Chapter 25. The Willow at Night
"One week back into term and already the teachers are assigning boatloads of homework," Romilda complained one afternoon as she, Clara, and Derek sat in their little alcove on the third floor. She thrust her book and parchment away from her. "I just don't get Potions," she complained.
"It's not so bad," said Clara absently, her nose pressed into her Charms textbook as she attempted to study for the test the next day.
"Says the Queen of Potions," Romilda objected. "Derek, tell her."
"Huh?" Derek said, setting aside the sketch he was doing of the wintry scene outside the window.
"Tell Clara that Potions is actually hard for some people," Romilda said.
Derek threw his quill on top of his parchment and leaned casually back against the wall. "It's the truth, Clara," he said. "We can't all be the professor's favorite."
Clara shrugged, still absorbed in her book. "He's my godfather, I can't help that," she said. "You want to complain about someone, make it Derek. He does well in everything but I never see him study."
"I have crazy brainpower," Derek said mock-seriously. "I don't need to be taught. I just know."
"Uh-huh," Romilda said skeptically. She grabbed the book from Clara's hand. She flipped to a random page near the back. "What's the incantation for the Muggle-Repelling Spell?"
"There is one of those?" Derek demanded. "Do you think it would work on my little sisters?"
He sounded so genuine that both Clara and Romilda cracked up laughing. "Guess that answers whether or not he knows everything," Clara said through her laughter to Romilda.
Derek grabbed the book. "The Muggle-Repelling Charm is a charm that causes an area to be unseen by Muggles, or causes it to be undesirable for Muggles to search or enter. Its incantation is Repello Muggletum," he read aloud. "It is used on major wizarding hotspots such as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, St. Mungo's Hospital, and Diagon Alley."
Romilda perked up as though remembering something, "Speaking of Diagon Alley," she said, "did you two hear about the Death Eater attack there over the holidays?"
"Yes," said Clara at the same time that Derek said, "No."
"Apparently there were like five hundred of them and they just stormed the place," Romilda said.
Clara shook her head. "More like fifty, but yes, it was rather terrifying."
"Were your parents there, Clara?" Derek asked.
"Yes," Clara answered. "And so was I. I was there with Padfoot when it happened."
Derek and Romilda gaped at her. "And you didn't tell us?" Romilda demanded.
"I—" Clara started defensively and then stopped herself. "It wasn't foremost on my mind."
Romilda's jaw dropped. "What d'you mean, 'it wasn't foremost on your mind'?" she said, aghast. "What happened to you over Christmas, Clara? It must have been something bloody horrible if that attack wasn't 'foremost on your mind.'"
"Yeah," Clara agreed softly, avoiding eye contact.
Watching Clara concernedly, Derek said, "Leave her alone, Romilda. If she doesn't want to tell us, she doesn't have to."
"The hell she doesn't," Romilda said. "She's been acting weird all week and now we find out that something worse than a Death Eater attack happened to her over the holidays. What are we supposed to do with that?"
"Be good friends and drop it?" Derek said, his voice raising. "She clearly doesn't want to talk about it!"
"Well, maybe she should talk about it!" Romilda countered, her voice also narrowly bordering on shouting. "Maybe, just maybe, that would help!"
"Maybe you're just being nosy!" Derek shouted nastily.
"WOULD THE PAIR OF YOU JUST SHUT UP!" Clara yelled, snapping inside. She stood up and shoved her Charms text in her bag. "I'm going back to the common room. Just try to keep the yelling to a minimum until I'm out of earshot, all right?"
"You're mad at me?" Derek asked, looking hurt. "I was defending you."
"Really, the last thing I needed was my two best friends having a fight over me," Clara said, taking a deep breath and trying not to cry. "Really."
She started to walk away, and broke into a run when she realized she wasn't going to make far enough away that her friends wouldn't see her start to cry.
"Woah," said a voice, and a strong arm intercepted Clara as she ran for the Hufflepuff Common Room. "Slow down, you're going to run into a wall or something. You okay?"
Clara sniffed unattractively and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "Fine," she said in a voice she knew sounded shaky.
"No offense, but you don't look fine," said the voice. Clara bit her lip and looked up—right into the handsome, adorably concerned face of Cedric Diggory.
Clara gasped. "I—not—" she stammered, and then, blushing, she said, "It's nothing. I'm being stupid, that's all."
"I'm sure that's not true," Cedric said warmly. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Clara said quietly, adding, internally, Not to you. The last thing I need is you thinking badly of me. Which you would, if I told you.
