Lupin coughed quietly, getting the last of the dust out of his throat. He had brought it with him from the… future (he thought the word with a touch of wry amusement). There was no dust here now. The Shrieking Shack's furnishing lay in slightly more recognizable shreds around him, but it was clean. It was in use.

          Ironically, he was in the upstairs bedroom, the same one where he had met Sirius again after those fourteen years, the one where Peter had finally been revealed, and the depths of treachery brought to light. Coincidence, or was his subconscious playing with him? Perhaps the wolf in his head had some odd affection for this place. He couldn't think why, but there it was.

          The bedroom floated in deceptive peace, the last rays of the setting sun lighting the dust motes dancing through the air. Only a few moments now... the moon was already up, and as soon as the sun set he would begin to Change. But first, there was something he had to decide: where to put his wand. It was crucial that no one besides himself, this version of himself, got their hands on it. Although... he wondered what would happen if he just didn't go back. Might he not stay, undetected, and save not only Chryseis but James and Lily? Could he not warn the Ministry beforehand of all the unforeseen calamities that had befallen them over the years? He could make good so many mistakes, so much suffering...

          But no. It was impossible, and even in his daydreams he was aware of that. You couldn't manipulate reality that way; it would only cause problems in the future worse than anything that existed there now. Besides, someone would likely notice two Remus Lupin's running around, one noticeably older than the other.

          Dismissing his wishful thoughts, Lupin took a hold of the windowsill next to the bed and pulled himself up so he could see the curtain that held the bar up. He felt somewhat nervous about showing himself in the window this way, but this was the side of the house that faced away from Hogsmeade. Without further deliberation, he shoved his wand into the folds of the curtain where it bunched up around the bar.

          Jumping down with an ephemeral feeling of satisfaction, he dusted off his hands and realized he could see in the dark. And dark it was, now... truly dark. He was still looking at his hands when they started to Change. He closed them quickly. It still bothered him sometimes, after all these years—the sight of himself, of his own, familiar body turning into something that did not obey his will, at least not without the aid of a magic potion.

          In that moment he heard a terrible sound from downstairs.

          "Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

          Shivers ran down Lupin's spine. It was the eeriest thing he had ever heard in all his years as an Auror, teacher, man, and werewolf. It was the sound of his own voice, screaming in merciless agony. It was his past self, his young self—down there facing the Change, unaware of the far more painful events in store for him that night.

          And inside his own, more experienced breast the same shriek was welling. It did every time, like a black octopus from the depths of a stagnant sea, ready to choke him. But he had grown, he was no longer the poor boy downstairs who cried until his throat bled. He had learned to control those screams, to rein in the pain, as he was doing now.

          The Change was as painful as it had always been, and always would be. But it did not frighten him anymore. And he had more important things to think about.

          He knew more from the fading screams downstairs than from his own body that the transformation was complete. Silence descended.

My name is...

With a warm glow of relief, Lupin realized that he could think. He knew he existed; he was conscious. There was enough potion remaining in his bloodstream from yesterday (yesterday?) to allow him to keep his sanity for this task.

My name is Remus Lupin.

 He felt as if he was waiting for something. In that moment, perhaps, the full magnitude of what he had done and was planning to do hit him. He was going to change history. He was going to modify reality until it pleased him. The act seemed like... a rape of nature. But then, what wasn't in this world of humans and their ambition?

          He padded softly across the room, a wolf with a golden hourglass around its neck, and nosed open the door. He could smell the other werewolf, his other self. It was one of the most disturbing things he had ever experienced. Judging by the silence, the beast—he could not truly think of it as himself—had scented him as well, and was confused. Lupin knew from experience that confusion tended to frustrate werewolves, and frustration tended to make them angry. Of course, he had come here expecting to have to fight. Just not now... not until Chryseis got here.

