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Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs


Be careful,” Dora kissed James’s face, tugging him closer. “Remember to keep your shield and disillusionment charms up at all times ‘round the camp site. It’s deer hunting season.”

James struggled out of her grasp, wiping the spot on his face that was still wet from her mouth. “Mum. I know it’s deer hunting season.” Sirius was smirking - it was as though Dora Potter knew about Prongs, but of course she didn’t, she was just being an overprotective mother to what she thought was her fully human son.

“And you’re sure you shouldn’t cancel?” she asked, looking nervously at Remus, who was leaning against Sirius, his eyes ringed in darkness, lips chapped… Remus had been complaining of his hips and lower back hurting and his face was peaky.

“Rey insists,” James answered.

She sighed and watched from the back door as the boys tromped off into the woods, carrying their camping supplies, including enough food to feed even Peter for a year.

They’d decided to go back to the woods behind the old Dumbledore house, despite James’s brush with the hunters there. It was farther away from town and the Potters’ so that the werewolf would be less of a hazard to people. They’d simply do their best to stay out of the field, Sirius said. James wasn’t sure how easy that would be with a wild werewolf.

They pitched the tent in the same spot as they’d done before, used the same ring of rocks for the fire, even, and sat about it for the early afternoon, making plans. They’d wait ‘til dusk ,when the sun started to go down and they’d walk a mile away into the thick of the trees and that was where James and Peter would change and wait while Sirius and Remus would go another half mile or so and wait for the moon to transform Remus so that Sirius had time to get him under control with their weird doggy connection before introducing the werewolf to the stag and the rat. Then, once they’d done, they could do whatever they wanted. The woods would be their kingdom.

So it was that James watched Remus and Sirius walk away through the woods in the dying sunlight, standing next to Peter in a small cluster of trees. He looked at Peter and smiled a bit nervously, knowing Peter was practically shivering out of his skin with fear.

“Ready?” James asked.

Peter shook his head, “Not at all.”

James looked up through the tree tops at the purpling sky. “Not much longer and you’ll have to be ready whether you’re ready or not,” he said.

Peter looked at James, who was standing there, the picture of calm and collected, and he wondered how James managed it, how he was always so… so sure that everything would be alright. Peter had never been sure of everything being alright in his entire life, it seemed. Every choice Peter Pettigrew had ever made - even the simplest ones - always felt like a game of Russian Roulette, bullet in the chambers, life or death. He hated that about himself, hated how afraid it made him, how much of a coward he felt like. He wished he was more like James. James Potter, the person Peter Pettigrew admired most.

“You ready yet?” James asked, looking at him.

Peter drew a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Finally.” James smiled and he quickly changed into his Stag form as Peter turned into his Rat and climbed aboard the back of the Stag, climbing along up his neck and settling into the space between his antlers, his tail curling around one of the prongs for stability.

Meanwhile, further along in the woods, Sirius and Remus had found a clearing and they sat in the middle of it, Remus half laying in the crook of Sirius, leaning his back into Sirius’s chest, their fingers twined together before them. Remus’s hands were clammy and his breath was a bit wheezy. Sirius kissed his shoulder where Greyback had bitten him twice now. Remus’s skin was hot with fever and Sirius could feel him shaking.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Sirius whispered.

Remus nodded, too weak to speak. He shifted his weight and winced, letting out a whimper as a pain went up his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Sirius felt quite heartbroken at the thought of his Moony in pain. He struggled to think of something to say to make Remus feel better, but he couldn’t think of anything, so instead he started to sing really quietly in his ear - an old song, with a slight Sirius modification: “In the forest, the mighty forest, the werewolf sleeps tonight… in the forest the mighty forest… the werewolf sleeps tonight… wee-ooh wim-o-weh… wim-o-weh, o-wim-oh-weh… a-wee-o-wim-o-weh… Hush my darling, don’t fear my darling, the werewolf sleeps tonight… Hush my darling, don’t fear my darling, the werewolf sleeps tonight…

Remus laughed quietly, turning in Sirius’s arms so he could lay his face against Sirius’s chest, breathe in his scent.

When Sirius had finished the song, he kissed Remus’s forehead and stroked his spine. “I love you, Moony.”

Remus was nearly asleep.

Then the clouds overhead shifted… a shaft of moonlight cutting through the leaves… falling on Remus and Sirius, like a spotlight… or like a sword, the way Remus reacted. His entire body stiffened and curled about itself, tight like a knot in Sirius’s arm. “Aah!” he cried out, “G - go Padfoot,” he choked, “You g - gotta - l - let me go.”

Sirius nodded. He knew he had to but it was hard to leave Rey there to change, to let him go… He felt like if he could just hold him tight enough that he’d be able to keep all his parts as they were, to stop him from changing over but he knew that was impossible and Remus’s changes were beginning, the bones cracking, skin bubbling with fur… Sirius was breathless and guilt ridden as he withdrew his arms and crawled backwards away from Remus, staring with tearful eyes as the moonlight took him away.

