Fred pressed his back against the rough bark of the tree to catch his breath. The world spun, and he blinked rapidly. That was close. Too close. The snow was bright and white around him, and, in the distance, he could hear shouting. He'd been hiding out on the edge of the forest gathering ammunition until someone spotted his hair peeking over a snow drift.

Suddenly he froze, positive there was someone nearby. Where? His eyes flicked about, and, even though he saw no one, Fred's eyes zeroed in on a rather fat tree in front and to the left of him. There.

He felt a sudden tingling in his chest, and, without thinking, he ducked, and, at the same time, scooped up a projectile and threw it as hard as he could at the fat tree. Milliseconds later, a snowball came barrelling back at Fred. It collided with the tree just over his head and rained down, catching in his eyelashes.

"Merlin, Fred!" someone screeched. "How did you even do that?" Ginny stumbled out from behind the fat tree, her face red from the cold snow that had just collided with her face. She brushed the snow off her jacket and groaned, giving him a glare full of disgust. "It's going down my shirt."

Fred laughed and dodged another oncoming snowball. Brilliant. Right in the face. "Lucky shot."

Scooping up another few balls, Fred scrambled back through the forest toward the house, which twinkled with Christmas lights.

No one ever explained why their family celebrated Christmas instead of Yule, and Fred never bothered to ask. Honestly, he got to eat candy and make exploding christmas ornaments and have snowball fights and could care less whether or not they used the wizard or the muggle name for the holiday.

Speaking of snowball fights…

Fred ducked and a snowball flew over his head.

George shouted something profane from above him. Snickering, Fred skidded to a stop and smiled up at his brother, who hung upside down on a branch over his head. George's beanie slid off, and Fred caught it absent mindedly. He spun it on his finger. "You are a horrid shot."

"No, you're just fast. How did you see me?" George gestured wildly with his arms and his shirt started to fall over his head as well.

Which was a perfect moment for Ginny to shoot a snowball right at his stomach. George screeched and nearly fell from his perch. He scrambled up and righted his clothing. "Ginny, you little devil!"

Fred smiled at his sister, whose cheeks were still red. "We have taught you well."

Rolling her eyes, Ginny put her hands on her hips. She opened her mouth and then stopped. Someone was calling their names.

"MOTHER SAYS TO COME INSIDE!" that someone shouted.

Fred and George sighed simultaneously, and George slid down the tree and into Fred, who caught him sort of. It figured Percy would be the one to end the fun.

"I'm cold anyhow,"Ginny grumbled with a shrug, trudging back to the house. She shot over her shoulder. "Thanks to someone."

Fred smirked. "You're welcome!"

With that they mucked their way through the snow, their breath hanging in the air and their faces ruddy from the cold. As the walked, Fred tossed George back his hat. "You're ears are red," he noted.

"Uh huh," George grunted back, shoving the hat back onto his head. "And yours aren't?"

"Nope." Fred popped the P. To be honest, he wasn't that cold at all.

George opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he shut it again with a click.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's Christmas. You asked me not to."

Oh.

The excitement of the fight bled into the snow under their feet, and Fred forcibly shoved that issue out of his mind. He'd almost forgotten for a moment there.

He'd asked George not to talk about 'the problem'. Not on Christmas.

His brother glanced at him and distress colored his eyes. "Sorry. It's kind of hard not to think about it."

Fred shrugged and tucked his hands into his pockets. "It's better when I'm doing something."

"I know."

They reached the back door past the garden and knocked off their boots. Percy poked his head out, keeping his body behind the door. His eyes were suspicious, and his lips pursed fiercely.

Fred squinted at him, pulled off his shoe, and hopped on one foot until he found George's shoulder. "What's wrong with you?" he asked Percy.

Percy didn't say anything for a long moment, sort of expectant. Finally, he let out a surprised breath. "No surprise bombings? No sniper shot snowballs? Nothing?"

Fred and George glanced at each other. Of course. They'd quite forgotten the yearly tradition. Percy Pelting. "Ah," Fred started. "Well, you see, we have matured quite a lot this year."

For some reason, Percy didn't believe him. He snorted and closed the door. "That will be the day."

Fred smirked at George.

