The Werewolf With the Aura of Distinct Dottiness

Well, I have been kinda bored and well… This promises to be interesting. I didn't feel like writing right now exactly, but I have more written if anybody reviews asking ) (hint hint, I have nothing better to do… Please?) I had no title ideas, and I don't think this plot has ever been used before. I am hoping that my Luna isn't "Mary-Sue" but then I have never read a female character who wasn't called Mary Sue at least once so yeah. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the madness- I try so hard. Much love to anybody who reviews!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or really anything. I suppose that I own the storyline in this, but it's based off of work by J.K. Rowling. That should be obvious, I am on fanfiction you idiot. Otherwise I would be working on… Um, I don't know, the sixth book? Who checks these disclaimers, anyway!

It was near the end of my second year. It was past curfew, but I was out of bed. Well, I was in bed, but it wasn't my bed. Come to think of it, it was, because I got to sleep in it that night in the hospital wing. I didn't live in the hospital wing- I lived in the Ravenclaw House dorms on most nights, but Draco Malfoy had cursed me during charms that day, causing me to grow an extra arm. It was splendid, really. I could carry my bag, write, and draw my picture of a Crumple Horned Snorkack all at once. But Professor Flitwick seemed to think that only negative results would come of having one arm too many, so he sent me off to the hospital wing. Funny man, Flitwick. He reminds me of the munchkins from the Wizard of Oz. It's my favorite muggle movie. I once asked Professor Flitwick if he had seen it, but he told me not to ask silly questions. What was I telling you about? Oh, 'The Incident'. Right. I was in the hospital wing, counting the cracks on the ceiling. There are quite a lot of them. One would think that Madame Pomfrey would fix them, but she must be busy. I always saw her as one to lead a double life. I can just imagine it: POPPY POMFREY GOING SOLO IN 'THE WEIRD SISTERS GONE WITCHIN'!

She must be quite an asset to the band. So, she spends so much time treating patients, or writing rhythmic lyric, that she must not find a good opportunity to repair the ceiling. The cracks give it character, and I think they spell out the word smock if you analyze them very carefully, which was what I was doing not wanting to sleep. I was trying to ponder who the word smock was directed at, and whether it was to me or not, and what message it carried, until Harry Potter, and the two Gryffindors he spent his time with were brought in. They looked "a great deal worse than a poffot when provoked" as Da once said. I had never actually spoken to either of the three of them, being a year lower and in a different house, but I knew who Harry was. He's the Boy Who Lived; he saved the world! It's quite amazing actually.

He didn't look too amazing right then though. All three of them were unconscious, Harry and the girl were white as ghosts, and the redheaded fellow was scratched up. I didn't say anything, but kept still. Whatever was happening wasn't any of my business, after all. But I could hear what was said nonetheless. Professor Snape had brought them in, looking quite smug for some reason. Queer man. Last week in Potions, he told me that the tooth of Cornelius Fudge would not do anything whatsoever to improve a potion. But it would, I tried, and the Potion turned green. At least, the label said it was the tooth of Cornelius Fudge, but I do wonder where the salesman got it… Oh well, the world of business is just one puzzle followed by a maze. Back to Snape.

He's sort of a mean fellow, but I suppose that's because he was badly traumatized by a hippogriff in early childhood. I found this out one day when he (Snape) was substituting for Professor Lupin (who is a swell teacher, even though he gets sick all the time. His sickness is- no doubt- a secret allergy to the moon. No, really. His boggart was the moon, and I realized when doing the essay that Snape assigned us about werewolves, that Lupin is always sick on the full moon. Therefore, the only possible conclusions can be that A) Lupin suffers an illness which causes lunar phobia on the nights when the moon is most prominent, or B) he is utterly terrified of werewolves and resorts to hiding to deal with it. I asked him about it once; I'll go into that later. Once again returning to the study of Snape…) and I asked him why he hated werewolves so much, he did seem sort of biased. He said that he had a bad experience with a dark creature when he was young, and as though to top that off, Malfoy, the Slytherin boy, started moaning about how Hagrid's hippogriff had maimed him. Hagrid is a strange man, he can't teach competently, but whatever. Snape had smiled malevolently at Malfoy's remark, which points to hippogriff trauma.

I was lying there on the bed, which was mine for one and one night only, and Snape was tottering around as pompous as a giant rooster, while Madame Pomfrey was stressing over the state of the students. I soon figured out what had happened, mostly, for the Cornelius Fudge came in. I could talk for hours about the scandals involving man, the least of which being his foul treatment of goblins, and his kinship with Sirius Black, which few know about- but I'll attempt not to interrupt this most loverly tale of mine any more than I already have done.

