Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you could appropriately sue me for if I didn't have this disclaimer.

A/N: You've waited long enough...so without further ado I finally give you the second chapter, Werewolf:

Twenty Eight Spins

Chapter 2 - Werewolf

Harry rubbed his throbbing head, now very sorry for ever listening to that snake. He adjusted his lopsided glasses back to normal, now looking through cracked lenses. His shoulders slumped, realizing that he wouldn't get those fixed anytime soon...not by bringing them to the Dursley's. They might yell at him for not taking care of his glasses, like they did whenever Dudley punched them in, but they weren't going to do anything about it. Harry fixed the tape that held the two sides together from the part that rested on the bridge of his nose.

He looked around the small room. It was filled with broomsticks, and behind a few, Harry could just make out a door. He swam through the pool of broomsticks, kicking some aside. He reached the door and yanked at it. It was heavy, and only moved an inch at each tug. On the last pull, the door flew completely open, letting a strong gust of wind through the entire room, blowing through Harry's hair.

Harry cringed away from the sudden spurt of wind, not used to the feeling. After all, he had been stuck underneath the stair's cupboard for nearly two whole days.

Hesitantly stepping out the door, he found himself on top of thousands of steps that curled way down. They didn't have a railing like most stairs, and he looked over the edge. But he quickly pulled away, clasping a hand over his mouth to stop anything that might come out, because what he saw was the ground...thousands of yards away.

Trying to ignore the sudden dip in his stomach, staring straight ahead at the large full moon that stuck out from the surrounding darkness, he mustered up all of his strength to not get sick. He never knew how he felt about heights until now. Clearly, they were not his favorite.

Harry began to move down the steps, terrified shivers running down his back. He tried to distract himself with thoughts as he moved.

The wind whipped through his hair, chilling his skin, and not helping matters at all; it was very strong, and blew against Harry like it was trying to push him over the edge.

As he got lower and lower, the wind ceased. Harry was thankful for that, but sill a bit queasy.

The last step finally came, and Harry sat on the cool grass, breathing hard, but sighing in relief. After he caught his breath, he stood from the ground and moved forward, unsure of where to go. He lingered around the open space, a large green field with darker spots casting off from trees. He looked up at the moon again, glad to see that it was further now.

It was certainly peaceful. The leaves of the trees ruffled around in the wind like a bunch of fluttering birds in a bundle, the grass moved in gentle waves like the ocean, and light from the sky was bright.

And then a piercing howl was heard in the distance, long and high-pitched. It sent shivers through Harry's spine. He was given a feeling that he was unsafe.

Harry faced the large castle-like building that outlined the field, staring in awe at it's size. It was like a beast of blackness that could eat him up, but it looked so unreal. The highest point of the building was not viewable, it was so high. The stairs he had gone down were attached to one of the towers, and he couldn't even believe he had traveled them. He wondered if he could get inside. From what he could tell, there were no doors, so perhaps he was in the back of the building. He decided to walk around to the front, but as he did, he spotted something in the distance.

It was a tree. It had thick branches and no leaves at all. He noticed the way it moved, swaying unevenly against the patterns of the wind.

He strolled over to it, and it was further than he thought, but he had forgotten about the sound of the howling and was less urged to find shelter.

He was close enough to see when a stick that was flying in the wind got caught in the tree. When it happened, he wasn't ready for it: the branches swung together, moving in, slamming against each other, shaking the earth, the sound a loud boom that echoed across the field. Harry jumped along with his heart, his eyes wide as the stick fell to the ground, snapped in two perfect pieces. Harry stepped away cautiously. He knew what he had seen, and he knew he had not just imagined it.

Harry was just about to turn back when he heard a snort. He stiffened, slowly turning around to face the noise. Standing there, not far away, was an enormous, gorgeous stag whose fur glowed white in the moon's light, it's eyes a rich hazel, and it's back straightened elegantly, ears perked up, just as alert as Harry was.

The Stag was frozen, and towered so much above small, little Harry that it was intimidating. It's long, thick antlers looked frightening enough.

It stomped and snorted again, moving it's head like it was about to buck Harry.

Harry stepped back. That's what the stag wanted, wasn't it?

He was so occupied with the stag, and it was silent between them, but still the stag's ears shot up and it's head swiveled around to look at a giant black dog that must have sneaked up. It snorted and stomped some more, seemingly angry at the dog.

