Disclaimer: I don't own this. Let that serve as the disclaimer for all chapters.
A/N So, I know I REALLY shouldn't be starting ANOTHER chapter fic, especially with Evil Within and A Rose in Her Hand and The Castle and probably another one or two that I'm forgeting not having been updated in so long, but I needed something new to write and this just came to me, so I NEEDED to write it. I sincerely hope you enjoy this first chapter and feel compelled to review. Thanks. I now present you with…
Padfoot the Weredog
(aka, The Most Poorly Titled Bit of Half Decent Writing I Have Ever Written For the Noble Harry Potter Fandom)… (seriously, advice for a BETTER title would be welcome)
Chapter One: The Bite
"Hurry up, Moony! We're gonna be late! What are you even doing?" called James through the thick, oak door to their bathroom.
"Bwuthing mah teesh!" came the reply, muffled through both the aforementioned door and the toothbrush that no-doubt occupied the lycanthropes mouth.
"But why?" asked Sirius incredulously. "You're just going to bloody them up tonight, aren't you?"
"I—" they heard a loud spitting noise into their sink "—always brush my teeth. I just do it early on the night of the moon so I don't miss a night," explained Remus John Lupin, emerging as he wiped his damp lips on a sleeve. "I, unlike some people I know, who neglect to shower weekly, let alone daily, like to keep up daily routines as well as personal hygiene."
"Weirdo," said Peter—a rather hypocritical accusation coming from him—already out the door, holding it open for his fellow marauders.
As per usual, the four walked together toward the designated meeting place for Madame Pomfrey and Remus, three of the four shrouded in the invisibility cloak, giving Remus the discomforting feeling of being watched by unseen eyes, despite the fact that he was aware of their presence anyway.
"And… she's gone," said Sirius, finaly, as Madame Pomfrey shut the giant, double-doors leading into the castle. The long streak of candle-light that had illuminated a patch of the grounds vanished as he spoke, leaving them in the semi-darkness, lit only by the sun, which was quickly vanishing behind the silhouetted trees of the forbidden forest.
"Let's go," said James, whipping off the invisibility cloak and stowing it in the bag he brought along, carefully tucking it into a small hole he had dug, hidden by the roots of the Womping Willow.
The three remaining marauders then vanished into a large, overgrown hole in the ground, morphing into an unusual pack of creatures as they did. About a minute and a half into their cramped journey, they heard the distant, echoing, tell-tale sounds of a howling wolf, the monster that shredded the shrieking shack once a month. Ears of all sizes perking up, the trio picked up their pace to a gallop, a bound or a scurry respectively.
Upon their arrival, they were greeted by the sight of Remus, already transformed, standing on the middle of the stairway panting. His eyes were already fixed on the spot where it expected it's playmates to arrive from, and, as soon as they did, the wolf pounced on James, who was nearest him.
James, attentive and careful, as always, not to injure his friend with the prongs for which he took his nickname, responded by bucking the grizzly creature into the shredded ex-sofa that occupied the room's left-most corner. The four, reunited again, continued to 'play' in the room, but all the while, the three conscious ones slowly herded the wolf toward the door with their attacks. Moony, sensing the freedom that lay beyond and knowing that it was only with the help of these four that he could reach it, did not object, eagerly clawing at the door once he found himself cornered against it. Peter, with his well-trained, agile rat claws, scampered up the slightly splintered door and worked at getting it open while the other two continued with another of their usual tasks: preventing the wolf from actually swallowing Peter whole.
Soon enough, the door was open, and the marauders were off into the night with a sense of both mind-numbing fear and exhilarating adrenaline that they only felt once a month.
The cool, November air touched their skin through their new layers of fur as they bounded in the direction of the Forest, making sure to keep the attention of the wolf so as to lure it to their intended destination, rather than toward the castle.
Despite the direness of the situation, and the misfortune of Remus' condition, all four, including Remus himself, had to admit that the rush couldn't be matched. In the mornings after, all three would awaken aching and with only vague memories of the night before, and yet they would not regret it. Even Remus, waking up hospitalized and missing a full night of his memory would agree. So they made the best of the night, trying not to pay attention to the fact that they couldn't let their best friend out of their sight and they had to keep him from running too far.
