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The Wolf and the Dog


Remus was sitting with the boys at the Gryffindor table. Sirius was being quite twitchy, glancing at the sun in the wide ceiling’s reflection of the sky. Soon, it would be time for Remus to go out to the Shrieking Shack as that night was the full moon and Sirius, who had been practicing his transformation from boy to dog and back again all week, was nervous about what the night would bring. He hadn’t told Remus what he was planning, knowing Remus would try to talk him out of it and Sirius didn’t want to have the argument again. He’d already held it multiple times over with James and Peter. There was no stopping him -- he couldn’t leave Remus alone out there in his state.

“How are you getting out to the shack tonight, Moony?” Sirius asked quietly.

Remus shrugged, “I’m not sure. I was thinking of going to talk with Dumbledore after lunch. I’m sort of worried about how the change will go with this leg,” he sighed. Madam Pomfrey had cut loose the cast that morning and wrapped the leg in bandages to keep the bone steady in preparation for the night to come. Pomfrey had said it was Dumbledore’s idea to cut off the cast, seeing as a wolf’s leg is shaped quite a lot differently than a boy’s and the cast would only hinder the transformation and cause additional problems. Nobody knew exactly what to expect from the change, though, and Remus worried that it would lead to another break in the still fragile bone.

“Someone will need to bring you out,” James said, “They can’t possibly be dim enough to think that you can wheel yourself through that tunnel out to that horrible --” James looked up and actually choked on the treacle tart he was eating for dessert. Looming over them was Albus Dumbledore, smirking down at James warmly. “Headmaster,” he said, voice high as Peter thumped the ball of his fist against his spine and lifted up one of his arms to free the lodged bit of tart, “Hi.”

“Don’t get all choked up on my account, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said smoothly, winking as James waved for Peter to stop whapping on his back. He nodded at both Peter and Sirius as well, “Hello.” He looked at Remus, “Might I have a bit of a word with you, Mr. Lupin?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Remus answered, nodding. He glanced at the other three and mouthed goodbye, then as Dumbledore took hold on the handles of the wheelchair and brought him away.

James looked between Sirius and Peter. “You don’t think Dumbledore heard me call him dim, do you?” His face was still red from choking.

Sirius laughed and reached over to straighten James’s tilted glasses.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore was pushing Remus along the corridor. “I hear your friends have been quite the silly bunch, using the locomotor charm to move you about in this contraption?” his voice was gently amused.

“Yeah,” Remus said, nodding, “They’ve been quite amusing with it. They bewitched a carpet, too, brought me all about the school with that.” He smiled, “Dunno if any of them have ever been so motivated to learn new spells before.”

Dumbledore chuckled, “Sometimes adversity is the greatest motivator, I’m afraid. And how are you feeling?”

“It hurts less,” Remus said. “And I can do this.” He wiggled his exposed toes for Dumbledore to see.

“Very good!” Dumbledore said, smiling.

Remus smiled at his toes, too, and then leaned his head back to look up at Dumbledore. “I wanted to thank you, sir, for helping me, and staying at St. Mungo’s with me.”

“Of course, Mr. Lupin,” said Dumbledore, “You are very welcome.”

Remus contemplated a moment, unsure how to ask what he wanted to. He looked back at his toes, chewing his lower lip, then asked, “Sir… What’ll happen when I change this time? Will my leg be worse?”

Dumbledore answered, “We are not entirely certain. I have been talking to Madam Pomfrey and to Professor Veigler and several healers from St. Mungo’s on the topic --”

“You told Professor Veigler about my furry little problem?” Remus asked, startled.

Dumbledore answered, “I did not tell him. He is a bit of a werewolf expert, however, and I sought out his expertise on the topic of the transformation and the effects it might have on an injured body.”

Remus frowned. “Won’t Veigler suspect --”

“Professor Veigler knows no more than he should, I assure you,” Dumbledore answered before Remus could finish his sentence. “As I was saying, I’ve consulted with a good deal of experts in healing and the werewolf transformation and we’ve been unable to come up with a truly definitive answer… though we are all reluctant to say that it will not have an effect, we are also fairly sure it will not hinder the healing process as much as one might expect.”

Remus nodded. “Basically it’s a we’ll see, then, is what you’re saying.”

“Basically, yes.”

Remus sighed heavily. Dumbledore had pushed him out onto the grounds and down the path from the school towards the front gates. Remus looked about as the sunlight filtered through coloured leaves that moved gently in the crisp, early Autumn air. A bird landed in the leaves of the whomping willow and he turned his head as they passed by the tree. “Sir, aren’t we going --”

“To the Shrieking Shack? Yes,” Dumbledore said, “However, I’m afraid that your tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow may not be entirely wheelchair accessible, so we will be disapparating from just beyond the gates.”

“Oh. Yeah, right,” Remus nodded.

Dumbledore smiled and hummed a little tune as he walked. It took a moment before Remus recognized it as the ridiculous song Sirius had made up about dragon fighting and he laughed. Dumbledore looked down, “Yes, Mr. Lupin? Whatever is so funny?”

“It’s just that song you’re singing - it’s the one Sirius made up, isn’t it?” Remus asked.

Dumbledore chuckled, “So it is. Quite the ear worm, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir,” Remus said.

When they reached the edge of the castle grounds, Dumbledore held tight to both Remus’s shoulder and the handle on the chair. “Alright,” he announced, “Next stop - the Shrieking Shack.” And with a crack, they had gone.




It was just before midnight and the Third Year Gryffindors were in the corridor, headed for Astronomy. Lily was going on and on about getting enough notes to help Remus out at the class and some meteor shower that they were supposed to be observing during the week as a homework assignment. She didn’t even notice when Sirius continued on down the stairs quickly, waving to James as he darted off, and the rest of them went on down a corridor toward the north tower.