This was okay. He could keep busy. Not think about it. Today was Christmas, after all.

Fabian stared down at his paws. The forest was dark and cool and crisp around him. If he squinted he could see Hogwart's lights in the distance. Christmas Day. The boy wouldn't be here in all probability, but Fabian had no idea how to get to the boy's home and didn't have time to become lost. Alpha was not far behind, and he would not be happy. Fabian's stomach flipped in fear at the thought. Would he kill him for this betrayal? Probably.

But he'd have to catch him first. And Fabian had always been very fast.

Taking a deep breath, Fabian focused his mind reluctantly. He hated this part.

Hands. What did it feel like to have hands? He needed to remember. Cutting his finger on a knife. Holding his wand. Biting his nails.

Now his legs. Walking tall. Running. Pressing the bottoms of his boots into the supports at the back of his broom. Squishing his toes in the mud. Swinging on a tire swing. Tying his shoes.

Something clicked in the base of his being and a sudden agony ripped through him like he was being cut open down his back. He howled and his legs gave out. The snow and dirt met his snout and he screwed his eyes shut. Another pang hit him, longer and more intense than the first. He howled again, and this time it cracked and became a scream.

Shut up, he told himself sternly, grinding his teeth. They'll hear you. Seven more waves of agony and he began to feel his form shifting. His bones popping and shrinking, and he gasped. He kept his eyes shut as he felt his paws grow long. And then he was gripping the snow and leaves in his palms and sobbing into his chest.

He couldn't think.

Exhausted, Fabian laid there on the ground for a long time and tried to remember to breath.

This was so bloody messed up. Wrong. It shouldn't hurt to be like he was supposed to be. It wasn't always this bad, but he had been a wolf for months, and he didn't have the full moon to ease the change.

Finally, Fabian cracked open his eyes and stared rather dully at a brown leaf; the way it fluttered with each exhale from his nose. He blinked and slowly sat up. He lifted his hand and closed it into a fist. Open. Close.

He had freaking opposable thumbs.

His weak, watery laugh turned into a fit of coughs, and he winced at the pain.

Fabian had no idea how long he would be able to maintain this form before he reverted back. Probably only a few days. If he wanted to help, he needed to be fast. Fred would be back soon, surely. Careful lest he cause more pain, Fabian stood and supported himself with the trees while his legs remembered how to walk.

Barefoot and naked in the snow. Fabian shivered.

He looked in the direction of Hogwarts and tried to clear his foggy brain. Spikes of cold shot up his bare feet and he wrapped his arms around himself.

Clothes and shoes.

And then he needed a plan.

It took about a half hour to walk to Hogwarts and by that time, Fabian was shivering uncontrollably. Flashes of recognition jolted him sideways at the familiar grounds. His memory was rather spotty, he realized now. What house had he been in? Had he had friends? A sour anger curdled in his stomach. Not only had Alpha taken his body, but he must have messed with his mind as well.

It felt like it has been an eternity since he'd attended Hogwarts. Five years since he'd seen the sloping ground, the tall towers, the twinkling lights.

I was so lucky, he thought.

Stumbling out of the forest, Fabian looked up toward a small hut. Someone had hung their clothes to dry in an open window. The ground's keeper, right? Moving quietly and quickly was made more difficult by his aching bones, but Fabian crossed the snowed on garden with numb feet. Mouthing an apology, he snatched up the outfit and threw it over himself. Feeling like he was drowning in the clothes sewn for a much larger man, he picked up a rope coiled on the ground and used it as a belt to keep up the pants. For an odd moment, he was thrown back to when he was a child playing dress up in his dad's robes…

He still didn't have shoes, but the clothes were much warmer. Still shivering, Fabian crossed his arms over his chest and his vision spun for a moment. He groaned and leaned against the building. Would he always feel horrid in this form or would it fade? Fabian didn't know.

But he had not slept in two days, running in the forest most of the time, and hadn't eaten for longer.

In retrospect, that probably wasn't helping the situation.

Blinking bleary eyes, Fabian put his weight back into his ankles and began the ascent toward the castle.

AN: Ahh! More stuff is happening! Hope you guys enjoyed that. Please leave a review, I will love you forever.