Infinity Times Infinity

The next few weeks became tedious, monotonous, and repetitive. 

Wake up, attend classes, study, go to quidditch practice, and sleep. Rinse and repeat for the entire month of May while June was at its cusp. 

It was hell. 

Okay, maybe you were being a tad bit dramatic, but that’s how it felt like. You were really looking forward to the end of fifth year not only because it meant the end of exams, but because summer break meant you could go back home and do nothing but tend to your personal business all summer. That being research — all kinds of it: how to fix Ahira’s eyesight, tidying up your duplication spell, and furthering the development of your low-cost Wolfsbane potion. There was no doubt that the boys would owl you about their newest inventions and sweets throughout the summer as well; they already occasionally passed their ideas through you, summer wouldn’t be any different. 

The future felt freeing yet you were in the present and everything was slowly building up to boil over during the two weeks of testing. Yet, before you knew it, the last Saturday of May rolled around which only meant one thing. 

“All right, team,” Flint called, his voice brusque with anticipation. “This is our final match against Gryffindor for the year and as you all know, it’s Corry and I’s last year at Hogwarts.” 

A string of woes and dramatic sniffles sounded through the group of Slytherins until Flint rolled his eyes and everyone broke into august laughter including you and Adrian. You turned to look at your friend who wore a similar expression to yours once the rowdiness was subdued. The two of you might’ve been the most recent members, having only been on the team for two years compared to the rest, but such camaraderie had grown into an undoubtedly solid bond with the older Slytherins. 

With everything that had happened the past few months, you had completely forgotten about the impending departure of the two upperclassmen. It was their final weekend seeing as seventh years completed their N.E.W.T.s and graduated two weeks earlier than the other years. A congratulatory dinner would be held tomorrow night for the graduating students before being given their final send-off back to the Hogwarts Express. You heard classmates with older siblings rave about how the last boat ride across the Black Lake was a magical experience in and of itself. You anticipate experiencing it at the end of your own seventh year. 

“And of course with our departure comes vacant spots, those spots being two chaser positions and the captain’s position.” Flint’s voice drew you back from your thoughts. “The new chasers will be chosen next year during try-outs but the Captain’s position will be passed on today to someone I believe should be my successor.” 

That tidbit definitely caught the attention of the entire team. One of the five of you seemed to be competent enough to lead the team, you wondered who it would be. 

“I’m passing the torch to someone I’ve seen burgeon in our team this past year. Someone who’s only quite recently joined our team but I can say with proper confidence would take our team to great lengths in the upcoming years.” Flint’s eyes roamed the team until they stopped on the person to your left; he smiled. “Pucey, the title is all yours if you’d like.” 

You guffawed and shook Adrian’s shoulder as his mouth hung ajar. It opened and closed for a few unspeakable seconds before he composed himself. He cleared his throat, unsure of what to say until he smiled. 

“I’d be honored, Flint. I won’t let you down.” 

Flint nodded, extending an arm out for him to take. The two of them clapped their hands together and shook on it. Madam Hooch appeared for a quick second to make sure everyone was ready. Game time was in two minutes and Flint raised his broom above his head. 

“Who are we?” 

“Slytherin!” 

“C’mon! Your nans can shout louder than that!” Flint shouted. “I said: WHO ARE WE?” 

You all raised your broomsticks to join him as the loud crack of wooden handles resounded inside the tent. 

“SLYTHERIN!” 

“Now get out there and show them how we fight!” Flint shouted as he instructed the team to make their way onto the field. 

Boisterous shouts echoed from the rest of the team as the team walked out of the tent. As one player disappeared after the next, you clapped Adrian’s shoulder to keep him inside the tent for just a second longer. He turned around, eyes quizzical and filled with a hint of worry. 

“Don’t worry your mind about being captain, Adrian. You’ll make a great captain, I just know it.” You shared a wicked grin with him as the anxiety melted away from his shoulders. “Now let’s go and tame ourselves some lions.” 

He nodded, a grin of his own plastered on his face. You knocked your club with his as a final moment of solidarity, then walked out of the tent together. 

. 

.

.

In the end, Gryffindor won. 

