Child of the Dark Moon

by Sw-0608

Fleeing from Dudley and the 'Harry-hunters' under a full moon, Harry Potter saves his hated cousin from a giant wolf and is nearly killed. Severus Snape comes upon the bloody body not ten minutes later and takes the child into his home, against his better judgment. Can Snape come to terms with the vulnerable boy and help him to adapt to being a werewolf? (Manipulative Dumbledore)

18. Chapter 18: Plots and Plans

Rated T

This was one of the hardest chapters I've written. I kept going back and forth on what I wanted to reveal in this chapter: rewriting scenes, removing/adding scenes, etc. I hope it turned out okay, and thank you all for your patience. This is an extra long chapter as a result, but I just couldn't find a good place to stop. :)

(Disclaimer: don't own, never will, don't plan to. Just doing it for fun.)

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Chapter 18: Plots and Plans

Severus Snape paced his cell. It was precisely four steps wide and seven steps long, and he had measured it hundreds of thousands of times in the past few days. After his all-night stay in the interrogation room after he was first arrested, he had finally been moved to a holding cell. But even so, it wasn't until the next afternoon that he finally got word that Dumbledore was doing something to get him out of this mess. His first hearing was tomorrow, and apparently, since he refused veritaserum and refused to submit his memory of the event, the only thing left to do was to swear upon his life and magic that the spells he used had not been intended to harm. Dumbledore would keep him out of Azkaban, of course, but Severus was fairly certain he would end up paying a hefty fine instead. He wasn't all that attached to money, but the thought of having to pay the Dursleys for 'damages' made him nauseous. Those people deserved worse than what he gave them, but he was stuck. He couldn't risk the Ministry taking custody of Harry, which they would if Severus testified that the Dursleys (and Dumbledore himself) did not have the boy's best interests at heart and were perpetrating or turning a blind eye to such horrific abuse.

He also now knew for certain that it was Petunia Dursley who had reported him to the Ministry, thanks to a formal complaint that he was allowed to read. She apparently was a great deal smarter than he gave her credit for. She may not remember precisely what happened, but to surmise that Severus Snape was the only freak at Hogwarts likely to do what had been done to her and her family was rather clever. What was worse, he couldn't deny anything. The family had been examined by an Auror after she made her complaint and it was obvious that they had been obliviated, but little else. Severus Snape's only retort to that was that he had not obliviated the boy, but of course nobody had listened to him. Since there was no evidence of outright malicious behavior on his part, Severus had been spared the more uncomfortable aspects of Ministry custody. He got three square, (though bland) meals a day and was pretty much left alone in his plain, serviceable cell. The Auror guarding his hallway during the day gave him a crossword puzzle to work on and he tried to start a conversation. If Severus had been in the mood for it, he might have enjoyed it. The young fellow liked to tinker with potions in his spare time and was thrilled to meet an actual Potions Master in person. He wasn't so bad, but Severus sneered and belittled the enthusiastic young man until the Auror finally shut up and stopped trying.

This morning though, when his young potions-obsessed Auror came back on duty, the fellow surprised him by asking him for the real reason he was behind bars. Severus didn't know why he spilled his guts. Maybe it was because he simply wanted someone to listen to him. Anyway, he left Harry's name out, obviously, and tweaked the story just a bit, but he laid out the basics, that he had asked the Dursleys for information, they refused to give it to him, and he found out that they were child abusers and fought the urge to kill them all, or at least make them very miserable. He contented himself with simply containing them and then forcing them to forget their encounter while he tried to figure out how to deal with them properly. He pointed out that he couldn't very well report them to either law enforcement without more proof, but he had tried to keep their nephew away from them so they couldn't hurt the child anymore.

The Auror was sympathetic, but he pointed out that even if their nephew was magical, the Ministry wouldn't have much of a say unless the child's own magical guardian pushed for something. The muggle police wouldn't do anything unless they had the child's mangled body in front of them, since they were so crazy about physical proof. Severus had fallen almost into despair at that and sat on his cot for three hours, clutching his head and not moving as he thought furiously. He was considering every option, and finally settled on kidnapping Harry for real and moving to New Zealand as soon as he was free. He got up and paced feverishly as he began to flesh out his plan. He had heard that New Zealand had a better attitude toward Werewolves than the United Kingdom did, and it was far enough away that they wouldn't give tuppence about Dumbledore or all his grand titles. However, Severus did not know for certain if New Zealand had a good magical school. The Australians had a good one, he knew, and it wasn't very far from New Zealand, magically speaking. Harry would need to get a good education, but that was second to Severus' first concern, which was keeping him safe from further abuse and manipulation. Whether Harry would be able to attend a good school or not, he would be safe at least from the politics and trouble that currently surrounded him here. Besides, anything lacking in the boy's education could be supplied by the Potions Master, he was sure.

Severus was planning out his and Harry's escape in detail, (hang Dumbledore and his chess games) when his young Auror cheerfully opened his cell door and informed him that he had a visitor. Severus panicked for an instant, fearing that Dumbledore had finally deigned to come down and speak to him, and he occluded fiercely, showing a blank mask to the man that stepped into his cell. But he nearly dropped his shields in surprise. His visitor was a slim, sickly looking man in clean, but shabby robes of a nondescript colour. His hair was light brown, and his eyes were dark brown, flecked with gold. Three scars across his face completed the look, and Severus unconsciously took a step back, struggling to occlude against the emotions of fear and loathing that roared up strongly within him. It was Remus Lupin.

The Werewolf nodded graciously at the young Auror, who flashed him a grin, informed them that they had twenty minutes, and stepped out, slamming the door behind him. That brief second was enough for Severus to ruthlessly shove his emotions aside and regard Lupin with calm indifference when the werewolf met his gaze again.

"May I?" Lupin asked mildly, gesturing at the only chair in the cell.

Severus chuckled bitterly. "By all means," he replied, seating himself on the cot across from the Werewolf. "I'm afraid I can't offer you any tea," he added with an arched eyebrow. "As you can see, my hospitality is a bit limited."

Remus Lupin smiled good-naturedly and sat down on the plain chair. "Nice place you have here," he bantered easily. "Beats the last couple places I stayed."

Severus huffed in annoyance and dropped the act. "Why are you here, wolf?" he growled dangerously. "Dumbledore sent me your message, in case you were wondering. What did you want? A thank you note for your thank you note?!"

"Not at all, Professor," Lupin replied in a calm tone. "I've come to ask you about a mutual little friend."

Severus Snape stiffened, but Lupin kept talking.

"You see, you mentioned this little friend in your letters, but I cannot seem to be able to locate him."

"Why don't you ask the old man?" Severus sneered. "He seems to be on better terms with you rather than me, since he can be bothered to see you personally and is apparently too busy to even come tell me what the hell is going to happen to me!"

Lupin suddenly looked worried. "He hasn't come to see you?"