Quickly, Sirius changed into his dog form and stood, waiting, watching the wolf’s transformation, the shuddering features and the cries from Remus… until his jaw cracked and elongated and the screams became howls that echoed through the night, trembling the leaves in the trees.

In their clearing, Prongs and Wormtail could hear the howl… knew the change was happening… Prongs honked a bit in his throat, stamping his feet in nervousness. Atop his head, Wormtail shivered and his whiskers twitched.

It seemed like hours to Sirius, but it was really less than a minute, the poor sleepy boy had become a grey wolf with long fangs and yellow eyes that stared at Padfoot suspiciously in the dark. They circled one another in the clearing, the werewolf breathing in the different scents, his eyes narrowed, tail flicking in agitation, bushy fured about the crest of his back… Padfoot lowered his head and showed his teeth.

Alpha… Alpha… he told the wolf sternly. You’re Beta. I’m Alpha.

It was the usual song and dance, the tense moments of the wolf trying to decide if it was going to accept this premise or challenge the mangy looking dog… then, finally, the wolf seemed to relax, the fur on the back of his neck lowered…

Beta, he answered.

Padfoot’s tail wagged eagerly and he barked, jumping around the wolf happily and the wolf watched a moment, wary, then followed as Padfoot started to run through the trees, back toward the other two…

Prongs could hear them coming through the trees and he stamped again, still nervous. When Padfoot and the wolf broke through the trees, Prongs’s instinct was still to back away, still fear. He inched back from the wolf, nervous flashing in his wide brown eyes. He honked in his throat.

Remus, Padfoot thought, circling the growling wolf, Remus it’s James. James and Peter, Prongs and Wormtail. You know them. Just like you know me. It’s me, Sirius. Alpha. And you’re my Beta. You’re Remus. You’re Remus, remember? Padfoot paced between the stag and the wolf, protective over the stag, staring down the wolf. Come back to us, Remus. We’ll have a jolly good time if you just come back.

The wolf’s growling slowed… and he stood there, staring… Wormtail shivering uncontrollably on top of James’s head, clutching his antlers in fear…

Sirius? the thought was tremulous.

Remus? Padfoot’s was more hopeful.

Sirius, relief this time.

Remus! An equal amount of relief echoed through Padfoot’s mind as he realized he wasn’t staring at a werewolf anymore, not really, it was Moony and there they were, the full of the Marauders, their minds all about them, the four of them standing about in a clearing in the woods beneath the full moon - Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Together.

Barking with happiness, Padfoot ran about the clearing. Great humping horntails! We did it! Sirius was barking, though only his Moony could understand him as he ran about and Moony let out a laughing bark and Prongs, even without understanding the words understood the emotion so he started honking in his throat and not wanting to be left out of the celebration, Wormtail squeaked and squealed loudly.

C’mon! Let’s run! Padfoot barked out and he started off, enjoying the feeling of the bracken beneath his foot pads, and he heard Moony dash after him, followed by the loud crashing of Prongs coming through the trees, prancing along with Wormtail atop his head so he wouldn’t get lost as they went, rushing along, wild animals in shape and at heart.

They explored for hours, running through the trees, finding valleys and a stream, where they stopped to get a drink of water and to splash about, Wormtail squealing loudly when Prongs used his antlers to splash at the dogs. Moony howling every now and again when they saw the moon in full - a yip-yip-yip-yoooooowl sort of cry that seemed almost musical and would draw out for nearly a moment on the last syllable. They played a sort of tag, taking it in turns who would run - Wormtail staying on Prongs’s head, their footprints leaving funny swirling marks in the soft ground. Padfoot couldn’t help but think of how confused a hunter tracking the prints would be by what they saw and it made him let out a great barking laugh.

Hours and hours went by like this - great fun in the moonlight, the most fun in the moonlight that Remus Lupin had ever had… and when they tired and the moon was thinking of setting, the sun only moments from cresting the horizon… they turned back, tromping through the trees… until they found their camp and Prongs laid down in the dirt, Wormtail crawling off his head to curl up in the crook of his shoulders, where the fur was thick and warm… the werewolf curling against the stag’s belly and the dog curling ‘round him like a ying-yang, using the hind haunch of the stag as a pillow… and there they slept until the moon was gone and the sun had risen… and there they woke, early in the afternoon, James on his back, using Peter’s chubby tummy as a pillow... Remus and Sirius tangled about each other, Sirius’s head on James’s knee… a knot of Marauders, all dusty, with leaves and twigs stuck up in their hair… the flush of adventure still on their faces… the glow of mischief managed twinkling in their eyes.