Cedric pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to Clara. "Well, if you change your mind," he said, "I'm always around."
"Thanks," Clara said, feeling the familiar fluttering in her chest she always felt when she was around him. She accepted his handkerchief and blotted her eyes with it, deciding to avoid blowing her nose in it loudly. She offered it back.
Cedric shook his head. "Keep it," he said with a smile. "And hang in there, Potter."
He walked away and Clara gazed after him with what she was sure was an idiot's smile on her face.
Clara sat by the fireplace in the Hufflepuff Common Room, putting the finishing touches on her Potions essay for tomorrow. Derek came over and sat beside her.
"Hi," Clara greeted cautiously.
Derek jerked his head and stared into the fireplace.
Clara sighed and set her essay aside. "I'm sorry I yelled at you and Romilda, okay, Derek?" she said placatingly.
Derek was quiet for a minute. "I just don't get it," he said. "You've been really quiet ever since Christmas, and when you do talk it's almost always to say something snippy or yell. It freaks me out, Clara. I'm not used to it from you."
"I know," Clara said softly, picking at a loose thread in her robe. "I'm really sorry."
"I don't want you to be sorry," Derek said, his dark blue eyes piercing. "I want you to be okay."
"I—" Clara started to assure him she was okay, that she was fine, that she could totally handle it. She felt herself trembling, and knew she couldn't lie anymore. "I don't think I am okay, Derek." She sounded so weak to herself that she could hardly bear it. "I did something bad—two things, actually—and I'm not okay."
Derek put his hand on her arm. "I think you should tell me about it," he said. "Now."
Clara shook her head. "You and Romilda. She deserves an explanation, too."
"But it's after curfew," Derek objected. "We can't leave the Common Room."
Clara paused, glanced around at the rapidly emptying Hufflepuff Common Room, and then leaned in conspiratorially. "I can bust us out of here," she said.
"And how are you going to do that?" Derek asked.
Clara narrowed her eyes. "Wait here." Then she got up, swung her bookbag over her shoulder, and slipped past the round door to the girl's dorm. She returned a moment later with a bundle of fabric in her arms.
"Is that a cloak?" Derek asked interestedly.
Clara nodded. "It's..." she hesitated and then sat down and spread the Cloak over her lap. Everything below her waist disappeared.
"WHAT THE-?" Derek shouted, and Clara whipped the Cloak off her lap as the remainder of the Hufflepuffs in the Common Room craned their necks to see the commotion.
"Shh!" Clara hushed. "It's an Invisibility Cloak. It used to be my dad's."
"How long have you been holding out on this?" Derek asked, taking the Cloak and running his hands over it appreciatively.
"Just since Christmas," Clara said. "Let's go."
"Now?" Derek asked, surprised. He looked around. "We'll get caught."
"Maybe you're not understanding the full implications of this," Clara said, indicating the Cloak. "We never have to get caught again." Then she threw the Cloak over the pair of them and the two escaped the Common Room without so much as a glance in their direction.
"Come on," complained a familiar voice as Clara and Derek, hidden safely under the Cloak, approached Gryffindor tower. "I had to use the loo, and it made me five minutes late for curfew. You're really not going to let me in?"
"The password changed as of curfew," said the Fat Lady's voice, followed by a pompous sniff.
"Curfew was five minutes ago!" appealed the unlucky student. "Come on!"
"I'll thank you not to yell at me," answered the Fat Lady.
Clara and Derek turned the corner to see that it was Romilda arguing with the Fat Lady.
"Did we have some Felix Felicis or what?" Clara muttered to Derek.
"Some Felix Fa-what-iss?" Derek asked.
Clara smiled. "Never mind."
Without a word, the two of them threw the Cloak over Romilda.
"What the—" Romilda started, but Derek put his hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened and she shrugged off Derek's hand. She whispered, "Clara! Derek! What-? Are we invisible?"
"It's Clara's dad's Invisiblility Cloak," Derek said.
Romilda's eyes crinkled in the corner as she got a look that could only be described as evil on her face. "Wicked," she said softly. "So just taking it for a test drive?"
"No," Clara said, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Can we go to the alcove?"
"And that's how I—why I—what I did to—to—to make Moony—" Clara stammered. The three were curled up close in their little alcove, the Invisibility Cloak draped over their three scrawny eleven-year-old forms.
It was to Romilda and Derek's eternal credit that they didn't say anything as Clara struggled for words past her tears. Finishing her sentence for her or offering advice would have seemed presumptuous no matter now well-meant, and changing the subject would have bordered between imprudent and downright inhuman.
