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Harry returned to school a few days later.
The official story that had been given out to the school was that Harry and Professor Sprout had been attacked by a some of the creatures that lurked in the Forest, pretty much true, while in their on a detention. Of course, rumours abounded about what had really happened. Popular ones included an attack by 'You-Know-Who or his Death Eaters, even if there was no Dark Mark to be seen.
The Hufflepuffs walked the corridors quietly, often red eyed, and even the Slytherins refrained from mentioning the subject to them, out of respect for them having lost two members of their house in such a short space of time. A new head of House had yet to be chosen and until then the heads of the other three Houses were splitting the work between them.
Harry was once again being avoided in the corridors, people skirting him and whispering behind their hands. In a way he was glad to be left alone, and even Ron and Hermione seemed to be avoiding him. Memories of the attack haunted him, repeating themselves in his dreams nightly. He began spending more and more time in the library, burying himself in books about werewolves.
Harry winced as he placed the latest in a long line of books back on its shelf, ignoring Madam Pince's stare on the back of his neck and selected another one. The book that he had just replaced had devoted three chapters to the 'fact' that werewolves were only animals, that they were innately violent and that the only magic they were capable of performing were the Dark Arts. 'But Professor Lupin isn't like that,' he told himself firmly. 'And so it's not true.' That was Harry's answer to many of the things that were said about werewolves.
Harry sighed and sank down into one of the chairs provided for reading. He wished that he could talk to Lupin, to talk to someone who really knew what it was like to be a werewolf, not what some bigots wrote in books.
Harry stared down at the book resting in his hands, eyes tracing the leather working inscribed in the front cover. It was scary. Scary to read about the amount o hate wizards felt towards werewolves… to him. Harry closed his eyes. Great he thought bitterly. Not only am I a parseltongue, I'm also a werewolf. To reasons for people to hate me, not to mention the fact that four people have died because of me and I helped Voldemort return.
Someone sat down next to him and he looked up startled. He hardly needed to. He recognised Ron's smell at once and he shivered at this reminder at what he was. Ron was looking at him in concern.
"Are you alright, Harry?" he asked.
"Of course," Harry replied, forcing a smile.
"Well you don't look it," Hermione said bluntly as she sat down on his other side. Her expression softened in concern and she rested a hand on his shoulder. "We're worried about you, Harry," she said quietly. "You know you can always talk to us."
"Yeah Harry," Ron added, "We're your best friends. It was too much. The waves of concern and love coming off them both were too much and Harry broke down, crying. Hermione put her hands around him, hugging him.
"She's dead," Harry whispered. "I didn't save her."
"You couldn't have done, Harry." Ron said quietly. "You did all you could." Harry just cried, for the first time since he had realised what he now was, he cried as Hermione hugged him gently and Ron spoke encouraging words. 'But she's dead he thought in anguish. I 'm a werewolf and Professor Sprout is still dead! I couldn't save her, I couldn't save Cedric, no matter what I did! But he drew strength from his friends. They were there. They wouldn't abandon him.
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Someone was screaming. Harry turned desperately. Where was she? She sounded so frightened… Then he saw her.
"Hermione!" he yelled. He tried to run towards her but she backed away, a look of terror on her face. He paused. "Hermione?" he asked uncertainly. She tripped and fell, he bent forward automatically to help her but she pressed herself back against the wall and pointed an accusing finger at him.
"He's a werewolf!" she shrieked. Harry stumbled back, feeling as if he had been struck a physical blow. He turned to one side and saw Ron standing there.
"Ron!" he said desperately, stepping towards him pleadingly. Ron stepped back, anger and hate clear on his face.
"Get away from me, werewolf!" he spat. Harry froze.
"Ron," he whispered, "I'm still Harry!" Ron's expression didn't soften.
"You're a werewolf," he said coldly.
"A Dark Creature." Hermione had come up behind him.
"Please," Harry pleaded helplessly, not sure what he was asking for. Then he looked up. The full moon was riding high above. He felt the moon's pull on the beast inside him, as inexorable and unstoppable as the tides. In terror he looked back at his friends.
"Run!" he screamed. Hermione's face softened and she stepped forward.
"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly. "Tell us."
"Yeah, Harry," Ron stepped up next to her. "What is it?" Harry watched them, horror running through him.
"No!" he screamed at the uncaring moon but the change was coming and the wolf erupted out of his skin and he sprung at his friends and their screams mingled as his claws ripped through their flesh and his own screams faded under the howls of Dark Joy of the wolf and his friends… He looked down and he was human but his friends broken bodies lay in a pool of their own lifeblood and their blood was on his hands and he was screaming…
"Harry! Harry!" Harry's eyes flew open and he looked up into Ron's concerned face.
"Ron," he whispered. He was panting and shaking, his bed covers twisted around him.
"Are you alright?" Ron asked. "You were screaming." Harry glanced around. Neville, Dean and Seamus were sitting up, looking over at him, faces rather pale. He took in a deep breath and let it out shakily.
"I'm alright," he told them, "I'm sorry I woke you." He wiped his forehead, trying to ignore Ron's worried gaze. It was damp with sweat.
"Are you sure?" Ron's gaze still rested on him. His voice dropped. "Your scar doesn't hurt?" Harry shook his head weakly.
"No," he said softly. "Just an ordinary nightmare." Ron gave him a doubtful look but nodded reluctantly.
"Ok," he said. "But you could try getting some of that Dreamless Sleep potion from Madam Pomfrey." Harry yawned wearily.
"No," he explained, "It can be addictive if you use it to much." Ron looked at him in a way that was asking, 'and how do you know that?' Harry didn't feel like coming up with yet another lie, and he certainly couldn't tell Ron that Madam Pomfrey had told him so after he had begged for something to stop the dreams every night, so kept silent. Ron sighed.
"All right, well…" he seemed about to say something and then stopped. "Good night,"
"Night," Harry agreed, settling back down onto his bed and closing his eyes. He could hear the others getting back into their beds. He could even hear their breathing slowing, their hearts settling into a steady rhythm. He gritted his teeth, forcing back the thought that came to him from the darkness in the depths of his mind, the thought that they were now vulnerable to attack. That was what terrified him. The tiny pieces of evidence, the enhanced senses and speed, the thoughts of a killing beast… All those little things that proved to him that the Wolf was inside him all the time.
Harry could feel Ron's piercing gaze on him, he was the only one in the dormitory who had not dropped back of to sleep. Harry knew that Ron and Hermione suspected there was something wrong with him, though for the most part they were too deeply involved in each other as they tried to work out if a relationship was possible without them killing each other. And Harry was thankful for that. He didn't want them to know what he now was.
'But why?' he asked himself now. "Why don't you just tell them what has happened to you?' Harry sighed softly. He knew why. The dream he had just had proved it. Every time he allowed himself to think, to imagine telling them… he couldn't help remembering the prejudice infecting the wizarding community as a whole, the shrieking shack, when they had condemned Lupin… It would kill him to have them turn that on himself. But not any more, he tried helplessly to convince himself. They accept him now. And yet… Harry felt bile rising in the back of his throat as he remembered the last scene of his dream. Remembered their screams, the blood… They're safer he told himself firmly. Safer not knowing, so I- so I can't hurt them. Harry felt tears prickling at his eyes. Just until Sirius and Lupin get back he told himself. I just have to hold on till then….