Harry took his chance to step back more as the stag and dog were silent, looking in the same direction into a dark forest nearby, but he sensed something wrong. They looked startled.

He made a mistake by stepping back once more, accidently stepping on a twig, it's loud snap sounding clear. He heard a low growl, but it didn't come from the big, black dog. It came from the werewolf right next to him.

Harry's eyes widened, and he paused in his steps, staring at the werewolf in shock. His breath stopped, his heart sped up...and the werewolf stared back, keeping that same low growl steady.

The silence was murder. They were all still, they were all deathly silent. They would not dare make any movement for the wolf, or else it'd attack.

It had been too long for the wolf, and it grew impatient. What was he waiting for when there was human blood right there in front of him? He finally went leaping towards Harry.

The stag shot forward after the werewolf, and both collided right before Harry, deep, tangled snarls coming from the wolf. It barked fiercely at the stag, tearing at it's coat, trying undoubtedly to get to Harry.

The dog joined in the fight, seeing that neither the stag of werewolf was winning. It ripped a great, loud bark from it's throat, hurling it's full weight towards the werewolf.

Harry stood frozen on the pot, paralyzed with fear, as the animals continued to fight. The werewolf scratched the stag's beautiful coat up, blood spilled all over it. Harry's thoughts were screaming at him to move, but he didn't know where to.

The fight went on, until soon the stag was thrown aside, laying in a weak heap of blood-covered coat. The dog's growls rose pitch, and he jumped the werewolf with a lot more determination than before.

The werewolf and the dog got in a ferocious fight, rolling around and taking a snap at the other's neck, getting into another bloody battle like the stag had been through. Whines from the losing dog came from the fight.

At this point, Harry had gained control over his body. He began to move back again, trying to get away unnoticed.

The werewolf's ears were sensitive, though, and his head snapped up, his attention full on the boy and not on the bloody dog pinned below him. The creature stepped over the dog, ignoring it's whimpers of pain: it had been defeated, weak and beaten. Now it was this scrumptious little boy's turn.

The wolf bared it's teeth, showing Harry the venomous saliva dripping down, letting him know that he hadn't had a human meal...ever. Now was his chance, and he would take that chance. Nothing would get in his way.

Harry stared, wide-eyed, at the menacing yellow eyes glaring at him. Harry glanced at the limp bodies of the stag and the dog on the ground...beaten...practically dead...and he feared what would come for him, being so much smaller than those other defeated animals. He trembled as the beast moved towards him, holding his breath.

Panic got the better of Harry. He took two eager steps back, stumbling over his heel, falling backwards onto the ground. The wolf leapt at the sudden movement, pinning Harry down securely with his claws.

A cry of terror and pain escaped Harry as the claws buried deep into his shoulders, nailing him to the surface. The werewolf rose it's head up high, shaping his mouth into a wide 'o', howling a long howl of victory. The sound was loud in Harry's ears, and he would never forget it.

Harry stared up at the wolf with his terrified, green eyes as it turned it's attention to him again. Tears began to run down his face as he realized that this werewolf might be the last thing he'd ever see.

The wolf opened it's mouth wide, baring it's yellow teeth, getting ready to bite Harry, when a great pair of antlers pushed him aside.

A cry came from the wolf as it was jammed into by the stag, flying off to the side. The stag was not ready to face another fight, however, and limped away to collapse to the ground again. The dog was better at recovering, and stood up to take over, but with less energy than before.

The wolf was angry, infuriated. It ignored the dog, getting ready to attack, and pounced back towards Harry, grabbing one of his legs with open claws like a normal house dog would grab a bone to chew.

Harry screamed aloud at the knife-like claws as they held his his legs hostage—a perfect target for biting. He reached down, holding his leg, trying desperately and hopelessly to release his leg from the wolf's clutch. The claws slid down his leg, making fresh new slice marks deep into his flesh.

The screams were not audible anymore. He was in too much pain to waste so much breath. He held his breath back, only letting out occasional sounds from the back of his throat.

The dog feared for Harry's life, bringing enough energy to jump forward and land on the werewolf. Out of everything that could have happened, a new dog fight was created. The dogs weren't careful, now forgetting everything as they fought for their lives, and the fight took place right on top of Harry. Harry became the victim of the two dog's razor sharp claws, their weight sinking them into his skin further. He had had enough of these claws, but could only lay helplessly beneath them.

