Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters that you recognise, JK Rowling does.
Chapter One: The Lost, Wet Dog

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep".

Robert Frost – Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

The large black dog trudged through the thick forest; grumpily shooting glares at any animal that should come across its path.

"'Lay low at Lupin's,'" it thought to itself bitterly. "Would've been marvellous if you had have told me where Lupin's IS, for God's sake."

The dog had spent the last month traipsing across the country, alerting the old members of the Order of Voldemort's resurrection. It was now heading towards its best friend's house which lay somewhere in the Scottish wilderness, and it had, of course, become quite lost.

"Stupid werewolves," it thought to himself, not for the first time. "Have to live in the bloody middle of bloody nowhere! And it's not as if I can ask for bloody directions!"

A great thunderclap sounded overhead. "Oh, great, now it's going to RAIN!"

The dog growled, continuing it's vehement monologue in its head. "I'm cold, I'm tired, I'm lost, I'm hungry, and now I'm bloody WET!" Lifting its nose in the air the dog took a great sniff. "Human, wood, smoke and... chicken!!"

Close to exhaustion, the dog ambled up a small hill and emerged from the undergrowth in a clearing and in the midst of a small cottage. Through the opening of the door, the dog could make out a merrily burning fire and a young woman curled up in the corner of a lounge chair, completely immersed in a book. Her cherry-brown hair glinted softly in the firelight and her slender body moved gracefully as she slowly moved from the lounge.

The dog whined softly in the back of its throat as it padded slowly towards the porch. His movement must have caught her attention as the dog was soon pierced by her cool, grey eyes.

"Hey," she said softly, moving towards the doorway.

"Feed me!" It pleaded, hoping she could read its mind.

"Come on in, doggy, you're all wet."

The dog allowed itself to be coaxed into the warm cottage. By this point, it was close to collapsing in exhaustion and hunger. The woman slowly extended a hand to be sniffed and, once accepted, began to pet the dog's face, getting down on her knees.

"Where did you come from doggy? Hmmm?" She placed a warm hand over the dog's eyes, shutting her own.

"Wait a moment," she said, her eyes snapping open. She quickly moved over to her coffee table where she retrieved a long stick of wood. "You're no dog." She waved her wand over the animal that was now lying still in her doorway and in a second, in place of the dog was a tall, skinny man with long, shaggy black hair, a gaunt face and weary, deep blue eyes. She looked at him with some measure of shock and perplexity, before catching him quickly as he fainted into fever and darkness.