Chapter 9
The next morning was awkward. Remus woke to a bad cramp in her leg, which was pretty standard the day of the full moon, and a nostrilful of dog hair, which was pretty non-standard on any day of the week. She opened her eyes muzzily, and tried not to start too badly when she realised she’d faceplanted in Padfoot’s fur while she was asleep. She sat up hastily and stretched to conceal the movement when Padfoot looked at her.
The curtains were still closed, but there was enough greyish light poking through the thin material to tell her it was late morning at least. Rain was pattering quietly against the windowpanes, and Harry was already up and about, toddling around in his pyjamas and grabbing various objects from around the room so he could try and feed them to Padfoot.
“Yum!” he insisted, pushing Remus’ left shoe at her face.
“Think he’s hungry,” Remus observed, yawning hugely and noting with pleasure that her bones now felt slightly less like they were made of cement.
Padfoot made a grunting noise and gently nudged Harry backwards with her nose so she had room to stand and hop down onto the floor, shaking her fur a little as she went.
“Um,” Remus said, and Padfoot glanced back. Remus averted her gaze and stared down at the old, scratchy bedspread to avoid eye contact. “Thanks,” she said. “I… thanks.”
She wasn’t sure what else to say. The wolf was still growling away at the back of her brain, less overpowering after a decent night’s sleep but still making it hard to single out a specific thought from the mush of mixed-up emotions bubbling away in there.
Padfoot looked at her for a long moment, and then was very suddenly Sirius again. She sat on the edge of the opposite bed and ran a hand through her rumpled hair. Harry giggled.
“You’re welcome,” she said.
Remus nodded, picking at a hangnail on her thumb. She opened her mouth, ready to say something else – something about having meant what she said last night, about wanting to start trusting Sirius again, about needing some time to think without the moon pulling on her head. Before she could find the words, Harry dropped the shoe he was still holding on his foot and started to cry.
“Oh dear,” Remus said instead, and scooped him up to give him a cuddle while Sirius reached for the backpack.
“Definitely time for breakfast,” Sirius decided. “I’m pretty sure they’re still serving downstairs.”
“This one needs a change first,” Remus said, checking Harry’s nappy and making a face. “We should give him a bath at some point as well, it’s been a few days.”
Sirius dug a shirt out of the backpack and sniffed at it. “I can do it before I put him to bed tonight,” she said, and then paused to glance at Remus apprehensively.
Remus couldn’t answer. She forced herself to nod, and then reached for Harry’s changing stuff for something to do with her hands. Sirius didn’t move while she unrolled the mat and got Harry to lie down on it, hands clenching and unclenching around the t-shirt.
“What is it?” Remus asked when it became clear Sirius wasn’t going to move until she got whatever she was thinking off her chest.
Sirius frowned and bit her lip. “Do you,” she started, and then stopped again.
Remus got on with changing Harry, waiting for Sirius to catch whatever thoughts she had flying around long enough to put them into words.
“I was just thinking,” Sirius said at last. “About the trust thing, and about… um. Just, if there were a way for me to be there tonight – you know, as Padfoot – would it… help?”
Remus considered this carefully as she finished negotiating Harry into a clean nappy. “How would that work?” she asked. “What would we do with Harry?”
Sirius looked down. “We could go back to the Order,” she said. “They must have figured out by now that there’s nothing connecting us to the Death Eaters. They might have even caught Peter. We did say when we started out that this was just temporary, until we figure something else out. We could… I don’t know. Call a truce, or something.”
Remus stared at her. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you suggest backing down in a fight,” she said. “Just putting that out there.”
“I know,” Sirius grimaced. “Don’t know how you used to always do this, be all reasonable and whatever. It’s weird as hell.”
Remus almost smiled at that. “Took a shit-ton of deep breathing exercises and counting to ten in my head.” She grabbed the backpack and started looking for some fresh clothes for Harry. “I don’t think it’s worth the risk,” she said at last. “I mean, we’re hoping the Order’s figuring out what really happened, but we don’t know for sure that’s what they’re doing. They might still be tearing the country up trying to find us and send us off to Azkaban and Harry off to fucking Surrey.”
Sirius nodded. “I know. I’m mostly just thinking out loud, seeing if there’s another way to handle tonight. I know you’re still not, you know, okay with leaving Harry with me. Don’t,” she added when Remus opened her mouth to protest. “Don’t try and deny it, I know that face by now.”
