Chapter Four

Blood Moon

Remus woke in a hot sweat, so damp that the sheets and his pyjamas stuck to his skin. He threw the covers off, which had twisted around his leg in a fitful sleep, and wiped his forehead, slick with sweat. He felt wrong. All wrong. Which was quite something considering 'wrong' was the way he usually felt. Rolling out of bed, he staggered to his feet, daylight seeping through the gap in his curtains, and trudged into the small, basic bathroom with heavy footsteps. Tiredly he tugged the old grey t-shirt, soaked now, over his head and dropped it to the tiled floor then reached for the cold tap on the sink. He turned it, and immediately it broke off in his hand, sending cold water running freely into the sink. Remus stared in shock at the broken tap in his hand and suddenly his heart was pounding so hard in his chest he feared it would crash through his ribcage. Slowly, ignoring the running water, he lifted his head to examine his reflection. Of course it was him. What had he expected? Scarred face, green eyes, and sandy brown bed hair. Pale, sickly grey skin, and deep circles ringing his eyes. Experimentally he lifted the corner of his lips, just to check, and immediately the broken tap clattered to the floor and he staggered backwards in shock. They were pointed. His teeth were becoming fangs, But there was no moonlight, there was no moonlight!

His breathing began to quicken, bare chest rising and falling rapidly as he staggered backwards. This was wrong. He wasn't ready, he wasn't away, no one was safe. Panic set in, and without even bothering to dress, Remus ran, staggering from the bathroom, slipping on his discarded shirt and tearing open his door. Where the Leaky Cauldron hallway had once been was immediately a staircase, which he promptly tumbled halfway down before righting himself. Impulsively he found himself continuously running his tongue along his sharpening teeth tasting his own blood as he slowly stepped down the stairs and rounded the corner.

"Remus! You're awake."

He whirled around, jumpy and nervous and met Lily's welcoming smile. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"What do you mean, silly? I live here."

"In the Leaky Ca-" Remus trailed off and stared around the room. This wasn't the Leaky Cauldron. This was his father's house. Wasn't it?

"How out of it are you, mate?" A hand clapped down on his shoulder, and though his ears heard James' voice, his other senses kicked into overdrive and a snarl ripped from his throat as he leapt away. No. This was too early, this was wrong. Terrified with himself, although shockingly neither James nor Lily seemed to be, he staggered backwards until his back collided with a bookshelf.

"Get away...get away from me, this is wrong."

"Relax, Remus, it's daylight, the full moon won't rise for hours."

Then why was every bone in his body aching and stretching? Why were his teeth sharp and his strength so enhanced? Why were his fingers stretching and his nails filing into points? His hands. His hands? He looked down, hands shaking and sure enough, blood was pouring from his palms where claws had dug into them, and still Lily and James weren't afraid. Why weren't they running?

It happened in a moment. One second he was himself, he was Remus, and the next it was like his mind had been wiped clear of all human thought and rationality, and only one thought filled his mind. Feed. A deep, animalistic growl rolled in his mostly human throat and his eyes, pupils so dilated the colour of the iris was no longer distinguishable, focused in on Lily's throat. He leapt.

xxxXxxx

"No, no no! Lily no!"

Remus shot up so suddenly he fell right out of the double bed and struck the wooden floor hard. So vivid. It had been so vivid that the metallic taste of blood still filled his mouth. A wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the impending full moon crashed over him and, head still throbbing, he barely made it into the bathroom in time to double over the toilet.

He vomited until there was nothing left of the feeble contents of his stomach and every gag tore at his dry throat and the taste of blood was replaced with the taste of bile. With a low weak groan he fell backwards onto the cold floor, staring at his shaking hands wildly to make sure there were no claws there, that it definitely had been a dream. He staggered to his feet, and uneasily peered into his mirror, carefully placing his hands away from the taps, just in case. No pointed teeth or ears yet, semi-normal eyes, if bloodshot, and skin pulled so tight around his thin face that his cheekbones could have cut someone. Mostly usual for today. Certainly not freaky half wolf, half human hybrid.