The game was a close draw. Slytherin was only a few points away from winning but the Gryffindors had managed to score in a quaffle or two before Harry caught the snitch. There was a moment where you had been hit by a bludger, a rough one to your side and another to the head that disoriented you for a few seconds before those shots had been made, but had managed to shake it off. 

A glimpse at the teacher’s section had you witnessing the horrified look on your father’s face at the ordeal. Snape, jarringly enough, wore the same expression on his own face whether he was aware of it or not. When you were given the chance to stand idle for a second while the bludgers rerouted themselves, you swept by the teacher’s box and flashed a quick thumbs-up at them both. 

And although you had assured the two of them that you were okay, you weren’t too sure yourself as to whether or not you were. You must’ve gotten a more serious conk to the head if you were seeing a dog watch you from the outskirts of the forest. No, you were definitely seeing things that time, especially when you saw it follow a cat up the path back to Hogwarts seconds later. It seemed comical as you hovered above the stands for a few more seconds listening to Lee commend the Gryffindors for their first Quidditch Cup win in years. 

Even without the Cup in Slytherin’s grasp, a celebration boomed in the Slytherin common room for the seventh years before their last day. Some of the Slytherins were bummed out by the loss, reasonably, but took this as a means to relax and enjoy some time together — plus the smuggled booze was most likely the biggest incentive to not sulk the entire night. 

Adrian was off somewhere being congratulated for becoming the new quidditch team captain while Solaris was tucked into your side, a plate full of snacks wedged between the two of you that you may have been stealing from a couple of times. Of course, your snack stealing did not go unnoticed when you caught sight of Solaris’ empty glares. 

“Watch it, Lupin,” Solaris threatened lowly in the way she always did when it came to food. “I don’t know many wizards who’ve been able to complete their O.W.L.s with mangled hands.” 

You smirked and leaned in closer before stealing another crisp. “I bet I can be the first.” 

 || ⬫ ⬨ ⬫ ☾ ⬫ ⬨ ⬫ || 

That Sunday had been peaceful for just a moment before exam week began. It had been a grueling eight days of O.W.L.s until finally, the last exam day came around and the weekend sounded like a godsend to everyone. 

You woke Thursday morning with a dull headache lingering behind your eyes. 

It had followed you for days past and was only now reaching its climax to remind you — to taunt you — of what was to come. You grimaced and looked up at the enchanted ceiling of your bed where the full moon hung ominously amongst the innocent twinkling stars; the moon batting her long lashes as to disarm you with her beauty but not even the most beautiful of sights could hide her dark side. 

Not only were you expecting tonight to be an especially cruel night but you were expecting to share a moment of it with a certain grieving giant. You had learned from the man himself, before his words had been drowned by the thick blobs of tears spilling from out of his puffy eyes, that Buckbeak was scheduled to be executed this evening after your final exam. 

It wasn’t a surprise to you that Draco himself had been quiet that morning when you hobbled out of the Slytherin common room. It had struck you as a bit odd the night prior when he told you that he was sorry, that he did all he could do but could not get his father to back down. You said nothing and retired for that night seeing as the two of you had exams the next morning and neither of you needed that kind of weight on your minds. You’d rather focus on the scratching of quills on parchment than the heavy thunk of an executioner’s axe. 

When the practical portion of the Charms exam ended late that afternoon, you walked down the corridors to hopefully find your friends before heading down to Hagrid’s hut. Students riddled the hallways but you pushed forward until you found Adrian and Solaris in a fairly empty courtyard.  

Solaris jumped from the parapet and engulfed you in a rib-crushing hug before dragging you back to the dorms with Adrian in tow where she maundered about another celebration happening tonight in the Slytherin common room. Adrian, someone who wasn’t big on celebrations like these, seemed excited about it as well, which made you only the slightest more inclined to join them. 

“C’mon, join us. We’ve got to let loose!” Solaris sang as she shook your arm. “We’re done with testing! We’re free —” 

“Not free yet, Sol,” Adrian said as he flipped through a muggle book. “We still have to wait for our results.” 