Strangely, or luckily, during all their excursions to the deepest realms of the forest, not once had any of them felt the venom of Remus' teeth upon their skin. It was partially that werewolves only aimed to change humans, not animals, partially because they were so weary and cautious around this particular part of the wolf's generous weaponry and partially because somewhere inside, Remus recognized his friends and, on the outside, the wolf itself had grown used to the three companions, and rarely showed significantly more than playful violence towards them. That is why, when a strangled yelp and pleading whimper sounded through the eerily empty clearing they had inhabited that night, all heads turned, apart from that of the offender. Remus, the wolf, looked up from the bloody mess, mercifully making no attempt to finish it's attack, and ran into the fog and trees.
James and Peter were humans again in an instant, but as Peter knelt beside the bleeding stray, he looked up urgently at James and said "no, you need to find Moony. He won't have gone far. I'll take care of Sirius."
Reluctant, but seeing the logic behind the hurried words, James nodded and ran off into the darkness, his shape shifting as he did so.
"Oh god…" muttered Peter, looking down at the dark, sopping, furry mass that lay pathetically with his head on his knees. "Bloody hell…" The color of the blood was lost in the dark, matted fur of Sirius, but where it oozed, Peter could see the moonlight shining off of it and the fur sticking together in wet clumps. "Oh god… Sirius… don't transform, okay?" he said, unable to read in the expression of the animal weather it could hear or weather it was even trying to listen. "Oh… shit…" Either way, figured Peter, the dog most likely lacked sufficient energy to transform, which had happened to each of them on several occasions, usually causing the other two or three to be responsible for dragging the wounded creature back to their bathroom where they would treat the injuries as best they could.
Peter, while stocky and rather plump, was a surprisingly strong boy, but Sirius in dog form was barely any lighter than he was in human form, and thus, a half hour later, Peter had still failed to lug the body all the way to the edge of the forest, opting to leave him be in a clearing a five minute scurry from the Willow with his assurance that he would return quickly. Then, vanishing into the tall grass and brambles in the blink of an eye, Wormtail was off and on his way to the hidden bag. In addition to the cloak, the bag contained water, a magical ointment and several bandages, as well as copious amounts of gauze and un-meltable ice packs. The instant he was back under cover of the trees, Peter became human again so he could better carry the supplies that were far too big for his rat form.
"Sirius!" he called, relief washing over him upon seeing the boy-dog precisely where he had left him. "Here," he muttered, as he busied himself on cleaning the cursed wound as best he could with the ointment and stopping the seemingly endless blood-flow with nearly all their remaining gauze. He tried in vain for several minutes to fix the bandages in various ways so as to protect and cover the generous gash, but eventually admitted defeat, finding himself unable to make anything stick on or wrap around the dogs wounded neck and shoulder to his satisfaction. This was mostly due to the absurdly long fur that clung unevenly to every inch of the mangy dog's body looking entirely less charming, and yet exactly the same as the boy's human hair cut.
At last, after hours of sitting still and nursing a hurt dog, the slight lightening of the sky indicated that the night was coming to a close, to Peter's relief and delight. He watched from a safe distance as the stag, looking as completely exhausted as a stag could appear to a human, single-handedly herded the wolf, which appeared to be in a similar state, into the tunnel and toward the shack. Minutes later, James reemerged, stretching his new-found human muscles as he wandered over to the waving Peter and sleeping Sirius.
"How is he?" he inquired, concern etched onto every inch of his sleep-deprived face as he knelt and stroked back the fur from his friend's eyes.
"Not great," admitted Peter. "But I had some time to think. I think we should leave him with Remus. When Madame Pomfrey comes to wake him up he can just say that… that he was a stray that he injured or something. Remus is quick, he'll figure it out. But there's no way to bring him in to the hospital wing ourselves. As long as she doesn't see him in his human form and Remus doesn't mess up, we should be fine, eh?" finished Peter, looking desperately at James, who was paler than usual as his hand brushed over a considerable patch of fur that was hardened with the remnants of that night's blood.
