WHO: Remus Lupin. Narrative. WHAT: It's the full moon. Aroo. WHEN: Starting an hour before moonrise on September 11. Ending just a few minutes after sunrise on September 12. WHERE: Starting in his apartment in Lawrence, Kansas. Winding up in a National Park. And then back in Lawrence, Kansas in the medical ward. RATING: PG-13 because blood, guts, and gore.
After hearing the warning from Roxy - He’s a hunter - he had known what he needed to do. He couldn’t risk it. Remus didn’t have the courage nor the time to attempt to convince a hunter to help him out. Sure, at first the word had confused him. His mind had immediately gone to a hunter of the Muggle kind that would hunt game during seasons dictated by wildlife officers. He could just imagine James’s indignant expression at the very idea, and he almost smiled.
Almost.
But no, in this world where demons were real along with other dark creatures, it didn’t take him long to realize what being a hunter in this world meant, especially in relation to him. He fell into that dark creature category. He probably would have been hunted in this world. Hell, he still might. Lost or not, the people in this world may be about as understanding as his own world and just have more guts to actually do something about it the second they find out the truth.
So, whoever this Bobby fellow was – He wasn’t going to bother him. As often as his thoughts turned to a side that he would rather forget, a side that was borderline suicidal, he really didn’t want to die tonight. And he already knew that was a rather large possibility. It had only been two and a half weeks since his last transformation. His body wasn’t physically prepared for another one. It was going to be such a strain; half of him wondered if he was even going to survive it.
But if he didn’t, he wasn’t going to take plenty of innocent lives with him. He had gone walking and found a map, tracing his finger across the cities and towns before finally finding a patch of wilderness. It was a national park that was closed at night, and it wasn’t the time of the year for camping. Technically, he shouldn’t even be there, but that just made it the perfect spot. With a shaky sigh and a bag on his shoulder, he apparated to the spot he had chosen and was more than a little relieved when he managed to arrive without splinching himself.
He remembered the first time he had apparated after getting his license the day before the full moon. The splinching had been so bad that he had needed a trip to St. Mungo’s to put him right again. Sirius had been curious, calling him a bloody idiot the rest of the day—
Stop, he thought angrily as he dropped the bag to the ground. Just stop thinking about them.
If he thought about his friends, he knew that it would just confuse Moony. The wolf would expect his pack mates to show up so that they could run together once again like they used to. Though werewolves were meant to pack with others of their own kind, somehow Moony had found pack mates within Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail. Now, every full moon, the wolf waited and waited, angry, upset, wondering why they weren’t showing back up.
Remus pulled out his wand and started to circle the clearing, throwing up wards as he went. He didn’t even bother with a Silencing Charm. There was something about the werewolf’s howl that managed to just break through it, no matter how powerful the Charm. Even Dumbledore had been unable to drown out the howls that would emit from the Shrieking Shack. The first time Remus had gone to Hogsmeade and realized that he was the cause of all of the rumors, he had been quite horrified. But it was better than them knowing the truth.
A Confundus Charm was thrown up, though. With any luck, if any park officers wandered toward him because of the noise, they would be confused before ever reaching him and simply return back to where they were. That is, if the charm was powerful enough. Any other day, and Remus wouldn’t any think of doubting his skills in throwing up charms like these. They weren’t exactly simple by any means, but they were simple enough. But today, just an hour – or less now – before he would be transforming, his magic was at its weakest. If the charms fell off halfway through the night…
He threw up other charms just in case. Forgetfulness. Illusion. A rebound charm that would subtly cause the person to walk around the area without them even realizing that they aren’t walking straight anymore. He knew he was being a little paranoid, but he couldn’t afford not to be.
Remus could only see one good thing. His body didn’t seem fully aware of the transformation that would be taking place any moment. Oh sure, he felt the normal affects of the incoming transformation. He was nauseous, pale, weak, tired, and probably a little agitated, but apparating had been easier than it usually is and despite his paranoia, he was pretty sure that every charm he was casting was as strong as if it were the new moon.
In his time, it was the new moon.