Still his dream had shaken him severely, he'd had violent wolfish nightmares before, and in one of them had attacked his father but he'd always woken up before the grisly detail. Now if he so much as looked at Lily Evans, soon to be Potter, he'd recall her tortured face as he ripped it apart. No witch had ever been kinder, and more understanding of him, than she, and the monster in him wouldn't hesitate to kill her when it was in control on the full moon. His stomach found something else that needed to be evicted and he doubled over the sink and retched up what was left.
He looked like a walking corpse, the scars on his face could not have stood out brighter if he'd coated them in red ink. He might not be transforming early but something was definitely different about tonight. Finally regaining the strength to stand without support, he staggered back into his room and reached for the pocket watch on his nightstand. Eight o'clock. He'd overslept but he struggled to care. With Periwinkle out of town for the day, Vashti had meant to be minding the shop. With Vashti dead, it had to be Remus. But he could not go in, even if he wanted to, his appearance was far too sickly today to be in public, and there was no one he could ask to cover for him this time.

A tapping on the glass of the window caught his attention and he picked up his wand and idly waved it. The curtains flew aside and the window slid up to admit the owl that waited on the windowsill. It fluttered in, speckled grey wings flapping over to the bed and tucking snuggly back at its sides as it waited for Remus to untie its convoy, a rolled up copy of a newspaper. As it fell unfurled to the mess of sheets and the owl flew away, a frown creased Remus' forehead and understanding dawned upon him. It was a copy of a muggle paper, the Evening Standard, and on the front page, in large, even and unmoving letters the headline; "Blood Moon Rising."

So that's why everything was different. He wasn't crazy, or somehow even more cursed, there really was something more in the air now. Something that made it all far more intense. A blood moon, visible only during a full lunar eclipse, and giving the full moon a red glow. But what exactly did that mean for werewolves? What was he supposed to expect? Would it be worse? More bloodthirsty, more violent, more out of control? Would Animagi even be enough to keep him out of trouble? He had been a werewolf for over thirteen years, and still he knew so little of his own condition. What if the phrase 'once in a blue moon' actually meant something to him? Which it couldn't. There had been many blue moons over the years and nothing changed. But never an eclipse, never a blood moon.

Slowly Remus reached out and picked up the newspaper, "Who sent this?" He murmured to himself and turned it over, looking for some sort of note or some indication of who had sent him the muggle paper. But the owl had left as suddenly as it showed up and there was no name, no letter attached. Perhaps his father? But why wouldn't he have sent a letter after being so concerned about Remus moving out in the first place? Dumbledore? Even that did not seem likely.

It didn't matter anyway. Not now. Not when he felt like death.
Late though he already was, and though his mind had been made up that he couldn't inconspicuously go into work today without raising significant questions, guilt still gnawed at Remus. This was the reason he couldn't aim for any higher profile occupations, though once he would have longed to be a professor, or work with magical creatures. Remus dressed quickly, every movement of every limb hurt as he pulled an old argyle patterned jumper over faded trousers that were a fraction too short for him now and left his ankles exposed. He'd go now, just in case. Pulling a new rucksack, a Christmas present courtesy of Peter when Remus' old one became beyond repair of even magic, from the bottom of his wardrobe he threw in an extra set of clothes, just in case the ones he wore became torn to shreds too, his well read copy of David Copperfield, which he'd re-read seven times but there was something about it that kept his mother close, and tucked his wand into his pocket. He would get ready now, he didn't know what to expect tonight but it was better to prepare early if his nightmarish dream was any indication.

He slid his wand up his sleeve and cast one last look at the newspaper that lay on his mattress before deciding to snatch that up too and tuck it beside his novel. His head pounding and stomach so knotted he couldn't possibly eat even if he wanted to, Remus turned on his heel.

There was a faint pop as the wizard reappeared amongst the now familiar trees deep in the Forest of Dean. It had served his purpose well since leaving Hogwarts. Remote enough to be safely out of the way of muggle campers even when some did happen to coincide with the full moon. Large enough to give the enormous wolf space to run with his animal friends and still remain within the layers of enchantments Remus put in place that the others then reinforced.
The crisp autumn chill was quickly turning into a winter cold, but if there was any advantage at all to being infected with lycanthropy, it was that Remus was almost always running warm. Which made even the warmest summer days, which said little for England, even hotter when he only ever wore long sleeves and trousers to cover his scar patterned skin.