Solaris blew a raspberry at him then looked back at you expectantly. It tore you inside, but you smiled tiredly and declined, assuring her that you’d be in later, which was a lie. Tonight was a full moon and you’d have to spend the night in your father’s office. Even if you wanted to attend, you couldn’t, there was someone else waiting for you and the sun was slowly falling closer to the horizon. 

When you got to Hagrid’s in one piece and knocked on his door, you were not surprised to see the state that he was in. His face was flush and you nearly couldn’t see his eyes hidden behind swollen eyelids. It seemed as if he tried to coordinate an outfit but put it on in the dark. He was a mess. 

It took someone with the brain of a rock not to see. He offered you a huge cup of tea and a few of his homemade biscuits, which you accepted. He was a bit relieved to have you join him. Sure he scolded you for being there, especially since he didn’t want you witnessing such a crude act of violence, but you explained how you just wanted to be there for him: emotional support and all. 

He sniffed, his beard twitching as he did so. “Thank you.”

You nodded and engaged in some small talk, hoping it would take his mind off of the impending for just a moment, but your attempts were feeble. 

“Poor Buckbeak don’t know what’s goin’ to —” a knock interrupted him. His eyes grew downcast as he approached the door. “It’s a bit early for ‘em, doncha think —” 

You watched as Hagrid’s face contorted into some weird mix of grief and confusion at the sight of whoever it was (more like who wasn’t) outside the door. A whisper seemingly emanated from nowhere until you noticed the odd reflection of light from a lump of people just outside of Hagrid’s door; the cloak was pulled off revealing the year three Gryffindors. It was a pleasant surprise to see them on the other side of the door, they must’ve come here for the same reasons you had. 

“You shouldn’ve come here!” Hagrid said as he ushered them inside. “You lot will get in serious trouble, you will.” 

“But we’ve come to see you,” said Harry. The other two Gryffindors nodded, sharing the same sentiment. 

“Blimey, Harry. Y’know Sirius Black is after you and still, you come here to say goodbye to Buckbeak one last time.” Hagrid’s bereft expression fell as he sniffled. “Thank you.” 

You watched the three of them and didn’t miss the furtive glances Hermione threw your way as they made their way inside the small hut. She probably thought she was being subtle, but she was far from it when she chose the seat farthest from you and kept watching you from afar. Seeing as how the other two were oblivious to yourself, you guessed she hadn’t told them… yet. 

You heard your name get called and turned to look at the voice. It was Harry. 

“You’re here to see Buckbeak then?” Harry asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt the ongoing conversation between Hermione, Hagrid, and Ron. It sounded like a bunch of legal rubbish you needn’t hear anyway. 

“Of course. Although, I’m here to support a friend first and foremost.” You took a sip from your teacup. “How did your Patronus lessons with my dad go?” 

Harry’s eyes lit up and you knew that he must’ve experienced some kind of progress. 

“Brilliant! I managed to conjure a Stag after a few lessons.” Then Harry’s smile falls slightly at the mention. “From what Professor Lupin’s told me, I have the same Patronus as my dad.” 

You nodded thoughtfully at the sentiment while your mind wandered to one of your mother’s journals from her travels. In one of her entries, she recorded the time she had conjured a Patronus when she was confronted by a rogue dementor. 

“You know, mine is similar to my mum’s.” 

“Really?” Harry gaped. “That’s amazing, was it —?” 

But before he could finish his question, one of Hagrid’s clay pots that perched on the table behind him shattered. Everyone stilled except for Hermione who lifted a dark stone from amongst the rubble. Shortly after, Harry hissed in pain and rubbed the back of his head before looking out the window where he pointed at the group of older wizards making their way to the hut. 

Hagrid shooed the three out just as Fudge knocked on the door. He scrambled over to the door, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles from his shirt, a habit of an anxious man trying to hide a secret. They greeted each other, the giant only being more amicable towards Dumbledore than the other two, and guided them inside, careful to not set them off of the retreating third years who disappeared beneath the cloak. 

Dumbledore was the first to enter and greeted you with a warm smile and kind handshake, which you returned. 

“Miss Lupin,” Dumbledore said merrily. “May I ask what you are doing here?” 