Sirius had taken the invisibility cloak and now that he was separating from the others, he tugged it on over himself. Peter had gone to get supplies - foods that dogs could eat from the kitchen, mostly meats and cheeses, which Sirius had packed up in his bag. He trotted down the stairs quickly, ducking ‘round a corridor down which he could hear Peeves sing-songing loudly as Argus Filch shouted and threatened to get the Bloody Baron. Sirius was more than pleased to hear the caretaker distracted. He hurried down the stairs and out through the entrance hall, carefully keeping to the castle, the invisibility cloak flapping about his ankles as he ran along.

When Sirius had reached the Whomping Willow, he searched about for a somewhat sizable rock and sat on the ground, biting the inside of his cheek as he waved his wand, guiding the rock along with the wingardium leviosa charm. The rock trembled through the air and had nearly made it when it fell and Sirius had to start all over again. “There’s got to be an easier way to do this,” he muttered, finding a new rock and levitating it over to the knot in the tree. When the knot froze the tree and the tunnel opened up, Sirius hastened across the grass and jumped down into the dark beneath the ground.

Lumos,” he hissed, the light glowing off the walls of the tunnel. He tucked the invisibility cloak into his bag, and set off toward the shack. As he ran through the dark, Sirius worried about what he would find at the other end, his hand absently feeling the scar on his forearm. He didn’t let his fear slow him down, though, he was determined.

When he reached the trap door, he shrugged the bag from his shoulder and dropped it down at the foot of the stairs. He unlocked the trap door and cracked it open, peering through the sliver of an opening he’d made. The Shack was dusty and dark, save for a few streaks of moonlight coming through the window. He could see it glinting off the metal wheels of the chair that Remus had been stuck in all month. But there was no sign of the wolf.

Sirius ducked back down into the tunnel and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and focusing on the Snuffles part of him, summonsing that bit up from the depths of his guts. It was getting easier and easier to change into his dog form and Sirius soon felt the rippling of his skin and the lengthening of his nose as he fell onto all fours. His senses heightened and he breathed deeply. He could smell Remus - the musky scent of wolf sent the hairs on the back of Sirius’s neck standing on end. It smelled of danger. All of his instincts told him to turn around and he had to pause, standing just below the trapdoor, building himself up to move forward.

The trap door moved open slowly as he pushed it up with his nose, squeezing his way through. The door shut behind him with a puff of dust and a thump, only just missing his tail, which he kept low as he crept forward, keeping himself close to the floor, smelling his way through the dark, looking about, ears flat to his head.

There was a growling behind him and Sirius paused, turning slowly to face the wolf, which stood on three legs, the rear right lifted up painfully, yellow eyes glowing and taking in the stance of the dog before him.

Alpha-male. The words crossed through Sirius’s mind, though he wasn’t sure where from. It occurred to him suddenly that, as a dog, he and the wolf would speak the same - or at least a similar - language. He didn’t know a lot about canine politics, but he knew that the Alpha-male was the leader and therefore he would be best not to challenge the role, unless he was prepared for a fight, and so he forced himself to submit.

There was a bit of blood on the front leg of the wolf and Sirius took a slow step forward, crouching close to the floor so that he was pulling himself forward with his paws. When he reached the wolf, who hadn’t moved at all but continued growling lowly, Sirius pushed his nose forward, gently nudging the wolve’s front leg.

His heart was in his throat. He wanted Remus to know that he was there to help. The wolf had stopped growling and was peering at Sirius a bit curiously, teeth still bared. Carefully, Sirius licked the wound as a nurturing dog would do to it’s injured young. The wolf tugged its leg back for a moment, surprised by the touch of the dog’s tongue, unused to kindness. He stared at Sirius, considering him for a moment. Sirius lowered to the dusty floor, flattening himself as low as he could go, the instinctual fear telling him what to do.

The wolf’s gold eyes moved over the dog for a long moment… and then turned and he walked away unsteadily, leaving Sirius laying on the floor.

Sirius got up and started to follow after the wolf, mistaking the calmness and departure as acceptance, but suddenly the werewolf turned back, leaping at him, snarling. The broken leg in the back kept him from launching straight, however, and he landed with a crunch on the floor a few feet off from where Sirius laid. Sirius scrambled to the trap door, his claws making him slip on the dusty floor. He realized suddenly the one flaw in the escape plan was that a dog couldn’t open the trapdoor and he looked about for an alternate way out of the Shack. There was no way to get out of the shack, but he did spot a large flight of stairs leading away to the second floor. It was missing the first few steps so that it would take a long jump to get up without falling through to what Sirius assumed was the basement. The wolf was pulling itself back up and preparing a second attack, giving Sirius no time to change to his human form to get out the trapdoor, so Sirius rushed forward, passing the wolf and leaping up onto the stairwell, pulling himself up onto the steps and out of the wolf’s reach.

The wolf followed, stopping at the edge, unable to jump with his back leg out of commission, and he started pacing, limping, at the foot of the steps. Sirius recovered from his jump, shaking himself off. The wolf was growling, snapping, challenging him - daring him to come back to the main level and fight. Sirius crept further up the stairs, refusing. He knew that even with his injuries, Sirius still couldn’t win a fight against the werewolf, whose jaws could easily snap through his bones. He had no choice but to stay there, out of the wolf’s reach until he turned back to Remus come morning. Sirius sighed and laid down on the step, watching as the wolf struggled to pace before him, lifting his hind leg and wincing with the pain. Sirius wished he could do something besides stand and cower, but at least he was here and if something happened he would know it and could get help.

It wasn’t perfect… but it was a start.