For one moment, Harry felt his left arm interlocked within sharpness of jaws or something else that clasped his skin down together. He cried out again; it had been unexpected. He felt the sharpness let go of him quickly, but felt more pierce him all around.

But no matter. The fight went on.

Harry could feel the blood running from his shoulders and the blood from the new wound on his arm, coming out thick. He yelled and screamed more—forget his breath—tears falling down his face, never remembering feeling so much pain in his life. The werewolf and dog, both large and heavy, crushed him with their weight.

He fell silent, suddenly feeling nothing but pain, and not knowing what was going on, not caring at all. He just hoped he'd come out alive.

At the same time, the dog left Harry's body, luring the wolf off as well, but challenging him to more fight.

The werewolf obliged, leaving Harry's body well behind, and chasing after the now running dog. Was it so easy for him to run away now that he might have possibly gotten a bite at Harry?

The dog rushed forward like lightening, fearing for his own life, running to the only safety he knew: the tree. The hole to the Shrieking Shack. He jumped in, the wolf following close behind him, both disappearing into the hole.

It was silent again, the barking and growling completely gone. The wind blew again through Harry's hair, innocently, like nothing the opposite of calming had just happened. But the calm did overcome him, and he opened his eyes slowly to claim he wasn't dreaming. His glasses were next to his head, cracked, but his vision wasn't too terrible at this point in his life.

The sky was high above him—a dark blue. The stars still glowed, the moon still shined, the leaves still fluttered, the grass still made waves, this time around his face. The light of the moon was all over his body, making his skin crawl, making the wound in his left arm tingle.

The tears on Harry's face had dried by the wind, but he could stop the new ones from coming out.

The stag on the ground moved, trying to stand. Harry heard it. He had forgotten that it was there.

On two knees, the stag tried to bring the rest of it's weight to it's legs. It made it up, stumbling over, limping over, to Harry's body.

Harry watched the stag, his heart pumping slightly faster. He didn't believe the stag could harm him worse than the werewolf, but still feared that it might step all over him.

But the stag was changing, getting smaller. Harry thought he wasn't seeing correctly (which he really wasn't), but he couldn't use that as an excuse as the stag turned into a human.

It was a guy, seventeen years old about, dressed in clothes that looked a lot like school uniform, tall and thin, black messy hair. And glasses.

He kneeled down beside Harry, hands on his knees, hunched over, trying to catch his breath.

Out of so many weird things Harry had witnessed, this had been the weirdest. A stag had just turned into a teenager!

Harry blinked, trying to catch his own breath, looking the older boy over, wondering where all of his wounds went. He saw light scratches, and a bit of blood on his arm, but nothing as bad as the stag had looked.

The older boy glanced over at Harry, noticing the blood on his shoulders, and his arm, but quickly averted his gaze back to his lap, not even looking at his face. Harry found this strange, but the older boy didn't want to face the harm his werewolf friend had created.

Another tear Harry couldn't stop fell out from the side of his eye, down his temple. He didn't look at the older boy either, but instead closed his eyes. He was exhausted.

The older boy had finally caught his breath, not holding back his gaze anymore. He saw Harry's closed eyes, he saw an old scar on his forehead, he saw the cuts in his shoulders, the blood that stained his shirt. He saw the slashes on Harry's legs, down his legs, long streaks of blood oozing out, forming paths to the ground. What scared him most was the wound on his arm, an arm that looked bitten.

This made the older boy's nerves twitch. If his friend every found out that he had bitten somebody...

"He's really hurt, mate."

The voice startled him, and the boy suddenly looked next to him to see another boy his age. A boy with long black hair and same uniform clothes. He looked just as ruffled as James.

"Sirius—Padfoot, where's Remus?" the older boy asked, suddenly frantic.

Sirius, "Padfoot", answered wearily, "Don't worry, James, I locked him back up in the Shrieking Shack."

James sighed, but shook his head. "You should've stayed with him, Pads." He sounded tired.

"I figured that's what he'd have wanted, though, if he had the mind. He'd have wanted us to lock him in there...to keep him from...humans. And he was killing me, Prongs. I couldn't fight him any longer," Sirius said, his own words making him sadder for his friend.

That convinced James more, but he moved towards a different subject, one they would have to face sooner or later. "Padfoot...you don't think he was bitten, do you?" He touched Harry's arm, looking at the damage.

Harry's eyes flew open, and he flinched. They couldn't tell if he was in pain or if he was startled.

