It's quite alright to have to go back and re-read everything; I had to do the same thing to ensure I remembered all the details, and I'm the one who wrote it! I'm just glad you guys are willing to stick with me. :) Fun fact, the weather stuff at the beginning is all accurate!
It was the end of march now, and the snow that had blanketed Hogwarts grounds for the last several months was finally beginning to melt away into the lush green grass and budding flowers of early spring. The ice on the lake was thinned and cracked where the squid had hit it, and there were a few iceless footprints where foolish first years had thought the ice would still hold their weight. The day after the children drank their potion was the first warm day of 2012, on the 25th of March. Not that the children knew it, of course, but muggle weather stations were all discussing the fact that this was the warmest day in March in Scottish history, at a balmy 22 degrees.
The snow melted quickly in such conditions, and over the next four days - a miniature heat wave of sorts - the snow was gone entirely, the ice had all but disappeared. The children spent all of those days outside, playing in the still chill and damp grass, and lounging in the sunlight. They had little concern now; exams were still far away, there were no pressing assignments due, and they had a break from trying to become animagi.
Those four warm March days were perfect.
By the last day of March, however, the air had a chill back in it and Rom had his dream.
Rom crawled into bed that night and pulled the blanket up tight under his chin, bundling himself away into warm sheets and comfortable pillows. He was relaxed and at ease, and fell asleep with thoughts of shape shifting. His sleep was sound and dark at first, like the deep restful sleep we all wish we had every night, and then a light prickled behind his eyelids. So began his dream.
It was a strange dream, unlike one Rom had ever had before. It seemed to sparkle around the edges of his vision, and then he seemed to lurch forward into a new scene. It was incredibly vivid; all of his senses were enthralled in the image. There was a road under his feet that stretched out in front of him, and small houses were along the sides, pushed so closely together that there were barely any alleyways between them. The ground was uneven; he could feel the gaps between the cobblestones and the tilt of his feet. The smell of oven smoke wafted down the street from the open door of a bakery, which had dozens of loafs of bread lining the window and giving the smoke the sweet, full scent of freshly baked bread. The people walking through the street were dressed as wizards dressed, with pointed hats and heavy cloaks draped about their shoulders. He could hear them talking amongst themselves, and the clack of their heels against the cobbled street, and the sounds of people working in the shops. Everything was clear.
It was also clear that he was not himself. He stood strangely tall, and when he looked down at his hands they were broader than his own, and had scars across the backs of them that he had never earned. He was an adult. He reached into his pockets curiously and found coins resting there; he pulled them out and saw a handful of galleons. He was a successful adult. People in the streets smiled at him and waved, and even though they addressed him by name he had no idea what name they spoke.
He found a key in his pocket, and instinctively knew it belonged to the door on the building nearest his left. He slid it into the door and opened it.
The house inside was perfect. It was not extravagant, but the shutters were thrown open to let in light. It was a large, open house with a lounge area and a kitchen table. At the table sat two children with plates of food in front of them, and when the door opened a beautiful woman poked her head from the kitchen and smiled at him.
"You're home! So soon?" she said. She seemed achingly familiar, and he knew instinctively that she was younger than he, but he did not know her name.
"I finished work early," he said, instinctively knowing the answer to say. He looked at the two children; he could see their resemblance to the woman and their resemblance to him. The boy, the older of the two, struck a strangely familiar chord in him. After he woke up, he would realize the boy had Teddy's face. The girl was younger, with blonde hair cut to her shoulders that was wild and unruly.
It was a perfect dream, with everything that Rom had dared to hope for. Two happy children, a beautiful happy wife who he loved dearly, a wonderful home, a job he was happy with, a friendly town to live in... Yes, this was what he wanted in life.
Just then, just when he realized he was happy, the light streaming through the windows darkened dramatically. He turned in confusion and saw that a heavy mass of black clouds had come from nowhere to blanket the sky. When he turned back, he saw the previously happy faces of his children and wife were twisted with fear.
"What's the matter? It's just a storm," he said, stepping forward and reaching out to comfort them. The door behind them slammed open and his wife flinched away, terror filling her eyes and her mouth opening in a silent scream. He spun quickly and saw a man standing in the doorway. The sky behind him opened and rain began to pour down, quickly flooding the street behind the stranger in the doorway.
He had no idea who the man was, but when the man stepped forwards, Rom could see the scars stretching across his face. He knew, without knowing how he knew, that the man was a werewolf. Not the kind, gentle werewolf that his father was, but the cruel, angry type, like the one that had scarred his father... Fenrir Greyback. This was the type of werewolf who had taken everything from Rom before he was even born; the type of werewolf that had destroyed his family time and again, along with countless others. And he knew that this time, the werewolf was here for him and his new family. It was here for his wife and his children; it was here to scar them, mangle them, maybe even kill them.
He tensed and quickly pulled his children from their seats at the table and pushed them into the kitchen with their mother, placing himself squarely between them and the werewolf.
"So we meet again," the werewolf said, spreading his hands and grinning so as to show all of his fangs.
"Aye," Rom said, proud that his voice didn't tremble. He took a step forwards towards the werewolf, thus making it more difficult for the werewolf to access his family.
"I imagine you've started feeling the aftermath of our first encounter," the werewolf said, and then howled his laughter. Rom paused, uncertain, and then glanced down at his hands and realized what the latticework of scars must have come from: claws.
"No," Rom said, truthfully. The werewolf paused, obviously taken off guard.
"You should change any day now," the werewolf said. "Now, the only thing left to do is make sure your lovely family changes with you..."
"No," Rom said again, more forcefully this time.
"And who's going to stop me, you?" He cackled, tossing his head back. "You couldn't even stop a fly. You're so worried about never hurting a thing..."
"I will hurt whatever I need to hurt to protect those I care about," Rom snarled, and looked back at his family. He saw that they were no longer alone; there was Jack, and Lucy, and Serafin, and Harry Potter, and a few people he didn't recognize but who he loved just the same.
He looked back at the werewolf and steeled himself. He had even more people to protect, now; he could not fail.
"A puny wizard man," the werewolf said, and just laughed harder, "Without even his wand! How will you protect anything?"
Rom's eyes flew wide and he grabbed at his sleeve only to realize that the werewolf was right; his wand was missing. His heart started beating faster, hammering against the inside of his ribcage, and realizing that he could get shredded to pieces by this werewolf, and then it would get to his family and his friends. He had to do something. There had to be something he could do. But what could any ordinary man do against a werewolf?
The answer was, of course, to not be an ordinary man.
His heart was beating faster, his face flushed with anger, his fists clinched. He felt his lips pull away from his teeth and snarl. He leapt towards his target, and the second his feet left the ground there was a horrible shredding noise. His flesh tore itself and his bones cracked and popped, his skin prickled with hair forcing its way through, his face felt numb and strange. His clothes seemed to melt into his skin.
By the time he hit the werewolf, he was not a man at all; he was a full wolf. His paws hit the werewolf squarely in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards. The werewolf landed on his back in the street with Rom standing on top of him, and the second the werewolf touched the cobblestones, the dream dissolved.
Rom bolted upright in bed, panting hard. His chest hurt from how hard his heart was beating, but Rom didn't care. He just stared down at himself, patting his skin and staring at his hands only to realize that he was still human.
He sat upright for a few minutes, catching his breath, and then gradually lay back into his pillow. It was only a dream. He realized that it was the dream: the dream where you face your greatest fear and shift into your animagus form. His panicked breaths subsided, and a smile broke out over his face. He had done it, and he was ready to move on to the next stage.
