Remus J. Lupin: A Closed Book IV
Sirius sat staring at Remus as he sat staring out of the window at the gradually darkening sky, the periwinkle blue fading through violet to leave the heavens a rich, deep indigo scattered with pinpricks of light.
Except to the East, beyond the mountain ridges, where the sky was still brightly lit by the full moon, its ghostly glow tingeing the landscape with highlights of silver-grey.
It happened slowly at first, like a shudder running through the young man’s body, as if he were too cold from the steady wind that seeped between the cracks in the Shack’s walls.
Another shudder, more violent, accompanied this time by a cut-off gasp of pain and Sirius crouched, feeling his own body melt and meld into that of Padfoot, and suddenly everything made a lot less sense and a great deal more at the same time.
There, silhouetted against the window, a towering creature that smelled entirely wrong, a haphazard combination of man and wolf, with tendrils of pain and fear overlaying them both.
Gradually, as the colours faded out of the world, and the scents and sounds rolled in, all traces of the boy slipped away and there was only the animal, fierce and bloodthirsty.
Padfoot could sense the presence of other creatures in the room, their familiar scents mingling with residual man-smell; even his own form bore the marks of co-existence between human and animal, but he knew he must keep the human side under control.
Human instincts have been too blurred and dulled over the thousands of years since they clawed their way to the top of the food chain and Padfoot didn’t need those dangerous logical thoughts desperately trying to override the basic animal mind that kept him alive through these encounters.
A brief moment of mental struggle and the personality that was Sirius sank into the undercurrents, riding beneath Padfoot’s quicksilver instincts.
Wind: sharp, chill. Carrying scent of pine; grass; damp earth. Moonlight. Shadows. Monster.
No, he’s not a monster. Sirius had learned to interrupt only when needed.
Not monster. Creature. Familiar. Leader. Leader? Alpha.
Padfoot had been pacing, his muzzle low and his hackles raised, eyes fixed on the dark form across the room, both of them emitting deep, threatening growls that rumbled like distant thunder. At this thought, his movements ceased and he crouched lower, still watching the other carefully.
Alpha, leader, stronger; strange, smells wrong, different. Too strong, too pure. Animals, other animals. Familiar, friendly, safe. Wolf. Take care. Take care of. Keep safe.
The wolf had been utterly still, head raised, eyes narrow green slits as it followed the nervous motion of the dog. Its voice was deeper, stronger and as the dog bent down, nose pressed to the dusty floor boards, it broke forth with three booming barks and only then did it move.
Too large, too strong, too real. What? No!
Padfoot flinched as the two minds fought for dominance, the dog’s thoughts unable to cope with the entirely human contradiction of confusion and disbelief that Sirius felt, even in the face of such evidence from his own nose.
Wolf. Take care, take care. Take care of! Take care!
Prongs was aware of some internal struggle that seemed to almost cripple Padfoot as he tried to back away and step forward and crouch down all at the same time, the wolf striding closer to him with long, slow steps. He could sense Wormtail’s skittish movements off to one side, could smell the fear and panic, from all three of them, that was slowly filling up the room, could practically taste the tension that held Moony in its grip.
Moony. Such an innocent name. Back when all this was still a game to them. A name you most certainly could not apply to the sinister, stalking creature that now bore down on his best friend.
James relaxed his mind and sank into the background white noise of thoughts and gave over control to Prongs, who tensed his muscles and-
Stamp, head-shake, bellow, distract. Dog, strange, too close, friend, pack, strange pack, yes, yes. Stamp, stamp more, distract wolf, fight, no, no, distraction, give dog time, calm them, soothe the fear, the confusion.
As James looked out from behind the stag’s lightning-quick thoughts at the writhing figure of Padfoot, sprawled on the floor, he realised that his friend had not yet mastered this particular art of Animagus’ Transfiguration. It had taken him nearly a year of practice, to learn how to ride beneath, behind the animal’s thoughts, instead of switching between the two personalities as he had done to start with, and as Sirius was clearly still doing.
Bugger. The thought was slightly too loud, and Prongs nearly stumbled, but he shook of the interruption and focussed back on the circling wolf. With another, quieter mental curse, James vowed to spend as much time as he could, teaching the other boy this ability. Both Sirius and Padfoot each had to be in full control during these confrontations as they were far and away the best at keeping Moony, the wolf, safe.
Safe from himself.
Move, stamp, head down, antlers swing just there, move. The wolf is fierce, strong, alone, scared. Protect him, distract him, is the dog settled? Yes, yes, good, that’s good.
James could see Padfoot regain control of his body, watched as the glimmer of Sirius in those black eyes sank away into the depths and he let Prongs back down. The wolf snarled, and snapped its jaws, white teeth bright against the dank gloom of the abandoned Shack.
Satisfied that the stag had relinquished, the wolf swung back around to face the dog and was knocked to the ground by large, swiping paws and a strong jaw locked around its neck.
James had been terrified the first time Padfoot and Moony had fought; worried that Sirius would be bitten and turned. He quickly came to realise the essential role that Padfoot, and these fights that took place every month, played in keeping the wolf under control. Careful research, and a few innocent questions to some of the professors, had assured him that Animagi were close enough to being true animals that Dark Creatures did not affect them.
The fights were horrific nonetheless. Alpha males would regularly fight other males in their pack to reassert dominance, he knew that much; the fact that Moony only became a wolf three nights in every month confused the animal it seemed, disorientated it and it would fight Padfoot as much out of self-defence as for superiority.
Even with all this knowledge, and instinct lent from Prongs, James was more scared tonight than he had been in a long time and the stag could sense it as well.
Something was wrong. The wolf was fighting strangely. Prongs understood, but James couldn’t find the words to explain it. Less violent, but more aggressive.
Worse, Padfoot wasn’t backing down. Sirius knew that the wolf had to win. The wolf was the alpha male. It was easier to control when secure in its dominance.
Wormtail had disappeared. Prongs was bewildered and growing more afraid. Padfoot was limping and panting and growling and still not backing down. And James suddenly realised what Sirius had been talking about.
The wolf was pure monster.
There were certain mannerisms that the three of them had passed on to their Animagi: The way Padfoot sat, sprawled on the floorboards, which mimicked Sirius’ ‘Lord of the Manor’ attitude.
The way Wormtail would flinch when Padfoot snapped at Prongs’ ankles, reminiscent of Peter’s discomfort with playful fighting.
The way Prongs would stamp his hooves and shake his antlers when the others were misbehaving, that told the others James was having a ‘grown-up moment’, as they called them.
There was absolutely nothing of Remus in this creature. James thought of the words Sirius had spoken to the chill wind, three days ago in the tree-top and he sincerely agreed. He hoped that Remus never knew what the wolf did. And it scared him more than anything to think that maybe he did.