Severus sneered and didn't bother answering. He folded his arms and leaned back against the wall, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles.

"Well …" Lupin muttered, looking uncomfortable and maybe a little angry. "I asked him … and he won't tell me. He says it's for the little one's safety, you understand. He does not want energy spikes to alert the ex-convict."

"Black," Snape muttered quietly.

Lupin nodded. "I would be able to reach the area without magic," he added quietly. "But … I need to see he's alright. Can you please help me?"

"The old fool will not like it," Severus muttered, staring at his boots.

"I don't care," Lupin hissed, a growl coming into his voice as his wolf stirred. "You seem to care more about the little one than he does at the moment. I get the feeling he is punishing you for something. He could get you out of here in hours, yet he lets this drag on and distracts me if I so much as suggest going to visit … our mutual friend. He keeps insisting I wait until I'm all better, or until after you're free. I have no intention of doing so. I'm done playing his games."

Severus looked up at the Werewolf with a slight smirk, making up his mind quickly. "Surrey," he said quietly. "A town called Little Whinging. Go to Privet Drive. He is at number 4. Tell him … tell him I am sorry he got sent back." Snape sighed and stared back down at his boots, forcing himself to say what needed to be said. "He needs you, Lupin," he murmured. "It will be clear to you when you meet him, I think. Protect him if you can. Those muggles are the worst sort and the old man is blind."

Lupin nodded with a frown. "Thank you," he said softly. "And … So, what are you planning to do about … the old man?"

"I don't have any idea," Severus said coolly. He looked up and fixed the Werewolf with a deadly smile. "But let me know if you have any qualms about moving to New Zealand."

Remus Lupin blinked in surprise before he smirked and stood up. "I have no qualms whatsoever," he replied. "I hear it's lovely there this time of year." The Werewolf paused and looked serious again. "Would you like me to bring you anything? Books? Lesson plans? It looks like you'll be stuck here for another ten days at least while the hearings and red tape get cleared up."

Severus sneered, about to tell the Werewolf to get lost and leave him be, but he stopped himself just in time. In the relative peace and quiet of this cell, he had a perfect opportunity to go over his notes for the Wolfsbane potion again. And he would really like to finish his book on Werewolf psychology.

"If it isn't too much trouble …" he muttered, not looking up and appalled at himself for actually taking the Marauder up on his offer.

"It isn't," Lupin insisted warmly. Damn his agreeable nature. "Consider it payment of a debt … for taking such care of our little friend."

Severus rolled his eyes, but it was only for show. He was somewhat grateful for the recognition, at any rate. "In my office at Hogwarts, in the second desk drawer from the top, I have two books and a folder full of parchment. Bring me that as well as half a dozen quills and two bottles of ink. Can you remember all that?"

Lupin nodded solemnly, all business. "Does your office have a password or protective wards?"

"Not during the Summer," Severus scoffed. He waved his hand in a shooing gesture. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go on!"

The Werewolf chuckled and knocked on the cell door, signaling that he was done. The cheerful Auror let him out and gave Severus a friendly smile before he closed the cell again. Snape watched the door thoughtfully and nodded slowly. It seemed that the old man and Poppy were right about Lupin after all. He would make a good ally. If he could manage to either protect or spirit away the boy before further damage was inflicted on him by his appalling relatives, Severus would gladly throw his lot in with the Werewolf. He would do anything to keep Harry safe, he realized. No child deserved to be hated and treated worse than a house elf. If only Dumbledore also believed that …

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Harry was jerked out of a troubled sleep by his Aunt banging on his cupboard door and shouting for him to get his lazy behind into the kitchen and make breakfast. The boy scrambled to his feet, babbling sleepily that he was up and would get right on it, just as he did nearly every morning. His body ached, but it wasn't so bad since his Uncle hadn't thrashed him in days, not since the night he met the dog.

He had been surprised when he found the dog waiting for him in the garden the next morning. He had feared that the poor animal was gone for good. While he was a kind of glad that the dog would be safe from his Aunt and Uncle, he had felt a pang of loneliness and abandonment at the thought of never seeing the strange dog again. His joy when he was nearly knocked over by the enthusiastic dog the next morning was so great that he wasn't even frightened of it. Startled, yes; but the dog no longer scared him. He discovered later that day when the dog rolled over for a belly rub that it was a boy-dog. It was nice to be able to say things like 'down, boy', instead of just calling it 'dog' all the time. Harry determined to think of a good name for the big black dog, and it had to be a good one. But it wasn't at the top of his list of things to do. It became obvious that the dog was a little sick, and Harry's first priority was to feed the dog and get it well.

During the next few days, he snuck the dog food and it stayed with him while he tended the garden and mowed the lawn and did other yard work. It hid obediently when his Aunt or cousin came outside and stayed out of his Uncle's sight. So long as the dog stayed a secret, Harry knew he would be able to keep his new friend. Harry was happier than he had ever been at Privet Drive, and that was saying something. His Aunt and Uncle still piled insults and humiliations on him, but they didn't beat him again.

As Harry fried bacon and sausages and tried to dodge the splatters of grease, he let his mind drift to the dog again. It was big and black, but he didn't want to name it something stupid like Giant or Blackie. He wanted the dog's name to mean something, but he didn't want something overdramatic like True Friend or Faithful. Those were too awkward anyway. Harry cracked eggs into the pan and put bread in the toaster, thinking about the dog's quirks. It was quick and skittish, scrawny and bony, friendly and sensitive. It got excited easily, it was remarkably gentle, and was obsessed with sniffing him. His nose made loud, wet, snuffling noises as the dog explored Harry, taking great interest in his clothes, which were two sizes too big, and his hair, which was as thick and messy as ever. Harry suddenly grinned as the revelation hit him.

Snuffles. It was perfect.

He was almost too excited to force his face into its usual expressionless mask of misery, which was difficult to do on the best of days. It was the look that made his Aunt and Uncle most satisfied. He showed that he was not angry or upset or affected at all by the unfairness of life, but it also showed that he was quite miserable with his lot and did not expect things to improve. Something must have given him away this morning because his Uncle pounced on him at once for 'grinning his head off'. Harry was reasonably certain he had not even been smiling, but he told the truth: that he was just feeling cheerful this morning. In reward for such an attitude, he was thrown outside without breakfast and a list of chores to get finished before tonight. He even had to reorganize the shed and paint the fence … again. Harry had lost track of how many times he had done both chores in his life. His Aunt and Uncle had him do it at least once a month, sometimes more.

