7

91 7 1
                                    

Remus was quiet the whole day, spiralling into a bottomless pit of self loathing. The rest of the marauders, along with Circe, had quickly moved on from the scene that had unfolded that morning. The girl had sent him several worried glances throughout the day, having noticed his silence but nothing more had been said on the matter. Her flirting hadn't ceased since the revelation however that somehow makes him feel worse, it makes him bitter. Remus doesn't believe that Circe has any bad intentions however it is just a reminder that she doesn't actually like him.

When the time comes for him to make his way over to the Shrieking Shack, he realises how right Circe had been. His symptoms are nowhere near as bad as they usually are and he can make his journey across the grounds without the assistance of Madame Pomfrey, like he usually does. His gums and bones are still majorly aching but he hasn't lost any of his strength. Normally, his whole body would be trembling at this point.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for his transformation.

The wolf was clawing its way out of him more aggressively that it ever had before. Its angry. Angrier than he had felt it be. Sure, he has his bad transformations and the better ones- not that they could ever be considered as good- but this is surely the worst he had ever felt during his monthly changes. His pained screams echo throughout the worn down shack, bouncing off the splintered walls. The three animals waiting in the underground tunnel can hear the agony in their friend's voice, each of them shivering as they dare to imagine the sight of Remus in this moment. He had forbidden them from ever being in the room with him whilst the change was happening, which somehow made it worse for them as it only left their imagination to run wild.

It stopped, much to their relief. However they know it isn't going to be one of their easier nights. 

When the screams are that loud and filled with that much pain, the werewolf would be eager to tear apart whatever it can sink its claws into- which usually meant the furniture or more likely its own flesh. It has never been them, never his friends, as it somehow knew it would be an unforgivable offense to do so. The rat, the stag and the dog tread lightly into the shack uneasily, terrified of the situation they could be walking into. A loud howl erupts from the wolf's snout as it drags one of its claws across its leg, causing the three creatures to run up the stairs in a panic- wanting to prevent as much damage as they can.

It wasn't a surprise to see the beast pacing around the small room, a furious look on its face, his warm breath condensing as he huffs. Although it was a surprise for it to morph into a look of sadness, his angry growls turning into meek whimpers. The three animals creep closer, to not startle him, but once he sees them he leaps over them and dashes out of the room. He begins to tear up any of the furniture still in one piece to shred, destroying everything in his path. Anytime the three of them tried to approach him he would quickly run away.

Blood is running out from the many small cuts he had inflicted on himself. The beast limps around the shack, looking for its next victim, but freezes in his tracks when a small meow can be heard from behind him. The werewolf and the three animals all spin around to find a small black cat sat in the corner of the room they are currently in, its tail swaying from side to side as it looks at each of them in turn. 

Sirius and James share a worried glance, fearing for the small creature's safety. Sure, Moony wouldn't hurt them but there is nothing to say he won't hurt an unfamiliar animal. The pair brace themselves as the werewolf crouches down to get a closer look at the cat. Everyone is frozen as they lie in wait. When the wolf takes a step forward Prongs dashes between the two animals, causing the beast's nose to flare in anger at the stag for interrupting him. One of his large, clawed hand reaches out and flings the animal at the wall, like it was nothing more than swatting a fly. 

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖘 𝖔𝖓 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊Where stories live. Discover now