Chapter 4: The Howl of a Wolf

The next day was spent for Severus in anxious anticipation of the next note containing his instructions. He was well and truly scared.

It was the next morning, Wednesday, when ­his second message appeared.

He was on his way to Potions, his favourite subject. It was so unfortunate that they had to share it with the Gryffindors. But he was particularly excited about today's lesson, as they would be learning the Swelling Solution. Hopefully he could use this to get back at the horrible 'Marauders' as they called themselves now. They were forever tormenting him. However his thoughts of revenge were interrupted when a paper plane hit him in the back of the head.

He stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly, apprehensively, he turned around to face the paper hovering at his eye level. Horrified, he took a couple of steps backwards, in an attempt to get away from it, but it simply flew a little closer to him. Hesitantly, he reached out and took it out of the air.

Once in your next class, say the following incantation:

Incipo inscripitium

I am watching.

The paper had the same wolfish shadow on its face. Puzzled, Severus continued to his class. What could this mean? What did the spell do? A part of him was intrigued as to the effects of the charm. Another part of him was scared at the prospect of what he might cause by reciting it. But he knew that he would have to carry out the instructions. As the beast itself had said: I am watching. It would know if he didn't obey. He swallowed. Come on, get it over with.

He headed for his seat, at the very right hand side of the classroom, in the front row. Passing Potter and Black's desk, he went to jump over the foot that one of them usually stuck out to trip him up, only to find it wasn't there. Suspiciously, he looked at the pair out of the corner of his eye as he continued to his place, noticing that they were whispering to each other animatedly. This was unusual behaviour for the usually rowdy boys. Before he could worry too seriously about it though, Professor Slughorn entered the classroom, and the lesson began.

He was so caught up in the finer technicalities of brewing the Swelling Solution that he had almost forgotten about his instructions. It was not until he came to a slow point in making the potion – he needed to leave it to simmer for ten minutes – that he remembered what he had to do.

Taking out the parchment again, he read over the words of the incantation again in his head. He had no idea what they might do. He cleared his throat awkwardly, then hesitated. A series of 'What if's poured through his mind. What if he said it wrong? What if the spell did something terrible? What if it did something to him? But then the last line caught his eye. I am watching. He gulped. The consequences of not saying the spell could be even worse. He breathed in deeply.

"Incipo Inscripitium!" he said, the slightest waver of uncertainty in his tone.

Instantly, the remaining ingredients on his desk flew into his potion all at once, not in any way resembling the precise manner described by Slughorn. The solution turned from an emerald green to a horrible greyish-blue, lumpy mess, and gave off putrid fumes. After a few seconds, it exploded all over him, giving him purple boils on his face and hands. Some had even landed on the boy next to him.

The blonde Gryffindor girl behind him suddenly began to laugh. He looked over his shoulder and noticed something on his back. He groaned.

The whole class was laughing at him by now, and his face and hands were in agony over the boils. They had somehow begun to turn fuzzy and were disgusting to behold. His only thought was that this would not be the work of a werewolf. Unless the said werewolf had taken the form of the marauders. He was certain of the culprits, not only because of their track record with him, but mainly from the message left in the bottom of the cauldron, written in the remains of the potion.

You should try washing your greasy face more often.

It helps prevent the pimples.

The Marauders

///\\\///\\\///\\\

Sirius cracked up laughing along with the rest of the class. It was always nice to see a prank well pulled: you knew all your hard work paid off. He tried to remember this moment for later; to picture in his mind Snivellus, covered in purple fuzzy boils, with a 'kick me' sign on his back. That last one had been his own idea.

He sighed fondly. He had enjoyed that prank, and was almost sad to finish it. But, as they say, all good things come to an end. Except the marauders, he thought proudly, looking around at the other three members. James looked as though he shared a similar opinion to himself, and Peter looked glad that it had worked and was now talking enthusiastically to Remus, who seemed out of place in the four. He looked almost… relieved to see the end of that prank, and was trying to change the subject and move on, so soon after the prank had ended. He also looked exhausted, like he was being drained of energy and colour. What's up with him?

///\\\///\\\///\\\

The marauders were celebrating the success of their prank that night. A few weeks ago Sirius had stumbled upon the entrance to the kitchens and so they had a large amount of sugar in the room. All the boys were sitting in a circle around the food on the floor, eating and talking between themselves.

"I propose a toast!" cried James, over the others' voices.

"A toast?" asked Sirius.

"Yes, a toast. A toast to –"

"Jamesie?"

"What is it, Sirius?" he snapped, annoyed.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but we got no drinks!"

