Running with the Pack

Chapter 1

Twenty three year old Remus Lupin paced anxiously across the ancient and worn floors of Hogwarts' hospital wing, one hand shoved deeply into the pocket of his ragged blue robe while the other was clenched anxiously around his short, mousy brown hair. Back and forth he walked, chewing nervously at his bottom lip as he threw a worried glance at the back of the room every now and then, awaiting the bad news. It had been several hours since he had been summoned and it took every ounce of willpower not to go barging in, guns ablazing, demanding answers; of course, it was a terrible idea to begin with, and with his perceived 'condition', he didn't need to give people any more bad ideas about him that weren't true.

Sighing in quiet frustration, the young wizard pulled out his wand and transfigured one of the stiff, wooden benches in the designated 'waiting room' into a more comfortable arm chair and plopped down with a miserable huff. His legs were somewhat sore, having paced along the hard stone since the moment he'd arrived, but he paid it little heed; his mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with thoughts of something - or rather someone - far more important than aching muscles. Leaning back, he propped his elbow up against the armrest and rested his chin upon the hand, staring absentmindedly out the opposite window. Night had befallen the Scottish countryside and nothing but pitch black surrounded the outside grounds.

"Its late, Remus. You should eat something."

Surprised by the unexpected voice, the brown haired werewolf sprung to his feet with dizzying speed. "Professor!" he cried, as the elderly Headmaster emerged from the hospital's back room. "Your letter… I came as soon as I received it. Is...is it true! Please, please tell me that it isn't…"

The usual twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes were currently missing as he stared upon the younger wizard. It was instead replaced with a look of great sorrow and regret; a look that showed just how old the wizened man had truly become. "Alas, my dear boy, it is," he replied, his voice hoarse and weak. "Young Potter has, indeed, been turned."

It was as if the weight of the entire world had come crashing down upon his shoulders; with a shuddering breath, he stumbled back, catching himself against the armchair and slowly lowering himself into its cushioned seat. He did not trust himself to stand at that particular moment. "H-how?" The single word was all he was able to say, and yet it conveyed deeply his confusion and slight despair.

"Fenrir Greyback."

Remus felt his blood go cold, his entire body paling at the mere mention of the man. 'Yet another victim of that bloody bastard,' he mused, unsure of whether or not he wanted to scream and shout in rage or find the nearest waste bin and relieve himself of the contents of his stomach. 'No, now is not the time to freak out. Stay strong, Harry needs you!'

"Sir, the wards," he began, hesitantly; Dumbledore had never thoroughly explained the supposed protection Lily's sacrifice had provided her son, but it was to his understanding that they were to keep him safe from harm while he resided with her sister's family. "How did Greyback find him if the wards were there to protect him… I thought that was the whole point of him going to live with Petunia."

A guilty look crossed the elderly man's features as he too transfigured a more comfortable seat and sat down, burying his head between thin, bony hands. "I was mistaken," he answered, his tone laced with remorse. "While the wards do provide protection from any who wish to do him great harm, they were not as solid as I originally believed. Inside the house and within its' property line, Harry was untouchable by those marked with evil… but even a foot out of its safety, and he was vulnerable. He was attacked only ten feet away as he crossed the street to fetch a toy that his cousin Dudley had tossed away…"

The younger wizard shook his head despondently, clenching his fists in a mixture of anger and heartache. How cruel was Fate, to deal Harry yet another devastating blow only two years after it had taken his parents away; life, he bemoaned, was often too ruthless to the most innocent of persons. However, he knew now was not the time to despair; his best friends' son - one who was almost a nephew to him - was in need of his help and he refused to let his inner turmoil get in the way of that.

"What will we do with him, sir?" he asked. "Surely he cannot be sent back. The wards are useless if he does not stay locked up inside all day and with his condition, well… the muggles already despise him for his magic. This would only increase their distaste for him." He had never liked the Dursleys to begin with and had only agreed with Dumbledore's plan to leave Harry there because he believed the magical wards would keep him safe. Now that he knew they were limited in their protection, he was adamant in getting the boy away.

It seemed the headmaster was in agreement as he nodded his head solemnly. "Indeed, you are correct. Living with his relatives is no longer the best option and, thus, I must think on a new course of action. If you will allow me the next few days, I shall do my best to come up with a reasonable plan. In the meantime, however, I ask that you stay here, at Hogwarts, and allow Harry to once again familiarize himself with you. As you were a family friend, along with the fact that you two now share the same ailment, I strongly suspect that he will be in dire need of your presence."

