It was odd, something so strong and sweet, and so cruel and painful at the same time. There she was, beautiful, elegant, the way she bit her lip, the way her eyes calculated everything, her murmurring. Those little things were sinking into his heart and mind, so strong as if he had known her for all his life. Rupert then understood something, some realization that shocked him beyond imagination. He loved her.
"That's her!" Rupert exclaimed, holding Emma's shirt and tugging at her sleeve nervously, while pointing at the rider, "That's the girl from my dream!" he yelled.
At that precise moment, the white stallion headed for them. It turned, sand and mud leaping from under his powerful hooves. The horse leapt strongly and passed the jump with ease. The rider leaned forward, letting the head loose for allowance of movement.
"What are you talking about?" Emma demanded suspiciously, staring at the man as the stallion and the rider left the field.
"I..." Rupert followed Hermione and her horse with the gaze. He had the sudden urge to run after her, to kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her, and how much he had missed her. That thought reminded him of a terrible sensation, the feeling and the knowledge that he had never told her how much he cared for her. That reminded him that, oddly enough, it was just a dream, and nothing could be real.
"But she's real..." Rupert muttered silently, ignoring Emma's questioning, or worried face.
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Days were passing by, the full moon was closer and Ron's body was aching slightly, with anticipation at what would come. This time, however, Ron was not frightened, not even miserable at his condition. The wolf was going to bloom and he could do nothing against it, but he was sure of one thing the rest didn't know. He, Ronal Bilius Weasley, was the wolf. Not some bloodthirsty beast that he could not control, not a monster or a worry, or something that was to change his life into abnormality. No, Ron was very capable of controling the wolf because he was the wolf, and he controlled himself. He rested, or ran, or played whenever he wanted. He killed whenever he wanted.
"Class!" Ron groaned, standing up from the bed.
Herbology, first hour. It was always nice because the greenhouse were an oven at hotter hours of the day. The red head stood up and walked towards the door. It had been fixed and enchanted so that it closed when the sun set, and it opened when the dawn arrived. Ron groaned at that thought, he hated being secluded like a criminal. To be honest, he felt like a criminal, and he felt bloodthirsty as well. The more his hatred grew towards the world, the more he craved vengeance and human blood. Specially since the terrible accident with Hedwig. He was sure he didn't do it, he knew he hadn't done all those murders because, the night he killed the horse, he had been blood stain.
Ron clenched his fists and growled, feeling the anger flooding his veins and boiling his blood. Raising his head, he howled, something he had been doing lately to release stress. He had also taken a liking of baring fangs and growling at people who gazed too intensely. Ron didn't realize until then how inhuman and how animalistic his voice sounded when doing either sound.
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Star was laying on the ground, Hermione leaning against him, resting her chestnut head on his white back.
"We won again!" Star said rather excitedly, and more animated than he had been this morning.
"Yeah, I wish Ron could have seen it, I bet he would have liked it." Hermione said with a saddened sigh.
"Maybe not, he's not much of a horse boy." Star said rather harshly, staring at the infinity and snorting lightly.
"I miss him so much..." the girl said with an strangled voice.
"Hermy, how can you miss someone you've never met?" Star questioned more gently, staring at the girl with caring eyes.
"Because I love him, Star!" Hermione said fixing her eyes on the white stallion's.
"Right..." the horse said glancing upwards rather harshly.
"Star?" Hermione lifted her head, suddenly attacked by a curiosity, and stared at the horse.
"Hum?" the stallion calmed visibly and stared at the chestnut mare questioningly.
"You said you were emotionally involved with those you must guide, what happened?" Hermione asked innocently.
"I fell in love. But I stood aside so my friend would have a chance. I loved the girl, but I loved him like a brother, it was the right thing to do." The white horse explained.
"Why are you a guide?" Hermione's voice was husky, silent, almost frightened of speaking high.
"It's not the angel kind of thing. I'm a friend, and friends are always guides. The only reason I'm a guide is because I want to help mend something that went wrong, or right, I still didn't figure it out." Star said calmly, yet keeping his gaze away from Hermione's, "I want to reunite two people who are destined to be together." This time he glanced at her.