Harry wasn't too upset. He had been given some food the night before so he wasn't that hungry, and he had the dog, now Snuffles, to keep him company outside. The dog was a great listener. Harry had already told him all about his Aunt, his Uncle, his cousin, the endless chores, and the gnawing hunger in his belly. He hadn't told the dog about the werewolf attack yet, or the Professor. He figured that the dog should learn about him first before he started talking about serious stuff like that. Maybe he would tell Snuffles later when they were alone. His Uncle was going to be at work all day and Aunt Petunia was taking Dudley clothes shopping this morning. His cousin was still acting funny, and hadn't hit Harry once since he had come back. It was starting to unnerve him, but Harry tried not to think of his bullying cousin. Eventually, Dudley would snap out of whatever funk he was in and things would be totally back to normal. Sometimes when Harry thought about his scars and what they meant, he would instinctively look for the moon. It was uncanny how he always knew where the moon was now, and even how close it was to being full. It was like having some kind of internal sensor that was always aware of the moon and its phases. He was feeling restless and strange as the days and nights marched on. The aching in his bones was now a throbbing beat, like the ticking of a clock. Or a bomb. He dearly hoped that the creepy old man from the school would remember to come and take him away from here before the moon was full. Much as he dreamed of escaping his relatives, he didn't want to kill them when he became a monster.

The morning air was cool and damp and the sunrise cast a rosy glow over the quiet neighbourhood. Harry went straight to the shed out back, his good mood evaporating into worry and unease as he brooded over his troubles. Being a werewolf was way worse than being a Freak, he knew, but he didn't really know what to do about it. The Professor had not told him very much about what to expect. As Harry reached the shed, he saw the black dog poke its head around the back. It let out a soft huffing noise like a whispered bark of excitement. Harry ducked behind the shed and wrapped his arms around the dog. It was trembling with joy, his tail wagging like mad as it tried to smell him and lick him at the same time.

"I missed you too," Harry giggled softly, rubbing the dog's head and scratching behind his ears. "Guess what? I thought of a name for you!" Harry whispered, sitting in the grass and hugging the dog around the neck again. The dog licked his cheek and Harry smiled, scratching the dog's sensitive throat. "I'm gonna call you … Snuffles."

The dog snorted, (almost like a laugh) and nearly toppled him as it tried to lick his face. Harry giggled and wrestled with the big dog. "Snuffles!" he protested between giggles, struggling not to get too loud. "Snuffles, stop it! You're tickling me!"

The dog finally flopped down beside the boy, panting and lolling his big tongue out the side of his mouth in a doggie grin. "You like that name, huh?" Harry whispered to the dog. He hugged Snuffles tightly, pressing his cheek against the warm, dark fur. They both relaxed against one another, content and happy to be together.

Suddenly, Harry winced as a surge of pain rushed through his body and was gone in a flash, leaving him shuddering and choking back tears. By itself, it felt just as painful as the time when he took a cold shower without the Professor's permission the first time. But since it did not last as long, it only left him stiff and gasping, and a few tears rolled down his cheeks. The dog whined in concern and nuzzled him worriedly.

"I'm okay, Snuffles," Harry whispered faintly. He closed his eyes and rested the full weight of his trembling body on the dog's back. "It hurts sometimes, that's all. The Professor gave me a bath before and it helped some … but my relatives don't let me take baths much."

Snuffles whined and squirmed under him, but Harry rubbed his fur and the dog settled down. He choked on his tears, but they came anyway. His body was always sore and tired and the flashes of pain were getting worse and more frequent and he didn't know why. His potions were almost all gone, even though he was only taking sips when he really needed them. His ointment was almost gone too, since he used it on the welts and bleeding sores that his Uncle's belt left behind. He missed the Professor. He missed the scowling, dark-eyed man so badly it was like a physical ache in his chest. Why hadn't he come to visit? The old Headmaster said he would once his trouble was cleared up, and it had been days and days. Why hadn't he come?

"I miss the Professor," Harry whispered, stroking Snuffles and trying to sniff back his tears. "He was so nice, Snuffles. Kinda grumpy and scowly, but he was nice." Harry shivered and tried to fight against the overwhelming sense of abandonment that washed over him. "He promised I'd never have to come back here … but … you know." Harry gulped and stopped fighting his tears. "G-grown-ups n-never understand. They d-don't really b-believe me," the child sobbed quietly, squeezing the dog with one arm and scratching its neck with the other hand. "M-maybe the P-Professor got t-tired of me and s-sent me back on p-purpose. I tried s-so h-hard to b-be g-good."

Harry wept softly, hugging Snuffles tightly and fighting against the overwhelming despair that was settling over his heart at the thought that maybe the Professor had tricked him. Maybe the Headmaster was only doing his Professor a favour in dropping Harry off with his relatives again, because the Professor couldn't stand being around the whiny, needy kid anymore. Maybe that was why the Professor had been gone so long that morning. Harry sobbed harder, wishing he could have made himself more useful and hadn't made so many dumb mistakes. He would have done anything to be able to stay with the Professor. Anything. But it wasn't good enough. He was never good enough for anyone, and Harry cried helplessly.

The dog whimpered and whined, struggling to twist around so he could comfort the boy better. Harry let him, and submitted to the dog's rough tongue washing away his tears, and the cold wet nose nuzzling against his face and neck. Soon, he was calmer, but he still felt like a metal band was encircling his ribs. He hated feeling like this. His emotions were all over the place. Yesterday afternoon when he didn't make the beds to Aunt Petunia's standards and she dumped everything on the floor for him to start over, he had felt a rush of anger so intense that he fell to the floor, shocked at himself and terrified that his Aunt might have seen it. Today, he was so depressed that he was crying all over his dog. He hated feeling so out of control. It was a thousand times worse than when he was with the Professor, crying all over him every few hours and begging him to stay in the bed with him because he was scared of the dark.

Harry sighed and got to his feet. He was wobbly and thirsty, not to mention hot, after his cry. But he had work to do and he had already wasted enough time. His Uncle would be coming out any minute to give out his usual threats and demands before he left for work. He would water the garden first so he could wash his face and drink something quickly before his relatives saw and banned him from the faucet. He would probably die if they forbade him from drinking the outside water too. Despite how depressed and scared he felt right now, he really wanted to stay alive.

Right on time, Uncle Vernon came outside and stomped around the side of the house. Harry went on watering the flowerbeds, tense with fear and worry, struggling not to look at his Uncle. Snuffles was pressed between one of the rosebushes and the wall of the house and it was still dim enough outside that the dog was completely lost in the shadows.

"You'd better have all those chores done right, boy!" Uncle Vernon growled, pointing a meaty finger in his direction. "If you miss any, there won't be any food for you tonight, you hear me?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied obediently, looking at the ground like a good little freak.

"And woe is you if you mess up anything or do a crap job!" the big man added menacingly. "I won't hesitate to take the belt to you again, you hear?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry whispered, trembling a little.

Grumbling under his breath, the big man turned and waddled back around the house. Harry only relaxed once he heard the car start and saw it pull out of the driveway. Once it drove away, Harry threw Snuffles a giddy little smile.