James looked around. Sirius was right. He waved his wand. Nothing happened. He got off his bed and took an unlabeled bottle from behind the panel on the wall where they stored all their 'emergency rations'.

Remus looked suspiciously into his drink. He wasn't sure what it was, but it didn't smell alcoholic.

"There. Happy? Okay then, as I was saying, a toast to the wonderful job we did on Snivellus. Drink up, me hearties!"

All four boys took a big swig of the unknown drink, and continued chatting until late into the night. The boys grew tired, and the conversation grew boring. They looked for something more interesting to do.

It was about two o'clock in the morning, and only Remus was on the floor now. He was lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head. James had pulled his bedclothes down onto the floor into a pile and was seated atop the mountain they created, and Sirius lay on his bed, his head resting on his arms at the foot. Peter was sitting cross-legged on the end of his bed.

"Ooh, I know!" said Sirius, suddenly, lifting up his head. "Let's tell ghost stories! I know a great one."

There was a chorus of 'yeah's from the others. "Me too," said James, grinning wickedly. "But you go first."

"Okay then… It was a dark and stormy night…"

Remus interrupted. "Oh no, not one of these stories. Come on, can't you come up with anything more original to begin your story?"

"Fine then. It was a sunny day, with blue sky and everything was happy. In happyland everyone was happy, even the butterflies." Sirius said sarcastically.

"Okay, okay. It's your story. Continue."

"Thankyou." Sirius looked around, getting into the atmosphere again. "It was a dark and stormy night…" Sirius spoke for a long time, telling the story of a crazed old hag who went around on a killing spree, destroying all the inhabitants of Antarctica. He told in graphic detail one of her murders: apparently she blew him to bits, and the largest part of him they could find was his finger. It was an improbable and fanciful tale, but scary nonetheless. It left the other boys a little shaken.

///\\\///\\\///\\\

"Oi James, you said you had a story. Let's hear it then." Said Peter. They were all eager to hear how his story would compare with Sirius'.

"Well," James began, "The story begins in a town on the outskirts of London, called Langmoore…

This town was fairly ordinary, it was a wizard town, of course. And in this town lived a fairly ordinary boy named Little Jimmy Walker. Well, he was ordinary until the attack. It happened on Halloween, which just happened to fall on a full moon that year. Unfortunately.

He was out trick-or-treating with his little friends. He was only six years old; everyone just thought he looked so cute in his ghost costume – it made him half-transparent. Walking along a stretch of road, illuminated only by the brightness of the moon, they came along what looked like another trick-or-treater in a wolf costume. It was pretty good, they all thought. It was a werewolf. He ran at them and attacked them – clawing at them, tearing their flesh. They were small; they didn't stand much of a chance. Five children had gone out that night, but only one survived – Little Jimmy. He was sent to St Mungo's with severe bites.

There were a series of attacks after that. The next month a girl was found mauled to death; the month after two grown women were discovered in the woods, one dead, the other survived with bites. Parents stopped allowing their children outside, and the town became unsafe. The month after that there were more deaths, and the township finally decided that this had to stop. If they didn't want werewolf killings every month, they would have to band together and put a stop to it themselves. So, the next month after all of that, a party of the town's bravest and strongest men set out to kill the beast.

The wolf put up a great fight, giving two men scratch wounds, another a bite, and even killing one man. But eventually one of them managed to kill it. The town celebrated, and everyone felt safe outside for the first time in months.

But the next full moon, another woman died. Her husband was scratched, but was unable to save her. He did survive however, and was able to tell the story of how his wife had been killed by the ghost of a werewolf.

"And from that night on, if ever you visit Langmoore…"he paused, watching the others who were all staring at him in suspense, "every month, under the full moon, could be heard, the howl of a wolf."

All through the story, Remus had been turning paler, and he had broken into a sweat. His heart was pounding in his chest. Why did it have to be werewolves? It always was. Couldn't James have picked a different story? He was so afraid that his secret would be out. This was it. He started hyperventilating.

"Remus?"

"What?" Startled, Remus sounded very accusatory, and he'd jumped in fright.

"Nothing! I was just gonna say you don't look too good. Are you feeling alright?" James looked a bit offended, and definitely surprised, at Remus' reaction. He wasn't used to this Remus.

"Is little Remmy scared?" teased Sirius.

"Nah," said Remus offhand, but he realised that this could be a good idea. They would notice he was hiding something, and this would be a pretend secret. He would let them think that his secret was just that he was afraid of that story. That was definitely plausible, and it would put them off his trail. Hopefully.