Remus was quick to agree; it had been far too long since he'd seen the child and was desperate to assure his well-being. James and Lily had done so much for him in life and he was not about to fail them with their son.

"I will do anything you ask of me, sir," he replied firmly.

"That is good to hear, Remus. Now, as I said, it is late. Madam Pomfrey has administered a heavy dosage of sleeping potion to young Harry, so he will remain unconscious until late morning. You may speak to him then, if you so desire. For now, I shall have an elf escort you to a guest suite and bring you dinner."

"Sir, if it is alright, I'd like to see him now," he requested, tentatively. "I just need to see that he's okay…"

Dumbledore smiled fondly and nodded, standing up and gesturing for Remus to follow. "I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would allow it, as long as you promise not to disturb his sleep."

"Of course, Headmaster."

"Madame, I do believe we have a visitor," said Albus, pushing away the curtains that surrounded young Harry's bed. "Fret not, he has agreed not to awaken your charge and merely wishes to see with his own eyes that the boy is safe."

Pomfrey looked up from her notes, which she had been working on while watching over the Potter boy. Although she was usually against visitors so soon, she immediately let up once she realized who it was. "Hello, Remus," she said, offering a kind smile. "I'm sure you want a little bit of alone time with him. I'll allow you five minutes, but no more. I will be in my office gathering supplies… you may find me there when you are finished."

Bidding the headmaster and nurse a good night, Remus watched them depart before turning his full attention towards the young child before him. He felt a pang in his chest as he took in the numerous bandages across his body; his left arm was in a cloth sling while his entire torso was wrapped in bulky dressings and kerlix. A few scratches were seen here or there on his round, pale face, but they were only minor wounds and were merely smothered in healing salve. What struck him most, however, was the scent - the scent of another wolf. He had immediately sensed it the instant he'd stepped into the hospital wing but the scent had grown twice as strong now that he was actually in Harry's presence.

In most cases, he would have been weary of another werewolf; the more aggressive ones tended to pick fights and he was not too keen to be in their presence, but fortunately, this case was different. His wolf instinctively knew that this was a child, a cub, and recognized it as family - or part of his pack. Suddenly, Harry's eyes snapped open, and for a moment their eyes locked. His emerald eyes flashed gold, and Remus could feel his own eyes change as well; the oddest sensation overcame his senses as he felt himself somehow lifted from his own body, as if he were an unanchored spirit.

Tunnel vision took him by surprise, as all he could see were Harry's glowing irises… he felt himself rush forward, losing himself in a flash of amber before everything went black. For the briefest of moments, he thought he could hear a low howl in the distance, but a mere second later, everything had returned to normal and he stumbled back from the supposed impact. 'What in Merlin's beard was that?' he thought, too shocked to fully comprehend the odd experience.

And then he realized it… he could literally feel Harry; even without looking at him, he was somehow aware of his presence, as if he was being smothered with… with… he couldn't even explain it! It was just so completely unexpected that he didn't even know what to think. He had heard stories of werewolves forming 'familial bonds' with those they considered pack mates… was that what had happened? Had their wolves recognized one another and reached out to the other? It was all too much to take in at one time…

"I need to sleep," he sighed, shaking his head. With a final glance at the younger wolf, Remus bid him a silent goodbye and left. He would think it over once his belly was full and he'd had a full night's rest.

Pain.

That was the first thing Harry Potter felt upon his return to consciousness. Even at the tender age of three and a half, he knew what pain felt like, but this was far beyond anything he'd felt in his few, short years of life. Pain coursed through every nerve ending, up and down his spine, across his chest, and his legs felt as heavy as lead; this was not the usual pain that accompanied his bi-weekly spanking. No, this was the pain of something far worse…

"You're awake, that's wonderful. I'll grab Madame Pomfrey immediately."

Upon first glance, Harry didn't know who the strange man was, but something inside of him told him that it would be okay. A flash of recognition crossed his mind, but he was unable to pinpoint exactly why the stranger seemed so familiar to him. There was also the odd, warm feeling he had when the man was near; he could still feel it now, even as he was across the room, but it was particularly strong when they were in close proximity. It felt… safe, protective, as if nothing could harm him while the man was there. He had never felt the love of a parent - or at least, not in his recent memory - but a part of him couldn't help but compare his current feelings to what he assumed it felt like. 'Family,' was the one word that continued to cross his mind.

He frowned slightly at that thought. No, it couldn't be family. He knew families were meant to be kind, supportive, to love you endlessly… his family, however, was none of that. So why… why was he feeling this way? And towards a stranger, no less…

"I see you're a light sleeper," spoke a woman, as she and the man returned. She was a middle-aged lady, somewhere in her late fifties, with slightly grey hair and eyes that assured you she was not one to tolerate misbehavior. Her features were stern, but she had an air of quiet compassion, and although he was unsure of where he was or who these people were… he felt, for the moment, safe from harm.

