Lesson Thirteen: No Turning Back

The smell of stiff yellow-paged books surrounded them as they situated themselves in the middle of their dormitory floor. They sat in a circle facing each other, each with a book in their hands.

James stared at the two in front of him, registering their faces, capturing every moment of what each felt was going to be a landmark in their young lives. He felt the soft binding of the book that was in his own hands before he spoke.

"We did it. Granted it did take us some rustling up our guts to actually check the books out, but we did it," he smiled at his mates, "and when we open these books we have to promise each other that there's no backing out."

He gave them each a level glance, "None, we're in this till the end. For good or bad. This is for Remus." James then opened the book he had in his hands.

Sirius quickly followed suit, "For Remus."

He looked over at Peter, who merely glanced down at the book in his hands, mulling over what James had said and then, finally, opened his too. "For Remus," he mumbled.

Remus stepped into the Shrieking Shack as the town folk of Hogsmeade had so kindly dubbed. He looked around at the beaten interior, which was even worse off now than it had been last month. He walked over to the living room and examined the empty fireplace as he pulled the blanket Madam Pomfrey had left him tightly around his body.

He could see his breath in the dark room as what little sun was left of the day filtered through the snow-covered windows. He was tempted to light a fire with some of the broken pieces of an old wooden chair that was sprawled haphazardly in a corner, merely feet away from where its partnered desk was, but he knew better than to try. It was better to be cold. Most likely the beast would try to hurl itself into the flames anyway, leaving Remus with the pain to deal with for the week that followed. It was hardly worth the risk for a few minutes of warmth whilst he was still harmless.

So instead of following his human instincts of survival, he merely sat on the beaten couch and stared at the empty fireplace imagining the warmth of flames within the void. The couch was comfy but as he sat, waiting for the worst to come, he couldn't help but wonder why Dumbledore had even bothered to furnish the place. Granted the sounds of crashing furniture filtering through the village late at night did cast some overshadowing rumors of ghosts and goblins but overall, to him, it seemed more of a waste of money than anything else.

He sighed deeply, casting his more cynical thoughts aside and turned his full attention back to the imaginary flames, as he waited patiently for the full moon to do its dastardly work upon him.

"Hey, guys, look at this."

James tore himself away from his reading and looked up at Sirius. Sirius moved his legs out from underneath him and repositioned his body so everyone could see what he'd found. Peter moved in closer after James had moved to Sirius' right side.

He looked at the book only to see a chart spanning the two pages that were open to him. "What's that?"

Sirius smiled at his friend. "You know how the transformation is based off of personality?" James nodded, "This chart gives you an idea of what you might turn into based on personality and looks. For example: you have glasses, so odds are you may have round markings around your eyes."

"So, I just read that too, that doesn't really deal with what kind of animal I'd be."

Sirius groaned, "No, it doesn't, but here, I'll do me. Quick throw out some things to describe me."

James smiled swiftly and looked over at Peter who appeared to be thinking the same thing. "Well, you're stubborn." James offered first.

"Don't have a conscious."

Sirius glared at Peter, "I do too. It just tends to kick in after I do something."

"You're smart." James continued.

"Brave."

"Clever."

"A smart-ass."

"Easily entertained."

Sirius shot James a glare before he stopped Peter from continuing on with their colorful adjectives. "Thanks guys, I feel loved now."

"Yes, well, you're a good friend." James said quickly, "don't forget that."

Sirius shoved James over, pushing him onto the floor with a chuckle. "Lame." He muttered, as he followed what they said down the chart. "Hmm, most of it leads to a dog."

He smiled once more, "Either a Black Lab or a Great Dane. Maybe I'll be a hybrid-dog-freak-thing."

James laughed, "Yes, because we all want to be hybrid freak-things."

Sirius punched him on the shoulder once more, then, he flipped the page to the other pages of the ongoing chart, carefully seeing if he had missed anything. When he found that he hadn't, he looked back up at James.

