UNDER THE FULL MOON
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter is a lot like really, really expensive things-- I don't own them.
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CHAPTER FOUR – A WEREWOLF BITE
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Sirius saw Peter change to Wormtail in the corner of his peripheral vision. His eyes and thoughts were trained on the entrance to the Shreiking Shack, and his fingers hovered, poised, over the handle that would set the werewolf free.
A nervous swallow forced itself down his throat. He had been much more confident that he could control Mooney when he'd been talking in the relative safety of the Great Hall.
Usually, Sirius would throw the hatch open and James would charge in, controlling Remus until Sirius could transform. This time he would have to open the door and transform in a split second, and then charge in himself and—for lack of a better word—herd Mooney into the tunnel.
He pulled the door open before he could talk himself out of it.
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Peter watched, crouched against the wall in rat form, as his friend threw open the door. It took Sirius a short moment to transform, but in that moment a huge, gray blur charged from the room and slammed its bulk into the great black dog.
Peter was frozen helplessly. Sirius seemed off-balance, though he fended Remus's next attack off fairly well. Perhaps this was how it usually went, Peter thought. Maybe his three friends usually fought this much before they came to where Peter waited at the entrance of the passage.
His tiny mouse features creased into a wince as Mooney's powerful jaws caught Sirius in the shoulder. Remus bit down hard, and the long, wailing cry that Sirius made sounded too painful to be good.
Remus seemed to be gaining ground as the dog and the wolf fought for what felt like a long time. Sirus was limping. Peter backed nervously down the corridor. Remus probably was too much for Padfoot alone. Peter wanted to help, but action would only get him hurt. He continued to creep backward, watching the fight with wide rat eyes.
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Mooney smelled blood, wanted blood, and the black dog was in the way. He knew the black dog, somehow, and even liked him, but tonight the kill was more important. He keened in rising frustration as the dog blocked him yet again and pain jabbed his side where the dog's teeth broke his skin.
The smell of human was so strong out of the tiny room that it enveloped his consciousness with a dreamy red haze. It was all red, except for the dog. The dog stood out, as black as night.
Mooney lunged and caught the side of the dog's face in his powerful jaw. He tugged one way and then the other while the dog howled and whined and tried to fight free. With all the strength in his lithe body, he threw the dog against the dirt wall of the passageway. The taste of the dog's blood was acrid and bitter in his mouth—nothing like the human blood he smelled.
The dog weakly tried to stand again, but Mooney rammed him against the wall once more and took off down the damp, dark, tunnel.
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James felt terrible. After a moment of standing with nothing to say, he became Prongs. He watched the tunnel entrance and played the conversation over in his head.
How has your year been so far? Alright, though I had a lot of detention when I blew up the toilets in the girls' bathroom.
Couldn't I have said, alright, but the homework's a bit much this year? Or perhaps, it's been fine, how has your year been?
He glanced at Lily, who sat with her head in her arms. Would she tell the teachers about their monthly excursion? Obviously, she wasn't enjoying herself.
James scuffed at the ground with his front hoof and focused his eyes on the tunnel entrance. What was taking Sirius so long? The silence seemed to stretch on forever.
Mooney erupted out of the tunnel and jumped at Lily.
It took a split second for this to register in James's brain, and when it did he hurtled toward them, thrusting Mooney away with his antlers. The werewolf was lifted from the ground and fell a few feet away. Lily's screaming and Remus's snarling shriek mingled in his ears and he pushed Mooney farther away with brutal shoves of his long antlers.
Mooney fought, scratching and biting, but he was tired. James could see bloody streaks running down Mooney's gray fur, and the werewolf was panting between growls—had Remus been fighting Padfoot as well?
James forced his friend away until Lily was hidden by the crest of the hill on which they had waited. Mooney's panting had become gasping, and he shrunk before the powerful prodding of Prongs's antlers. Finally, with a doleful howl, he ran away in the opposite direction.
James stared at the retreating werewolf, making sure he didn't double back for another try. Luckily, Mooney had given up. With one last glance in the direction of his friend, James headed back to Lily at a run.
She lay crumpled in an inglorious heap. James transformed back to himself as he ran, stumbling the last few steps to land kneeling beside Lily.
She had fallen facedown, and James turned her over with shaking hands. Her delicate features were slackened in unconsciousness, and James moaned as blood oozed from the bite on her side onto his hands.
His mind was utterly blank of any spell top lift her as sobs began to wrack his frame. This was his fault, all his fault…
He gathered her up in a bundle and began to run toward the castle.
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Peter waited until Mooney was definitely gone before chancing the transformation back to himself. He cautiously approached Padfoot's limp body, still lying against the wall where Remus had thrown it.
Sirius was in sorry shape. Half of his face looked mangled, blood pooling on the tunnel floor. Numerous scratches and wounds, all of them trickling blood, covered Sirius's shaggy fur with thick, sticky liquid. One leg hung down from the barrel-like body at a strange angle.
Peter was at a complete loss as to what to do. He didn't know if he had time to run to the castle and bring back help, but he had no way of carrying the immense dog by himself.
"Sirius, just wake up, would you?" he begged aloud. "It would make things so much easier."
The dog's body didn't respond.
"I'll get help," he decided, assuring the limp form. "I'll be back, Sirius, alright?"
He set out at a tired jog toward the castle.
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Reviewer replies (okay, reviewer reply):
Hulabalooooooooo: Is that the right number of oooo's? Oh well. Thanks for reading—I'm very glad you liked. Oh yes, and here's a hug. hug!
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As for the rest of you, I'd really appreciate it if you would leave a review.