"We can finish a few measly chores, right Snuffles?" he said softly. The dog didn't move, and its blue eyes were focused on something other than Harry.

"Who're you talkin' to?"

Harry spun around in shock at the voice, getting water from the hose all over the jeans of another boy who was standing right behind him. Harry cried out in terror and dropped the hose in the grass, covering his face in terror. It was Dudley, and that was practically the first thing his cousin had said to him since he got back. Now, he'd gotten Dudley wet and Harry was going to be in big trouble. Either his oversized cousin would pound him into the grass first and then run and tell his mummy, or he would just run wailing into the house, and then Harry would get it for sure. He quaked in terror, thinking of how his Uncle would thrash him tonight for this. But to Harry's confusion, Dudley just stood there, staring down at the splashes on his jeans and trainers.

"I … I'm r-really s-sorry, Dudley," Harry finally whimpered. Why wouldn't his cousin say anything?

The fat boy shook one foot in disgust, shaking off several water droplets.

"I j-just wasn't p-paying attention, I didn't m-mean it …" Harry whispered, taking his hands cautiously off his face. He slowly crouched to pick the hose back up. "Um … don't tell your mum, please? You can beat me up, I won't run … just … don't tell?"

Dudley looked up at him, his round face contorted in a frown. He looked like he was trying to figure something out. In fact, he'd had that look on his face ever since Harry came back. Of course, he didn't actually see Dudley until the next morning because he got locked in his cupboard after his beating.

Dudley huffed and abruptly pushed Harry down in the grass before he stomped off back to the house. Harry gaped after his cousin and didn't get up. That was the most half-hearted push he'd ever felt from his bullying cousin. Was Dudley sick? Feeling more confused than ever, Harry picked himself up and finished watering. He was quaking with fear at the thought of what Dudley was telling his mother right now. Aunt Petunia might just lock him up all day long and he would never finish all his chores. Uncle Vernon would be so angry and Harry felt dizzy thinking about it. He gulped and tried to finish the yard work with shaking hands. Snuffles came out of hiding, whining with concern. Harry petted the dog and calmed down a bit.

Whatever was going to happen was going to happen. He could take it. He'd had worse.

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The bus had dropped him off several blocks from his target, but following the city map he'd picked up at the city hall, Remus Lupin was confident that he could walk to Privet Drive without any magical assistance whatsoever. He recognized this town, though not the particular neighbourhood he now found himself in. As the bus had driven past the thrift store and the grocer's in the town proper, Remus recalled that he had stopped by the town's shops just before the last Full Moon. Coming off his most recent job had left him exhausted, physically and magically, and he had forgotten to pack his Home Portkey. Literally stranded in a muggle town, he had been forced to do some quick shopping, glad that he always carried muggle money just in case of an emergency. He remembered exactly where the abandoned cabin was outside town where he had stayed that night. Thinking about that strange night filled Remus with uneasy dread. His Wolf still had not disclosed what had happened on that Full Moon beyond vague bits and pieces. Remus was too frightened to delve deeper, fearing the worst. Back in this town, he could feel his Wolf stirring with interest.

Remus Lupin sighed and brushed dust off his trousers as he walked away from the bus stop, taking a deep breath of crisp morning air. The sun had just risen and Little Whinging was waking up. Remus hoped he wasn't too early, though he felt uneasy about what he would find at number 4, Privet Drive, after what Severus Snape had hinted at. Consulting his map, Remus turned down a wide street called Nosegay Avenue. It did not take long to reach the street he sought. Once he found Privet Drive, he stuffed the map into his pocket and slowed his pace, looking for house numbers. The houses here were all maddeningly identical, and Remus wondered how the muggles could stand it. The people who lived in this neighbourhood looked pretty well off, and the few who were out this early either glared at him suspiciously or turned up their noses at his appearance.

It was true that he felt a bit self-conscious in his shabby clothes, which he had transfigured briefly into a muggle-friendly outfit. In his brown trousers and dull plaid jersey, he looked like a Professor on a holiday. All he needed were spectacles to complete the costume, he thought with an amused smile, and he would look the part of the mild-mannered, absent-minded Professor. Remus Lupin shoved his hands into his deep pockets and fingered his wand thoughtfully. There were no threats in this dull neighbourhood, so he contented himself with giving friendly smiles to the glaring, snooty snobs that caught his gaze. His sharp eyes finally spotted a number 4 on the front of one of the houses and he crossed the street to get to it. As he approached the house and the breeze shifted, the Wolf must have caught a whiff of something important, because the beast reared up inside him without a warning. Remus had to stop and grab the fence, blinking in shock and struggling against the wild instincts threatening to overwhelm him, bewildered and terrified of how close he was to losing control. He had never felt like this, except sometimes on the day before the Full Moon.

What's the matter with you?! Remus silently screamed. It's a week 'til the Full Moon yet! Get a hold of yourself, Wolf!

Cub! Mine! Claim him! Mine, mine, mine! The Wolf clamored, dizzying Remus with the strength of his need to surface. The Man knew that his eyes had flushed gold and anyone who saw him like this might think he was having a seizure or something. What was his Wolf's problem? It wasn't rage or protectiveness that had caused his Wolf to surface. In fact, he felt that the Wolf was giddy with excitement, whining with need, and howling with want. He had never experienced such a thing before in his life, and frankly, it was terrifying.

Not now, Wolf! Get DOWN! Remus ordered sharply, using a large chunk of magic to ruthlessly shove his Wolf back down. It was harder than it should have been, but the beast submitted grumpily, seeming to understand that now was not the time.

Blinking hard and gasping for air, Remus Lupin focused on the pristine yard in front of him again. He straightened up, struggling to steady his trembling limbs and smoothing down his sweater. He wiped the cold sweat from his face and took a deep breath. He had never suffered an attack like that before and it frightened him. Less than a minute must have passed since he grabbed hold of the white picket fence, but his muscles ached as if he had been physically wrestling the Wolf for much longer than that. Huffing in exasperation at his moody wolf and determining to wrestle the truth out of him later, Remus pushed open the gate and went up the neat walk to the front door of number 4. He was not totally ignorant about muggle doorbells, but he decided to knock instead. The slight sting of his knuckles pounding on the painted door helped to pull him back a bit more from the abyss his Wolf had dragged him up to. He felt slightly dizzy, as if he were teetering on the brink of a terrible fall. If he had not been so close to his goal, he would have given this up and gone back home. He had remembered his Home Portkey this time.

The door was yanked open without warning and Remus jumped a little. He had been so distracted that he hadn't even heard the woman approaching the door. He managed his most polite smile in response to the woman's quickly souring expression.

"Who are you and what do you want?" the woman asked crisply. It was borderline rude, but just clipped enough that it just sounded brisk and impatient; the attitude of a woman who is very busy and wants you to know it.