“Headmaster, I am simply comforting a friend of mine. Can’t say it’s been an easy past few months for the two of us.” 

Dumbledore nodded pensively, then turned to look at the friend in question. He placed a comforting hand on the giant’s shoulders before following him over to the hearth where Hagrid offered him a cup of tea. 

Fudge eyed you steadily as he removed his bowler. “There is a killer on the loose and you’re comforting a friend?”

You sighed as you placed the cup down on the table beside you, tea still piping hot. Something about your movement set the man off, making him take a step back before regaining his composure just as quickly. To an untrained eye, one would have thought he moved for a pesky fly or done nothing at all… but you knew that kind of reaction and kept a steady eye on him. 

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Minister,” you said, rhythmically tapping your fingers on the armrest as you watched him, “but I think I’m a little more well-equipped to deal with a deranged killer than most.” 

You tried your best to suppress a venomous smile from the kicker you were getting from him. It may have been delightful getting a kick out of the pure-blood minister, but doing so may only encourage his behaviour toward you and your father. 

“Ah, yes.” Fudge cleared his throat, looking away from you as his ears tinged a bright pink. He, in the end, lowered his eyes in thinly veiled disgust. “I suppose you are.” 

The two of you engaged in a silent staring match until Dumbledore turned around with a pearly blue teacup that hid his hands from how large it was. 

“Would you like a cup, Cornelius?” 

It was an effective distraction, one you appreciated from the Headmaster as the tension eased just a bit as the older fellow agreed and walked away. You noticed how his eyes had stayed on your person for a second longer before addressing the older man… as if studying a predator’s gaze and calculating whether they’d be able to escape unscathed. 

As you watched the three of them begin to discuss the execution, your nose caught wind of something. You turned your head as familiar scents drifted closer to where everyone was located… Harry and Hermione were still around. Curiously, you looked out the window and noticed the two of them ushering Buckbeak to follow them into the woods… with devastating results. 

While the group of adults were busy trying to sign some paperwork, you tried to catch Harry and Hermione’s attention without catching the adults’. They were surprised to see you watching them, caught in the act of kidnapping a hippogriff, but you eased their worries by pointing, as discreetly as you could, to the ferrets behind them. Hermione, ever the clever witch, understood what you were trying to do and began luring the creature away with them. It didn’t take long for them to successfully hide away in the woods where their scents were no longer traceable by your nose. 

Just in luck too, as the four older wizards walked out of the hut to be met with nothing. Fudge and the executioner were beyond confused at the sudden disappearance of the creature and immediately began to blame Hagrid. You stood up, startling Fudge with your sudden movement. 

“I’m sorry, Minister, but Professor Hagrid, the Headmaster, and I were all here. None of us could have released the Hippogriff.” 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “I’m afraid she’s right, Cornelius.” 

The Minister stared at you, face pulled in a grimace at how close you were to him. He took a step in the opposite direction. “Then we must do a search throughout the land.”

“Oh, and that of the skies too.” They exchanged no other words once Dumbledore told the executioner that his services were no longer needed. He turned to Hagrid with a warm smile. “I could do with another cup of tea. Or a large brandy.” 

Hagrid nodded with a sniff. 

You and the two men returned inside and spoke about the recent turn of events, events of which you, of course, did not divulge. Once they were two cups in and your own cup had been emptied, you thought it best to return to the castle and excused yourself, needing to tend to some important business. Hagrid and Dumbledore gave you knowing looks and bid you a safe trip back up to the castle. 

You thought to yourself, the farther you walked up the trail, of how you had most definitely aided in something illegal. Yet that thought did not put you down — you knew you had done the right thing. Poor Buckbeak was innocent and you were not going to have innocent blood on your hands. 

You shook your head and took a deep breath in. Never mind that, you had a wolfish father to find. 

.

.

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The door to your father’s office was open. 

Which wasn’t really something that would stick out in your mind — he usually had it open for students to walk in if they ever had any questions on the day’s lesson — but tonight was a full moon and his door should have been closed with a password only you, Snape, and Dumbledore knew. 

