Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter(yet), and I am not profiting off of him in any way… If anything, I'm losing money to the bastard, as I'm forced to continue buying books and movies and blatant merchandising because he put those friggin' spells IN his books to control all the world's muggles… But one day he may belong to me, and perhaps then I will put him in one of my Camden Town whorehouses and rent him out a shilling a time… THEN the profits will be rolling in, and finally, finally, I will be able to afford my own leather bound copies of the original British HP novels! HA! GO ME!

'Nother disclaimer-I don't own To Rule Them All2 or Jekyll and Hyde The Musical either.

A/N-Well, just to screw with your microscopic little minds, I've decided to put this part first, depite the fact that this comes after the next scene.  Don't worry, other than general timeline placements, it won't give away anything, but yeah… heh, now you still have to wait to find out exactly what's wrong with Siri-Baby!

Sick as a Dog, Part 5

*Meanwhile, at the Hogs Head Pub…*
"Look, I HAVE to get in there!  It's an emergency!" Ron said to the guy at the entrance.

"You ain't on the list, you ain't getting' in!" The ugly, troll-like man said.
"You don't get it!" Ron cried angrily, "A guy who's in there, his friend is dying, and he needs to know!"
"You ain't on the list, you ain't getting in!" Was the reply.

"CAN YOU SAY ANYTHING ELSE?!??" Ron burst angrily.

"You ain't on the list, you ain't getting in!"
"AUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHH!"

A middle-aged woman poked her head out, and looked at Ron.  "Don't mind him.  Are you here for the conference?"
"No, I'm trying to get in to…"
"Are you a werewolf?" The woman asked, cutting him off.

"What? No, but listen,  I need to get in…"
"OY! I found someone who can handle our silver sickles and pay for our drinks!" The woman yelled into the room, and was met with loud cheering.

Ron was dragged in, and tried to explain his purpose, but people were holding out their purses and pouches for him to take their sickles. "They won't take that many knuts, and they can't change galleons." An elderly man explained as he dumped his changepurse's contents into Ron's hands.
Ron, who didn't want to risk his mortality by defying a group of drunk werewolves, was forced to pay for their drinks one by one, but continued to scan the crowd for Remus Lupin.  It was a good hour from when they'd originally heard the howls to when Ron finally found the man, leaning back in a chair and chatting idly with a man about 20 years older than him.
"Ah, me lad, I wasn'a in me right mind at the time, o'course, we did'na have the treatments…"
"I don't blame you, my good man, I shouldn't have been in that part of the woods anyway.  Poster child of "Why to listen to your children," eh?" Remus said, holding up his butterbeer bottle.
"Professor Lupin!" Ron cried in relief.

"…Ron? What are you doing here? You're not a…"
"Professor, we have to go!" Ron burst, "It's Snuffles!"
"Yes, I stopped and spoke with him last night.  You lot were right, he's looking rather peaked, but I don't know what I can…"
"We heard him screaming!" Ron cut him off, "We were on the road, and we could hear his howls from the house!  It's something bad, Professor!"
Lupin was up in an instant, and the two ran out of the pub, much to the disappointment of the crowd.  "'Ooos' going to pay for our drinks, then?!?"

A/N-Remember, the next part happens before this.  Not after, before.  Do you think you can handle that?