Warm was an understatement now though. Every inch of his skin felt like it was on fire, like there was something beneath that was itching to burst free and leave him in pieces, it was amplified a hundred times. But if the last thirteen years had taught Remus anything, it was how to suppress the pain he was in, at least outwardly. The rest of the Marauders had seen him countless times on the day of the full moon, hell, an entire school had seen him then and after years of hiding it Remus had gotten very good at appearing as normal as possible.

"Homenum Revelio." Remus drew his wand, sending the magic out in a circle for miles around him. He was alone. And since he was alone, his hands flew to his pounding forehead and he released a loud, drawn out groan of pain, it did not help.

xxxXxxx

"Bloody hell you're here early, Moony. The moon won't rise for another hour." Peter chirped as he crunched his way over the leaves to the untransformed werewolf who sat pale and sullen looking cross legged on the forest floor. "You l-look worse than usual."

"Thank you, Wormtail. I tried especially hard today." Remus sarcastically drawled and when he looked up his eyes were bloodshot and sunken. "Not sure you should stay with me tonight...where are the others?"

"They'll be here soon, I think they're both still on duty. I went to meet you at the shop but y-you'd already closed up."

"Never went in." Remus' voice was hoarse as he slowly unpeeled his arms from around his legs and forced himself to unsteady feet with Peter's help. "Consequences be damned, it was better than going in looking like this." The aching had reached his bones now, "It's a blood moon tonight…"

"What does that mean for you?"

"Wish I knew. Help me put the charms up."

"Before Padfoot and Prongs get here?" There was a hint of nervousness in Peter's voice, he had never been the greatest at spells and it was always the Aurors-in-training who reinforced the barriers Remus put in place for himself. "They won't be able to find us."

"I meant...you should probably be on the other side of them, Pete. I don't know what's going to happen. But I've felt like I'm going to burst out of my skin all day."

"Oh. You mean you might get a taste for rat souffle?" Peter squeaked and Remus couldn't help a half hearted scoff of amusement. His eyes lit up again just for a fraction of a moment before the uncertainty of the situation settled back in.

"I don't know."

Of course they did not leave him alone. Midway through his second circle casting Protego Totalum, James and Sirius appeared within their midst, both still clad in their Ministry robes and the former slightly windswept as though he'd been flying. They took up the mantle of reinforcement, following along behind Peter and Remus and strengthening the enchantments four times. It had been enough, in the months that Remus had used the Forest of Dean as a safe haven for his transformations, to keep the werewolf confined to an area, and to repel any unwanted wanderers from stumbling upon a hungry werewolf.

Remus finally collapsed, clutching his head so hard he pulled a tuft of hair from its roots. Darkness had begun to fall through the trees, bathing the brown and golden autumn leaves in the soft evening light that preceded the moon. He was vaguely aware of James swooping in and taking his wand from him to keep it safe with his rucksack of belongings stowed safely away, before black spots began to pop up in his vision. There was the heavy sound of large hooves striking the forest floor from the left and a hearty bark that assured him that his friends were not about to become a snack. Feebly he managed to pull his jumper over his head but so sudden was the change that his fingers tore right through the collar as he tossed it to the side, too aware of the blood pounding hot in his ears to manage to save the rest of his clothes.
Muscles, deformed and twisting, rippled beneath his skin as he fell forward to his hands and knees, clinging for as long as he could to the last shreds of humanity and awareness as though it were merely some mental barrier that he could conquer. His scream of agony, which left Padfoot whining in the animal version of a cringe every time, bounced among the trees and were it not for the silencing charms would have carried for miles on end. Pupils dilated until they filled the iris of his eyes as seams ripped and burst and fur exploded over the elongating and morphing body. For one, brief, torturous moment Remus clung onto his mind, just long enough to feel every ounce of pain, just long enough to lift bloodied eyes and see the three Animagi looking on helplessly, and then he was gone.

xxxXxxx

The clouds drifted away from the full moon, allowing its light to cast a red glow into the sky. The blood moon was an eerily beautiful sight to behold, mysterious and new, and near impossible to look away from. Of course when there was a huge snarling werewolf in front of you, it was far easier to look away.