"My name is Madame Pomfrey," she introduced, patting him gently on the shoulder. "I'll be taking care of you for the next few days while you heal. You were… injured… in an accident and have been brought into my care for the time being."

Harry nodded mutely, not sure what he was supposed to say or do. An accident, she said? His memory was blurry of the event, but it would obviously explain the pain.

"How do you feel?" she asked, pulling the seat beside his bed nearer and sitting down.

"I-It hurts," he stuttered, shyly.

"Can you tell me where, and what does it feel like?" she continued, peering closer.

"Uhm…" Words were not Harry's strongest point; he had not yet reached pre-school age and neither his Aunt Petunia nor his Uncle Vernon deemed it worthy of their time to teach him. Much, if not most, of what he had learned was by watching them interact with Dudley and mimicking their words, as well as sneaking out of his cupboard to watch the telly from around the corner. The best he could do was point with his finger to where it hurt most and simply say, "ow".

"Very well," said Madame Pomfrey, waving what appeared to be a long stick at the cupboard across the room. What happened next had his eyes widening and his head spinning. The cupboards opened - by themselves - and out flew a small glass vial, filled with what looked like a soft, blue liquid. Flying across the room, it was within her grasp in moments, and she pulled off the stopper as if it were the most casual thing in the world. "Drink this, it will help ease the pain."

"What… n-no, what you do…" he asked, using his broken words and acting out the waving of her stick to try and portray his confusion. Never in all his life had he seen something so amazing, and although these people appeared to have good intentions, he was beginning to grow suspicious. The woman had summoned the potion, as if… as if it were some sort of…

"Magic," she replied, hesitantly. "It's magic, my dear. I am not best suited to explain it to you, but I assure you that we mean you no harm. Please, drink… I promise it will help you."

He continued to warily eye the glass.

"Harry, please take the potion," spoke the man, gently pulling the vial from her hands as he got down onto his knees so that the two were eye level. Putting it to his lips, he took the smallest of sips and wiped the lip clean before once again offering it to him. "Look, see… I drank it and nothing bad happened. You'll be safe, I promise."

There it was again, that weird feeling, surrounding him in a blanket of warmth and protection; he felt a connection to the man, and although he was still cautious, he finally relented and accepted the strange drink. Tilting it to his lips, his face scrunched at the slightly bitter taste, but he downed it quickly after being gently goaded into finishing it. Immediately, the aches and pains that had so tormented him vanished, dulling from a powerful throb to only mere discomfort, which was almost unnoticeable if he allowed his mind to wander. Pulling back, he stared in wonder at the now empty bottle before looking back and forth between the two adults, looking for some sort of explanation for the apparent miracle.

Before either of them could reply, however, a new voice broke the silence. "Harry, my boy, it is most wonderful to see you awake and well!"

Turning his head, he watched as an elderly man approached; his hair was as white as the purest snow, with a long flowing beard that trailed down to mid-waist, and he was dressed in the strangest of clothes. A bright, purple bathrobe - or perhaps even a long, womens' dress? - was accented by a pointy hat - also purple - with a pattern of gold stars dotted here and there. What stood out most, however, was the kind face; his blue eyes twinkled merrily and his wrinkled face was set in the largest of smiles… he was like a skinny, cross-dressing Santa if Harry were to try and compare him to anyone.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" the old man asked, taking a spot at the foot of his bed. Before the boy could reply he continued, "I suppose not. It looks as if Madame Pomfrey was just giving you your first dose of potions. Well, we can't have those go down with an empty stomach! I shall have food prepared and brought here, and we shall all breakfast together. How does that sound?"

Harry looked at the younger adult male, the only one he seemed to trust completely - though he could not understand why. He received a reassuring nod from the brunette, so he once more turned to the elderly man and gave a nod of his own. If possible, his smile grew even wider and he clapped his hands in a joyful manner.

"Excellent! There is much I would like to discuss with you and I do believe the sooner, the better. Now…" He pulled a stick from his pocket and waved it around, just as Pomfrey had done, and suddenly, there was a table and chairs set up beside his bed. Taking a seat facing Harry, he crossed his hands across the wooden surface and waited for the other two to join him before continuing to speak. "Before we start, I assume introductions are in order. You see, Mr. Potter, we know who you are and all about where you came from. You, on the other, know nothing of us. I will begin… my name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the headmaster of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..."

