was here.