So Romilda and Derek didn't say anything. Derek carefully put his arms around Clara in one of those awkward hugs where both participants are sitting crosslegged across from each other. Romilda reached out an uncertain hand and patted Clara's shoulder uncomfortably. At a glare from Derek that told her this wasn't enough, Romilda joined in the hug.
They remained this way for a quiet moment, until Clara whispered, "Thank you."
The three pulled out of the hug. "Anytime," Romilda answered at the same time as Derek said, "No problem."
The three exchanged a smile. "So, how long does this thing work for?" Derek asked, touching the silvery folds of the Invisibility Cloak that enveloped them.
"Forever, I guess," Clara said. "It was my dad's before it was mine, and my dad was at school, like, eons ago."
"So we don't have to get back to our dorms by midnight or anything?" Derek asked teasingly. Clara laughed.
"Why midnight?" Romilda asked.
"You know..." Derek said. "Like Cinderella."
"Bless you," said Romilda bemusedly.
"I didn't sneeze," Derek said, slightly irritated. "I said, 'Cinderella.'"
"It's a fairy tale, Romilda," Clara interjected.
"Fairies don't have tails," Romilda said, mystified.
"It's a story, one of many, that Muggles tell their kids," Clara explained patiently. "Muggles call the stories 'fairy tales' – that's T-A-L-E-S."
"Oh," said Romilda. "How do you know this stuff, Clara? You grew up magical."
"My mum is Muggleborn," Clara answered. "She used to tell the stories to me."
"Lucky," Romilda said, a shadow crossing her face. "My mother didn't bother to tell me stories."
There was a moment of silence. Perhaps it was something about the quietness of castle, the way their words, even whispered, seemed to ring against the stone of the walls, or the way the moonlight streamed in through the stained glass window and cast a glow of mystical blue light. Whatever it was, the alcove at night seemed to be a place for the telling of secrets—or, if not secrets, then things that you might normally keep to yourself in the light of day.
Romilda turned her troubled face to the window. "Look," she breathed. "It's a full moon."
"It's beautiful," Clara agreed, as her mind turned to Moony, transforming inside that little room trying the newest batch of the Wolfsbane Potion.
Derek paused. "Does that mean Mr. Lupin is transforming right now?" he asked as though he could read Clara's mind.
Clara nodded.
Romilda cursed softly. "There's just something about learning your best friend's dad is a werewolf," she said.
"Does it bother you?" Clara asked, realizing almost for the first time how she had told her best friends' of Moony's ailment almost in passing as she tried to reach a greater point. Looking back, she remembered Romilda's eyes widening in an unreadable emotion.
"Some," Romilda admitted. "But it sounds like he manages it well."
"Yeah," Clara said, a sinking feeling in her stomach. "But you won't...tell anyone...will you? Either of you?"
Derek and Romilda looked at her like she was crazy. "Never," said Derek.
"I wouldn't even think of it," Romilda assured Clara.
Clara smiled in relief. "Thanks, you t—" she interrupted herself and trailed off, staring past them. "Is that...?"
Romilda and Derek turned to look. "Mrs. Norris," they said at the same time, their voices filled with dread.
"Stay very still," Clara said out of the corner of her mouth as quietly as she could.
Mrs. Norris meowed loudly.
"I think she heard us," Romilda whispered.
Mrs. Norris yowled. Footsteps approached, and Filch's voice sounded from around the corner. "Students out of bed, my sweet?"
"I think she definitely did," Derek said, eyes wide in fear.
"Run," Clara said, and the three of them took off, gripping the Cloak against them to keep it from flying off.
It seemed wherever they ran, Filch was just behind them or just ahead of them. Down stairs, up hallways, through doors. It was as if he could magically chase them—and for all they knew, maybe he could.
They reached a huge pair of double doors. In the darkness of the castle, they could barely see.
"Are these..." Derek huffed. He reached out and touched the doors. "They are. It's the front doors."
"Well, turn around," Romilda hissed.
"Where are you, nasties?" Filch demanded, hobbling up.
Clara looked wildly around as Filch approached. "Outside," she decided finally.
Romilda and Derek cast her looks of alarm, but they helped her open a heavy door and slip out into the snow. The door closed behind them with a soft thud.
"Brrr!" Romilda said exaggeratedly, holding her robes close around her. "It's freezing!"