“Dad?” You knocked on the doorframe before stepping in. “Did Snape come by already?” 

No response. 

You stepped inside, already a little suspicious of the lack of your father yet the office encapsulated him perfectly. The candles along the walls were still alight and music poured out from the gramophone in front of the window. You walked toward it and picked the needle off the vinyl, cutting off the jazzy tune. Now standing in front of the window, you watched the sun dwindle slowly, its warm rays stretching to inexplicable lengths to reach the topmost of the castle. It was a beautiful sight that almost had you forget why you were there in the first place. 

You turned to face the desk where there was a flurry of items strewn about its surface and recognized that something was off. The office itself was not incredibly large by any means, you could scour the entire room with a single turn of the head. But even then you could see that your dad wasn’t there. 

You strode over to the desk to see what was on it until your body jerked back violently. You caught your footing before you could fall and noticed that your foot had slipped on something. Pooled at your feet, was a puddle of purple liquid that looked familiar… Your eyes followed the stream coming from your father’s desk and there laid a very familiar goblet of Wolfsbane Snape would bring your father. You pinched your brows at the sight and continued to observe what else was on the desk.

A piece of parchment lay over a majority of the desk and upon closer inspection, you recognized the familiar map. You weren’t aware that your father had it in his possession — how quickly Harry had managed to get it confiscated was beyond you — but didn’t dwell on it and instead studied the map carefully for any signs of your father. Turn after turn, the folded paper flaps remained unmarked of one Remus Lupin. 

Until you flipped a piece over and saw it. Your father’s name making its way toward the whomping willow… Severus Snape in tow. 

You stood there, the only thing moving were your eyes as they trailed the two names before they disappeared. You weren’t going to question it, in all honesty, you didn’t want to know what your dad and Snape were doing in their spare time, but your father had not taken the potion and would instead experience the full moon tearing himself apart. You had the choice to stay here and lock yourself in your father’s office like usual or go to the Whomping Willow. 

The decision shouldn’t tear you this much, you knew that your dad used to lock himself in the Shrieking Shack, he told you that much. Perhaps he was going there since they spilled the Wolfsbane and had no other choice… but why wouldn’t Snape simply go and get your father a new batch of Wolfsbane? No, something wasn’t adding up and your heart told you that something was wrong: call it Werewolf’s Intuition. 

You tapped the map closed, then stuffed it into one of your father’s drawers before you yourself made your way to the whomping willow. 

You chanced a glance outside. The moon still wasn’t at its peak yet, so you took your time. You walked past the last of the straggling students and teachers, your eyes glancing up at the sky occasionally like some kind of fucked up peek-a-boo game. It felt like a ticking time bomb, every footstep you took became a second ticked off the timer so you willed yourself to go faster. Any minute now you could transform, so you decided to make your way along the edge of the forest for cover. 

A splitting headache coursed from one side of your head to the other before shooting down your spine. You tried your best to suppress it, even if you knew it wouldn’t do anything, and fought to stay upright. Your throat began to set itself ablaze and your bones were slowly cracking from the anticipation the moon elicited. 

You weren’t going to make it and neither was your dad. Hopefully, he’d be locked inside the Shrieking Shack by now. 

You stumbled to the forest floor as a searing pain shot to every end of your body causing you to let out a pained cry. Your face and hands pushed against the floor; the cool grass blades felt refreshing against your burning skin. After so many full moons, you learned to not fight against the pull. It was easier on the body and on the mind to simply let it happen. 

One breath in, one breath out. 

It never got easier, but it became more manageable with time. Heat continued to surge when you pushed yourself up and continued running albeit at a slower pace than before. The whomping willow was just in sight and so were some silhouetted people making their way out of the passage — but it was too late. 

Your breath hitched in sharp intakes the faster your feet hit the floor. By the time that you reached the opening to the whomping willow, a loud howl ripped through the silent summer air. That’s when the wolf inside you snapped. Your body lurched and contorted, fire raced through every fibrous split in your muscles and bones. 

You lost your voice as your screams of anguish distorted into howls of agony. 

