The werewolf lifted its massive head, moonlight shimmering across the bristling mane of coarse fur. Its lips peeled back, revealing rows of yellowed fangs dripping saliva onto the trampled grass.
Harry felt Hermione's cold fingers lock around his wrist. Her voice came out in a high, terrified whisper.
"Harry—"
Ron was white as chalk, clinging to the side of a gnarled tree root, eyes fixed on the beast with the horror of someone witnessing a nightmare come to life.
Sirius Black took a single step forward, his own wand trembling in his fist.
"Remus…" he rasped. "Remus—listen to me—"
But the werewolf wasn't listening. Whatever part of Remus Lupin remained had been devoured by the transformation.
The creature's narrow pupils fixed on them—on Harry, Hermione, and Ron—and a low, guttural snarl vibrated in its chest.
Then it charged.
The ground shuddered under its weight as it bounded forward, claws tearing deep gouges into the earth. The moon caught on its bared teeth, and for a heartbeat, Harry was frozen.
He's going to kill us.
Then—
Severus Snape moved.
His black robes flared as he stepped in front of them, planting himself squarely between the children and the oncoming monster. His wand didn't rise. He didn't even seem to think about it.
"Professor—!" Hermione screamed.
Snape didn't look back. His voice was low, barely audible over the beast's thundering approach.
"Stay behind me."
Harry's mouth went dry. For all the years Snape had spent sneering at him, for all the hatred that simmered between them, the man was stepping into the jaws of death without hesitation.
Why?
There was no time to ask. The werewolf let out an earsplitting roar. It was so close Harry could see the foam flecked at the corners of its mouth.
Snape didn't flinch. He didn't lift his wand, because they all knew—you couldn't kill a werewolf with ordinary spells. No Stunning Charm, no Disarming Hex could break through that hide. Only the Killing Curse, an act of absolute will, could end the creature.
And Harry knew—Snape would not cast it on Professor Lupin.
A blur of motion streaked across the moonlit grass.
Sirius Black vanished. In his place, a massive black dog landed in a snarl of teeth and claws, colliding with the werewolf in a bone-jarring impact that knocked them both sideways.
The two beasts tumbled over and over, snarling, claws tearing at each other, jaws snapping.
Hermione let out a strangled cry. "Mr. Black—!"
The dog rolled to his feet first, hackles raised. He lunged again, slamming his shoulder into the werewolf's ribs and driving it back several paces.
The werewolf retaliated in a blur of motion, swinging a massive paw that caught Padfoot across the face with a wet, cracking sound. The dog was thrown off his paws and landed heavily on his side, stunned.
"No—!" Harry shouted, starting forward.
Snape threw an arm out, barring his path. His face was pale and glistening with sweat. "Stay behind me, Potter!"
"But he's going to kill him!" Harry's voice cracked. "We have to—"
"You cannot help them!" Snape hissed. His eyes flicked to Hermione and Ron, and for a moment, something unrecognizable passed over his features. "Just… stay back."
Harry's heart was hammering so hard he thought it would split his chest.
Padfoot staggered upright, blood streaking his black muzzle. The werewolf circled him, growling low, saliva dripping onto the grass.
In that frozen moment, Harry realized Sirius Black—his godfather—was about to die trying to save them all.
No.
He wouldn't let it happen.
Harry stepped forward, past Snape's outstretched arm. His own hand rose, fingers curling into a fist.
The Force surged through him, wild and cold and vast.
Before he could do anything, Snape shot him a look so sharp it felt like a slap. "Potter—no—"
But it was too late to hold back.
Harry clenched his fist, reaching out—not to kill, but to pull. The werewolf staggered mid-step, its head snapping toward Harry as if it felt something, some invisible hand wrapping around its throat.
It threw back its head and howled.
Padfoot lunged. He locked his jaws around the werewolf's shoulder, dragging it off balance and slamming it to the ground. They hit the earth so hard it shook.
In the chaos, no one noticed Peter Pettigrew stirring.
Harry saw it first—movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to see Pettigrew, still bound but conscious, his bulging eyes wild with panic.
Then, faster than Harry could shout a warning, Pettigrew's bound hands lifted a wand—thin, white, glistening like polished bone.
Snape's face blanched. His voice was a strangled whisper.
"The Dark Lord's wand—"
"NO!" Harry lunged forward, but he was too late.
With a single, trembling word, Pettigrew vanished—gone in a heartbeat, leaving only the loose ropes behind.
Hermione gasped. "He—he transformed—"
Ron's voice was a broken croak. "Scabbers…"
Padfoot and the werewolf were still locked together in a snarling, tearing struggle. Blood stained the grass.
Harry rounded on Snape, his voice hoarse with fury. "Why didn't you stop him?!"
Snape's face was white. "I was trying to keep you from dying, Potter! There is a werewolf—"
But Harry's mind was spinning. The wand—Voldemort's wand. Pettigrew had it all along.
"He'll go straight back to hiding," Harry said, his voice hollow.
Hermione's eyes were enormous, glistening with tears. "We have to help Sirius—"
Padfoot yelped, a horrible, choking sound. The werewolf had pinned him, claws digging deep into his shoulders.
Harry's heart lurched.
Without thinking, he threw his hand forward. This time, he didn't just pull. He shoved.
The Force leapt out of him like a living thing. The werewolf was ripped bodily off Padfoot, hurled ten feet across the grass. It landed in a heap and lay stunned, sides heaving.
Padfoot struggled to his feet, panting, blood matting his fur.
Snape turned to Harry slowly, his black eyes wide.
"What," he whispered, "are you?"