"Good morning, madam," Remus said with a slight bow. "My name is Remus Lupin and I was wondering if Harry was available for a few minutes."

The lady narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Harry who?" she demanded.

"Erm … Harry Potter?" Remus clarified with a confused frown. "I was told that he was with his relatives at number 4, Privet Drive. He is here, isn't he?"

"That Dumbledore promised to leave us be!" she hissed, her eyes flashing with temper. "What did he send you for?"

"J-just to check up on him," Remus faltered nervously. He hoped she wouldn't complain to the old man. He might get in trouble for this. "It won't take long, I promise," Remus added with his most pleasant smile. "So … is he available?"

The woman glared at him for several very long seconds before she jerked her head. "He's in the backyard," she snapped. "You only have five minutes because I have errands to run."

The door slammed in his face, leaving Remus stunned beyond belief at her attitude. He stood there, staring at the door for several seconds before he sighed and decided that his time had already started ticking and he may as well make use of it. He stepped off the porch and followed the walkway around the house to the backyard. As he went, he couldn't help but notice the tidy flowerbeds and perfectly trimmed hedges. The lawn needed mowing, but everything else was surprisingly neat and orderly looking. Surely, the Werewolf thought, a neat yard spoke of a neat home. And surely, a woman who took such obsessive care of her flowers wouldn't be all that bad to a child, no matter how grumpy she seemed. He was pretty sure he had just caught the lady at a bad time.

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Harry kept looking over at the house nervously, sure that at any moment, his Aunt was going to come and drag him inside by the ear for getting water on her Duddi-kins. But as he finished watering and headed to the shed to get the lawn-mower, nothing had happened yet. Dudley had not come back out and Aunt Petunia had not shown her face.

Harry turned to Snuffles with a nervous smile. "Maybe they won't care this time," he said quietly, hardly daring to hope. "Y'know, sometimes Dudley forgets stuff, especially if he's excited about something else." Snuffles whined as if in agreement and his tail wagged slowly. Harry grinned at the dog and decided he would just calm down and enjoy his time outside. If Aunt Petunia did come out to drag him back in, he could get nervous and scared then.

The small boy dragged and wrestled the big mowing machine out of the shed and checked its gas tank. It was empty, so Harry went into the shed and hunted for the container Uncle Vernon always kept in the back. With his better eyesight, he was able to find it quickly in the gloom of the little structure. The dog was sniffing the lawn-mower when he returned with the container of gasoline. Snuffles sneezed twice and Harry giggled.

"It doesn't smell very good, I know," he told the dog as he gave its head a little pat. "It smells worse when I start it up, though." Harry quickly filled the little tank and put the now-empty container back in the shed before he grabbed the pull cord. "This part's always tricky," he explained to the dog. "Catch me if I fall, okay?"

Harry yanked hard on the cord twice, but the machine didn't start up. With a huff of exasperation, Harry planted his foot against the lawn-mower, revealing the filthy, torn up trainers he wore, courtesy of Dudley. His cousin liked to drag his toes to slow down when he rode his bike, and it tore up the shoes pretty badly. Bracing his foot and grasping the pull cord with both hands, Harry yanked as hard as he could. He lost his grip and his balance and fell head over heels. To his surprise, the dog caught him by the shirt and slowed his fall enough that he toppled sideways in the soft grass instead of banging his head on the shed wall. Harry was so relieved by the catch, and his fall struck him as so ludicrous, that he giggled. His giggle turned into a full blown laugh and he hugged Snuffles, tugging the big dog down to wrestle playfully with him.

"Are you alright?" a new, unfamiliar voice intruded on his wrestling match.

Snuffles jumped upright, a soft growl of surprise rumbling in his throat, and Harry sat up at once with a yelp of fear, staring up at the strange man who had materialized in the Dursleys' backyard.

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Remus fought the Wolf for a second time as the breeze shifted again, bringing the boy's scent to him. For several seconds, he stood still, gasping as he shoved the insistent beast back down. This was ridiculous, he fumed while screaming silent obscenities at his stubborn Wolf. Not even right before the Full Moon was his beast so adamant to get out. He was able to push the whining creature down enough that he could continue his march to the backyard, but Remus surmised that his Wolf was simply straining to meet Harry. That must be it. The boy belonged in his pack, being the son of his pack-brother, Prongs. Moony was just over-excited to see him again. With that knowledge, he was able to soothe his Wolf's hackles and tamp down the beast's frustration, assuring him that Moony would have plenty of opportunities to say hello to the boy, his pup. Feeling a little more stable, Remus shook the tension out of his aching hands, (which he'd clenched so tightly that the nails had almost cut into his palms) and kept walking.

Just behind the house was a neat white shed. It stood open and there was some kind of machine sitting in front of it. As comfortable around muggles as he was, Remus wasn't quite sure what the contraption was or what it did. A scrawny, dark-haired boy was pulling some kind of cord on it, and as Remus watched, the boy lost his balance and fell backwards. A large black dog that had been lying unnoticed next to the machine jumped up and caught the boy before he fell into the wall of the shed. The child burst out laughing and hugged the big dog, dragging it down into a playful wrestle. Remus walked up to them with a little smile on his face. The boy seemed happy and healthy enough, and former fears from Snape's dark hints were melting away.

"Are you alright?" he asked pleasantly.

To be honest, he wasn't expecting to shock the boy and his dog so thoroughly. The child yelped in surprise and sat up, staring at him with huge green eyes and a white face, while the dog spun around, lifting its lips in a protective snarl. Remus felt dizzy as he stared, wide-eyed, at the terribly familiar creature. The dog was quite large, with a thick head and neck, and short black fur like the sky at midnight. It was scrawny and bony, with its hipbones jutting out and its ribs showing. It wore no collar, but it was obviously very protective of the boy. Remus' head spun as he struggled to reconcile the totally unexpected appearance of this particular dog in the place he never thought to find him.

"Padfoot," Remus breathed in shock, automatically reaching into his pocket for his wand. The dog growled menacingly at the movement and took a step closer, warning him with a flash of its icy blue eyes. Remus froze, staring into the creature's startlingly bright eyes as if petrified. His mind raced, but he could find no answers. Sirius Black had escaped to find his godson. He had found Harry. He was here with Harry. The supposed wards around the boy's house had not protected him. But did Harry even need protecting?

The dark-haired child lunged to his feet and threw his arms around the big dog's neck. "No, Snuffles!" the boy gasped. "Don't attack! Don't!"

For several seconds, Padfoot and Moony silently regarded one another while Harry kept his arms wrapped tightly around the dog to keep it from doing something disastrous. The tension became almost unbearable.

"Harry?" Remus finally asked in a shaky voice, dragging his eyes away from Padfoot's stern blue gaze. "H-how are you?"

The boy narrowed his green eyes suspiciously, looking strangely like the woman who'd met him at the door. Likely, he learned the expression, and attitude, from her. "Who're you?" Harry demanded coldly. "How d'you know my name?"