Breath was scarce but another howl from your father had your mind reeling back to the situation at hand. You didn’t even think, your body now accustomed to the transformation that it shook off any residual pain, and just moved. Your paws padded at the dry grass beneath you as you darted toward the group. 

You watched as an unfamiliar man held your father close, shouting something nonsensical, but was ultimately thrown aside, his words having fallen upon deaf ears. Another man, whose silhouette looked distinctly familiar the closer you got, stood between the wolf and a group of… students? 

You studied the way your dad stalked closer to the group, the latter backing away the most they could without riling the werewolf. Within a few seconds, you stood between them, head held high to show that you weren’t backing down. Your dad’s quizzical stare pierced through you. 

You hoped he wouldn’t attack, knowing his previous behaviour he wouldn’t attack you, but he could smell humans and it was for sure going to mess with his mind. He growled and lunged at you and you did the same, rising on your hind legs to push him away. They were all pushes or shoves, you noticed, none of them bites or scratches. It ached you knowing how much he was trying to hold back. You snapped your jaws, a final warning to back off, but instead of doing so, he managed to throw you farther away from the people you were trying to protect. 

That’s when the familiar silhouette stepped forward and, from their wand, shot some spell that emitted cold white sparks. You watched as Snape cast another spell that struck your dad… but did nothing. Remus shook it off as if nothing happened. The attack, however, only angered him and he swiped at Snape, sending the man flying several feet and hitting the floor with a thud. He stayed there, unmoving. 

You growled and charged at your own dad once more, however, before you could do anything, a black dog jumped out of the shrubs to clamp around your dad’s neck. The surprise attack seemingly caught your dad off guard and the two disappeared into the tall grass. They continued to fight and continued to roll further away from the whomping willow until they were gone from view. 

That’s when you noticed who the group of students were and saw three familiar faces. Harry shouted as he saw the two disappear and Hermione followed suit, worried, and shouting for Harry to come back. You wanted to shout at the two to come back, that it was dangerous to follow the two, but you couldn’t and stood there. 

As seconds passed, nobody had yet to return. 

What the fuck just happened? 

You let out a frustrated snarl and turned to look at Snape who lay unconscious. Beside him, you found that someone else remained… two someones who you had not accounted for before: Ron and an unfamiliar man who appeared petrified on the floor. 

Ron, realizing that you had finally noticed him, yelped and began to push himself away from you. His leg, stiff inside a splint, kept him from moving much. He didn’t seem to have his wand with him, and as a second defense, threw whatever rocks he could find at you as he yelled for you to get away, that he didn’t taste all that great, etc. The stones bounced off of your thick fur coat, doing no damage whatsoever except becoming a nuisance. 

Seeing that this little tirade was going nowhere, you huffed and laid down on the floor in front of him, your maw resting just above your paws. You waited for the ginger boy to stop throwing any and all available rocks at you (which honestly took a while).  

But the pelting ceased and you blew air out your snout. 

Finally. 

And once Ron couldn’t find any more stones to throw, he noticed how oddly calm the giant wolf was. Yet, as you decided to step closer to the redhead, he became alert once more and scooted away. 

“Don’t you dare take another step closer!” Ron felt around, hands finding nothing other than grass and dirt. “Oh not again!” he cried. “How many times have I got to face death tonight?” 

You stepped closer causing him to whimper and close his eyes. He couldn’t move much from the splinter he had on him. The best thing you could do was lay next to him and hope he didn’t faint from fear. When Ron realized that you hadn’t attacked him he opened his eyes and saw you lying next to him.

“O-oh hello. You’re not going to kill or eat me are you?”

You shook your head no.

“Th–that’s great and all but erm — what are you going to do —” You were wasting enough time as you were and decided to grab him by the back of his sweater. He screamed at the touch of your teeth and heavy breath so close to him that he probably thought he was done for. You placed him on your back, careful not to hurt his leg any more than it had been, and quickly made your way toward Snape, grabbing him by his cloak. Ron saw what you were doing and tried helping you. 

“Professor Snape sent a Patronus up to the castle,” Ron said as firmly as he could. “Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall are waiting for us just so you know.” 