"I's a wizard! I's a wizard! Abba cadabaaa!"

Remus watched on as Harry wiggled and squirmed in his bed, the blankets bunched messily and half strewn onto the floor as the dark haired boy used a bendy-straw to swish and flick at random objects in the room. When Dumbledore had broken the news to Harry that morning, explaining not only the incident that had happened but his true heritage as well, he had expected the child to clam up; to retreat within himself to sulk and brood, maybe even cry over the unfairness of it all. What he didn't expect, however, was for Harry to completely disregard all that they'd said in favor of one simple line: "You are magic."

While he himself was completely bewildered by the unexpected turn of events, Dumbledore only seemed to laugh it off as 'a child's resilient nature and innate ability to adapt.' Even Madame Pomfrey agreed - somewhat - that this was a far better reaction than anticipated; the boy had already been through so much and if he could find some semblance of happiness from it all then what right did they have to take it away from him? With the introductions and explanations out of the way, the headmaster had retreated once more to his office while Hogwarts' caregiver went about her daily duties of taking inventory and researching new techniques to help her throughout the year. That left a very confused Remus and a hyperactive Harry alone in the wing…

"Remy!"

The older wizard looked up at Harry's nickname for him, his eyebrow quirked upward as the little boy pointed his straw at him. "Yes, Harry?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Show!" he exclaimed, holding his pseudo-wand out for Remus to take.

"Show?" the brunette repeated, unsure exactly of what he wanted. Harry's chubby little hands grasped his, shoving the straw into his palm before he sat back against the pillows and waited expectantly for Remus to do something.

"Yeah, show!" Harry exclaimed, waving his hands wildly.

"... show you magic?" he finally deduced, putting two and two together. When the tiny toddler nodded enthusiastically, he smiled softly and gave Harry his straw back. "I can't do magic with that," he explained before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wand. "I can, however, do it with this."

With a small flick, a harmless shower of golden sparks flew from the tip and Harry clapped his hands appreciatively. Remus couldn't help but grin as the boy's eyes lit up; it ignited something within him that he had never quite felt before - something akin to paternal instinct. Both his human and his wolf agreed wholeheartedly: they would do everything and anything to make sure that this child continued to smile as he did now. Firing off spell after spell, Remus changed Harry's bed sheets bright blue and transfigured the nearby end table into an over sized teddy bear; he summoned a flock of birds that chirped and fluttered about, earning several giggles from the boy; he opened the closet and summoned the brooms, enchanting them to fly and dance in circles; he pointed his wand at the window and…

" - WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?"

Squeaking loudly in surprise, the brooms clattered loudly as they fell to the floor and the singing birds were silenced, returned by magic from whence they came. Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Remus slowly turned around, a sheepish smile on his lips as he locked eyes with the furious Madame Pomfrey. Sputtering out some lame excuse, he quickly canceled the rest of his spells and went to work on returning the hospital wing back to its original design, all the while under Pomfrey's scrutinizing eye.

"Next time, just transfigure him a puppy or a toy," she sighed, once the damage had been reversed.

"Er, yes ma'am," he replied quietly, his face red with embarrassment. Luckily, Harry had enough awareness to realize they'd gotten into some sort of trouble and had quieted down in his bed, sitting stock still and attempting to look as innocent as possible.

With a shake of her head Pomfrey turned around and headed once more into her office, mumbling softly about overgrown children as she went. Despite her supposed anger, she was not truly upset with what they had done - she merely had appearances to keep up, and although they couldn't see it, her lips twitched upwards in the smallest of smiles.

'He'll be okay…' she thought, shutting the door behind her. '...they both will.'

~End Chapter 1~

*EDIT: Yes, in case you've read this before, I did add that small extra scene at the end. I was beginning to write my second chapter when I realized that it would be better suited for the first one. And of course, if this is your first time reading the story, completely disregard what I've just said.

A/N: My first fanfiction! I know this idea has been done to death but I really would love to have a go at it myself. I apologize in advance if its not up to the high quality standard of other writers, but I do hope that it is enough to keep you interested.

As a side note, I just want to let you all know in advance that I don't do 'bashing' and there will be none of it in this story. Although amusing at times, I find it excessively childish, especially if the bashing is done without just and due cause. Some people turn intelligent, well-mannered characters into utter fools and while I respect an author's freedom to dictate their own stories, I do not agree with nor do I adhere to such tactics. Mistakes need to be fixed, yes, but not in such (sometimes) outrageous fashion.

I will try and update again soon. I would love to see some reviews and read your guys' input! Reviews, comments and (constructive) criticism are really appreciated!

Well wishes,

Scion