Remus ducked her head and concentrated on trying to fit her words around what she was feeling. “It’ll take time,” she said. “I’m still… the part of my brain that’s yelling at me for being a naïve moron, it’s all mixed up with the part of me that wants to trust you. Not listening to the second part’s fucking miserable, but it’s… the first part’s still really fucking loud, you know?”
“I know. It’s okay,” Sirius said, although her neutral tone didn’t really match her face.
Neither of them said anything else while Sirius changed her shirt and Remus got Harry dressed. She set him up on the empty bed with some toys and books, and then sat back against the one opposite that Sirius was sitting on, ignoring the way the creaky metal frame dug into her back.
“It wouldn’t be worth it,” she said again after a while. “You transforming with me. Even leaving out all the shit with the Order. Right now, it just… it wouldn’t work the same, not without Pete, and… and without…”
She broke off to swallow, but the words still got stuck behind the lump in her throat. She pretended not to notice Sirius wiping at her eyes in her peripheral vision. They both stared across at Harry by way of distraction. He was chattering away to himself as he flapped the pages of one of his books. The concealment charms on his forehead needed refreshing – his scar was starting to show again, completely healed but still enough to break the illusion that he was just a normal, happy toddler whose biggest problem was that his copy of Mr Bump was missing a few pages.
“He already looks like him,” Sirius murmured, her voice wavering a little with unshed tears. “He’ll have the same hair.”
Remus nodded, clenching her jaw to stop her face crumpling. “Not the eyes, though.”
“No. Her eyes,” Sirius agreed. She clutched at the edge of the mattress until her knuckles started to turn white.
Remus found herself reaching up at the same time Sirius reached down; their fingers met and hooked together, warm and dry and grounding. She squeezed once, briefly, and felt Sirius squeeze back.
“If I don’t need to worry about you,” she said quietly. “Then you don’t need to worry about me.”
They sat like that for a long time, until Harry got bored and decided they needed to be reminded about breakfast. Repeatedly, and at great volume.
“WHY are there SO MANY GNOMES?” Proudfoot bellowed to the heavens, hopping backwards on one foot while shaking the other leg frantically, trying to kick loose the creature that had attached itself to her shin. “Gerroff you horrible potato with eyes, Savage will you STOP LAUGHING and BLOODY HELP ME.”
“I thought aurors were meant to be professional,” Ursula said mildly, watching from the edge of the field while she and Alice picked their way along the hedgerow, looking for hiding spots that might suit the average animagus-on-the-run.
“I mean, define professional,” Alice replied absently, using one hand to run through a series of detection spells and the other to untangle her cloak from where it was caught on a knot of overgrown brambles. “Are you sure this is where you found him, Percy?” she added, turning back to where Percy Weasley was following, flanked by his mother and Moody, looking far more pleased to be in a position of authority than any five-year-old should.
He nodded importantly. “I’m sure,” he said, adjusting his glasses and looking around again. He pointed at a hole in the top of the hedge. “That’s where the bludger went through ‘cause Charlie hit it too hard and they sent me to get it ‘cause I wasn’t playing propler – proplerly.”
“Mad-Eye, this is pointless!” Savage called from the middle of the field.
“Stop questioning my orders and keep casting barriers, Savage!” Moody shouted back. “And Proudfoot, stop complaining! No one likes a whinger!”
“I’ve got holes gouged in my shin!” Proudfoot protested, but went back to her assigned task of blanketing the field in dormant animagus-revealing spells, in the hopes that Pettigrew, likely unable to go too far from the Burrow without running the risk of getting lost or eaten, would stumble across one of them and simply pop up in human form.
No one was particularly optimistic about this approach working; a full morning of methodically combing over every inch of the Burrow and its garden, slowly working their way out into the surrounding fields with no success, was starting to put a damper on everyone’s spirits. This was not at all helped by the sleep deprivation, or by the freezing drizzle that had started up around nine and persisted as the day dragged on.
“I don’t think I want to be an arorer anymore, Mummy,” Percy told Molly seriously, watching as Moody turned his attention to the next field over, noticed that Frank had fallen asleep standing up against the hedge he was meant to be searching, and stormed off to yell at him. “They’re always tired and cross.”
“Don’t worry Percy, we’re not like this most of the time,” Alice said encouragingly. “We’re just a little stressed right now, because OW MOTHER OF-”
Ursula, Molly and Percy watched dispassionately as Alice stumbled away from the hedge, cursing under her breath.