          He didn't know when that would be, but decided to make his way downstairs anyway. There was no point in putting off the inevitable. It never crossed Lupin's mind that in an encounter with his younger self he might be defeated—he, after all, was the one with the reasoning mind. Besides, he knew his own weaknesses, whereas the other Lupin-werewolf would be fighting what he thought was an unknown opponent. He slipped, silent as the non-existent ghosts this shack was famous for, down the stairs. They led to an empty, battered room—what might at one time have been a den. There was a door on the wall opposite him. And there was something concealed in the shadowed corner by the wall. He could see the eyes—his own eyes—glowing as they glared at him, sizing him up, trying to decide what he was and whether he should be attacked.

          In his mind, Lupin laughed at the absurdity of what he had undertaken to do.

          Hello, he said silently.

          A low growl elicited from the corner. Lupin felt rather sorry for himself, or his other self. He was glad no memory of this would last beyond first light. He contemplated, scientifically, the best way to put his opponent out of the action.

          Lupin's muscles bunched in preparation to spring.

          Sorry, he murmured to himself, and leaped.

          At the same moment, the werewolf in the corner flashed out of hiding. He was fast, as fast, naturally, as Lupin himself. Fangs and fur collided in mid-air, springing away immediately. Both wolves landed on their feet, facing each other with teeth bared. One would not have been able to tell them apart, save for the silver strands around the muzzle of one. The older one.

          But in the battle they melted together like one entity, a tiny hurricane of deadly purpose. A human eye could not have followed the lighting snaps, the flickering feet, the flashing eyes. There in the Shrieking Shack, Remus Lupin fought himself as he had on so many other occasions in his life, in a struggle no less desperate than any he had experienced. And if he became the demon to match the demon, he did not regret or dwell on it. If the irony of it struck him, it did not affect his concentration.

          All of a sudden one of the wolves broke away with a howl, blood streaming from his muzzle. The other growled and advanced, crouched like a spring. The wounded one cast a glance at his adversary and fled, claws scrabbling on the smooth floor. He dashed blindly for the stars as blood ran into his eyes. The other followed with calm deliberation, driving the weaker. Up the staircase they raced one after the other, the wood groaning as they passed. At the top the wounded one paused for but a split second, as if deliberating, then hurtled at breakneck speed through another doorway. There he turned, cornered, and snarled with all the menace he could muster.

          But his pursuer did not follow. For a moment the trapped wolf stood still, confusion seeping into his mind. Then the door slammed shut and clicked. The wolf hurled himself against it to no avail. It refused to budge.

          Lupin turned his back on the young werewolf trapped behind a door held shut, with the aid of human reason, by a chair. It had been pure luck that he had spotted the discarded chair in the upstairs hall, and he had not been sure he could wedge the back under the doorknob well enough. Shivers wracked him and his fur stood on end as he thought of the chances required to make the plan work; but instinct had prevailed and succeeded. His trusted that his young counterpart would not be able to break out, not until morning at least. If not...

          All his thoughts faded instantly as the downstairs door creaked softly, opening with almost imperceptible complaint into the room.

          Lupin crouched on the stairwell, watching with keen eyes as moonlight crept through the open doorway and, wreathed in its silver light, a long-lost and well-remembered figure slipped into the room.

          She was as beautiful as he remembered—how could he ever forget that face, pale, haughty, unique? He tensed, forcing himself to keep from running to sweep her up in his arms, arms which he of course did not have. He wanted to call to her, but all that came from his throat was an almost inaudible whine. She did not notice it.

          Chryseis.

          "Remus?" she whispered into the stillness.

          He restrained himself. This was the tricky part. He had to communicate with her somehow, without frightening her. Not that Chryseis Malfoy was terribly easy to intimidate, but a werewolf was too much for most wizards or witches, and she was young. Lupin crept softly down the stairs, watching the slender shape outlined in the doorway. Chryseis hesitated a moment, then stepped out of the moonlight into the shadows of the room.

          "Remus?" she said again, more firmly this time, "I know you're in here. Don't even try to hide from me. I want to know what's going—"

          She stopped with a gasp and Lupin froze, equally surprised, as another human figure blocked the moonlight. It was a young man, tall and thin, with the same pale hair as Chryseis and the same proud bearing.

          "Lucius!" Chryseis said at the same moment that Lupin growled the name in his mind.

          Lucius Malfoy! What was that git doing here?