I hadn't even walked through that tunnel a full three times for me to decide I hated it. It was bloody small, to say the least. It was rather round, too, almost as if it had been tunnelled out by a mole. Roots stuck up everywhere, and at odd angles, too, so you could trip and lose your footing at any time.

As much hatred as I felt towards the stupid tunnel, I was glad I wasn't Lupin. He seemed already wolfish, hunched over and on all fours like that. I told him so, and he glared at me. Like the last time, Madam Pomfrey locked us in our separate rooms before scuttling off. I sat on the floor, not really thinking of much. My headache wasn't half as bad as last time, though my bones were aching something fierce.

Lupin coughed in the other room. The noise was so sudden, so loud that I could have sworn Lupin was sitting next to me. Struck by a sudden inspiration, I called out.

"Can you hear me?"

My voice resounded throughout the room.

"So the walls aren't soundproof, then."

I snorted, amused.

"Yeah, no kidding. Heard of the name 'Shrieking Shack'?"

Lupin let out a bark of laughter. There followed a silence in which I winced, and I imagined he did the same.

"Why D'you reckon they lock us up in here for? I've seen the rest of the place; it looks as though you've spent some time in it before." I mused, once my head had stopped ringing. It had been forefront in my thoughts for several days now. As far as I knew, werewolves didn't harm each other, only themselves and humans.

"You don't know?" Lupin asked, surprised.

"No."

"Ah… Well- You see- It's kind of awkward-"

"Lupin."

He sighed.

"When two werewolves get together, they… er- mate and.. they produce cubs…" he trailed off.

"Ahhh…" I said. "Ew."

"I'm surprised that you haven't heard of it before. Not that it's happened often."

"Yeah…"

I picked at a few hairs forming along my legs. It must have been hard, for Lupin to have lived practically all his childhood as a werewolf. It must have been hard for his parents, too. Mine, at least, only had to deal with me twice.

Both times I had been locked in the shed.

It still had dents in it.

A headache had been forming for the past hour. In the past few minutes, the pain had tripled, getting steadily worse. Within the minute, I was clutching my head and gritting my teeth. The moon was rising. Suddenly, abruptly, bone shifted, more hair sprouted. It was as if a torch had been lit. I could smell everything around me – Lupin, the walls, the trees outside – my vision started to blur and spin and I cried out. I heard another scream, wolfish and beast-like – it was Lupin, in the room next to me. My human-ness was slipping away like water off glass, and it all hurt! I pulled my rapidly shrinking hair, clawed myself with pointed and blackened nails. It was pain like none other – I felt as though every inch of me was being pounded and stabbed. It hurt! It hurt! My feet grew longer, pointed, hairier – everything hurt, everything ached – I wanted it to stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! STOP-

I woke up in the Shrieking Shack. For a few seconds I panicked, uncertain as to where I was. I wasn't scared, though. I'm never scared. The first rays of dawn were shining through a bit where the Shack's wooden boards didn't meet each other. For a minute I thought I was still dreaming. As my feelings of disorientation vanished, and I remembered where I was, the recognition of a stinging pain across my cheek and leg kicked in. I gasped, squeezing my eyes against the tears involuntarily rising to my eyes. Shuffling myself onto my elbows, I saw my robes were covered in blood. I lifted up the hem slightly and had to bight my tongue to stop myself from screaming out in horror. My leg was a mess of blood, bruises and yellowish pus. Little rivers of blood flowed from it. I knew instantly that I wouldn't be able to walk on it – I would most likely faint, throw up or both. For obvious reasons, there was no mirror in the little room I was in, so I couldn't see whether or not the cut on my cheek was much worse. I brushed my fingers lightly across it – they came away bright red. If it was only just moonset, I had another half hour until Madam Pomfrey came. I lay back down, gritting my teeth. The floor was dusty, the walls scratched, my leg aching worse than the time I'd broken my finger. I was also exhausted, and had slipped into fretful dreams less than five minutes later.

Madam Pomfrey shook me awake, and even in the few shadowy bits of light that danced off the wooden walls, I could see she was pale. It did little to help my own anxiety.

"Up now, come on." I was pulled up by the armpits, still half unconscious. Lupin was standing outside, looking like he himself might collapse. Madam Pomfrey muttered something, and I felt myself float up – similar to the helium balloons I had once played with. We didn't talk as I was too concentrated on not fainting, Madam Pomfrey was too focused on keeping me levitated and Lupin was too tired. We stumbled through the tunnel, onto the grounds and into the castle. It wasn't yet late enough for students to have left their dormitories, so we kept quiet. Madam Pomfrey entered the Hospital Wing just in time. Lupin and I had gone white from exhaustion and pain. I floated down onto the bed and Madam Pomfrey rushed over to me, pulling out a small vial of something or other. Through the fog of pain I could see that it glinted.

"Is that- Is that silver?" I croaked.

"Hold still." Was her answer. "It will hurt, though you'll feel better later." She dipped a finger in and dabbed it on my cheek. There was a burning sensation, as if fire was spreading across the cut. My skin stretched and tingled. Green and silver smoke billowed up and I coughed. "It's silver and dittany, both crushed." Madam Pomfrey said, who was about to dab some on my leg. "It seals the cut and stops infection."

I hissed and clenched my fists as fire rippled across my leg. The pain lasted slightly longer than it had on my cheek. No doubt the leg wound was deeper and longer. Madam Pomfrey waved her wand, cleaning the cuts on my cheek and leg.

"It'll leave a scar." The matron said soberly. "Any wounds you inflict upon yourself will, I'm afraid."

I nodded, glum. She handed me a potion for the pain, which I swallowed. Madam Pomfrey tugged the curtains around my bed before walking away.

Madam Pomfrey was quite nice, I decided, even if she did get slightly skittish before the full moon. I didn't care much, as her nervousness never extended to any other time. Madam Pomfrey reminded me of my mother, in a way – always kind and caring and fussing. My mother was tall, though, with neat brown hair, and Madam Pomfrey was short with wisps of hair that stuck out as though they had been electrocuted. I had always thought the matron quite bossy, the kind of person who like things in order. It amazed me that a person who could act so severely to those who disturbed her patients could act so kindly to those that needed help. Another thing I liked about Madam Pomfrey was that she liked to clean everything. It was almost funny, in a way. I has seen her polishing her doorknob to her office multiple times. Her office was no doubt spick and span.

A sharp lightning bolt of pain streaked through my head, pulling me away from my thoughts.

Maybe I should try to get some rest.