“Bloody nettles,” she grumbled.
“Get a nice office job like your father, darling,” Molly advised Percy as Ursula rolled her eyes, grabbed Alice’s hand and did a couple of healing spells. “You’ll be much happier in the end. No standing around in the rain searching for dangerous criminals.” Then she glanced back towards the Burrow and sighed; there was purple smoke coming from the chimney. “Do you still need us out here? Arthur’s signalling, he needs help with the children. They’re probably tearing the house apart, not being allowed to come and help like Percy.”
“I’m sure it’s all fine,” Ursula said uncertainly. “They’re a lovely bunch, really. You and Arthur ought to be very proud.”
Alice swung right back into cheerfulness and nodded brightly. “Frank and I were just saying we should bring Neville around for a playdate, once this is all over,” she said. “There aren’t any other children for him to play with at Frank’s mother’s house, it’d be nice for him to make some friends.”
Molly smiled tightly. “I'm sure that'd be lovely,” she said, and hurried off towards the Burrow without another word, herding Percy in front of her; there were noises coming from the house that sounded awfully like a crate of Dr Filibuster’s Fireworks had been set off.
“I forgot you’ve got a kid as well. How old is he now?” Ursula asked as she and Alice went back to searching.
“Fifteen months,” Alice said proudly. “Already starting to talk – he can say ‘gam’ now, according to Augusta’s last letter.”
Ursula frowned. “Is that a word?”
“Yep, Uncle Algie looked it up. It’s the collective noun for a group of whales.” Alice beamed. “My Neville’s a genius.”
“Impressive,” Ursula said, and silently made the decision to never procreate.
The day went by slowly enough that Harry was in a strop by afternoon, bored and restless and probably picking up the anxious energy Sirius and Remus were putting out. Somewhere around his third tantrum they decided enough was enough and took him outside, after some careful transfiguring to change their hair and clothes again.
It was still misting out, not to mention cold in a horrible damp way that made Sirius’ bones shiver, but Harry seemed happy enough charging around in his tiny anorak and wellies on the green (which was more of a brown at this point, what with it being mid-November in Wales), making broomstick noises and occasionally stopping to get excited over passing dogs.
“Woof!” he yelled, pointing at a nearby terrier so enthusiastically that he lost his balance and landed on his knees in the mud. “Woof!” he added when Sirius bent to haul him up.
“That’s right, woof,” she agreed, and sent him toddling off in a different direction, trying to not look too disgruntled that Harry got as excited about other dogs as he did about Padfoot as she and Remus followed him at a more sedate pace.
Remus squinted at her. “You can’t transform out here,” she said, like she could read Sirius’ thoughts. “You stick out too much, and these seem like people who actually care about the ‘please keep your dog on a lead’ signs – they’d call the RSPCA on us or something.”
Sirius ducked her head. “It’s just been a while. I forgot how fun it was. Harry was so excited when he saw me this morning, it was nice. He could do with some excitement that doesn’t involve running for his life.”
Remus sighed and glanced around. She spotted a knot of bushes at the edge of the green, and nodded to it. “You could probably do it behind there, when there’s less people about,” she said.
“Knew it. You’re as bored as I am,” Sirius grinned, triumphant.
Remus shrugged, making the face she always made when she was trying to look more annoyed than she was. “It’ll be good for Harry. This is the most exercise he’s had since all this shit started. And I can watch your backs, in case someone manages to get past about twenty-three different layers of protection spells.”
Then she paused, looking like she wanted to say something else.
“What is it?” Sirius asked. She reached for the top of Harry’s head as he ran past and gently turned him around so he wasn’t aiming for the pavement.
“I was just – I was thinking,” Remus said. “About what you said before, about this being temporary.”
“Yeah?” Sirius frowned, not sure where this was going.
Remus pushed her hair away from her face for a moment, looking contemplative. “We can’t keep doing this – the moving every other day, sleeping in hostels, living out of a backpack, especially now it’s getting so damn cold. It’s not good for him. He needs some stability. A proper bed.”
“What’re you saying?”
“I’m saying… I think once tonight’s out the way, we should find somewhere. An empty house or something, where we can hide out for the winter.”
Sirius thought this over. On one hand, she could see a whole host of things that could go wrong. On the other hand – this was Remus reaching out. Trying to trust her again.
The knot in her stomach loosened for the first time in weeks.
She tried not to smile too hard as she weighed up the pros and cons.
