I shudder. The moon rise is imminent. A blue moon tonight. I toy with the shreds of a dirty blanket on the bed that I have perched myself on. It will not be long. I had felt ill for the past two days, knowing from experience that this will be one of the worst. I was already in the Shack, though the sun had set only two hours ago. I knew that this transformation will rack my body, test it to its limits.

I think about my friends, studying in the castle. I know that they are trying to find a way to help me during times like these. I shudder involuntarily once more, the time is drawing near.

Time passes, my rebellious body is waiting for the change.

The moon rises

I gasp in pain, bent double, racked with a searing pain. I stare down at my hands, like many times before, fur is covering them. They are changing. I am changing. I cry out but my voice is not my own. I drop to my hands and knees, a wolf cannot stand. I try to scream in pain, but my voice is strangled and broken. My body feels like it is in a rack, as if every bone is being stretched and manipulated, being forced to bend and curl in unnatural way.

The pain stops. I am a werewolf. The agony of my two minds fighting is driving me to insanity once more. The human part of me is loosing, but a small part of it registers the sick pleasure of being a supreme being. I feel humanity slip away. I am a werewolf.

My limbs are strong, powerful. Muscles thick with sinew. My ears pick up on scrabbling. I smell a rat. My muscles bunch, I leap at the door, but it does not budge. The scent fills my nostrils and I tear at myself in frustration. Blood fuels my hunger.

Hunger. Insatiable hunger. The rat runs. I am on the hunt. I yearn for meat, any meat. Deep red, dripping blood, the crunch of bones under my jaws.

The rat is in front of me, scampering away. I lope after it. This is how a hunt should be, running, chasing, playing with your food.

I emerge into the light of the blue moon. Trails of odour do not confuse me; the rat is near, the freshest scent. I trace the smell, nose to ground. A strong, fresh scent of deer makes me veer off. A rat can wait. The deer is close, male and strong. I look up after two yards of trailing. There a stag stares at me. This is a new experience. Prey should dart away, prey should make things fun. Though this is the first time I have been hunting, I know what should be.

Normally I am trapped, forced to savage myself, forced by the urge to taste blood, at any cost.

The stag has hazel eyes, staring at me. The shadow of human, intruding, gives a start. I do not acknowledge. This is my time. Nothing can take away from the pursuit.

I leap. The stag dances away, dashing through the grass. I chase. We run for a long time, through I do not notice the hours passing away. Time is irrelevant when I hunt. I am ecstatic. I have not been able to run like this in years, always trapped by solid walls.

After a time, the stag starts to tire, I can see his body sagging. He stumbles and I start to gain.

Thud. A black body slams into my side and I am knocked to the ground. The stag has escaped. Fury fills my veins. I turn to my attacker; a huge black dog. I growl, circling my target, as both of us threaten with snarls and barks.

I leap, hunger taking over. The dog steps to one side. By instinct I whip my neck around, grabbing at flesh with my teeth. It pulls away, a small strip, coppery blood filling my mouth. The dog looks at me with new wariness.

For the hours until dawn, I alternate between darting, pouncing on the dog and chasing the stag across the damp grass. I had been thrown twice by the horns of the stag and bitten thrice by the jaws of the dog as it defended itself from my rampage. My body groans from the continuous exercise and beatings.

The dawn is breaking and the moon is setting. I am chasing the stag once again when my body crumbles. The moon was gone. Time seems to slow, and is disjointed. I hear a crack as I fall and my muddled mind registers the pain, as my leg breaks from my weight on it. The stag stops, looking around.

I shudder. My bones shrinking, grinding, being pulled apart and forced together. I howl but the sound jumbles as it emerges. The pain is unbearable but I can do nothing to stop it. I do not want to go back to the puny body. Every cell in my body is mutating in some way, there is no go back until they have ripped apart, atoms splitting and muscles torn away.

Then I am Remus once more. The pain that is indescribable indeed, is gone, and I feel whole. Tears fill my eyes as I realise what my friends had done for me. James, Sirius, even Remus had turned into Animagi for me. For the first time they had accomplished the accomplishable and shape shifted.

The tears turn to tears of agony. I am leaning on my broken leg, folded grotesquely. Several deep cuts along my body bleed. I ache like a constant bruise. I smile through the tears that visit every month; my friends had saved me from more pain than this. The torture of shredded flesh, my own flesh, has been avoided more than usual. Normally my body is ravaged far beyond this.

Soft hands surround me, lifting me into the air I look up into James' hazel eyes, which had belonged to deer not long before.

I whisper his name, and he smiles at me. Sirius is at his shoulder, looking into my eyes. My best friends. I can hear Peter behind.

A soft groan of pain escapes my lips and I can see the watering eyes of James as well. I know I must look awful, pale drawn, bleeding, bruised. But I know that my friends love me and are keeping me safe.

I let the darkness of unconsciousness engulf me