"Yeah… yeah, you're right. Thanks, Pete. You really… thought this out… when I wasn't doing anything," said James, looking still more like he was on the verge of collapsing.
"Well, yeah, I had all night to figure it out. And someone had to find Moony. You helped much more than me," pointed out Peter, lifting part of the dog's body into his arms as he did so. "Now come on. I need some help."
James nodded and lifted the rest of Padfoot's limp frame into his own arms. The pair carried their friend carefully into the Shrieking Shack and placed him in a curled position on the foot of Remus' bed. Having finished with all they could help with, they proceeded to exit once again via the hidden passage and wait by the door of the castle, invisible, for a sleepy Madame Pomfrey to let herself out and unwittingly let them back in (so as not to raise suspicion as to how 'the wind' blew such a heavy door open).
"Well," said a yawning Madame Pomfrey as she dabbed a smelly potion onto Remus' bare shoulder, seeing his eyes part blearily. "Looks like you picked up a friend, last night," she said, indicating the form who's breathing was causing a steady shift of weight on Remus' feet. "Or not. Something you must've tried to eat, though I can't imagine how it escaped and followed you here. Or why, for that matter." Remus' heart skipped a beat when he saw what precisely it was that lay at the foot of his bed.
"Is he—it dead?" he asked suddenly, failing to realize that the breathing he had already noticed should've answered this question before hand.
"No. Though again, I don't know how."
"Did I… did I bite it?" he asked, fearing the answer.
"It would seem so. I suppose we should let it out to die in the forest. It's getting fleas on the last set of non-shredded bed sheets," observed Madame Pomfrey distastefully.
"No!" said Remus, too quickly, causing the nurse to both raise an eyebrow and retract her hand in surprise. "Just… look at it…" pleaded Remus helplessly. "It's… just a stray… you can heal it right? Right?"
"Well, it's not my area of expertise, but if it really matters to you, I could try to help the poor creature," said Madame Pomfrey, somewhat taken aback by Remus' insistence.
"Would you? Oh, that'd be great… thank you so…" Remus trailed off slightly, his eyes widening as an obvious question, one that had never occurred to him before, popped into his head. "Madame Pomfrey," he started hesitantly, "what happens to animals who get bitten by… by werewolves?"
Again, the healer raised an eyebrow but gave a straight forward answer which she knew, no doubt, from special research she had done when she had been assigned to help Remus five years prior to that very September. "Well, since Werewolves are specific to Humans, it is not uncommon that the animal will be unable to take the foreign venom and simply die within the hour, though with unusual strength or medical assistance, the animal can be cured. Once the wound has healed, it takes several weeks—two or three—for the poison itself to leave the creature's system, but with proper care and rest, that is a relatively straight-forward, if painful process," she explained, all the while waving her wand over certain antler-shaped bruises (about which she restrained from inquiring) that marred the already significantly scarred chest of the young lycanthrope.
"Then this dog could get better, right?" asked Remus, no longer able to even attempt to hide his desperation. Though Madame Pomfrey found this behavior odd to say the least, she had always found Remus to be a well-mannered boy and had become quite fond of him. He had never asked her of anything other than what she was already under orders to do, and if he had an odd yet simple request now, she was not going to decline or pry into his reasoning.
"I'll see what I can do," Remus grinned sleepily and fell back onto the pillows when she said it. "After I tend to you," she added, not putting it past the boy to put this dog's life before his own, especially as it seemed he had already overexerted himself that morning. He nodded graciously and remained quiet as she healed his wounds as best she could, hoping that she didn't notice his eyes never once leaving those of the supposed stray who lay sleeping on his feet. If they could keep Sirius in his dog form for just three more weeks, and perhaps a few days more for good measure, they could forget this ever happened. Sirius wouldn't be affected because he wouldn't be human. Remus would make sure of it.
A/N Reviews are ALWAYS greatly appreciated, regardless of content. I would love something positive or constructive though. Long and thoughtful are also good traits for reviews. Thanks a bunch for reading and I hope you keep doing so. XOXOX
