Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. And be glad I don't, or I would do some really twisted shit. …Like shoot Harry with a Desert Eagle. Or an AK. …A really big gun.

Earth-colored eyes stared in fascination and horror at the small boy sitting in the winged armchair by the fire. He couldn't have been no more than seven. The curve of his neck, the proud sloping of his nose Remus Lupin took in with dawning realization. Inky black hair, pale skin. Oh, hell. If the boy awakened and opened his eyes, the werewolf was ready to bet his entire supply of chocolate that his eyes would have been a stormy gray like the sky before a storm.

"I really hope this is another one of my sick dreams."

"Hello, Moony!" An all-too-familiar voice chirped behind him. A vein pulsed in his forehead as Remus turned around to view his latest migraine, neatly packaged up and brought to him in the form of Hogwarts' favorite terrorist: James Potter.

"What have you done?" It was all the werewolf could do to keep from growling. "How did this happen?" Angry tears sprang unbidden into his eyes for reasons he didn't know. Why did it matter so much? It was probably just a joke.

"I want the old Sirius back. Change. Him. Back."

Tousled red hair was the first thing that could be seen bouncing down the stairs from the girl's dormitory, green eyes filmed over from sleep. 10:30 on a Saturday morning was too early for this kind of drama. Lily Evans quickly surveyed the scene: Remus close to tears, James looking a little too pleased with himself, and a small boy sitting by the fire. All this added up to one thing…which was something she didn't know. But she did know James had to be behind it.


"Ow! Bloody hell, Evans! What did you hit me for?" James gingerly rubbed the back of his head. The woman was a fiery angel, in looks and in spirit, but she really needed to stop hitting him for every little thing he did wrong.

"Whatever you did, you need to fix it! I don't appreciate you hurting my friend like that –"

"He's my friend, too, Evans! It's only temporary!"

"Excuse me." The voice was so small, it would have been missed if Remus didn't pick it up. He turned towards the smaller Sirius and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.


Sirius yawned and stretched, strands of his hair falling into his angelic face. Why did everyone look so upset? "Does anyone know of any werewolves around here?"

The silence in the Gryffindor common room was so complete, you could've heard a pin drop.

"Well? Are there?"

A/N: Okay, I'm ashamed of this chapter. P I promise the next one will be better. Don't hurt me, it's my first fanfic!

Sirius: -tugs on the sleeve of some random reader- Hey, didja know that the word werewolf is a con-contraction of the old-um…Saxton, I think, word wer (which means "man") and wolf - manwolf. Lycanthrope, often used to describe werewolves, actually refers to someone who suffers from a mental disease of fantasizing being a wolf. This particular mental disorder is termed lycanthropy.

Chanta: oo Why isn't he that studious at Hogwarts?