Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Doesn't mean I won't poke them with
sticks for my own amusement, though. And the title belongs to Metallica's
song.
Notes: I'm glad that so many like my idea! Thank you for reviewing and keep them coming! It helps me to get off my butt and write in the little free time I have, instead of vegging on the couch.
~*~*~*~
Of Wolf and Man
~*~*~*~
Harry didn't go to his classes at all that day. He lay in the infirmary until lunch, when Dobby appeared with a tray of food. Harry picked at it while Dobby sat nearby, eager to do what he could for the injured Harry. Dobby obviously hadn't heard what had attacked Harry, but Harry didn't bother to tell him.
After he forced down some food to satisfy the motherly house-elf, Madam Pomfrey came and shooed Dobby off. Dobby told Harry to call him if he needed anything, and Harry promised he would. Madam Pomfrey removed Harry's bandages and inspected the wounds. They had all healed, as she had predicted, and all that was left were a few pink scars that would fade with time. Free to leave, Harry trudged from the hospital wing with no clear goal in mind.
He looked at the familiar scenes around him as he walked abjectly to Gryffindor Tower. Hogwarts was his home, as known to him as his own reflection. The portraits watched him pass and some waved merrily, which he ignored. How could everything be so different, and yet so the same?
Harry was almost to the common room without having run into anyone when the school bell rang. Harry swore silently as students began to file into the corridor, heading to wherever they had to go. Harry tried to look inconsequential and invisible, but without his cloak (and he realized he had no idea what had happened to it) it was impossible. People paused as they saw him and whispered to others, rumors flew about what had happened to him.
Neville and Dean appeared from the crowd, concern written on their faces.
Harry cringed inwardly. They didn't know. Dumbledore was right. They didn't know and they wouldn't know unless he told them. And he should, for they had a right to know. But then they would fear him, and hate him.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Neville asked. "We heard about the attack!"
"Yeah Harry, what happened? What attacked you?" Dean echoed.
Harry fidgeted slightly. "I'm fine," he said softly, avoiding eye contact. "I... I was... that is..." What was he going to tell them? That he was attacked by a werewolf while out of bed after hours? That he was a werewolf now too? That every month he was going to transform into a raging beast bent on killing them all?
"No," he said to himself.
"What's that?" Neville asked, having not quite heard. Harry looked up at all the faces, crowding together, surrounding him, watching intently for news from their savior... a monster. Harry shook his head, turned, and bolted, shoving rudely past some people and fleeing desperately down the hall. Behind him he could hear the worried shouts of Neville and Dean.
-You don't understand,- he thought desperately. -I can't tell you, I can't. I... I can't tell anyone.- Tears misted his eyes and he squeezed them shut to block out the emotions overwhelming him. Panic, despair, and a sudden loneliness he had not experienced for a long time.
He wished Sirius was there. Sirius would understand, and he wouldn't hate him. After all, Remus had been one of Sirius' best friends for ages and Remus was also a werewolf.
Harry rounded a corner still in mid-flight and ran headlong in a very solid something and bounced back off. He shook his head and righted his crooked glasses before looking up from his new position on the floor to see what he had hit. Above him a familiar scowl and pair of flashing black eyes glared down at him.
"P-Professor Snape!" Harry gasped. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going..." Behind him, Harry noticed two figures coming up the hall. One had blazing red hair and the other had bushy brown.
"Then perhaps you should pay more attention, Potter," Snape drawled in his most dangerous voice. "Come with me."
Snape began to walk back the way Harry had come and the young Gryffindor scrambled to his feet and followed after, grateful for the excuse to avoid Ron and Hermione. He didn't want them to know, either. And he didn't think he'd be able to lie to them. He followed the black-robed figure as he swept through the corridors, students leaping aside for him to pass, and none called out to Harry.
The teacher and the student slowly descended deeper into the recesses of the castle until Harry realized that they must be going to the dungeons, although he couldn't remember ever having come this way before. The air turned cold and biting, and Harry repressed a shiver. Why was Snape bringing him down here? He hadn't had very good experiences with werewolves before, after Lupin had almost killed him that one time, but did he hate all werewolves?
"Honestly, Potter," Snape said suddenly. Harry jerked his head up, confused. "Do you have any idea how stupid it was of you to go traipsing through the grounds at night? The rules are there for a very good reason. But I guess you thought you were above that, didn't you?" Harry looked down at his feet, watching them carry him on. "Not so high and mighty now, are we Wolf Boy?"
Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He could feel a hatred surge up from his chest, and he glared at the greasy-haired man before him. Snape halted as well and turned back to face his pupil. Harry fairly shook with rage at the sneer Snape kept giving him.
"What's wrong, Potter? Did I make you angry?"
"Shut-up," Harry hissed. "Just shut-up."
"Now, that isn't a very nice thing to say to me. After all, you and I are going to be spending a lot of 'quality time' together," he spat. "The Headmaster thinks it would be best for you to stay with me in my quarters during the three days of the full moon. Even with the Wolfsbane Potion, you will be in no condition to be around other people during that time." Snape looked less the pleased with the prospect of sharing his rooms with anyone, much less the Golden Boy.
"There's no way I'm staying with you," Harry growled.
"Alright then," Snape said in his silky smooth voice he used when the trap was about to close. "Go back to your dormitory. Go and sleep in your own warm bed. And when you wake up in the morning bathed in your little friends' blood, don't come to me."
Harry swallowed hard. His rage slipped away, forgotten at the horror of the thought Snape had presented to him.
If he didn't do as Snape said... He would most likely kill Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean all without a second thought. Only he wouldn't know he had done it, it would still be more blood on his hands. He shuddered. -Besides,- he thought to himself, -Dumbledore thought I should stay with Snape. He must have his reasons...-
Harry nodded slowly, acknowledging this horrid fact. He didn't look up, but he knew Snape was smirking at him. And he wanted to bite him for it.
-No! NO! I don't want to bite anybody!!- he cried mentally. -I'm not a monster!-
"Then come on. Your cloak is in my office. You'll need it to slip out to the Whomping Willow tonight." He turned and began walking again. Harry scrambled to catch up, and fell back into step behind. "You're staying in the Shrieking Shack tonight, Potter. This is the last night of the full moon, so it's only for tonight. Next month I will start giving you the Wolfsbane potion. I would do it tonight, but it wouldn't do any good, as it needs to be taken a week in advance." Harry nodded dumbly and followed.
He hadn't thought about tonight being another full moon. He hadn't thought about the actual transformation, which he remembered Lupin telling him that it was very painful. Harry wrapped his arms around himself, shaking more from fear and anxiety than the cold of the dungeons.
~*~*~*~
Notes: I'm glad that so many like my idea! Thank you for reviewing and keep them coming! It helps me to get off my butt and write in the little free time I have, instead of vegging on the couch.
~*~*~*~
Of Wolf and Man
~*~*~*~
Harry didn't go to his classes at all that day. He lay in the infirmary until lunch, when Dobby appeared with a tray of food. Harry picked at it while Dobby sat nearby, eager to do what he could for the injured Harry. Dobby obviously hadn't heard what had attacked Harry, but Harry didn't bother to tell him.
After he forced down some food to satisfy the motherly house-elf, Madam Pomfrey came and shooed Dobby off. Dobby told Harry to call him if he needed anything, and Harry promised he would. Madam Pomfrey removed Harry's bandages and inspected the wounds. They had all healed, as she had predicted, and all that was left were a few pink scars that would fade with time. Free to leave, Harry trudged from the hospital wing with no clear goal in mind.
He looked at the familiar scenes around him as he walked abjectly to Gryffindor Tower. Hogwarts was his home, as known to him as his own reflection. The portraits watched him pass and some waved merrily, which he ignored. How could everything be so different, and yet so the same?
Harry was almost to the common room without having run into anyone when the school bell rang. Harry swore silently as students began to file into the corridor, heading to wherever they had to go. Harry tried to look inconsequential and invisible, but without his cloak (and he realized he had no idea what had happened to it) it was impossible. People paused as they saw him and whispered to others, rumors flew about what had happened to him.
Neville and Dean appeared from the crowd, concern written on their faces.
Harry cringed inwardly. They didn't know. Dumbledore was right. They didn't know and they wouldn't know unless he told them. And he should, for they had a right to know. But then they would fear him, and hate him.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Neville asked. "We heard about the attack!"
"Yeah Harry, what happened? What attacked you?" Dean echoed.
Harry fidgeted slightly. "I'm fine," he said softly, avoiding eye contact. "I... I was... that is..." What was he going to tell them? That he was attacked by a werewolf while out of bed after hours? That he was a werewolf now too? That every month he was going to transform into a raging beast bent on killing them all?
"No," he said to himself.
