Remus awoke naked and shivering and surrounded by blood, its aftertaste like metal in his mouth. A sharp pain bloomed across his right shoulder; he raised a hand to it and winced, feeling a deep gash oozing beneath his fingers. It would leave a nasty scar, he could already tell.
His other wounds were less severe, a few bumps and bruises and fresh bite marks around one of his wrists. He supposed he should be grateful he hadn't broken any bones—last moon he'd broken three.
Remus could see a bit of light seeping in through the cracks of the Shack's boarded-up windows; it was past dawn, which meant that Madam Pomfrey would be in to see him soon. With a sigh, he forced himself up onto his aching feet and threw on a pair of loose sweatpants he'd stored in a charmed wardrobe the wolf had so far been unable to decimate. He left his shirt off, not wanting to cover his shoulder wound before Pomfrey could examine it.
A few minutes later, he heard the pattering of footsteps across the Shack's creaky floors and up its stairs, announcing the matron's arrival. The noise was, as always, jarringly loud to his still-wolfish ears; he wished he had the earplugs Sirius had bought him the year before, but he was too scared to bring something so expensive anywhere near his werewolf self.
Pomfrey opened the door to find Remus in the bedroom, where he nearly always ended up recovering after the moons. Immediately her gaze flicked to his shoulder wound—she conjured up some gauze and powdered silver ointment and promptly got to work, rubbing in the ointment to stem the bleeding before bandaging up the wound tight enough to make Remus grimace. She draped a warm blanket she'd brought with her around him and led him gently down the stairs and into the long tunnel out of the Shrieking Shack. Remus walked stiffly and slowly as always, the dampness of the outside air bringing a deep, painful ache to all his joints. There had been a big storm the night before—Remus's hazy wolfish memories told him of claps of thunder and flashes of lightning and earthquake-like vibrations that could rattle even a werewolf.
Flashes of lightning. Remus stopped suddenly, causing Pomfrey to nearly trip over him. It had been a lightning storm, something the other Marauders had been waiting for ever since they finished their Animagus potions. Had they tried to drink them last night? Were they okay?
"Remus?" Madam Pomfrey asked. She leaned forward to study his expression. "Are you all right?"
Remus swallowed and forced the worry from his face. "Fine," he murmured. If all his closest friends were in the hospital wing after drinking the potions, he wondered, would Pomfrey tell him? Or was she waiting until he was in a less fragile state of mind?
She rested a soft hand against his back, giving nothing away. "Come on, then. Let's get you back to the castle."
The two of them climbed up out of the tunnel and clambered over the roots of the Whomping Willow into the outside world, blinking into the early morning light. The grounds around the tree were abandoned as always—Remus knew Pomfrey always made sure to check before coming to fetch him—and everything was quiet and serene except for the commotion arising from the distant Quidditch pitch due to a pre-game friendly going on between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff there. Remus wondered if he'd be able to hear the cheers of its sparse audience from so far away if he didn't still have his wolf senses.
"Blimey," Madam Pomfrey said suddenly. "Is that a deer with that dog?"
Remus jumped, startled, and turned to where Pomfrey was pointing: standing at the top of a nearby hill was a tall red stag and a big, black, Alsatian-looking dog. Squinting, Remus could make out a little gray rat perched on the stag's shoulder.
He raised a hand to his mouth, sudden tears pricking at his eyes. His friends—his amazing, brave, ridiculously talented friends—had successfully become Animagi, all to help him. He hadn't asked them to, hadn't even wanted them to, but they'd done it anyway, because they thought he'd be in less pain during the moons if they were there to keep him company. Remus had no idea if their plan would work, but he was touched all the same. Even Peter, who always doubted himself so much, had been able to transform himself into the little rat peeking over James's shoulder. All for him. It was too overwhelming for Remus to even comprehend.
"Are you crying?" Pomfrey asked him, narrowing her eyes. "About the dog with the deer?"
Remus wiped dry his eyes, sniffing and smiling in the direction of his friends. "The wonders of nature, Madam, are truly inspiring," he said to Pomfrey. "Don't you think?"
