Werewolf, Chapter 5

To Remus' relief, it hardly took any time at all for most people to forget about that day in the Hall, and what they had seen. Life quickly returned to its regular pattern; the Slytherins were nasty to everyone, the Gryffindor House Quidditch team won a close match against Ravenclaw, Harry and Ginny finally confessed their feelings for each other, and an entire third year Defense Against the Dark Arts class, including their teacher, was sent to the Hospital Wing after an especially exciting incident involving a crate full of Chinese fireworks and a baby dragon.

It was mid – October when Dumbledore came to see Remus. He and his class had been traipsing around the upper floors all afternoon, learning how to detect and subdue a swarm of dust-demons and, needless to say, they were all covered from head to foot in what seemed to be about a hundred years worth of filth. When they came into the room, looking remarkably similar to the ghosts that wandered the halls, and Remus saw the Headmaster sitting there, looking unnaturally care – worn and tired, he immediately knew that something was wrong. He dismissed the students early, shooed them out of the room, and then sat down on the desk across from Albus. He got straight to the point, the Headmaster didn't look like he was in the mood for any beating around the bush.

"What's wrong Albus? What's happened?"

Dumbledore met his eyes with a look of intense regret. Lupin's stomach lurched as he remembered the last time he had looked at him like that. The words that followed were the same ones Remus had come to dread over the past year.

"I'm sorry Remus, but the Order needs your help again. In the underground."

Lupin blanched.

"Wh- Why?" he stuttered. Albus looked even more pained as he replied, "It seems as though Voldemort is once again trying to rally supporters. Only this time…"

Dumbledore paused and stared down at his wrinkled hands, as if reluctant to go on.

"This time…what?" Remus urged, though he was not entirely sure he wanted to know.

"This time…he wants ferals."

Remus almost fell off the desk. "Ferals!" he hissed. Out of all the things Dumbledore could have said, this was the worst. Ferals were quite possibly the most dangerous dark creatures known to man. They were vicious, cruel, eternally bloodthirsty, and almost impossible to kill. Magic didn't affect them, they were immune to everything but silver and the attacks of other werewolves. Lupin was surprised that Voldemort even bothered to try and recruit them, they respected nothing and would just as soon kill an ally as an enemy.

Remus' voice trembled noticeably as he said, "And you want me to spy on them."

Albus nodded sadly. "I know that this isn't fair, Remus, but you're the only one who can do this."

Lupin nodded reluctantly. "I know." He paused, took a deep breath to steady himself and said, "Alright. I'll do it."

Dumbledore looked relieved. "Thank you," he whispered, so softly that Remus could barely hear him.

"When's he meeting them?" Remus asked.

"Tonight."

The bottom dropped out of Lupin's stomach. Tonight. In a couple of hours, he was going to be in the middle of a pack of bloodthirsty ferals. What had he gotten himself into?

Dumbledore slid off his desk and walked over to him. Gripping his shoulder in one wrinkled old hand, the Headmaster said softly, "I'm sorry. If there were any other way…" He sighed and squeezed Remus' shoulder once more.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, and left the room. Lupin sat there for a very long time.


A small food fight had broken out at the end of the Gryffindor table. Ron, who always forgot to swallow before he talked, finally drove Ginny off the edge. They had been talking about that day's Quidditch practice, when suddenly Ron got a faceful of chicken pot pie. It only got worse from there.

Harry was distracted, however, when he saw Professor Lupin enter the Great Hall, looking as though he was on the way to the gallows. What could possibly have happened to make him look so…scared? Harry thought, just before an entire spoonful of beef stew splattered all over the front of his robes.

After they had been thoroughly disciplined by Professor McGonagall who, despite her best efforts, didn't manage to keep from laughing when she saw Neville covered from head to foot in sour cream, Harry searched out Lupin once more. There he was, still sitting at the opposite end of the table from Snape, looking as white as snow. He nudged Hermione and pointed this out to her.

"Why d'you reckon Professor Lupin looks so terrified?" he whispered, so as not to get the entire table in on the conversation. Hermione shrugged, but scanned the staff table, as if searching for clues.