Moony reared his grey brown head, piercing green eyes that were both human and animal all at once, gleamed in the night as they stared around. The werewolf lifted itself on raised, muscular haunches until it stood almost upright like a man, tossed its maned neck back and howled a long victorious song to the blood moon. This night felt different to the rest. The cool night air rippled through his fur as the wolf dropped, rather gracefully considering his size, back to four paws and clawed at the leafy ground.

A loud squeak and a heavy snort made Moony turn and address the animal companions that had become so familiar to him over the years with a low rumble in his throat. The dog barked and began to leap around playfully to coax its fellow canine into a race while the rat scampered up the neck of the stag and perched itself with practiced ease into the large antlers. He lumbered close, breathing in the familiar scent and then huffing past, yearning to stretch its legs that stayed confined and dormant throughout the rest of the month. Until now. Until the brief cycle that the beast could assume full control of its human cage, it lingered just below the surface waiting to rear its head in moments of anger. Padfoot nipped at Moony's heels making the wolf turn on him and growl good naturedly, a challenge. Of course a dog had little hope of outpacing even the deer in a race let alone a werewolf, but Moony gave in to his innate desire to run and with a huff of breath, took off into the trees with the stag and the dog in hot pursuit.

They ran together in and out of moonlight, between trees and over logs until at last the stag skidded to a halt and snorted loudly. The werewolf paid no heed to the warning, paid no heed to the dog that had also fallen back, and no heed to the invisible barrier that he promptly collided with. With a surprised yelp the wolf toppled to the ground in a pile of long furry limbs and shook his bewildered head. Again. This had happened before. He growled and experimentally lunged at the air that seemed empty. Nothing. He needed to take a different way, and had in the past months when the same thing had happened. But something felt different tonight. The moon was stronger, it was red, like the blood that a werewolf instinctively craved, and it felt good. It felt strong. A low growl rumbled deep in his throat and, now ignoring the animals that were trying to keep his attention, Moony threw his substantial weight at the nothing that was stopping his path. Something shimmered, but nothing gave. Again he tried, possessed by the sudden need for even more freedom than he had. Again, and again, and again and still nothing. The werewolf backed up, like a bull ready to charge, and his hackles lifted on the back of his neck. No sooner had he been about to lunge again, the stag leapt in his path. With an impatient snarl the wolf shouldered past, gathering every ounce of enhanced strength it possessed and hurled his whole body into the invisible barrier. Something wavered in the air and flooded through the wolf itself until with a triumphant howl, the beast forced its way through. For a moment it stood there, shoulders heaving with every breath in the cool night air. At last, enhanced with the power the blood moon lent, he had broken the restraints he was continually forced into. But this time it cared nothing for the companions it had become so accustomed to, bore no desire to be distracted. He raised his large head and drew in a long breath. Ears pricked up immediately and his head snapped nose first toward the south. As quickly as it had burst through the enchantments, the werewolf was gone.

Prongs, Wormtail and Padfoot were left staring wide eyed, well, even wider given their animal appearance, at the spot Moony had been a moment ago. He was loose. He was loose and he didn't seem to even pay them any mind this month. Wormtail squeaked and craned his tiny head up towards the sky. The red hue the moon had taken on shone down at them and quickly the larger animals exchanged frantic looks and took off after the wolf.

A campfire crackled merrily in the night, small orange flames flickering into the distance, acting as a beacon in the forest. Laughter echoed from the two muggle men seated around it in front of a canvas tent. Their legal quarry, a large and ugly looking wild boar, lay bound and deceased close by. The muggle campers should have been well far enough away to avoid the werewolf even detecting their scent on the wind, and would have been if the enchantments had held. But now they were not the only hunters in the forest.

The huge predator had slowed its pace, blinded to its pursuers who had long since lost track of him, and focused solely on the tantalising scent of human flesh. It had gotten close before, torturously so, only to be foiled at the last second. But now here it was in the open, no animals to throw themselves at him and knock him off balance, no curses to deflect him, just the perfect hunter and its unaware prey. Moony growled deep in his throat, eyes fixed on the prize as it stalked slowly through the trees, sticking to the shadows and every inch ready to pounce and sink his fangs in.

The men, blissfully unaware to their painful end just metres away from them, heard nothing. The first, the taller of the men, yawned widely and reached down to fetch the still steaming tin cup of tea that rested by his booted foot. That was when something snapped in the trees and with a frown he looked up, forgetting the cup. Long straight brown hair hung to his shoulders as he whipped his head around. "Did you 'ear that, Chris?"