"What's that?" Neville asked, having not quite heard. Harry looked up at all the faces, crowding together, surrounding him, watching intently for news from their savior... a monster. Harry shook his head, turned, and bolted, shoving rudely past some people and fleeing desperately down the hall. Behind him he could hear the worried shouts of Neville and Dean.
-You don't understand,- he thought desperately. -I can't tell you, I can't. I... I can't tell anyone.- Tears misted his eyes and he squeezed them shut to block out the emotions overwhelming him. Panic, despair, and a sudden loneliness he had not experienced for a long time.
He wished Sirius was there. Sirius would understand, and he wouldn't hate him. After all, Remus had been one of Sirius' best friends for ages and Remus was also a werewolf.
Harry rounded a corner still in mid-flight and ran headlong in a very solid something and bounced back off. He shook his head and righted his crooked glasses before looking up from his new position on the floor to see what he had hit. Above him a familiar scowl and pair of flashing black eyes glared down at him.
"P-Professor Snape!" Harry gasped. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going..." Behind him, Harry noticed two figures coming up the hall. One had blazing red hair and the other had bushy brown.
"Then perhaps you should pay more attention, Potter," Snape drawled in his most dangerous voice. "Come with me."
Snape began to walk back the way Harry had come and the young Gryffindor scrambled to his feet and followed after, grateful for the excuse to avoid Ron and Hermione. He didn't want them to know, either. And he didn't think he'd be able to lie to them. He followed the black-robed figure as he swept through the corridors, students leaping aside for him to pass, and none called out to Harry.
The teacher and the student slowly descended deeper into the recesses of the castle until Harry realized that they must be going to the dungeons, although he couldn't remember ever having come this way before. The air turned cold and biting, and Harry repressed a shiver. Why was Snape bringing him down here? He hadn't had very good experiences with werewolves before, after Lupin had almost killed him that one time, but did he hate all werewolves?
"Honestly, Potter," Snape said suddenly. Harry jerked his head up, confused. "Do you have any idea how stupid it was of you to go traipsing through the grounds at night? The rules are there for a very good reason. But I guess you thought you were above that, didn't you?" Harry looked down at his feet, watching them carry him on. "Not so high and mighty now, are we Wolf Boy?"
Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He could feel a hatred surge up from his chest, and he glared at the greasy-haired man before him. Snape halted as well and turned back to face his pupil. Harry fairly shook with rage at the sneer Snape kept giving him.
"What's wrong, Potter? Did I make you angry?"
"Shut-up," Harry hissed. "Just shut-up."
"Now, that isn't a very nice thing to say to me. After all, you and I are going to be spending a lot of 'quality time' together," he spat. "The Headmaster thinks it would be best for you to stay with me in my quarters during the three days of the full moon. Even with the Wolfsbane Potion, you will be in no condition to be around other people during that time." Snape looked less the pleased with the prospect of sharing his rooms with anyone, much less the Golden Boy.
"There's no way I'm staying with you," Harry growled.
"Alright then," Snape said in his silky smooth voice he used when the trap was about to close. "Go back to your dormitory. Go and sleep in your own warm bed. And when you wake up in the morning bathed in your little friends' blood, don't come to me."
Harry swallowed hard. His rage slipped away, forgotten at the horror of the thought Snape had presented to him.
If he didn't do as Snape said... He would most likely kill Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean all without a second thought. Only he wouldn't know he had done it, it would still be more blood on his hands. He shuddered. -Besides,- he thought to himself, -Dumbledore thought I should stay with Snape. He must have his reasons...-
Harry nodded slowly, acknowledging this horrid fact. He didn't look up, but he knew Snape was smirking at him. And he wanted to bite him for it.
-No! NO! I don't want to bite anybody!!- he cried mentally. -I'm not a monster!-
"Then come on. Your cloak is in my office. You'll need it to slip out to the Whomping Willow tonight." He turned and began walking again. Harry scrambled to catch up, and fell back into step behind. "You're staying in the Shrieking Shack tonight, Potter. This is the last night of the full moon, so it's only for tonight. Next month I will start giving you the Wolfsbane potion. I would do it tonight, but it wouldn't do any good, as it needs to be taken a week in advance." Harry nodded dumbly and followed.
He hadn't thought about tonight being another full moon. He hadn't thought about the actual transformation, which he remembered Lupin telling him that it was very painful. Harry wrapped his arms around himself, shaking more from fear and anxiety than the cold of the dungeons.
~*~*~*~