"That is very noble, and are things going right?" the woman questioned calmly, neighing more animatedly.
"No... he is sinking, terrible things are going on, murders, and I'm not sure it wasn't him." Star was visibly affected, his voice was drowning, "I want to help him, but I'm afraid, deceived, and angry. He is becoming vicious, secluded, silent and solitary. I fear I'm going to loose him!"
"Oh my goodness..." Hermione's gears worked as night fell upon them, reality seemed to bloom in her mind abruptly, pain flashed in her soul, "Ron."
Star looked down at her upon hearing the name. Fear seemed to be affecting the young mare, but worry was plastered on Star's features.
"Who are you?" the woman questioned, standing up and taking a step back, her brown eyes resting on his own, brown ones.
Star said nothing, but remaint there, laying, frozen and worried, unable to work his thoughts correctly, and unable to gather courage and speak truth. His eyes flashed green for a brief moment as he pondered those questions, and glanced at the woman longingly.
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Herbology was not only as boring as ever, but it was also exasperating to have people glancing at him all the time. Ron growled silently, trying to keep calm, attempting not to pay attention to the large amount of eyes that studied him as if he were about to eat them all. The Tentacled Ivy kept grabbing his arms and whipping him, and he had to work alone because nobody dared to go near him. To his greatest despair, Malfoy walked next to him to drag a pot from the shelves.
"How is the mudblood? Did she get kicked out because her blood was too impure?" the blonde whispered with a sneer.
Ron's blood boiled, and he gripped the table controling the anger that was gathering in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly he froze, his back tensed, the hair from the end of his neck stood on ends, and his mind twirled like a chaos. The smell, there was something in Malfoy's scent, something animalistic and wild. Something familiar. Something recognizable, socially, as one of his kind. The characteristic smell of a werewolf.
"It was you!" growled Ron standing up faster than eyes could see, and holding Malfoy from the neck of his shirt.
People around them froze doing their work, and glance with terror and curiosity at the scene before them. Muttering, murmurring, and several students dragged out their wands, just to be safe. Harry, on the other hand, gasped with realization. It might not make much sense, but he felt ashamed that he had ever considered Ron capable of killing just for the pleasure of it. This time he believed Ron's criteria.
"What are you talking about?" Malfoy seemed terrified, yet he mouthed something in a husky whisper, moving his lips as if he lacked breath, "Potter's next!".
With that, before Ron could punch the other boy senseless, Malfoy kicked him on the leg and fled out of the greenhouse. Ron howled frustrated and fled after him, this time anger taking control of his body. Claws and fangs had grown, and strands of flaming hair was covering the lower part of his forearms and part of his lower legs, this last hidden by the pants.
Malfoy bent his legs and rolled on the floor, prettending he had tripped on something. Ron leapt over him, the fury accumulated from the last few days going to be released on the monster laying before him. When he was about to land on the Slytherin student, about to tear his throat, the other boy kicked him on the stomach and sent him flying to the ground. Ron rolled down and crouched, glaring at a standing Malfoy, while his body ached with internal transformation. The werewolf leapt towards the young Draco, this time a muzzle beggining to take shape, and a tail forming at the end of his spine. Two strong arms gripped the red head, and a jinx fired at him made him loose consciousness. Ron's world went black.
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Night was falling, and Rupert kept pacing up and down his room. He felt uneasy. He wanted to sleep, he had finished his bit of the movie and longed to leave that cursed building. Tomorrow he would be given the money and the farewells, and all that ridiculous party act, and it would be over. He wanted to rest, for it started soon, and the sooner he got there, the sooner he picked his ferrari and left to sell it.
Rupert had already seen a car he liked, a Hyundai Sonata, wine colour, like he predicted. It was destroyed, the motor lid had oppened and shattered the front glass and the solar ceiling, that tiny window on the top. Rupert would have to spend a lot of money to fix it, but there was something about it that called him.
But for tonight he couldn't sleep. There was something odd in the air, something latent, as if an event was to ocurr. The boy approached the window and glanced outside, the sky was a dark velvet blue, and a full moon was beggining to glow intensely. It called him, it whispered gentle words, it pulled at him.