"You want to see what you'll be?"

James felt his face light up, "Yeah."

Sirius smiled widely and handed the book over to James as he skimmed over some of the traits that he thought he had. But then, he quickly concluded that it's easy to assess oneself but odds were that they wouldn't do an accurate job. "Give me some traits." He stated with a smile.

Sirius laughed, "You're a leader."

Remus' body went rigid as the moon's white light glistened through the window behind him. He could feel his heart beat speed up as his chest jutted forward and his knees popped forward, forcing him off of the couch and onto the rough wooden floor.

He cried out in pain as sweat began to run down his face. Once again he was destined to lose his battle with the beast. He felt hot tears of both fear and pain drip down his cheeks as they lurched forward, morphing quickly into a face much unlike his own. A face that belonged to the beast within. The face that he tried so desperately to hide from the world.

His cries echoed within the small building. Slowly escalating, as pleas of a young boy melted into the horrifyingly frantic yelps of an injured animal… the hidden beast…

And Remus J. Lupin was left behind in the madness.

"A stag?"

"Or an owl – but you only scored three for that." Sirius commented bluntly at the disappointed look on his friend's face.

"Right, but I'm nothing like either of those. I get the impression of a stuck-up-brute- that's not me." James sighed, "Maybe it's wrong."

Peter stared at him, mulling over whether or not he should speak what was on his mind or not. He knew a little about stags because of his uncle's taste in hunting. "Er, James," James looked over at Peter as if he had forgotten he was there, "er, stags aren't that bad."

James stared at him like he had lost his mind, "They get hit by muggle automubbles."

Peter shook his head, "No, my uncle said that way back when, in the renaissance, if someone killed a stag they could be sentenced to death. They were considered royalty, a symbol of wealth. Granted, people don't think like that anymore but it is a cool fact."

James registered Peter's words as a grin played at his lips.

"Got that! You're royalty! I'm just a mangy dog. You- you- well, if someone kills you they should be killed, I can't say the same for my animal."

James just laughed at Sirius' worlds. It was certainly an interesting concept but he'd probably never have to use it, considering the times. Plus, with his father's profession it made some sort of sense.

He placed the book on the floor and looked back up at the two of them before he zeroed in on Peter. The boy shifted slightly under his gaze.

"Do you want to see what you'll be?"

Peter looked up at James. Yes, he knew that there was no turning back but he also didn't want to know what he'd be. It'd only egg them on more and then he'd have to come face to face with a werewolf. A vicious man-eating beast. He shivered slightly at the thought before he shook his head.

"No, I'd rather be surprised. It makes it more fun."

Blood dripped on the wooden floor, wet and warm. The taste was salty in its mouth. The crimson trail lead up to the bedroom leading to the monster as it fought desperately to get the human within. To dismember its body and rip apart the tender meat, a fine meal for any member of their elite beast society.

But every attack by the brutal beast left a swift whimper and an angered howl in its wake. Every bite left the beast in confused pain as the human it knew was there refused to scream or bleed pure blood. Instead it seemed to attack the beast with every bite it issued upon itself.

It whined loudly as pain seared through its mangled body as it moved tiredly into the bedroom. It breathed heavily as its vision blurred in and out. The beast howled loudly as it lunged at its backend and sunk its sharp blood covered teeth into the already tattered flesh.

More whining erupted from its muzzle, as it quickly let go of the meat. Instant pain shivered through its limbs forcing its back legs into protest from the new beating that had just been inflicted upon it. The weakened limbs swiftly buckled and collapsed from underneath it. The exposed flesh burned madly as it met the rough floorboards. The wolf stared up at the bed angered by its defeat, while the dark room filtered in and out of focus until all was black.

Silence echoed loudly throughout the room where the beast laid quiet, broken. Defeated by only itself, until it would have another go in the full moonlight. Silenced for now.

The moonlight faded with the coming day and the beast once again became hidden within the unfortunate boy. Its home, its only friend, and its one true enemy.