None of them noticed me, and I attracted no attention to myself, because I was irrelevant in whatever issue they were dealing with. They spoke quietly, in hushed voices for a minute, before realizing that nobody was listening- except yours truly, but they thought I was asleep or something- and raised their voices to a normalish volume.

"Shocking business… shocking… miracle none of them died… never heard the like… by thunder, it was lucky you were there Snape!" Fudge said. I began to brainstorm… Professor Snape must have saved the other three patients from something… Or saved Fudge's political face, considering he ought to have lost any good standing with anybody at this point, the way he persists in treating goblins.

"Thank you, Minister." Snape said in a kiss-uppy tone. If I hadn't wanted to know what was going on with these wonderfully intriguing people, I would have warned Professor Snape about how Fudge has secretly been aiding Sirius Black to rob goblins' homes, but I remained silent, as to gather what was going on with the Minister of Magic.

"Order of Merlin, Second Class, I'd say. First Class if I can wrangle it!" Hum, I thought. Now the double-faced politician resorts to bribery to gain supporters in his cruel game of government injustice!

"Thank you very much indeed, Minister." Poor Professor Snape, maybe this would make up for the hippogriff issue.

"Nasty cut you've got there… Black's work, I suppose?" Inquired Fudge pityingly. Woah, Black was involved? Sirius Black! Pricked my ears, shocked that they were admitting their association with the criminal in plain hearing!

Snape cast a sneering glare at the other beds. "As a matter of fact, it was Potter, Weasley, and Granger, Minister…" I took a double take. The three Gryffindors remained unconscious, but I thought I saw Harry twitch. They attacked a Professor? Well, Snape had it coming, who knows what he and Black were plotting?

"No!"

"Black had bewitched them, I saw it immediately. A Confundus Charm, to judge by their behavior. They seemed to think there was a possibility that he was innocent. They weren't responsible for their actions. On the other hand, their interference might have permitted Black to escape… They obviously thought they were going to catch Black single-handed. They've got a way with a great deal before now… I'm afraid it's given them a rather high opinion of themselves… and of course Potter has always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the headmaster-"

I was putting it together now… They had seen Black… he had cursed the others… who had cursed Snape (not that I see anything wrong with that. After he took 5 points from Ravenclaw, just because I asked a question, I seriously considered siccing a giant on him. The giant wouldn't mind, studies show that if you feed them quality spam, they'll do anything you ask.) who had saved them somehow…?

"Ah, well, Snape… Harry Potter you know… we've all got a bit of a blind spot where he's concerned." Fudge amended. Well of course we all had a blind spot! I suppose that Mr. "I'm going to be a biased git" of Magic had neglected to realize that had the aforementioned Harry Potter was prolly the key reason we were still living. Though he did get in trouble a lot, so do Fred and George Weasley, and Snape doesn't whine about them at the drop of hat.

"And yet-", the poor traumatized fellow just needs something to take his anger out on. Other than Harry. He needs a life… I wonder if he reads the Quibbler… "…- is it good for him to be given so much special treatment? Personally, I try and treat him like any other student. And any other student would be suspended- at the very least- for leading his friends into such danger. Consider, Minister- against all school rules- after all the precautions put in place for his protection- out of bounds, at night, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer- and I have reason to believe he has been visiting Hogsmeade illegally too-"

What the bloody deuce? I thought. My mind was reeling like a muggle cassette. Who is a werewolf? Obviously not Snape or Fudge… the murderer they spoke of had to be Sirius Black… But a werewolf? Who, who, who! For a split second I went through every possibility. I was stuck between Professor Dumbledore, Professor Lupin, Ron Weasley… But they wouldn't talk about Dumbledore like that in his own school… Great man, Dumbledore. I could speak pro-Dumbledore for hours. He's a great man, well, except for the fact that he steals about one Galleon per month from the lower vaults at Gringotts- he was seen doing this by a man called Stubby Boardman, I think, and Da did an article on it in The Quibbler. But continuing… Harry visited Hogsmeade illegally? Then how could he get past the dementors? Maybe he is secretly part dementor…

"Well, well… we shall see, Snape, we shall see… The boy has undoubtedly been foolish…" Fudge interjected. "What amazes me most is the behavior of the dementors… you've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?"

