MOONLIGHT

I am standing in a clearing in a dark wood, waiting. Waiting.

I have traveled far to get here. Without magic. Dumbledore thinks that this will make a good first impression. They will be more likely to accept me if I show few signs of trying to live as a wizard, he says. I say that it won’t make a difference. They will not trust me, regardless.

But this is what Dumbledore wants, so this is what he shall get. I suppose that is what happens when you are one of the most respected wizards in living history; you get whatever you want. Though he is no longer as respected as he once was. Much of the wizarding world call him a liar, a mad man. I doubt that will last long. Just wait. The wizarding community will come flocking back to him when they finally realize the truth. Though I must say, I am not eager for that time to come. Because, for everyone to realize the truth, something needs to happen. Something big. Such as a death.

The clouds drift vaguely, leaving the moon unguarded for a moment. As the moonlight touches my skin, I give an involuntary shudder. I regret this at once, for it will count against me. Despite my disbelief that the plan will work, I am determined to do my best; Dumbledore is depending upon me. The clouds cover the moon again quickly, before anything happens.

I can feel eyes watching me. I would say that I am surrounded, though it is hard to tell. They must be curious. Why is that shabby, middle-aged wizard standing alone and unprotected, in a forest festooned with werewolf’s?

I wonder the same thing myself, though I know the answer. Dumbledore. I feel resentment, though Dumbledore has always shown me kindness. It is confusing. 

I wish I were back at Headquarters, with Sirius and Mad-eye and the Weasley’s and Tonks and – Tonks. I am rapidly falling in love with Tonks. I have never met anyone quite like her, so quirky and funny. But she is far too young, and I quite unsuitable. Perhaps if I weren’t a werewolf… But then, everything comes back to me being a werewolf.

My thoughts drift back to Sirius. Sirius, who, up until two years ago, I believed to be a murderer. Sirius, who most of the wizarding world still believe to be a murderer. I feel a stab of guilt; if only Wormtail hadn’t escaped… Had I not transformed, he wouldn’t have. Again, if only I was not a werewolf…

I remember all those times at Hogwarts, with Sirius and James and Peter. We were so young; so foolish. When I think of all those times we endangered lives… The time with Snape was the worst. My friends knew I was a werewolf by that time, but had not quite mastered the art of animagiing. Sirius had told Snape about the passageway… Snape had, of course, investigated further, only to catch a glimpse of me at the end of that dreadful tunnel, thrashing and writhing about. I surely would have bitten him. Thank god for James. Snape said that James stopped him proceeding simply to avoid getting into trouble. I had laughed at that. James got into trouble all the time; he was threatened with expulsion nine times in his first year alone. The idea of him risking his life just to escape detention, or expulsion, even, was highly unlikely. James valued life, even Snape’s. That was one of the things that finally convinced Lily to go out with him. Well, that and the fact that she had loved him all along, really…

I think of Harry. Harry. At the centre of all this confusion. Yet, Harry has nothing to do with it at all. If it weren’t for Wormtail, none of this would have happened. James would still be alive. So would Lily. Sirius would be believed innocent. But then, if it weren’t for Wormtail, Voldemort would have remained at large.

My confused thoughts are interrupted as the moon appears again from behind the misty clouds. It shows no intention of returning to its smoky confinement this time. This is it. I must embrace my wolfish instincts. But how can I embrace what has been the source of so much pain and suffering?

My muscles and skin stretch as my face lengthens, and my body is overcome by pain. My eyes lose their human quality. My legs stretch, elevating me. The pain is unbearable. I think no more.

I howl as my transformation completes. Silhouettes appear from the surrounding trees. My equals. Fellow werewolves. One howls back, and soon the quiet of the forest is ringing as many, many more add their voices to the din.

They turn, and start to run. I understand, and follow them.

Perhaps they don’t yet trust me, but they are at least willing to give me a chance. They are far more trusting than most wizards…

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