“I… you’re right, this isn’t sustainable. But you know we’d be more vulnerable to tracking spells that way. And there’s no one we can trust enough for a fidelius.”
“I know,” Remus grimaced. “But we can still cast wards and everything, make ourselves unplottable, set up our own defences. People have managed to stay hidden without a secret keeper in the past.”
Sirius noticed Harry suddenly turn and make for the edge of the green again, so she dodged into his path and caught him. She took a minute to think under the guise of brushing some of the mud off his clothes before she let him trundle off to inspect the gazebo in the middle of the grass. They followed him; Remus watched him climb up on the wooden platform with sharp eyes, ready to catch him if he slipped, which gave Sirius another moment to get her opinions in order.
“I think,” she said after a few minutes. “I think that we’re going to have to face the Order eventually. We can’t keep running from them forever, and we can’t put all our expectations on them figuring out the truth for themselves. And when we do finally face them, it might be good to do it on our own terms. Our own ground. Make it clear that we’re only interested in protecting Harry.”
“So that’s a point in favour of the house, then?”
“Yeah.”
Remus nodded. “Okay. So that just leaves the issue of the murdering fascists in the room.”
“Yeah, I’ve got nothing on what to do about the Death Eaters,” Sirius agreed. “We’re so far out of the loop we might as well be in Fiji. I reckon before we make any decisions we need an idea of how many are still loose, and of them how many are still fighting.”
“I think we can bank on a ton of them having abandoned ship as soon as Snake Fucker kicked the bucket. Not exactly comrades-in-arms, that lot.”
“Almost definitely. But some of them – if they haven’t caught Bellatrix yet, we’ll be really fucked. She’d stop at nothing to get to him if she thought it'd get her some vengeance.”
They both cast an anxious glance at Harry, needing to reassure themselves that he was still there, still okay. He looked up at them and held up his hands proudly; they were totally covered in mud. He clapped them together, giggling at the sound of it. Sirius let out a long breath.
“He’s fine,” she said, mostly to herself. “He’s fine.”
They both moved closer to him anyway.
“If Bellatrix and the other fanatics are still out there,” Remus said slowly. “We might end up needing help, if we want to stop running any time soon.”
“I thought you said going back for help was a bad idea.”
“Not – I’m not saying we should go back-go back. But what if we found a kind of middle-ground?”
“Go on.”
“You said yourself when I told you about McGonagall not supporting the Dursley plan, that we might be able to use that. What if we went directly to her?”
“She’d never lie to Dumbledore for us.”
“No, but I bet she’d mediate.”
Sirius mulled this over. “She’d definitely prioritise Harry’s safety,” she said. “If we proved to her that he’s safest with us, that might be enough for them to call off the hunt and offer protection while we make our case about Harry’s custody.”
“Especially now they’ve had a few weeks to confirm we’re running from the Death Eaters as well as them.”
Sirius hummed contemplatively. “Okay. Let’s make a plan tomorrow. Try and find out the situation with the Death Eaters, get our hands on some newspapers or a radio or something. See if we can figure out if the Order’s caught on about Peter. Then from there we can start making decisions. Nothing much else we can do right now, I think.”
“Thank fuck,” Remus mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “If I had to do any more thinking I reckon I’d start crying brain matter.”
“Have a sit down,” Sirius told her, nodding to the damp bench inside the gazebo that Harry was failing to climb on. “I’ll transform and run around with Harry for a bit – maybe keep your wand out, just in case. Then we can find a café and have tea, get your strength up for later.”
Remus gave her a weak smile and plonked herself down on the bench without bothering to dry it off, while Sirius jogged off across the green to duck behind the bushes. A few moments later, Padfoot emerged; Harry shrieked excitedly and went running to meet her, as far as a one year old in wellies could run. He only fell down a couple of times.
It was late afternoon by the time Moody finally called it a day and let everyone go home to get some sleep. Frank and Alice apparated into the alley behind the Indian takeaway across from their house, exhausted enough that neither of them bothered suggesting they get some dinner before turning in. They leaned against each other as they rounded the corner and froze as soon as they came into view of their street.
It was completely swarming with aurors. They were everywhere; coming in and out of houses, clambering around on the rooftops – Frank even spotted one scaling the plane tree on the corner. There were also a few setting up muggle traffic barriers around a large hole in the middle of the road. The reason quickly became clear; there was a dark mark cast over their house, staring down over the street with empty eyes. A couple of the aurors appeared to be trying to get rid of it, to little avail.