What did the dementors do? I repressed a shudder. Mum always said that dementors ate souls with every meal, and would only cease to do so if you managed to hug one without going stark raving mad, but Da insists that they fear clowns. Clowns make me cry. They look so sad, with the pale faces and red noses. And people laugh at them. I don't see why. Clowns are just regular witches and wizards who accidentally curse themselves to entertain us. Nothing too funny about that. Course, if that's what they like doing… Maybe I will one day…

"No, Minister," Snape answered. "… By the time I had come 'round they were heading back to their positions at the entrances…"

"Extraordinary. And yet Black, Harry, and the girl-" Fudge was interrupted by Snape's prompt reply. "All unconscious by the time I reached them. I bound and gagged Black, naturally, conjured stretchers, and brought them all straight back to the castle."

I noticed Harry moving slightly on his bed. Nobody else noticed though, but with the lives they lead one can't properly blame them. Madame Pomfrey reentered the room, and Fudge and Snape retreated to continue talking just beyond the hospital wing door. The girl- Granger, Snape had said- began to move as well. Madame Pomfrey hurried past my bed, taking no notice that I was there, and giving them huge pieces of chocolate. Chocolate is one of the best things ever; I always loved it. At any rate, she gave them the chocolate.

"Ah, you're awake!" she declared. Stating the obvious really. I was awake too, but then I wasn't the Boy Who Lived, unfortunately. I was just a girl currently living. "How's Ron?" Harry and Granger asked.

"He'll live. As for you two… You'll be staying here until I'm satisfied you're- Potter, what do you think you're doing?" Harry was pulling his glasses on and sitting up.

"I need to see the headmaster." They had always called Harry Potter strange you know. Much like all Quidditch players are. I sort of began dozing then. Interesting as this was, I could hear distant howls being carried through the window. It was quite pretty sounding, though sad if you know what I mean. A word clicked in my mind. Werewolf. I could see the full moon hanging over the Forbidden Forest. Perhaps a werewolf was making those howls… I gazed transfixed out the window, my soul wrapped up in the animal's glorious sonata.

The sound slowly faded into the distance, and I began to pay attention to the ruckus next to me. Fudge and Snape had returned, and everybody in the room but me was yelling. Harry and Hermione were insisting that Sirius Black was innocent, that Peter Pettigrew, the man he murdered had killed all the muggles and all. Oh, and that Pettigrew was a rat Animagus, and such. Fudge and Snape were out shouting Madame Pomfrey's demands that they let the students rest, as they declared Granger and Harry insane. In the midst of the commotion, Professor Dumbledore made his entrance.

Harry and Hermione turned their attention to him. "Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black-"

"For heaven's sake!" Madame Pomfrey shrieked frantically. "Is this a hospital wing or not?" I considered this. I had settled on the decision that this was indeed, a rock concert more than anything else, because we had the screaming spectators, Madame Pomfrey, and live entertainment, as the aforementioned Madame Pomfrey continued, "Headmaster, I must insist-"

"My apologies, Poppy, but I need a word with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. I have just been talking to Sirius Black-"

Snape rudely interrupted him. "I suppose he's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in Potter's mind? Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive-"

"That, indeed, is Black's story," Dumbledore concurred. Now, I could continue to go through this conversation with a comb and paint each and every little detail for you, but I'm sorry to say that I can't at present. My memory can only stretch to such lengths, and as I wasn't what you would call involved with this conversation, just a spectator. But from there, Snape started to complain that they were ignoring his eyewitness account, and that the kids were insane, that stuff, and Dumbledore asked to speak with them alone. Well, he wouldn't have been alone; nobody really seemed to notice my presence, not that I minded or anything. I was interested only in watching at that point. It was a lot like a wonderful play that required no tickets. Anyway, noticing me would have affected the life-changing event, yet to come for me, but which was speeding my way with every passing second.

Dumbledore was finding it difficult to make them all leave. Snape kept trying to tell Dumbledore that Black's story was just blather, and that Black had tried to kill him at 16, which made my thoughts run wild. After several moments, Madame Pomfrey, Fudge, and Professor Snape all retreated from the scene. The moment they were gone, Harry and Hermione burst into explanations.

"Professor, Black's telling the truth- we saw Pettigrew-"

"-he escaped when Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf-"

This phrase is sort of framed in my memory. So Lupin was the werewolf. I had spoken to him once, rather suspicious about it. I needn't have done so, I knew, but I had puzzled the facts together, and I just wondered if he had an alternate explanation. It was shortly after I had written the essay about werewolves that Snape seemed to have assigned to every class. I had noticed that his boggart was the full moon. It was seemingly also obvious to me that Professor Lupin was always gone during the full moon. I noticed that even before the essay. My name was Luna, so I always felt like the moon and I shared a special bond, because she talks to everybody sometimes, and me especially because I was named after her. The essay just put things into a new light for me. And here I had always thought he was afraid of werewolves, or the moon or something. Myself… I didn't get to face the boggart when he showed one to us. I wasn't really sure what shape it would take. I wasn't scared of very many things. Probably a heliopath, I had guessed. But back to the point, I had never really thought that he was a werewolf, no matter what all the signs indicated. He seemed to… Professory… to be a werewolf. So I was sort of surprised.