"But also beautiful, right?" Clara asked. The moonlight cast a bluish white light on the frozen wasteland that was the Hogwarts grounds.
"Mostly freezing," Derek said grumpily as Clara drew the Cloak off them with a flourish. "What are you doing?"
"No one's going to see us out here," Clara said, stuffing the Cloak inside her robe pocket.
"Why aren't we going inside?" Derek demanded. "It's cold out here."
"Filch is still inside, silly," Romilda said. She scooped up a handful of snow and flicked it in Derek's face.
Clara giggled. "You look like you have dandruff," she said to Derek, who was wearing snow in his hair and on his shoulders as well as a grumpy expression.
"Oh, yeah?" Derek said, scooping up his own handful of snow and packing it into a ball. "How would you like your own flaky shampoo?" And he flung the snowball at Clara's head.
Clara ducked and dipped her freezing fingers into the snow to lob one handful at Romilda and the other at Derek.
And a fully-fledged three-way snowball fight began.
By the time it was over, all three were soaking wet, freezing, panting, and smiling from ear to ear.
"We should go in," Derek said regretfully, wiping snow from his face. The wind blew snow into their faces, and all three shivered.
A shadow crossed over them, and Romilda looked up. "Look!" she said. "The owls are out hunting."
"Wow," said Clara, watching the owls' wings flashing shadows over the moon as they headed for the forest.
The wind blew again, howling, and the owls faltered in their flight. A few turned tail and flew back towards the Owlry.
"Too windy to hunt tonight," Derek said. "Come on, let's go."
The wind was getting worse, so Clara and Romilda agreed as another gust nearly knocked them off their feet.
"It's f-f-freezing," Romilda said, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.
The three of them began to hurry toward the castle, suddenly in a rush to get inside their warm beds.
A screech from behind them made them pause. It was almost human-like in its high screaming sound.
"Is that an owl?" Romilda asked.
They turned around.
"Is that tree moving?" Derek asked fearfully.
Clara began to run toward the Whomping Willow. "It's Hedwig!" she shouted. "The wind must have blown her into the Whomping Willow!"
Romilda and Derek followed faithfully in her wake.
The tree was swinging its branches wildly, battering the little white ball of feathers around like a toy.
"What do we do?" Derek asked. His wand was out, but none of them knew a spell that would help.
Clara's heart felt like it was breaking as she watched her owl being whacked around by the violent, dangerous branches. "I don't know," she said, stopping just out of reach of the Willow's attacking limbs. "There's a knot somewhere in the roots that freezes it so you can get to the passage underneath, but I don't know where it is. Or how to get there."
"Well, someone's just going to have to run in there and grab her," Romilda said grimly.
"Are you crazy?" Derek demanded. "You'd die."
Clara's heart thumped hard in her chest.
"Sounds like fun," Romilda said, and before either of her friends could say a word, she dashed in among the branches, leaping nimbly to avoid them.
"Romilda!" shouted Clara and Derek together.
Romilda took a hit from a slender branch that caught her across the face. She stumbled but continued on. The Willow swung Hedwig near the ground, and Romilda leapt up to catch hold of the owl.
She was distracted by holding the struggling bird and didn't see the oncoming branch. "On your left!" Derek shouted, panicked, but it was too late. A thick branch swung into Romilda's side, and she cried out.
Clara started to dash in among the branches.
"NO!" Romilda shouted. "I CAN MAKE IT OUT!"
She half-ran, half-crawled out from the Willow's branches, somehow maintaining her hold on Hedwig as well as clutching her own left arm.
As soon as she was close enough, Clara relieved her of her hold on the bird and Derek put his arm under her right shoulder. "Are you hurt?" he asked her urgently.
"I think...I think my arm is broken," Romilda said, in a smaller voice than Clara had ever heard come from her strong, brave friend.
"We need to get you to the Hospital Wing," Clara said.
"What about Hedwig?" Romilda asked weakly.
Clara gazed at the bloodied, broken bird in her arms. "I don't know," she said helplessly. Hedwig's white feathers were stained red with blood.
"Take her to Hagrid," Derek said. "He'll know what to do. I'll get Romilda up to the castle."
"I'm fine," snapped Romilda, attempting to rise from her knees without success. "It's not that bad."
Derek wrapped his arm more securely around her and helped her up. "Gryffindors," he said disgustedly. "Come on."
"I'll meet you up there soon, okay?" Clara said, torn between her worry for her friend and for her owl.
"Go," Romilda said, leaning heavily on Derek. "I'll be fine."