Remus smiled wanly and slowly removed his hand from his pocket, holding both hands up to show he had no wand. The dog's growling quieted, but it continued to stand stiffly, legs apart, ready to spring at him if he made a wrong movement. "I am Remus Lupin," he answered quietly. But … you used to call me Uncle Moony."

Those words were a mistake. Remus wondered later whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, but decided that it didn't matter, as the truth was bound to come out sooner or later. At the word 'Moony', the Wolf surged forward unexpectedly, Remus almost cried out as he was helplessly shoved back, an observing prisoner in his own mind.

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Harry kept his eye on the stranger, who looked kind of nice, but you never knew with strangers, Harry knew. His shabby clothes made him look pretty ordinary, but that golden streak pulsing behind his eyes was just creepy, and Harry held onto Snuffles for protection. The man looked shaken and confused, and he kept staring at the dog as if he'd seen a ghost. Harry wondered uneasily why Snuffles had reacted the way he did. Could the dog sense something he couldn't? Harry didn't feel right around this man either, to be honest. He smelled funny and Harry felt a strange urge to run, either toward the man or away from him. It was a terribly confusing feeling.

"Harry?" the stranger finally said in a soft voice that trembled a bit. "H-how are you?"

Harry's heart lurched uncomfortably and without thinking, he glared at the stranger. "Who're you?" he demanded. "How d'you know my name?"

The man smiled, looking kind of shy and nervous at the same time. He showed them his hands and the dog stopped its low, rumbling growl, but Snuffles stayed stiff and wary in Harry's arms. "My name is Remus Lupin," the man said, his voice still soft and gentle. "But …" he hesitated, and a strange look came over his face, which Harry noticed had three faint scars slashed across it. "You used to call me Uncle Moony," the man added softly.

Harry didn't know what happened next. The dog in his arms relaxed just a bit, but not much, but then it stiffened again with a snarl of alarm. Harry watched as the man stiffened and his brown eyes flooded with gold light. His scars seemed to blaze red suddenly, and the man flexed his hands as he stepped forward.

"Pup," the man rasped, his voice suddenly deeper and more hoarse. "You are mine," he rumbled, keeping his creepy golden eyes fixed on Harry's terrified face. "I have marked you under the Moon and now you are mine. Come to me, Pup!"

It's the Wolf! Harry screamed silently, too terrified to move as he suddenly realized the truth. He had not thought of his Wolf as also being human too, even though the Professor explained it all to him. But Harry's innermost feelings confirmed what this man said, if the sudden urge to throw himself on the ground in front of him was an indication. Such a strange and confusing urge caused him to tighten his arms around Snuffles, but he couldn't make a sound. Professor, help me! Harry wailed inwardly.

The Werewolf stepped forward suddenly and Harry finally broke the spell of those golden eyes. "NO!" he screamed and released Snuffles. The black dog blurred into action and Harry fell in the grass. The Werewolf snarled, showing his teeth, which suddenly seemed too large for a human mouth. Harry fought the urge to laugh hysterically. What big teeth you have! He thought in a terribly inappropriate burst of humour. Little Red Riding Hood had nothing on him, Harry thought wildly. He was going to be kidnapped and killed by a Werewolf! Where was his Professor when he needed him?!

The wolf-man stumbled suddenly, blinking and shaking his head, trembling where he stood. Snuffles bit him in the leg while he was distracted. The man yelled and fell backwards, kicking the dog in the ribs as he landed hard on his bottom. Snuffles yelped at the kick, but came back around for another bite, ripping open the man's sleeve before the fellow yanked a stick from his pocket and shouted something. A red light exploded and the dog yelped loudly, falling on his side several feet away. Harry sat staring at the Werewolf, terrified tears burning his eyes and dripping down his face. Snuffles was hurt or dead and Harry couldn't protect himself. He had never been so frightened before. His Wolf was here, had found him, and the Professor wasn't here to save him this time. He was going to die.

The Werewolf staggered to his feet, clutching his bleeding arm and favoring his leg. A red stain was spreading from his calf to his shoe and the sharp smell of blood was making Harry dizzy. An incoherent clamor in his head was making his brain ache.

"Pup?" the wolf/man gasped, sounding strained. His brown eyes were no longer completely gold, but they looked wild and terrifying with two colours battling for dominance in the irises. "Did I …?" the Werewolf choked. "Are you …?"

"D-don't kill m-me, please," Harry gasped, scrambling backwards, choking on his tears and hating himself for being so very afraid. "Don't b-bite me again, p-please!"

"A-again?" The man lurched, staggering back and looking like he was about to be sick. "Oh, H-Harry … n-no …" He moaned and grabbed his head. An inhuman howl ripped from the man's throat and he straightened up suddenly, his eyes solid gold again and his scars burning red in his face. "You can feel the pull, my pup," he growled, lunging forward and grabbing Harry roughly off the grass. "You must follow the Law of the Pack. You are coming with me."

"No, no!" Harry screamed, thrashing and fighting the man's powerful grip. His feet tore at the grass as the man dragged him effortlessly toward the back fence. "Snuffles, help!" Harry howled desperately, lowering his head and sinking his teeth into the man's wrist. The wolf/man snarled and hefted him up with one hand before sinking his own teeth into Harry's shoulder, drawing blood through his T-shirt. Harry's vision grew blurry at the pain, but before he could fight back or even scream, he was knocked violently to the ground. He could hear Snuffles snarling and growling, and the wolf-man snarled back. It was the most eerie thing he had ever heard, listening to a human throat make sounds like a rabid wolf. Harry wasted no time in scrambling to his feet and running for the shed, He threw the door shut and bolted it from the inside before he collapsed, shaking uncontrollably and unable to move or cry.

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Kill the threat! Padfoot's enraged mind bellowed. Kill the one who hurt my pup!

The Wolf was not fighting well. The Man inside would not let him. The two wills were clashing, and Padfoot knew that his job was to help the Wolf make the right decision, as it had always been. Moony's scent, the scent of possessive rage and obsession, filled the air along with the scent of Remus' blood. Padfoot roared and lunged for the man's throat. The Wolf twisted just in time and got the dog's teeth in his shoulder instead. The pain made the Man scream and fall to his knees, sobbing wildly. Padfoot knew then that the Wolf had exhausted itself. It was close to the Full Moon, but not close enough for the Wolf to continue with this battle. The dog could smell it the moment Moony retreated in defeat and Remus took his place. But Padfoot did not want to risk the Wolf rising again, and he did not let up his attack. Snapping and snarling, the big black dog chased the injured man out of the yard and up the street. What a sight they made, a tattered, blood-streaked professor-type fellow being chased down the sidewalk by an enraged black dog with blood on its mouth. He was sure that the muggles would be calling the police any moment and he would need to make himself scarce for a week at least, which was about as long as a human being could possibly stay focused on something odd like this. It grieved him to leave his pup when he was obviously hurt and distraught, but he needed to do this. He had things he needed to do to help Harry escape from that place he lived in, and he needed to chase Remus down and give him a good beating for daring to bite their pup. What in the world had Moony been thinking?!