But the wolf knew. He could feel it, at the back of his mind, the pulling for control, the desire for release. In just a few short minutes, he would lose completely control of his body, and it would be a night of hell that he wouldn’t even remember, just like every other night. He reached for the bag he had brought and pulled out the silver chains and shackles he had brought. He grimaced, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked at the chains.
The wolf hated being locked up. He hated it. But being chained up? It was worse, always worse.
He wrapped the chains around the thickest looking tree in the clearing, making sure that it was wrapped several times to make sure that it could not come loose somehow. Then, he was undressing. It was chilly for a September night, but no worse than he was used to back in England. And as embarrassing as it would be for someone to find him now, he knew it just wasn’t worth destroying some clothes to preserve a little modesty. He wrapped his wand in his shirt before putting his clothes and wand in the bag.
He hesitated as his hands moved to the amulet still sitting around his neck. Should he dare remove it? But then again, if he didn’t, the wolf could possibly swallow it instead. With a sigh, he pulled the necklace off and put it into his bag as well. And then he tossed the bag as far out of free as he could manage, trying to make sure that the wolf didn’t get a hold of it during the night.
The shackles were charmed to shrink with the change and were wrapped around his wrists, ankles, and neck. And then, he waited.
There was enough slack left in the chains for the wolf to move, which gave Remus enough room to pace around the tree. He sounded like some dead man walking as he walked five paces back and forth, the chains jingling with each movement, every nerve in his body on edge, agitated, waiting for what he knew what was coming. Suddenly, he froze, but the quiet didn’t last for long.
Horrifying animalistic screams of pain cut through the silent night as the moon’s light started to cast down upon the forest. Hands lengthened while fingers were shattered and retreated inward. A skull was broken apart as it reformed. Knees were snapped as they were forced into an opposite direction. And for a moment, the heart stopped – just a moment – as it was reformed into that of an animal. Each bone was broken and remolded, each piece of skin was ripped apart and regrafted, and eventually – after what always feels like hours but is actually only minutes – it was over.
And as Remus felt the collar around his neck pull dangerously tightly as he dropped to the ground mid-transformation, his last coherent human thought was, Merlin, I hope I don’t break my neck.
Moony, the wolf that now stood in his place, craned his neck back as he stared up at the moon and howled.
The wolf was in good spirits this evening. Never before had he been able to come out to play so soon, so soon after the last transformation. And he was excited and full of energy – until he realized the chains that bound him to the tree. Immediately, that happiness turned into uncontrollable anger. The wolf began to throw himself away from the chains and the tree, yelping each time the chains would pull on his neck or legs a little too hard. But he didn’t care. He could sense it. There were humans around, so close yet so far. He could smell them, the delicious flesh just craving to be ripped into. And he was so hungry. So hungry!
But the chains weren’t giving, not even a little bit. Moony turned his snout toward the chains, attempting to start chewing through them, but the second his teeth were around the silver, he was yelping and falling backward. Soft burns along his guns and tongue were already forming, but Moony didn’t understand the concept of backing off. This just made him angrier.
Had Padfoot, Prongs, or Wormtail been here, maybe they would have distracted him from the self-mutilation. But the thought of his packmates just made him angrier. He began to throw himself tirelessly against the tree he was chained too, ignoring the sound of his bones fracturing, snapping, and breaking fully in half. And when the hunger got too much to bear, too much for him to just sit around and wait, he turned his muzzle on himself, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh of his thigh, paws, stomach.
The blood wasn’t fully human, not fully, but it was enough to make him continue to lap at the warm, red substance hungrily.
And so it continued for the rest of the night. A few park rangers attempted to check out what the howls and noise were from – it sounded like a wounded animal! – but every attempt at reaching the clearing seemed to fail. Inexplicably, the park rangers would seem to completely forget why they were there or be attempting to track down the sound only to realize that somehow – someway – the whines and howls were now behind them. Eventually, frustrated and somewhat embarrassed, they gave up their search.