"You sure?" Clara asked uncertainly.
"Yeah, Clara, go," Derek said, somewhat urgently. He started to help Romilda up to the castle. "Go."
"Wait!" Clara said. "You two take the Cloak. I'll sneak back to the Common Room."
Derek took it and threw it over the two of them. They disappeared , leaving only moonlight streaming through the place where they just had been.
Clara turned and ran for Hagrid's hut near the forest, cradling her beaten owl in her hands, whispering assurances. "It's going to be okay, Hedwig," she whispered to the owl. Hedwig had stopped struggling, which Clara took as a bad sign.
She beat heavily on Hagrid's door.
"I'm comin', I'm comin'," said a sleepy voice from inside, and Hagrid opened the door, wearing a giant night-shirt and slippers. "Clara! What're yeh doin' here?"
"Hagrid," Clara said. "I just—I—it's Hedwig, she—"
"Come in, it's freezin' out there," Hagrid said. "Lemme have a look at tha' owl."
Hagrid parked Clara by the dying fireplace with a heavy fur blanket around her shivering shoulders. He poked at the fire with his pink umbrella to make it roar up and then settled down to examine Hedwig with the help of the light.
"Aw, it looks worse 'n it is," Hagrid said as he gently prodded Hedwig's injuries. "These'll heal righ' up, yeh'll see."
"Really?" Clara said worriedly.
"Oh, yeah. Hedwig's a tough ol' bird. She'll be fine," Hagrid assured her. "We got a broken wing, some cuts an' scrapes, an' such. She won' be flyin' much for a while, but she oughtta be okay."
"Thank you, Hagrid," Clara said.
"You want some tea or summat while you tell me what yeh're doin' out so late in the snow?" Hagrid asked.
"Sorry, Hagrid," Clara said. "I've got to get back to the castle."
Hagrid nodded. "All righ'," he said. "Bu' you stay outta trouble, yeh hear? Or I'll be tellin' yer mother."
He was teasing, but Clara grimaced. If word of her nighttime adventures ever got back to Lily, she'd be in for an earful.
"Yeh wan' ter take tha' blanket?" Hagrid asked. "Yeh don' have a cloak."
"No, I couldn't carry it," Clara said, regretfully slipping from the heavy warmth of the fur blanket. "You'll tell me how Hedwig is doing?"
"Absolutely," Hagrid promised.
"Thanks, Hagrid," Clara said gratefully, bracing herself for the cold air, and she ran up to the castle and slipped, silent and shivering, into the Entrance Hall.
"Hey! You!"
Clara sighed. This night could just not get any better, could it.
"Potter?"
Clara turned to face the voice. "Cedric!" she realized.
"What were you doing outside?" asked Cedric with an odd look on his handsome face.
"I, er, I left something in the greenhouses," Clara lied badly.
Cedric raised his eyebrows. "Must have been important," he said.
"Uh, yeah," Clara said, internally kicking herself for her stupid, transparent lies.
Cedric stared at her for a moment. "Right," he said. He seemed to make a decision. "Well, I'll let you off this time. Go on to bed, Potter, you look like death."
Clara ducked her head, muttered thanks, and ran off toward the Hufflepuff Common Room. She was kicking herself for her stupidity and for looking, apparently, like death. Although it wasn't surprising since she'd spent a good portion of the night in the snow without a cloak, it still hurt to hear him say it.
Clara was dwelling so heavily on the night's events that she didn't even notice the rat scurrying out of her path on her way to the Common Room.
Derek was sitting by the fire, waiting for Clara's return.
"I thought you'd be with Romilda," Clara said, sitting beside him and warming her hands.
"She wouldn't let me go into the Hospital Wing with her," Derek explained. "Said it wouldn't make sense for us both to get into trouble. How's Hedwig?"
"She'll be fine," Clara answered. "How did 'Mil look when you left her?"
Derek shrugged. "Hard to tell with her. She acted fine, but I think her arm was hurting her a lot."
"Wonder if she'll be in class tomorrow," Clara said.
"Maybe. We'll find out, I guess," Derek answered, yawning. "We should get some sleep."
Clara nodded. "Yeah, and I need to get out of these robes." The wet robes clung to her skin, continuously seeping melted snow down her back.
"Okay, friends with girls I can get used to, but there are certain images a guy does not need to get," Derek said plainly, standing up and helping Clara to her feet.
Clara giggled. "Sorry," she said. "I'll keep comments about impending nudity to a minimum."