“What the fuck?” Alice mumbled, rubbing her red eyes. “Are you seeing this too?”
Frank nodded mutely, watching Daniels from the Recollection Management Division slowly make his way down a long line of muggle neighbours, probably modifying their memories.
There was a shout from behind, and Frank found himself being grabbed and wrestled to his knees. Alice was brought down next to him.
“Oi! What the fuck?” she repeated indignantly, trying to twist around to see who was holding them. “Harris and Fisher, is that you? What the hell’s going on?”
“Sorry, Longbottoms,” Harris said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “There’s been an incident, we need to make sure you’re really you.”
“Who the fuck else would we be?” Frank scowled.
“The boss will explain,” Fisher assured him with what was probably meant to be a friendly pat on the shoulder, although it was somewhat belied by the unnecessarily painful armbar.
“The boss?” Alice said apprehensively. “You mean-?”
She was cut off by the sharp tap of terrifyingly shiny shoes approaching. They looked up to find Bartimaeus Crouch standing over them, looking his usual combination of pissed off and badly constipated.
“Alice Longbottom,” he said in that icy way of his. “Where were you sent on your fourth covert mission? Who were you sent there to meet, and why?”
“Uhm – Dover. The, uh, the headquarters of the smuggling ring that was using the channel tunnel. I met a goblin called Rissik. His boss was trying to sell goblin-made artefacts to some Veela in Calais, he wanted to make a deal – information in exchange for the artefacts being returned to the goblin community.”
Crouch didn’t react, just turned on Frank. “Shortly after your last promotion, you were sent to liaise with three undercover aurors who had important information to share with the department. Where did you meet them, and what codenames were they using at the time?”
“They were, uh, Rook, Moth, and, um, Beetle. I met them at the Sorcerer’s Elbow Inn just outside Wolverhampton.”
Crouch nodded, satisfied, and stepped back. “You may release them, but keep them at wandpoint,” he told Harris and Fisher, who complied.
Alice and Frank got to their feet, trying not to look too indignant in the face of Crouch’s utter lack of concern for their bruised knees and egos.
“Sir,” Frank said. “Hate to be rude, but what in the name of Merlin’s left arsecheek is going on?”
“Definitely Frank,” muttered Harris, sounding relieved.
“Your home was attacked by Death Eaters last night,” Crouch said shortly. “You are incredibly lucky that you weren’t here.”
Frank felt himself blanch and reached for Alice at the same time that she staggered into him, hanging off his arm for support. Terror clenched in his chest like a fist as the implications of Crouch’s words sank in.
“What about the rest of our family?” Alice asked, sounding like she’d been punched in the gut. “Our son, where’s our son? Where’s Neville?”
“Your son is safe,” Crouch said, and relief crashed over Frank like a tidal wave. He blinked, dizzy with the emotional whiplash. “The Death Eaters did not find your family’s secondary hideout – it appears that their intel only went as far as this address.”
Alice buried her face in Frank’s shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she chanted quietly.
Frank put his arm around her and held on tight. “What about our neighbours?” he asked. “Was anyone hurt?”
“There were no casualties, but four muggles were subject to the cruciatus curse.”
Frank closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he whispered.
Alice straightened and dragged her hands over her face, wearing the expression that meant she was pushing down her emotions to focus on the matter at hand. “What happened, exactly?” she asked.
“Piecing everything together has not been easy, but we have the gist of it,” Crouch said. “Around midnight last night your home was invaded by a group of four Death Eaters. According to witnesses, they broke down the front door and started ransacking the place. When it became apparent that no one was home, they cast the dark mark and then began attacking the neighbouring houses. They were then stopped by five more Death Eaters who apparated in, apprehended them and forced them to disapparate.”
“Fucking Merlin,” Frank said, looking around again. “How much damage?”
“It has taken the best part of the day to rebuild the houses and repair the damage that can’t be explained with muggle logic. The muggles who were attacked are in a highly traumatised state and have been transported to St Mungo’s for treatment. The other witnesses are to be informed that there was a gas explosion, once Daniels has finished removing their memories of the real incident.”
Alice was staring up at the dark mark. “They’re infighting,” she said. “Disagreeing on tactics. Their whole organisation is coming apart.”
“It would seem so, yes,” Crouch confirmed. “Descriptions of the perpetrators are somewhat lacking, but we are fairly certain the attackers were of the Lestrange faction. What we don’t know is what exactly they were looking for.”