Just in time, as well. Because they had decided to retreat back to headquarters, they did not hear when the wolfish sounds began to turn into screams that were far too human-sounding to be fully animal. The sun was starting to come up, and with it, the moon was slowly making its retreat. Slowly, so slowly – at least, that’s how it felt to Remus as his mind slowly started to take over once more. The screams were choked from a throat that was overused from the night of screaming, howling, and whining, and there was a patch of blood soaked grass in the vicinity of the tree where Remus lay, shivering.
The transformation never allowed him to fully pass out. The pain was too much for his body to handle, but it was prodding enough not to allow his mind to shut down. So, he wasn’t surprised to find himself conscious as he lay there, even as he could smell the sickening thick scent of iron in the air from the blood around him.
I’m alive, he gasped, but he couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed.
He forced his head up, looking out with hazy, bloodshot eyes, as he stretched his left hand out in front of him. His right wrist appeared to be broken and probably wouldn’t be usable for a little while. Reaching out with his magic and whispered, “Accio wand,” and not for the first time, as the wand came souring out of his bag and into his outstretched hand, he was extremely grateful for his ability to perform wandless magic if only for occasions such as these.
Even though it was such a simple spell, Remus laid there for several minutes afterwards, taking deep shaky breaths through his nose in attempt not to vomit. He wasn’t sure if he had the strength to move if he did throw up, and he really didn’t want to be forced to lay in his own stomach contents. The thought probably should have made the nausea worse, but he was used to thoughts such as these following a full moon. He had to be practical. It was easier than focusing on the fact that he was probably bleeding out and would possibly pass out from blood loss in approximately five minutes if he didn’t get medical attention.
Finally, able to catch his breath, Remus turned the wand on the chains around his body. His mouth felt numb and scarred, probably from where the wolf had relentlessly decided that chewing on the silver was a good idea, but the chains had done their trick. He was still securely fastened to the tree, and though he hadn’t had the strength to actually survey the area yet, he could tell – could smell - that the only blood in the area was his own. He considered this a victory. With a flick, he banished the chains away. Hopefully to his apartment, but knowing how out of it he was at the moment, they could have wound up anywhere.
Again, this small feat of magic required him to stay still, curled up on the grass, shivering, as he tried to keep from passing out now that the adrenaline of the transformation had worn off. Just a little more, he thought, forcing his left hand up as he summoned his bag to him. He grimaced as he heard the bag make a sickening squelch sound as it landed in front of him. It had managed to land in a particular large puddle of blood.
That’s going to stain, he thought mildly.
He dropped his wand in front of him so that he could fish around in his bag for some pants. Anymore magic, and he was afraid he was going to either throw up, pass out, or both – none of which seemed like a particular good idea at the moment. He didn’t bother looking for any other clothes. Just some pants, just enough to preserve even a smidge of decency, that’s all he needed.
Every limb in Remus’s body protested as he managed to pull out the clothing item and forced himself to roll over onto his back so that he could pull them on. His wrist was screaming and his thigh yelled angrily out at him as the drying blood on a particular nasty cut was reopened by the movement. But he had to ignore it, had even learned to ignore it, just so he could get through these post-full moon rituals all alone. He was used to being alone, used to not having anyone there to help him afterward.
Before 1981, he had probably gotten too used to having someone there. Being alone all this time – it was good for him. Or so he tried to tell himself.
The pain from the movement caused another dose of adrenaline to enter his system, though, allowing him to at least work his way up onto his knees – wincing as he did so; he appeared to have fractured his left kneecap – so that he could better look into his bag. A moment of searching later and he was pulling a map out of its contents. He didn’t even bother to open it, though. No, he didn’t have any plans to read the damn thing.
He hugged his bag to his bare chest and picked his wand up once again. His vision was swimming dangerously. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to stay conscious. He tapped the wand to the map and whispered, “Strenuus…”
The world spun as the pre-created Port-Key activated, but Remus never saw where he wound up. His vision swam for a second before he was passing out into the black abyss of his mind. A second later, his unconscious body was being dumped out onto the floor of the medical ward back in Lawrence, Kansas.