Derek shoved her good-naturedly toward the girl's dorm door. "Night," he said.
"Good night," Clara answered. They exchanged a smile and parted ways.
Clara slipped into her silent, dark dorm and carefully, so as not to wake the other girls, changed into her fleeciest nightdress and climbed beneath the covers. And then she sank into a heavy slumber.
As it turned out, Romilda was not in class the next morning. Clara and Derek didn't see her until their free hour in the afternoon, when she joined them at the alcove in a bad humor.
"Hi," she said huffily and sank down beside them.
"Hey, how's the arm?" Derek asked.
"Spectacular," Romilda growled. "Brand spanking new."
"Really?" Clara asked, teasing. "Because it seems to me like you still have a chip on your shoulder."
"Shut up, Clara," Romilda said.
"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Derek commented.
Romilda scowled. "That's the trouble—I didn't get out of bed this morning. Madam Pomfrey practically tied me to the bed and forced a Pepper-Up Potion down my throat."
"Did you have a cold?" Clara asked, concerned. The night in the snow had taken a toll on her, too, and she'd spent the better part of the morning blowing her nose into a tissue she kept in her sleeve.
Romilda waved her hand. "I was sniffling a bit, but it wasn't bad. But I hate Pepper-Up Potions. They make steam come out of your ears."
"I know," Clara said. "Mum always makes them for me when I'm sick."
Derek shrugged. "If I'd have known before this that there was a potion to cure a cold, I'd have taken it willingly," he said. "I hate being sick."
"Well, I hate steam coming out of my ears for hours," Romilda snapped. "And she only made me take it out of spite because I lied to her."
"What did you say?" Clara asked.
"She wanted to know how I got hurt," Romilda said. "I told her I tripped."
Clara and Derek laughed. "Because that's not the oldest excuse in the book," Derek said.
"Should I have told her the truth?" Romilda demanded grumpily.
"Touché," Clara allowed.
"How's Hedwig?" Romilda asked, flopping down between them.
"Hagrid says she'll be fine," Clara said. "Romilda, listen—thanks. For getting her, I mean."
"It's no problem," Romilda said airly.
"But it was really dangerous," Clara said. "And you got hurt."
Romilda shrugged. "So?" she said. "You're my friend, Clara; friends do stuff like that for each other."
Clara smiled. "Well, thanks," she said. "And if there's anything I can do for you..."
"You could finish my Transfiguration essay," Romilda suggested hopefully.
"I was thinking something more heroic," Clara answered, pouting.
Romilda giggled. "It would take a miracle-worker to raise my marks in Transfiguration," she said. "That's heroic enough."
Remus stretched, reveling in his regained control of his body after another full moon. Lily would be along in moments to let him out of his safe room.
He lazily raised a hind foot to scratch behind his ears—
Remus' eyes shot open. Hind foot? What?
He looked down at himself. Fur, claws, four paws. He was still the wolf. It must still have been night time. But he could think. His mind was totally human. The Wolfsbane Potion had finally, finally worked.
Remus conjured up an image of Lily inside his mind and was delighted to discover the feelings he felt for her—friendship, family, love, laughter—had no inkling wolf's usual desire to eat her.
She could open the door at that moment and he wouldn't attack her. He wouldn't attack anyone.
In control. He'd never have to be afraid again. No one would need to be afraid of him. He could live a normal life.
Remus felt his body begin to contort. It was pain, excruciating pain, and Remus began to question whether or not he would survive the torture—
And then it was over. Remus remained hunched over in human form for a moment to regain his breath. The transition was so much worse when his mind was present to feel the pain, but it was worth it. Worth it to be himself, to always have his mind.
He grabbed the clothes that he kept in the little room on a high shelf and dressed himself. He wondered if now that his mind would be present, he could wear clothes during a transformation and not have them ripped to shreds by morning. If Animagi could do it, why not him? The possibilities were really endless.
A key turned in the lock. The heavy door swung open. Lily stood at the door, with Sirius behind her at the kitchen table, munching on breakfast cereal. "Good morning," Lily said hesitantly, trying to judge the expression on his face.
A wide smile spread over Remus' face. "Yes, Lily, it is," he said. "It really is."
Severus Snape looked up from his desk as the flames in his fireplace turned green. Remus Lupin tumbled out of them.
Severus stood up. "Well?" he asked.
Remus, still beaming from ear to ear, said, "It worked, Snape. It finally worked."
(A/N) I know it's been ages since I've posted; I'm really sorry. I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway. Let me know what you think!