I could have sat upon that bed and pondered the sad fate of Professor Lupin for hours on end, but there was still a wonderfully fascinating drama unfolding besides me. Professor Dumbledore had decided to silence Hermione and Harry.

"It is your turn to listen, and I beg you not to interrupt me because there is very little time. There is not a shred of proof to support Black's story, except your word- and the word of two thirteen-year-old wizards will not convince anybody. A street full of eyewitnesses swore they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been the Potter's Secret-Keeper."

My mind was whirling, for once I sort of felt important. I was witnessing something, which, if The Quibbler decided to publish it, would result in being sold out. I was completely irrelevant to whatever was going on, but I was there nonetheless.

"Professor Lupin can tell you-" Harry tried to say, but Dumbledore interrupted him sadly.

"Professor Lupin is currently deep in the forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again it will be too late, Sirius will be worse than dead. I might add that werewolves are so mistrusted by most of our kind that his support will count for very little- and the fact that he and Sirius are old friends-"

My mind struggled to absorb this quickly. That explained the howling. A wave of horrified, angry compassion rose up in me. Professor Lupin was a good person. Just because he was a werewolf, the Ministry of Magic didn't trust this man? It wasn't above them. If people will cook goblins in pies and force elves to train an army of deranged heliopaths- then well, I bet they wouldn't stop at denying werewolves rights. Part of me was boiling with fury- I wasn't positive why. I wasn't close to Professor Lupin or anything, and none of this was truly meant for me to hear. But I felt empathy for anybody who was treated wrongly, and trying to imagine somebody who wouldn't trust Lupin, just because of lycanthropy…

"But-" Harry protested.

"Listen to me, Harry. It is too late, you understand me? You must see that professor Snape's version of events is far more convincing than yours." Harry and Hermione looked desperate, as though they couldn't believe that our Headmaster was uttering these words of defeat.

"He hates Sirius, all because of some stupid trick Sirius played on him-" Hermione was frantic now, pleading almost.

"Sirius has not acted like an innocent man. The attack on the fat lady- entering Gryffindor Tower with a knife- without Pettigrew, alive or dead, we have no chance of overturning Sirius's sentence." I shuddered, dementors with their soul sucking. It suddenly occurred to me that they were what I would see if I faced a boggart. That revelation may not be important to the story, but it was important to me. There comes a lot of… I don't know, self-understanding, if you know what your greatest fear is. I never understood myself, nor did anybody else but Mum really.

"But you believe us."

"Yes, I do. But I have no power to make other men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister of Magic…" By this point, I had joined Harry in Hermione in shock. Our Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, who has his own Chocolate Frog cards- giving up? Well, I supposed if Gilderoy Lockhart could elope with Madame Marchbanks to a quite cabin in Canada, than our Headmaster could let the soul of a supposedly innocent man be sucked away.

"What we need," He said, staring at Hermione. "Is more time."

Hermione looked confused for a minute, "But-" she gaped. "OH!"

"Now, pay attention," Dumbledore said quietly. "Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, both of you: you must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law- you know what is at stake…. You-must-not-be-seen. I am going to lock you in. It is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."

Dumbledore delivered this peculiar, but somehow familiar, message, and walked out of the door.

"Good luck?" Harry repeated. He was as confused as I was. "Three turns? What's he talking about? What are we supposed to do?"

Hermione was pulling something from the neck of her robes. "Harry, come here, quick." I saw the hourglass on the chain and I felt a horrified rush. It was a Time-Turner. Memories flooded my mind. Mum, telling me to sit down and watch while she created a Time-Turner that could take you back to the Stone Age. That was the last time I ever saw her.

"Here," Hermione was saying, throwing the chain around his neck. "Ready?"

"What are we doing?" Harry asked. I couldn't let them do this. I couldn't watch them die… Not like Mum. I sat up and leapt off of the bed, grabbing Harry's arm.

"Don't…. Mum… Time-Turner…." I tried to explain, but it was too late, she was turning it, and I felt a sickening lurch. It was quite like a muggle amusement ride, only real. I was being pulled back in time along with them. "Puffskein Dung." I grumbled, trying to ignore my panic. We hadn't died yet. But apparently I was going to get to see what all the shouting had been about. Well, adventures build character.