Sirius was hesitant to answer. The boy's reaction had also delayed his answer. "I don't know," he whispered, sharing a glance with James.

James held the glance a bit longer, looking at Sirius for any ideas of what to do. Then he looked back at Harry, having gained nothing.

"Hey," James started, his voice quiet. "What hurts?"

Harry shut his eyes again. What hurt...everything.

He tried to speak. Something was holding him back, and he didn't know what.

James noticed his hesitance, deciding to ask an easier question to answer. "...were you bitten?"

Somehow, this question hurt Harry more. Was he bitten? By one of the dogs? He couldn't tell. Harry shook his head. "I...I don't..." He found that his breath was short. He was beginning to feel nauseous, realizing that he must have lost a lot of blood by now.

"How...do you..." James looked lost for what to say. He turned to Sirius. Finally, the reason for their hesitation to help Harry was brought up. "Maybe we should just take him to Pomphrey..."

"No, are you crazy? Moony...he could be exposed, we could be exposed for letting this kid get bitten! Our animagus forms, they're illegal, remember?! And then...we could all be expelled, Prongs!"

James got angry. "First of all, we don't even know if this boy was bitten!" he argued. He himself was unsure to go to Madame Pomphrey, though.

"Prongs...we'll make a big risk by sending him to her, not knowing if he was bitten or not. She'll be able to tell what a werewolf bite it like. We will have no clue. She'll get suspicious, and we'll be asked questions." Sirius sounded frustrated.

Harry stared the arguing boys. Why wouldn't they just help him? He was in so much pain...

"Look, Sirius, he would have changed by now. He was not bitten...I'm sure of it."

"How do you know, James? Remus never told us how it goes. You're either bitten and changed right away, or...like this."

James shook his head, wondering why Sirius was so convinced that the boy was bitten. "Well, I'm not just going to leave this kid out here, he needs medical attention." James moved to pick Harry's body up.

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but James, spotting him, interrupted. "I won't take him to Madame Pomphrey." He knew that it would be a big risk. But at the same time, he was nervous that the boy wouldn't get well. They were taking a risk anyway.

"Fine," Sirius said. "That's fine." He glanced once more at the wounded arm.

James picked up Harry's cracked glasses, folding them and putting them in his pocket.

Sirius watched as James stumbled towards the castle with the boy in his arms, and went to catch up. "Need help?" he asked.

James side glanced at Sirius, smiling inside. "Yeah. We'll take him to my Head room."

They both carried Harry, neither having much strength to carry his whole weight all the way inside the castle to James's personal room, up all those staircases, even though Harry was very light.

Harry tried to keep his eyes open so he could look around inside the castle, but his eyes eventually fell shut and he was asleep.

When they got to the empty Common Room, they entered a portrait of James with a password. Lily's portrait was just right next to his, even though inside there was a larger room that connected both of theirs.

They crawled through the portrait and were greeted with a large, fantastic room decorated with gold and maroon curtains, wall hangings, a king size bed in the corner, and maroon/gold carpets.

They set Harry on the long couch that faced the fireplace which was lighted with a thick fire.

James pulled out the Wizard's Aid Kit, doubting they would need anything that little cheap thing provided.

They started by cleaning Harry's wounds. He woke up, wincing. "Ow..." he looked startled, but was also too exhausted. He shut his eyes and pulled his back into the pillow, trying to endure the pain. They were helping him, so he needed to keep still.

However, Sirius took the small vile of sleeping potion from the aid kit, and gave it to Harry to drink so he wouldn't be disturbed.

"Prongs..." he looked at the hurt boy's face, talking as they both rubbed his different scratches with cotton balls wet with some wizard remedy. "He looks just like you."

James had noticed. "Yeah, Padfoot. But did you see his eyes?"

Sirius lifted one of Harry's eyelids up before James could stop him, catching a glance of the color. "Wow, they're so green!"

James rolled his eyes. "No, I mean...who else has those eyes?"

"...Lily?"

"Yeah," James breathed, suddenly finding himself smiling. "A boy who looks like me with Lily's eyes."

Sirius laughed. "Yeah, like your child if you two had one!"

"Exactly," James said, laughing along with Sirius. Of course it'd be funny to see Lily Evans and James Potter have a child together, since it was almost so impossible.

It was silent between the two again as they cleaned and covered up Harry's scratches and wounds.

"...seriously, though. He must be only five," James said, breaking the silence with a rather upsetting statement.