Harry didn't answer. His hand was still raised, palm open, the Force thrumming in his veins like lightning.
Ron was staring at him, mouth open. Hermione clutched his arm as though she needed to feel he was real.
Padfoot staggered over to Harry and leaned heavily against his leg, his great body shuddering with exhaustion.
Harry rested a hand on the dog's matted fur and met Snape's stare without flinching.
"I'm someone who's not going to let any of you die tonight," he said quietly.
The werewolf stirred, groaning low. Snape turned his wand on it, though he looked as though he still wasn't sure who the real threat was.
And for the first time since they'd stepped into the Shrieking Shack, Harry knew exactly what he was willing to do to protect the people he cared about.
Even if it meant wielding power that no wizard understood.
Even if it meant becoming something else entirely.
The next morning, it seemed, to most of Hogwarts, as though nothing had happened at all. The castle's ancient stones were quiet, the Great Hall filled with its usual din of laughter and gossip.
Only a handful of people knew that, just hours before, the grounds had been a battlefield.
Professor Remus Lupin arrived to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts as usual. He looked pale, the deep lines in his face more pronounced, and he walked with a faint limp that he did not try to disguise. A bandage peeked out from under the cuff of his sleeve when he lifted his arm to write on the board.
Students whispered to each other, curious.
"I bet he was hunting some kind of dark creature," whispered Seamus Finnigan, eyes wide.
"Or maybe he fought Dark Wizards," Dean Thomas added in a hushed voice. "Look at the marks on his coat!"
No one guessed the truth.
And no one remarked, at least not at first, on the black dog that now followed Professor Lupin almost everywhere.
It limped slightly but held its head high, eyes bright and intelligent. Its thick fur was still matted with old blood in places, and one ear stood at a rakish angle where it had been bitten.
"Oh, look at him," one of the first-year girls breathed as the dog sat beside Lupin's desk, tail thumping softly. "He's adorable!"
"Professor Lupin?" Parvati Patil raised her hand. "Where did you find the dog?"
Lupin gave a tired, careful smile.
"I rescued him," he said simply. "He was…in a very bad place. But he's quite loyal."
The dog let out a soft, rumbling bark and then, to the class's delight, reared up to walk on its hind legs in a slow circle.
The first years applauded. Even Lupin looked momentarily amused.
Hermione met Harry's gaze across the classroom. Neither of them smiled. They knew who the dog was.
Sirius Black, the most hunted man in Britain, now sat quietly by his old friend's side, watching the castle he hadn't seen in twelve years.
That evening, when the castle had quieted and most students were in the common rooms revising for exams, Harry, Hermione, and Ron slipped out beneath the Invisibility Cloak and made their way to Lupin's quarters.
Inside, the rooms were warm and cluttered with battered books and old maps. The dog was curled by the fire, but as soon as the door shut behind them, it rose, stretched—and transformed.
Bones shifted and fur receded, until Sirius stood before them, looking more human than he had in the Shack, though still gaunt and tired.
"Merlin," he sighed, raking a hand through his tangled hair. "If I stay like that much longer, I'll start thinking with fleas."
Hermione giggled nervously, though her eyes were wet.
Ron swallowed, looking awkward. "So…er…what happens now?"
Sirius smiled at him—thin, but real. "Now? Now I eat something that doesn't come out of a tin."
He turned to Lupin. "You promised me stew, Moony."
"And you'll have it," Lupin said, sounding exasperated but fond. He moved stiffly to the little kitchen and returned with a steaming bowl and fresh bread.
Sirius dug in as though he hadn't eaten in a decade.
Harry stood nearby, unsure whether to sit or keep watch. He didn't know what to say, now that the danger had passed.
It was Sirius who spoke first, pausing between mouthfuls.
"You look just like your father," he said hoarsely. "But your eyes… Lily's eyes. Exactly."
Harry swallowed around the tightness in his throat.
"Did you…know them well?"
Sirius let out a breath that sounded like a laugh and a sob tangled together.
"They were my family," he whispered. "James was—he was my brother in all but blood."
Lupin sat beside him, his lined face soft with memories.
"I wanted to take you," Lupin said, looking at Harry with quiet sorrow. "After it happened. But…werewolves can't raise children. Even the Ministry wouldn't allow it."
Sirius set down his spoon. "If I'd been free…"
Harry didn't let him finish. "I'd like to live with you," he said, his voice steady. "If…if you'll have me."
Sirius' eyes shone in the firelight.
"I would be honored."
Hermione sniffled into her sleeve. Ron just looked away, blinking hard.
Harry swallowed again. "But…is there somewhere safe? Somewhere we can go?"
Sirius nodded slowly. "I have a townhouse. My family's old place. Black Manor. It's heavily warded, even more so than Grimmauld Place. No one would find us there."
Harry nodded without hesitation. "Then that's where I want to go."
For the first time in days, something like hope stirred in his chest.
As the days passed, exams crept closer. The castle filled with the feverish tension of students revising late into the night.
Harry studied with a focus he'd never known. He still trained in secret—lightsaber drills in the Room of Requirement, silent meditations on the Force.
Dobby was everywhere. Fetching books. Sneaking extra parchment into Harry's bag. Helping him practice wandless incantations with tireless enthusiasm.
"Haraldin Slytherin is a great wizard," Dobby declared proudly one evening, straightening the stack of Defense Against the Dark Arts essays. "Soon, Master Haraldin will be greatest of all!"
Harry smiled, though he felt the truth was more complicated than Dobby could ever know.
And yet…for the first time in his life, as the castle's stones warmed under the June sun, he could almost believe things would be all right.