Light. Blinding, bright light that shone through his eyelids and stained his world red. Where was he? Cold, wet wood pressed against his bare skin, sending a shiver down his spine. No. No more shivering. It hurt too much. He groaned, and tasted blood, felt it running up his throat from a pierced lung. He tried to move. Something, anything. Nothing. The darkness claimed him again.
He woke once more, this time a little more lucid. He opened his eyes, looked around, and realized he was in the Shrieking Shack. The broken, decrepit furnishing looked like a setting for a barely remembered nightmare. He looked down at himself and swore. Madam Pomfrey was not going to like this. Hell, he didn't like it! Lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood seemed to be a regular occurrence these days.
If he realized that he was trying very hard not to think about something, he didn't dwell on it. At the moment, all he was thinking about was how he was going to get off the floor and up to the castle where he could sleep. His right arm was broken, he could tell that by looking. But his left still looked usable. Grabbing a nearby bedpost, he managed to haul his battered body to its feet. His mind felt strangely detached, as if he were watching everything from five feet above his head.
He started to make for the trapdoor, then paused. If he was going up to the castle, he'd better get some clothes on first. Not only would it be highly embarrassing to be seen waltzing across the grounds completely naked, it was also rather cold outside, and to add pneumonia on top of everything else would almost certainly kill him. He staggered to the three – legged dresser in the corner and yanked open a drawer. A pair of jeans that hadn't been worn in fifteen years and an undershirt that looked about three sizes too small were its only occupants. Pulling on the pants tenderly, wincing as they brushed against various gashes, he chuckled humorlessly at the fact that he had somehow gotten skinnier since age nineteen. The shirt had been there since his third year, and he decided that it would probably do more harm than good to try to struggle into it. He returned to the trapdoor, opened it, and descended into the damp tunnel. Limping along in the dark, he finally forced himself to think about what had happened the previous night.
The Wolfsbane hadn't worked, he had realized that just as he was about to transform, when it was too late to do anything about it. Remus didn't think he had ever felt so utterly terrified as he had at that moment. After the transformation, his memory got kind of fuzzy. Images came back to him, bits and pieces of a horrible reality. A girl, Hermione, trapped against a wall. Harry and Ron screaming. Shattered glass. Three others, ferals, drooling on the stone floor of a hallway. Teeth ripping at him, silver burning away flesh. Blood filling his mouth. The memories came so fast and so horribly. He gripped his head and screamed, falling to his knees on the slippery rock of the tunnel.
No! It can't be true! I couldn't have hurt anyone! Please don't let it be true!
He staggered drunkenly to his feet and lurched forward. He had to get to the castle, had to find out what had happened! Suddenly he tripped and fell forward onto his stomach. He cried out as his head struck a rock, but wasted no time in scrambling up and continuing onward. By the time he emerged from the roots of the Whomping Willow, he was an absolute mess. Luckily, he was still aware to push the key knot to stop the tree from crushing him.
It was only until later that Remus realized what a sight he must have made lurching toward the castle, bare-chested, white – faced, absolutely caked with blood both fresh and dry, breath rattling as he struggled with his one good lung. There was a crowd gathered at the steps, and teachers, students, and Ministry officials alike all stared as he came staggering up. Seeing Minerva in the front, he grabbed her arm in one shaking hand and hissed desperately, "What happened? What did I do? Did I hurt anyone? Is everyone okay?"
She just stared at him in disbelief and shock, her mouth hanging open. Remus shook her lightly.
"What the hell happened, damnit!"
But he would get no answer, for at that moment the silence was broken by an animalistic howl. Lupin looked up and met the golden eyes of the most vicious looking feral he had ever seen. The gigantic man was standing in the doorway, his attack being forcibly restrained by several hit wizards. His shaggy black hair fell to his shoulders, and he bared his sharpened teeth at Remus in an unmistakable show of aggression. Remus gulped.
With a roar, the feral threw his captors off and charged forward. Before Lupin even had a chance to scream, the feral was upon him. He grabbed Remus by the throat and threw him as far as he could, which was pretty far. Remus hit the ground with a sickening crack and rolled until he hit a tree.
There goes one leg… he thought darkly. And then the feral was on him again, biting and clawing wherever he could reach. Frantically, Remus elbowed him in the face, breaking his nose. The feral howled and rolled off him, giving him a chance to scramble away. He hadn't gotten far when something caught hold of his hair and pulled him up off the ground. Remus yelled as he felt his scalp pull away from his skull. Without thinking, he lashed out with his good leg and got the feral right where it hurts the most.
That'll keep him busy until the cavalry arrives. I hope.
The feral dropped his squirming captive and fell to his knees, moaning in pain. He didn't even struggle when the hit wizards shackled him and shipped him off to Azkaban.
"Have to remember that one," one of them muttered before apparating.
Remus lay on the ground, coughing up blood and praying that this was all just a bad dream.
Maybe if I just go to sleep, I'll wake up and everything will be back to normal, he mused as his eyes closed. Yes…that's a good idea…
Hagrid, still recovering from his rather nasty attack, knelt by the inert form of Remus Lupin and gathered him in his arms. A sense of déjà vu washed over him as he realized that this was the second time in a month that the young man had lain in his arms as though he were dead. He tried to hide the worst of the professor's wounds with his large body; the students had already seen enough bloodshed. Hagrid hurried to the Hospital Wing, ignoring the dismayed murmurs of people he met along the way. Bursting into the relative calm of the Wing, he shouted for Madam Pomfrey, who came at a run. He laid Remus on a nearby bed and left to find Professor Dumbledore, just recently returned from Anstierre. The occupant of the adjacent bed and her visitors gaped as Poppy rushed off to get supplies.
Harry stood and, on shaking legs, walked around Hermione's bed and approached their teacher. He touched Lupin's shoulder gently, and gazed down on his sleeping face.
"D'you reckon he'll pull through?" murmured Ron in concern. Harry shrugged.
"I don't know." He was about to put a blanket on the professor when Lupin began to cough. Deep, explosive hacks that brought blood to his lips and woke him up. He met Harry's eyes and seemed about to ask something when the coughing started again. He rolled over into the fetal position and gripped his chest. Blood stained the white sheets in front of his face. Harry stood there helplessly, reaching out to help, but not quite sure what to do. Suddenly Madam Pomfrey was there, pushing him out of the way impatiently. She bent over the shaking man, her wand moving so fast they could barely see it. Gradually, the coughing lessened, and then stopped. They all breathed a sigh of relief. Madam Pomfrey was reaching for a bottle sitting on the bedside table when Lupin grasped her arm in a grip hard as iron.
"Poppy…" he murmured. She bent down to hear him. "Poppy, what… what happened? What did I do?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at each other in concern. Madam Pomfrey's eyes widened slightly. Lupin looked around at them all desperately, body shaking with fear and the effort of sitting upright. But when his eyes fell on Hermione, sitting in the bed next to him with a bandage covering her left arm, he froze.
"No…" he rasped, "It can't be…" His eyes filled with tears. Hermione looked mortified.
"I – I'm sorry Professor. I'm so sorry." Her voice choked with emotion. Ron patted her shoulder awkwardly. Harry looked down at his shoes. And Madam Pomfrey took the opportunity to inject Lupin with Dreamless Sleeping potion. He slumped back down onto the bed, his tortured eyes closing immediately. His hand fell from Madam Pomfrey's sleeve, leaving a bloody print. And Hermione broke down in tears.
A/N: Sorry for the long time coming (seems like I say that every time I post a chapter). Please forgive me if this one was kind of bad. Next chapter: Dumbledore explains everything!
Thank you for all the reviews, they really help!