Sirius glanced at James. "I'm sure he'll be fine, James. He seems alright to me. He just needs some rest. And these wounds won't last long with this stuff." Sirius held one of the wet cotton balls up.

"But imagine how Moony will react," James muttered. "And this kid. What if he was bitten, what will we do handling two werewolves next full moon? What would his parents say if they knew we turned their child into a werewolf? What if his parents are prejudice against werewolves? What if they disown him?!"

"Prongs!" Sirius said before James could go on.

James ignored Sirius. "We might just...have to tell Dumbledore." Sirius almost blurted out, but James added, "But we won't unless we really have to. Right?"

Sirius stared at James with disbelief. He really just wanted to let out their secret didn't he? Sirius thought. But he thought about it. By protecting their friend and themselves to such the extent of not telling Dumbledore anything, they could be taking the life of this boy. "...Fine."

They went on tending to Harry, and soon enough they were finished. His arm was wrapped around with sterile dressings, as wells as his deeply scratched legs. They used a cleaning charm on his clothes, wiping out all the blood.

By the time they were finished, they were fatigued, knowing that if they just closed their eyes and lay down, they'd fall asleep in a matter of seconds.

"Hey, Prongs did we miss that scar?" Sirius said, yawning as James started packing away the Aid Kit. James paused, turning towards Harry. Sirius was looking at a lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

"...I don't know," James said. He took out a fresh cotton ball, putting that same remedy on it. He rubbed it on the scar. "It'll be better in the morning. All these scratches will." He thanked Merlin for magic.

"Those wounds on his arms and legs will take a while to heal, though," Sirius said, eyeing the bandages.

James nodded. "Now lets move him to the bed."

They picked Harry up again, both still not having the strength to carry Harry on their own, and with the added tiredness they were not up to it, either.

Harry finally lay sleeping in the bed, all fresh and aided. The potion was still working on him, and would probably wear off by morning. James and Sirius pulled the covers over him, and tucked three of the seven pillows around him and under his head.

When they were finished, Sirius pulled back and sighed. "Damn, Prongs...are you just going to keep him hiding here?"

"I don't know, mate," James said, stretching his arms. "For now." He grabbed Harry's glasses from his pocket and performed "Repairo" on them, and they were as good as new as he folded them and put them on the bedside table.

Sirius yawned again. He stared out at the open window, the moon visible. "I bet Remus is more tired then we are."

"Yeah," James agreed, suppressing a yawn that Sirius had spread to him. "I'm going to go back. He really needs us right now."

Sirius nodded, straightening his back and forcing himself to wake up a bit. "Sure. I'll go with you. I don't think Moony will be too friendly...we just kept him from eating a human."

"Padfoot, I don't think werewolves necessarily eat humans. They bite them."

"Whatever. Eat, bite, same thing."

"So you're saying when you're in dog form and you bite me, you're eating me?"

Sirius glared. "Shut up, Prongs, I'm tired."

James laughed. "Yeah, well wake up, because we have to face an angry werewolf."

The two made their way towards the portrait again. James was last out, and he looked back at Harry's form, wondering what the boy's name was. They hadn't asked. How would he manage keeping a little kid in his room until the next full moon to see if he was a werewolf or not? He had asked himself this question many times tonight. He only wondered what this boy would bring him.

Without much more hesitance, James flicked the lights off, ready to face his werewolf friend, ready for his anger and viciousness, ready for the next month, ready to deal with another werewolf if he had to.

The lights went out, the portrait door shut, and the moon streamed through the still open window, spilling on Harry's little sleeping form.

He had one bright side to view: if he were conscious, he knew that he'd much rather prefer this place than the dirty old cupboard any day.

A/N: I really hate this chapter. It took forever to write and in my opinion it's still not even good. Sorry, people.

I'm such a bad author. I should iron my hands over like Dobby. Ugh...

Sorry for the slow update. I promise I won't make promises to be faster :P.

And sorry for Harry's tragic bite...or did he really get bitten? You'll have to wait and see. Big twist if he did, big blow if he didn't...twist or blow (bite or no bite)? Which would you prefer? (I've already made my decision, but if you are convincing enough, I might change it for you ;). Please give an honest opinion/decision, because I want to know how to please you since I can't really do that by updating faster (it's impossible for me).

Thank you. And I'm not begging for reviews, because I don't deserve them :(. But if you want go ahead and leave one, I'd be glad.