“We might actually be able to help you there, sir,” Frank said. “We have some new intel you might be interested in. It’s to do with the Potter case. And Sirius Black.”
Crouch’s expression shifted minutely. “You will share everything you know,” he said. “But first – the department has seen fit to put you and your family into official witness protection. If you’ll follow me.”
With that, he turned and marched back towards the Longbottom house. Frank and Alice followed with Harris and Fisher in their wake.
“I can’t tell if witness protection is a good thing or not,” Alice said.
Frank shrugged. “We might get to see Neville. And maybe also get some bloody shut-eye at last.”
“Lucky bastards,” Fisher said from behind.
“You’re sure you’ve got everything?”
“Yep.”
“And that the bag’s watertight?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re sure you know where you’re going?”
“Sirius.”
“Sorry. Just.” Sirius bit her lip, watching Remus tighten her arms around Harry a little and rock him side-to-side, eyes shut.
The weather had gotten worse – it was raining properly again, the wind was picking up, rattling the canopy over the guesthouse entrance above their heads. It was only early evening, but the sky was almost completely dark.
“Just be careful,” she said. “Don’t forget where you put the clothes or, or get lost and die of exposure or anything, okay?”
Remus opened her eyes at that and smiled a little. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I have done this before. Like, a lot.”
“I know,” Sirius said. “Still.”
Remus nodded and looked up at the sky. “I should go,” she said. “Moonrise soon.”
She gave Harry one last squeeze and a kiss on the head, and then passed him back to Sirius. She picked up the carefully-sealed plastic bag at her feet.
“Send a patronus if something goes wrong,” Sirius told her, perching Harry on her hip and letting him lean against her shoulder, tired from all the running. “I don’t care if it’s 5am and there’s a hurricane touching down. I’ll sort out something to keep Harry safe. I’ll come and help.”
Remus smiled again, small and a little anxious, but definitely there. “I know. I will.”
She tightened her grip on the bag as if making to leave, but then paused again. She stared at Sirius, and Sirius stared back.
Sirius frowned slightly. “What is it?”
Remus abruptly moved in and hugged her. Sirius only had time to register Remus’ bony arms around her and Harry, tangled hair in her face, the barest hint of her smell – cigarettes and damp wool and rain – before Remus pulled back again and, in the same movement, disapparated with a loud crack.
Harry snuffled sleepily and tugged on Sirius’ coat collar. Sirius, staring blankly at the space where Remus had been seconds before, shook herself and remembered what she was meant to be doing.
“Right. Bath time for you, young man,” she said, and ignored how her voice was shaking, just a little.
She hitched Harry up so she was holding him better, and headed back into the warmth of the guesthouse. Behind her, thunder rumbled through the clouds and the rain fell harder than ever.
She buried her face in the top of Harry’s head and kept walking, determinedly resisting the urge to go chasing after Remus and pull her back into the warmth as well.
Remus screwed up her face against the gale as she used her wand to dig a deep enough hole out of the heavy wet soil to stash her bag of supplies for the morning. It was shaky work; the moon’s pull was getting stronger by the second and the wind buffeted her from all sides in spite of the cairn she was hunching next to by way of shelter. She stowed her wand away in the bag, re-sealed it and shoved it down into the ground. Then she straightened up and used her feet to refill the hole, kicking the overspill into a tightly-packed mound and adding a few rocks to mark the spot.
The clouds were dark and heavy so she didn’t see it when the moon rose, but she sure as fuck felt it – like a bucket of cement being tipped over her head, making everything slow and too heavy, making the wolf in her snarl in protest and finally, finally claw its way to the surface. She staggered away from the cairn and stumbled down the hillside, slipping on the soaked grass as her bones started to crack and shift under her skin and fuck, fuck, it hurt so fucking much –
“Harry is safe,” she rasped, forcing herself to believe the words even as her voice stretched and slurred horribly with her changing vocal chords. “Harry is sa-afe, Sirius is ss-safe, they’re warm and dry, aaannd…”
She heard herself whine, pitiful and pained and far too high-pitched. The wind blasted through her hair as it roughened into coarse grey fur, made her eyes water as the last of the colour drained from the world; the smell of the rain and the mud was overpowering, too many scents overloading her brain as it struggled to catch up with her body, all the human in her draining away like a fistful of sand, until –
Moony threw her head back and howled with the wind. In the distance, across the mountains, something howled back.