"Look!" she hissed, and pointed to Professor Dumbledore. Harry looked over, and saw the Headmaster staring down the table at Lupin, concern and - was it possible? pity, in his eyes. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, eyes wide.

"But what does it mean?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," she said, "But I know how we can find out."


"I think you're getting too tall for this thing, Harry." Hermione whispered from underneath the Invisibility Cloak.

"Shut up!" he hissed, irritated. "I'm trying to hear what they're saying!"

Lupin and Dumbledore stood inside the gate to the grounds. They were talking in low voices, but the invisible pair didn't dare get any closer than they were, lest they be detected. Professor Lupin looked as though he was about to be sick, but tried to exude confidence anyway. He nodded at something Dumbledore said, and the Headmaster reached inside his cloak for his wand. He touched the younger man's face with it, and muttered something. Hermione gasped as Lupin's face melted and changed before their very eyes. His usually smooth forehead now jutted out from under thick, black hair, his nose elongated and curved, as if it had been broken many times, his normally closely shaved face now bristled with unkempt black whiskers, and three long, white scars reached from his temple down to his cleft chin. The two teenagers gaped at their now unrecognizable teacher. But Dumbledore wasn't done. Taking Lupin's hands, he touched them with his wand also, and suddenly, long, sharp claws sprouted from the end of each fingertip. Harry clapped his hand over Hermione's mouth to keep her from screaming. The Headmaster stepped back to admire his handiwork. He nodded absentmindedly and said something they couldn't hear. The strange man who was Lupin grinned, and they all got a glimpse of white, glistening canines, each one sharpened to a knife's edge. But the smile was short – lived, and before they knew it, Lupin was outside the gate. He said one last thing to Dumbledore, who gripped his arm tightly, eyes bright with unshed tears. And then Lupin turned into the darkness, and with a pop, he was gone.


When they finally reached an abandoned classroom, Harry and Hermione pulled the cloak off. They both had expressions of complete shock on their faces.

"What was that all about?" Harry demanded to no one in particular. Hermione just shook her head, stunned. She sat down on a stool and hugged herself. If what she had seen was not some figment of her imagination, then she had a pretty good idea of what that was all about.

"I think," she began, "that Professor Dumbledore was disguising Lupin as a feral."

"A what?" Harry asked, confused.

"A feral. A werewolf who lets their wolf mind take over their human one."

Harry still looked baffled. Hermione sighed, and continued.

"If you had read that chapter on werewolves that Snape assigned to us in third year, you would know this. Anyway, a werewolf has two minds. A human one, which has control most of the time, and one of a wolf, which takes over during the full moon. Sometimes, when the human mind begins to weaken, the wolf mind pushes its way through to dominance. When this happens, the werewolf becomes what is known as 'feral'. A wolf controlling a human body. The characteristics that Dumbledore gave Lupin are common in ferals. Sharp teeth, claws on their fingertips, sometimes, their eyes turn golden, like a wolf's."

"But why would Dumbledore want Lupin to look like a feral?" Harry interrupted.

"You remember when I said that Lupin was a spy in the werewolf underground?" Hermione asked. Harry suddenly understood.

"You think the Order needs Lupin to spy on the ferals?"

Hermione nodded.

"That's exactly what I think."


Remus Lupin was experiencing something he had hoped never to experience again. The feeling of his own blood running through his fingers. Stumbling along in the dark, he almost laughed at the irony of it all. Here he was, practically thirty years later, and he was still limping along in some godforsaken forest in the middle of the night, running away from monsters. He coughed violently, and grimaced as the unforgettable taste of blood filled his mouth.

Where's the goddamn castle? he thought darkly. He had tried to Apparate as close to it as possible, but in his state, it was amazing that he had been able to Apparate at all. Suddenly, his legs gave out from under him and he pitched forward onto the ground. He could feel himself begin to slip into unconsciousness, and he struggled to get up. If he fainted now, he would die of blood loss before anyone found him. But he realized that he was fighting a losing battle. Pulling out his wand, he tapped his face and hands and muttered an incantation. If he died, at least he would die in his own form, and not in the form of a complete stranger. The last thing he saw before he succumbed to darkness was the moon, high in the sky, taunting him…

A/N: Just to let you know, I borrowed the idea of feral werewolves from the fic Oblivious.