Now, the strange scent that had lingered under the boy's skin, the smell he thought had just been fever and pain from illness or abuse, made sense. He had been smelling the Werewolf infection coursing through the child's bloodstream. After the next Full Moon, Padfoot knew that the scent would have been recognizable for what it was. He would have been able to tell that his pup was a Werewolf after the transformation. The thought of his little boy going through that torture every month for the rest of his life was almost more than he could bear, and he snarled and snapped at Remus' heels again, determined to rip Moony apart for what he did.

The Werewolf reached the nearby park and darted into the trees, leaving bloody footprints where the blood from his leg had dripped into and over his shoe. Lunging for a nice, big tree hidden from the main park, Remus scrambled up out of Padfoot's reach, and the big black dog growled angrily at the escape. The Werewolf was shaking with weariness and emotion as he pulled at his wrist with a very unsteady hand, keeping his anguished brown eyes locked onto Padfoot's furious blue eyes as he did so. The dog saw a flash of metal on the man's wrist and felt the rush of magical energy as a portkey was activated. With a loud whoosh, Remus vanished and Padfoot bayed his rage and slashed at the tree with his claws. He wasn't finished with that Werewolf yet!

Get back here, you coward! Answer for what you did to Harry!

But the scent of humans approaching made the dog finish his tantrum prematurely, and he slunk off into the trees, not bothering to follow the hiking trails. Padfoot escaped the animal control and police officers, and loped off in a random direction, following the road that opened before him. He knew he needed to get the boy out by the Full Moon or there would be terrible trouble. Sirius already had several ideas to help Harry escape, but to implement them, he would just have to hope that the little cottage Prongs had gifted him years ago still recognized him as the owner. Perhaps tonight, Padfoot ruminated, he would return to Harry to say a quick good-bye, and maybe inspect whatever damage Moony had inflicted with that disciplinary bite. But he would have to be sneaky if he didn't want to have to escape the local pound.

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The Portkey threw Remus Lupin on his face just outside the back door of his mountain cabin. He was not the best at making porting charms, so his landings were always a little rough. Normally, he didn't mind and the rough landings didn't bother him very much, but this time, feeling sick to his stomach already by what he had done, who he had hurt … he threw up violently, and heaved and retched even after his had finished emptying his stomach. Crying, shaking, still bleeding from the wounds Padfoot had inflicted, Remus Lupin screamed in emotional agony. His wolf was too exhausted to either fight him or join in, and for that, he was relieved. He was not sure what he would do if he felt the Wolf pushing at his mind and skin again. He might tear himself apart as the Wolf did to him every Full Moon.

How could he have done such a stupid thing? He had chosen to spend the Full Moon in a place where his Wolf could easily reach humans in the first place, and then he hadn't done something more drastic like spelling silver chains to hold himself that night. His Wolf had run free, angry and hungry, and had fallen upon an innocent child, poisoning and nearly killing him. Bad enough that he had just infected his first victim, but for that victim to be his little Harry, his precious cub … Remus screamed in horror and agony, burying his hands in his scalp as if he wanted to rip his own brain out. Choking on his tears, the Werewolf staggered to his feet, turned on his heel, and fled up into the wooded mountains, trying to lose the sick feeling of horror and disgust consuming his soul; his rage and self-hatred burning and devouring him until there was nothing left but grief.

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Petunia Dursley knew it had simply been a bad idea to let the new freak see Harry. Now the whole neighbourhood was talking about it and although nobody really knew that it had been her yard the noise had started at, she knew. And it was enough to make her face burn. So now, she was stuck here giving statements to police officers and trying to describe the strange black dog that had run off her unfortunate visitor to animal control, and Dudley was whining because they still weren't able to go on the shopping trip she'd promised him. Her own particular Freak was nowhere to be seen, but judging by the locked shed, he was probably hiding. She had a suspicion that the brat might have actually 'conjured' the dog to protect himself, since the officers trailed the dog to the park and then insisted that it disappeared. They had trailed her visitor there too by the blood he had left behind, but he vanished without a trace too. She wasn't surprised about that, but if the dog had been natural, they would have found something.

Vernon would deal with the brat later. For now, she had to smile pleasantly and act normal while insisting that she hadn't seen much out of her window. Once the officers and the animal control people were gone, she told Dudley to wait in the car while she locked the Freak up in the cupboard. Her son silently obeyed. He had been the one to call her when he saw Harry, the Freak from Dumbledore, and a strange dog all fighting in the backyard from the kitchen window. His delicate constitution was probably upset by all the violence, and of course her horrible nephew would pay for it. He did it on purpose, the vicious, freaky, little brat! Vernon would teach him a lesson for causing a scene and all this trouble. She marched to the shed and pounded on it with one bony fist.

"Open the door, brat," she hissed hatefully. "If you keep me locked out, I'll have your Uncle take it out of your hide, do you hear me?"

The bolt slid back at once and the door blew open, without anyone near it. Petunia's stomach curdled at the obvious display of magic. The smell of blood, mixed with the acrid odour of the different chemicals that were kept here in the shed, hit her as she peered into the shed. Her nephew was huddled in the back of the shed, curled up against the wall, staring at her with huge green eyes that almost seemed to glow feverishly in the gloom. One of the child's trembling hands was clamped over his shoulder near the collarbone and his blood was slowly leaking between his fingers. He was visibly shaking with fear and he was still crying silently, but didn't seem able to form any words.

"Get inside this instant," Petunia snapped, feeling no compassion whatsoever for her nearly-catatonic nephew. "You get to your cupboard and you stay there until Vernon comes home and he'll give you something to cry about!"

Harry trembled at her words and tried to get up. He whimpered in obvious pain and used his free hand to scrub at the tears still trickling down his face. "P-Professor," the boy sobbed and shut his eyes. "I w-want the Pro-Professor."

"Shut up!" Petunia hissed. "Shut up, you ungrateful, horrible, nasty little brat!" She marched into the shed and grabbed the boy by the ear. Harry whimpered softly, but he was careful to obey her and get up without getting his blood anywhere. "You're not getting any Professor, do you hear me? No one is going to rescue you this time; I made sure of that!" Petunia relished the look of horror and dread that washed over the boy's face. She relished how he helplessly looked up at her with his mother's eyes and believed every word she said. "That's right," Petunia smirked. "Snape won't be getting out of prison anytime soon after what he did to us. What sort of lies did you tell him? Hm?!" She held onto her nephew by the ear and slapped him hard with her other hand. He had no idea how terribly he had ruined her life, the Freak. He deserved this and so much more. Harry wept silently and wrapped his free arm around his head to protect himself, standing on tiptoe in pain. "Didn't you tell him what a disobedient, defiant, disrespectful, horrible child you are?" Petunia demanded, slapping the child again. "Did you tell him how your Uncle and I have tried to raise you right and teach you your place? Of course you didn't! Because you are an ungrateful, dishonest little brat and I wish your mother had done the right thing and gotten rid of you instead of bringing you into this world just to foist you off on me!"

