Nightmare.
As Remus Lupin slowly made his way across the ground, pallid, bony hands clutching his stomach, he couldn't help but wonder where his friends were. Normally they were a short distance behind him, but the other three Marauders were nowhere to be found.
"O God…" he moaned weakly, his knees buckling. He dropped, tears streaming out of his grey, tired eyes. Eyes that were sick of the body they were in. But Remus was sick of himself. Self-loathing was a man he was well acquainted with, oh yes.
Of course, these feelings were due to the fact that he was a werewolf.
Worse than having to tell your parents you're gay.
Or having them say you're adopted.
Worse than being pregnant in high school.
This was a horrible secret. A demon.
He was now literally dragging himself across the dew-bubbled, wet, cold grass, his nails digging into the ground, collecting dirt under them. Then, looming over his head was his savior.
Smiling weakly, he pressed the knot on the bottom of the Whomping Willow, and clambered inside, and not a moment too soon, for he was already beginning to feel his eyesight growing more and more precise. Another burst of pain, and he shouted, throwing himself against the wall of the tunnel.
"SON OF A BITCH!!" his voice echoed in the ground, as he fell roughly again, dropping to his knees and clutching his chest, only to let go quickly after, as his newly grown, yellow claws were digging into his skin, making little crimson beads of blood, which streamed down his front.
He wondered once again where his friends were, and his worry began to form into anger, as his feelings erased, only to be replaced with nothing but a horrible, carnivorous madness. A moment of clarity returned, and he continued down the tunnel, panting and watching the hair on his arms begin to grow rapidly, like watching something in fast-forward. Letting out one last moan as a human, Lupin dived into the Shrieking Shack, his ears becoming those of a dog. A wolf. In his opinion, a monster.
Meanwhile, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew were dashing as fast as they could across the grounds, Sirius and James each holding one of Peter's chunky arms, as he was not nearly as fast as either of them.
Dodging behind a tree, they each transformed.
Wormtail sat on the graceful back of Prongs as he galloped to the Willow, dodging the branches with majestic speed. Padfoot followed suit.
Stopping abruptly, Wormtail was thrown off of Prongs' back, and into a small pile of leaves. He scurried over to the knot and pressed it with one of his tiny hands, and waited for his friends to go in before he did.
Padfoot slid in, a clump of dirt falling on his wet nose. He shook it off.
Prongs followed, making sure his antlers didn't get in the way.
Wormtail came in after, and clump of dirt fell on his nose, as well. He didn't react as well as his canine friend. With a loud sneeze, he turned back into his human form.
"James! Sirius! Help me, I'm stuck on something!" he pleaded, reaching out a hand and trying to move his foot, with no prevail. His shoelace had tangled with an emerged root.
"Damn! Come on, we have to help Peter!" said Sirius, back in his human form. Prongs nodded, and morphed back into James.
They each grabbed one of Pettigrew's arms, for the second time that night.
"On the count of three, pull as hard as you can," instructed James, shaking a few strands of raven hair out of his eyes.
"Right," replied Sirius gruffly.
"O GOD HURRY PLEASE!!" wailed Peter, bawling.
"We are, be patient!" James said, and he began his countdown.
But nobody else was pulling with him. Peter was still in hysterics, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"SIRIUS, HELP ME!" shouted James.
"James…" Sirius pointed down the tunnel, his eyes wide with fright. Sirius Black's eyes hardly ever did that. This fact made James turn swiftly, and gasp.
There, standing three feet away from them was a werewolf, its yellow, bloodthirsty fangs bared, a strand of saliva dangling from the corner of the beast's mouth. With a snarl, it lunged for the trio.