///\\\///\\\///\\\

Thursday came, and brought with it cold weather. While the wind whipped around outside, the students huddled in the common rooms when not in classes, being thankful for the enchantments which kept the castle from becoming as draughty as it looked.

The marauders had snagged a spot directly in front of the fire; a difficult feat in this weather. The day had been exhausting, with Care of Magical Creatures taking them outside in the wind, followed by Quidditch practise for James and Sirius. Right now they needed to thaw out. It took until after five-thirty for them to completely regain their body heat, and while most of the boys looked and felt back to normal, even then Remus still looked terrible.

"Ah, that's better. I can feel my toes again," said Sirius, stretching out his arms and legs as if to check their functionality. He looked around at the other three. Peter had fallen asleep from the warmth of the fire, James was staring at a certain red-head, and Remus looked… awful. He had to admit it.

"Ooh, Remus, you don't look so good. Did you get frostbite out there?"

Remus looked exhausted, freezing and sick. "I'm alright." He looked out the window at the sun, so low in the sky, then glanced at his watch. "Actually, I have to go now. My mother's sick, as you know. She relies on these visits."

Sirius remembered that conversation of a month ago. "And I bet she'd particularly be looking forward to it this month."

"Why?" Remus looked puzzled, as if he didn't remember anything of last month. Strange, thought Sirius.

"Because you couldn't go last time," Remus still appeared totally bewildered. "You were sick, right? Had to stay in the hospital wing?" Recognition immediately dawned on his face.

"Ohhh… yeah, that's right. Yes. Yep. That's what happened." He was acting suspiciously. But Sirius had no idea what he could be up to. He thought back to his other experience in this area. The only other person who he had seen act this way was James, last year. But it turned out that he'd been planning a surprise birthday party for him. Except his birthday wasn't for nearly five months!

There had to be another explanation.

///\\\///\\\///\\\

"Look, I've really got to go now. Sorry. See you in a couple of days." Remus left the common room.

He hated having to lie to his friends. They accepted him, and he felt like someone actually cared about him. But he knew from experience that he couldn't tell them about his problem.

"But Lex, I won't hurt you, I promise! I'm not a monster!" The little boy backed away in fear. He'd heard about werewolves. They were vicious beasts. You had to stay away from them or they would eat you, or make you like them.

"No… get away from me!" He was terrified.

Remus could only watch as his only friend ran away from him in pure terror.

Sitting on a rock at the beach, Remus turned to the girl next to him reluctantly. "Okay, you're right. There is a reason why I'm sick every month. Look, I'm gonna tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. And don't hate me. I'm still me, remember." He stared hard at the blonde girl. She was nine, the same age as him.

"Hurry up and tell me." She was as forthright and blunt as ever. He swallowed hard.

"I'm a werewolf."

A scream echoed out along the empty beach.

"He's a – a werewolf!" The cluster of children around him gasped.

"What?"

"It's true, my mum told me. She told me to stay away from the little freak." The group backed away. Remus turned to Nat, who had so often stood up for him and been his friend. To his shock, Nat was moving away with the rest of them, a look of horror on his face.

"Nat, no!" he cried.

"I thought I knew who you were." In an act of desperation, he grabbed his hand to pull him back, but Nat shook him off.

"Don't touch me… werewolf."

No. There was no reason for this time to be any different. While it may be hard for him to lie, it would be even harder if he told the truth.

///\\\///\\\///\\\

In the common room, Peter was waking up from his slumber. The fire had lulled, and it was dark outside. Remus, Sirius and James were nowhere to be seen.

"Uh, James? Sirius, Remus?" he hesitantly asked thin air. Not surprisingly, there was no answer.

He stretched his stiff arms and legs, letting out a huge yawn. How long had he slept? He looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. It was eleven-forty-five. Almost midnight. Slightly annoyed that his friends hadn't woken him, he sleepily made his way up the stairs to their dormitory.

Being careful not to make a sound as he opened the door, he crept towards his bed. He passed Sirius, who looked dead, except for the snoring, and stifled a laugh. As he passed Remus' bed, however, he noticed it was empty. Where's Remus? The question echoed in his head, and he had no answer for it. He glanced over at James' bed, which still held the messy-haired boy it was supposed to.

Bewildered, he decided just to sleep on it. After all, his brain worked even worse than usual at night. He lumbered over to his bed near the window.

As he pulled the blankets up, he looked out the window at the shining, full moon. It's beautiful, he thought. Illuminating the night, a light in the darkness. Glistening in the sky like a pearl.

With these thoughts in his head, he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of pearls, moonshine and things of beauty. As such, he did not hear the mighty howl echoing eerily across the grounds.

The howl of a wolf.

///\\\///\\\///\\\