You supposed that was meant as a threat or some kind of caution in case you were up to something. Can’t say it was a bad one but seeing as you were the wolf and he was a wandless, injured wizard, the threat fell short. 

He drew Snape nearer and draped the unconscious body behind himself. After making sure both of them wouldn’t fall, you began your trek back to the castle. However,  before you could wander any further, Ron carefully poked you, afraid he could possibly irritate you. 

“Erm, I don’t want to be ungrateful or anything for helping us, but there’s someone else we need to take back to the castle,” he said. “My rat – well, turns out he’s not really my rat, but this wizard who was supposed to be dead…”  

You turned your head down to see the tattered man from before frozen on the ground. His hands were held up to his chest as if in self-defense and his eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets from fear. He was scrawny and tiny for someone who relatively seemed to be his age. Someone must have petrified him before or during Remus’ transformation, you had no clue. 

You gave an unsure grunt, but Ron explained again that the man was an animagus, previously known as his rat Scabbers. He claimed that his pet rat turned out to be Peter Pettigrew, the man Sirius Black had killed over a decade ago. The story seemed bizarre, but with another glance, you suppose the man did look like a rat himself so you believed the boy for now. Seeing as you were already supporting Ron and Snape on your back, you picked up the man by the back of his coat. He hung stiffly from your teeth as you trod back to the castle. 

It was darker than it had been when you first ran out of the castle so you hoped no students were roaming the corridors. Today, having been the last day of O.W.L.s, hopefully, meant that no one, except professors, were patrolling the corridors. Ever since Sirius Black had been accused of breaking into Hogwarts, professors were actively walking up and down every hallway, it wasn’t an issue if one of them found you. If it were a student, however… that would be a problem. 

You turned down a hallway the twins had shown you earlier in the year that would lead you quickest to the infirmary without anybody seeing you. It wasn’t a main corridor so you trusted yourself in not getting caught, but luck had it, as you rounded the corner, you would come face to face with a certain Transfigurations professor. Yeah, you didn’t trust yourself that well anymore. 

“Miss Lupin?” Her voice was hushed. “Mr. Weasley?”

“Professor McGonagall? Oh, thank Merlin,” sighed Ron. 

McGonagall was shocked to see that some man hung from your mouth and was furthermore surprised as she noticed her colleague’s unconscious body slumped behind Ron. 

“Severus?” She assessed the three of you. “What is going on here? Why is there an unconscious teacher on your back and why are you  holding —?” 

Her face drained of all color as she recognized the face in front of her. She clasped her hand to her mouth, words stuck in her throat. You craned your head down a bit to allow Ron to talk since he was the only one who could speak. He promptly began to ramble about the events that happened. 

“It’s a long story Professor, but Peter Pettigrew is alive and my leg’s broken and —”

“Then for Godric’s sake let’s take you to Madam Pomfrey.” McGonagall shook her head and regained her composure upon hearing one of her students being injured. “And the two of you will explain yourselves.” 

You followed McGonagall to the hospital wing, trodding alongside her to make sure you weren’t hurting either Ron or Snape; the man swinging from your mouth, on the other hand, was a whole other thing. McGonagall helped settle them onto beds but placed the petrified man into a makeshift cell that she conjured specialized for animagi. Once everything was taken care of and Ron had warned her about Harry and Hermione still being out there, you were instructed to stay behind until further notice. With McGonagall gone, the infirmary’s silence washed over you and you couldn’t keep your mind from reliving the night’s affairs. 

In just a few short hours, Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew about your dad — about his lycanthropy. It wouldn’t be long before they wondered the same about you. If you were also afflicted by the same curse as your father. Sure they already saw you tonight but they didn’t know that it was you. Maybe they would be fine with it, maybe they wouldn’t. People were rarely fine with werewolves. There was always that hint of fear… that hint of distrust. 

You slumped into the furthest corner of the infirmary, defeated. Tonight didn’t turn out the way it usually did, leaving you confused and, dare you say it, terrified. What the fuck was going to happen now? Two other students knew about you and your father and your father was currently running amok in the Forbidden Forest being chased by some random dog and two underaged wizards. 

You hid your face in your giant paws and hoped that he turned out to be alright.