"Hear what?" The other, a dark skinned man with a jolly face, slurped his own cup of tea and didn't even turn around. "Probably a rabbit, innit? The forest is full of animals, Todd."

"Sounded bigger than a rabbit to me."

"Be impressive to bag two boars in one day, right? I'm sure it's nothin'"

The muggle turned away from the trees with a final cursory squint into the shadows over his shoulder before shrugging and picking up his mug again. Then a deep growl filled the space and as one the pair of muggles turned slowly.

"Oh hell!" The dark man, Chris, leapt up, knocking over the camp chair he sat upon and upsetting his tea so it splattered on the leafy ground. They stood paralysed with fear as the werewolf slowly stalked out into the firelight, hackles raised and a bloodthirsty snarl upon it's exposed fangs. "Definitely not a rabbit!"

"It's soddin' enormous!"

In that moment both muggles could have sworn their lives flashed before their eyes in the glint of danger in the huge wolf's eyes as it lunged. Chris was flung from his feet with the swipe of a huge paw and pinned flat on the ground as the beast let out a not quite animalish roar and closed its teeth around the camping chair that was flung in its way. It tossed it aside without a second thought, in fact it only possessed a single thought at all. Kill.

"Shoot it! Bloody hell, Todd, just shoot!" The man was screaming on the ground, unable to do anything to dislodge the substantial weight on his chest. He felt its hot breath, was deafened by the growling until, just before teeth closed around his throat, a terrific bang split through the campsite.

Some distance away Prongs skidded to a halt and exchanged a look with Padfoot before they shot off after the noise.

There was hardly even any pain, it was the sound more than anything else that stopped the werewolf in its bloodthirsty tracks. One second his jaws had been about to close on that tantalising flesh, and the next his ears pinned flat against his head and his shoulder was burning. But the bullet hadn't even moved the beast whose strength was so enhanced by the blood moon that all that happened was it diverted its attention to the man holding a hunting rifle. With an enraged howl, the werewolf threw itself at the other man instead. The barrel of the gun splintered and fell away, and its bearer toppled into the tent, crushing rope and canvas to the ground.

The scent of blood filled the air and drove the werewolf to madness as it flowed freely from a gash on the muggle's head where he had struck it against a tent pole. At last, it would finally taste human blood, after so many years deprived.

It was difficult to say what must have been stranger for the muggles terrified minds to process, the gigantic wolf that had attacked out of nowhere, the fact it hadn't just yelped and run with the gunshot, or the stag that leapt over Chris who still lay scrambling backwards on the forest floor and charged with antlers at the ready at what should have been its natural predator.

The wolf snarled in anger as antler collided with the open wound on his shoulder that until that moment hadn't bothered him. A paw flew out and struck the deer aside, which after a tangle of limbs on the ground scrambled immediately to its feet and charged anew.

Claws flashed and sliced the ground where a second ago Todd's head had been before he tried to scramble out of reach only to be dragged back by the tail of his coat. Moony bore his teeth and snapped hard...on nothing. A noise in the distance. The only possible sound that could have made a hungry and maddened werewolf respond even with a meal at its teeth. A howl, long and chilling to the humans, disguised or otherwise, made Moony freeze and turn its head as sharply as a pointer which had found its quarry. It was the call of his own kind. Monstrosity and hunger forgotten he threw back his head and returned the howl. Leaving two terrified muggles behind the werewolf bounded away into the trees as suddenly as it had appeared from them.

There was a dull thumping of hooves as Prongs scrambled away behind the remnants of the tent and changed back.

The muggles had clambered to shaking feet as Chris hurled Todd up and stared around at the wreckage of their campsite.

"Holy hell. Oh my-you right, mate? No one's ever gonna believe this! Didn't think wolves could get that big!"

"I shot it, I shot the damn thing it didn't even move!"

In the trees behind the campers, James and Sirius emerged as stealthily as they dared to move, creeping as close as they could without drawing notice to themselves. The Aurors in training exchanged a glance and, while Peter slipped around to the other side and repaired the tent, raised their wands and aimed carefully at the back of the two muggles' heads.

"Obliviate."