Rupert gasped loudly, emmiting a loud yelp that sounded like anithing but humanly possible. The boy collapsed on the floor and bent over, gripping his stomach tightly. There was something, a burning pain, spreading through his body, tearing him inside like flaming knives. The youth looked down and raw reddish fur beggining to grow on his arms, and claws enlarging on his hands. Rupert was terrified.
"This is impossible! It was just a dream!" the boy yelled loudly, watching the change that was taking place in his body.
Suddenly, his mouth oppened and a loud yell escaped his lips, yell that became a howl, a deep, wolvish howl. The boy collapsed and arched his body, shutting his eyes tightly and gripping at the floor, leaving claw marks. The pain was unbearable, the fangs were growing, and his face was shifting, the same as his body, his feet grew and his femur and lower legs shortened to form canine legs. Pads grew under his hands and at the sole of his feet. The flaming fur covered all his body, and Rupert felt like in a dream, suffering yet unable to believe it to be true.
It finished, and the pain subsided, leaving only a slight, residual memory of the horrible aching all his bones had gone through. After a few seconds, the boy stood up on shaky legs. He walked on his hinds and approached the mirror that rested in front of his bed. He saw his reflection, those bluish eyes staring at him from under a furry face, a sharp muzzle, two pointy ears, and a lean body covered with fluffy, red hair.
"I... I'm a werewoulf!" Rupert said with much difficulty.
"Very sharp, you like it?" the mirror answered in a rough, jokeful voice.
"I... I'm nout suure, I mean, suure I louk... nice our soumething, doug nice I guess... buut the pain and all... well..." Rupert explained calmly, "Wait! I shouuld nout be talkeeng tou youu! Youu are a mirrour!" he growled threateningly.
"Your choice, you are a funny guy, you know? Funny, unexperienced wizard too." The mirror responded with a chuckle.
"Whatever, this is juust a dream!" Rupert convinced himself with a grunt.
"Yep, it is true, Hermione is a dream, of course... or maybe not!" the mirror commented casually.
"Youu knouw abouut Herrmione?" the werewolf gasped turning around sharply.
"Me? No, I know about the magic world. I'm just a mirror, but I'm linked to the magic world. I know a few things." The mirror said with a mischievous laughter.
"Tell mee!" the wolf pleaded. "I need tou uunderstand!"
"Very well, magic is real. You are a werewolf, wether you like it or not. And you are Ron Weasley, the one from your dreams. Those dreams are like going to class, when you aquire enough knowledge, you are a qualified wizard who is able to go to the university, where you will learn to expand and work your magic. So the Ron Weasley from your dreams is nothing but yourself learning magic." The mirror commented with a gruffy, yet serious voice.
"That's juust toou oudd!" Rupert said understandingly, feeling somewhat calm and relaxed, and feeling hopeful. "Herrmy... I'll find youu, I knouw whou I am nouw!" the wolf barked visibly animated.
"Rupert?" Emma's and Dan's voice echoed at the other side of the door, banging at the mentioned with insistence.
"Open up!" Dan's voice claimed.
"Nou!" Rupert barked now looking terrified.
"Rupert, we heard you scream, are you ok?" Emma inquired with worry.
"Yes, I'm fine!" the werewolf tried to speak as clearly as possible, trying to keep the wolfish accent hidden.
"Are you sure? You sound odd, open, Rupert." Dan insisted.
"Nou, I'm juust tired. Gooud Night!" the wolf barked nervously, looking for something to hide his furry little problem.
"Come on, we are your friends, what is wrong?" Emma claimed, now growing exasperated.
Rupert took a decition. He couldn't hide forever, and this were his friends. They would understand, somehow. Also, he wanted to explore his body, see where it could take him, and this people were beggining to annoy him. The werewolf approached the door and oppened it sharply, abruptly.
"This is wroung!" the wolf said looking at the two people.
To Be Continued...
AN: Ok, what will Emma and Dan think when they see what Rupert has become. What will happen to the friends? Will Hermione find out who Star is? Will Ron forgive Harry? What happened to him? What will happen to Malfoy? Everything will be revealed in the next chapter, because it will be the last one.