She gave her nephew's ear a savage twist and dragged him roughly back to the house. The boy cried and stumbled after her, but he was quiet, she had to give him that. She had actually never heard a child weep as silently as he nephew did, but that was likely some twisted, freaky ploy to win her sympathy or pity. No normal boy could be so quiet and meek while they were being hit and shouted at. It was more proof, Petunia told herself, that the little Freak didn't truly care or feel it. He was different, and he deserved anything he got from her, because he made no effort to change. He was still a freak, like his parents before him, and the sooner he realized that and stopped causing her family so much trouble, the better.

She threw her nephew into the cupboard under the stairs and slammed it shut, turning the three locks and sliding the bolt for good measure. Back when he was little, the one lock was never enough. He would manage to get out, likely with his freaky power. She ignored the soft sounds of a child weeping in pain and left the house. She put her nephew from her mind and smiled lovingly at her own child, waiting impatiently in the car. Dudley ignored her when she greeted him, and he didn't even respond when she offered to stop for an ice cream, (or three) before they went shopping to make up for the delay. He just shrugged when she asked him where he would best like to eat out after they were done, and Petunia knew it had to be the Freak who caused this change in her precious little boy. It was all that horrible brat's fault that her Dudley was upset. It was Harry's doing; all of it. The horrible little Freak must have somehow set the dog on her beloved son last month and then told vicious lies to Snape to win his sympathy before he came back here, determined to cause nothing but trouble. She hated that messy-haired boy. She really, truly hated him, and she was going to make certain he paid for his tricks tonight. Vernon would enjoy being given free reign over the hated brat.

Sighing and promising her listless son a special treat at the mall to perk him up, Petunia turned onto the main road toward the town, trying her best not to dwell on bitter thoughts of her Freakish nephew and his deplorable behaviour.

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It was quite dark, and Padfoot was exhausted, as he finally loped up Privet Drive and hopped over the fence into number 4's front yard. The big dog panted after his long run today and his empty belly gurgled. Padfoot had just realized, as he hunched in an alley behind a big garbage bin, that the Dursleys would likely punish Harry for the disturbance in their perfect little neighbourhood, if the boy's stories were anything to go by. Harry had confided in 'Snuffles' about his Aunt and Uncle's hatred of magic, freakishness, and himself in particular, and Sirius had fought valiantly against the enraged urge to just snatch up his godson and run off, never looking back. But he needed to do this right. He had spent years plotting escape routes from Azkaban when the Dementors gave him a break. Surely he could be patient for a week to work out all the details and get Harry away from here for good. But now that he knew his pup was a Werewolf, and that it was Moony who did it, he needed to be even more careful. It was extremely likely that Dumbledore already knew and had special tracking charms in place already. The Full Moon was coming and Padfoot was pretty sure that someone would be coming to fetch Harry away to keep him in a safe location for his transformation. He couldn't imagine the Dursleys allowing the boy to stay with them if they had an inkling of how much danger they could be in. There were now even more concerns to consider and Padfoot was just too tired to think anymore. He was heartsick and terrified, but he was loyal to his boy. He couldn't leave, even for a few days to fetch supplies and a wand, without saying good-bye.

The dog crept up to the house and his sharp ears caught raised voices. There were other noises as well that made the animagus' skin crawl with dread. He could hear muffled screams, like those of a child shrieking into a pillow or around a mouth full of cloth. He could hear the sounds of violence and a man and woman raising their voices in hateful anger. Padfoot whined and scraped at the back door, but he knew that he couldn't raise a racket. Or he knew he shouldn't, anyway. The police would come, or the animal controllers, and he wouldn't be able to help Harry! They would take him and find out who he really was and then he would be Kissed for sure. He couldn't think straight anymore and he simply started to growl as the horrible noises inside the house went on, and he butted his head against the door. His pup needed him. The boy was being hurt. Padfoot needed to get in and he needed to get in NOW!

The violent noises of leather striking flesh and blows that were coming from inside stopped suddenly, but he could still hear the raised voices, scolding and insulting in the same breath. He had heard such rebukes before from his own 'loving' family, and the thought of his pup being subjected to such emotional torture was more than he could bear. Padfoot howled. He threw back his great head and howled at the waxing moon. He howled his rage and loss and grief. He howled to let his pup know he was here and hurting with him and would do anything to get a chance to rip Harry's fat Uncle to pieces, or to snap his skinny Aunt's neck, to protect his boy from further hurt.

He howled until the back door crashed open and he was looking down the barrel of a shotgun, held by the fat Uncle. The dog snarled and prepared to leap on his godson's torturer, but he didn't know about the shotgun. He didn't know enough to be afraid of it. Padfoot didn't even know what a gun was until it exploded in his face with a noise like thunder. Unbelievable pain slammed into his shoulder and the force of it threw him head over heels in the grass. The dog howled in shock and pain, but he prepared to get up anyway and kill that fat bastard. He was going to rip Harry's uncle apart until the pieces were too small to be scraped up! But a screaming voice from inside the house made him stop.

"Run, Snuffles, run!" Harry screamed desperately. "Run, please! Uncle Vernon, don't!" The child's voice was suddenly muffled and the dog obediently turned to run. The weapon exploded behind him again and the dog whimpered in terror as he wriggled under the fence and fled through another yard that was crawling with honeysuckle vines. Loud sirens sounded in the neighbourhood and the lights of the police vehicles flashed blindingly as they came toward Privet Drive.

Padfoot limped as far and as fast as he could away from this nightmare. He was half-insane with fear and worry and grief and pain. He couldn't think and he couldn't reason. The dog's instincts of self-preservation took over and he let them pull him away from everything. He needed to find somewhere to rest and clear his head before he made another foolish mistake like that. But Padfoot was determined now. He was going to kidnap his pup if it was the last thing he ever did.

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The big reveal!

Now Harry knows, and Remus knows, and Sirius knows, all about the night of the Full Moon ... but what will happen when Snape finds out? Oh boy. I haven't even written that scene yet, but I have a few ideas, not to worry. I hope to make that a very dramatic chapter.

Thank you all for your support and for loving this story so much! Happy New Year and may 2021 be better by far than 2020!

Although, I have covid to thank for this story, so I guess 2020 was useful after all. I started writing Child of the Dark Moon because I was so bored being locked down. ;)

Anyway, tell me what you all think!