Steaks and Stakes

Gabby strolled through Hogsmeade, swigging Wolfsbane from a round bottle, one foot crossing in front of the other in his usual jaunty fashion. His head tipped back, the Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down the potion. Gabby had never been discrete about his lycanthropy, because he had no reason too, really. If someone wanted to know, they could know. So he walked through the village with the confidence of a man with nothing to lose. Behind him were the worries that followed him through the day. Before him was the looming night.

He greeted friendly faces with a smile, declined offered drinks by raising his own potion. Soon, he was past the village, past the sounds, and was approaching the Shrieking Shack. He left a satchel full of clothes and other recovery items in the backyard of the Shack so he could crawl back and dress and relax until his strength was back. He continued his trek through the forest, approaching the mountain in which the wolf usually enjoyed the full moon.

He stripped outside of his usual cave, throwing the clothes up onto a branch in the hope that the wolf would not go looking for a chew toy. He stretched, feeling oddly free to be naked in the outdoors. He glanced up. The moon was rising. The night was clearing. The only thing keeping his body from feeling the pre-effects of the transformation – the feeling akin to what women claimed menstration felt like, except everwhyere – was the sea of painkillers he had been downing all day. It wasn’t good for his liver, but itr kept him from clawing out his hair. And that would be a crime.

Deciding more exposuire to the elemnts woulddo him no good, he moved into the back of the cave. He turned and looked outside, just in time to see the moon reveal itself.

The painkillers were strong, but they did not stop pain like this. Every bone in Gabby’s body had to break and reform itself so he could take on the body of his wolf counterpart. Every organ went into failure as it transformed itself to suit the wolf. Usually, a body would go into shock, but his nervous system was malfunctioning, letting him feel it all. He would scream, but it did not take long for his vocal chords to snap and begin molding into the wolf’s chords, allowing for beastly grunts and snuffles as his body writhed with pain.

As hair sprouted from every patch of his skin, he fell to his hands and feet, all of which were now feet. His back arched, his throat stung, his face burned. And within minutes, the transformation was complete. The bloodlust of an unmedicated wolf was lacking, leaving a keen awareness of human self in the back of the wolf’s mind. The dog was itching to run, so he did not fight it as it ran from the cave, circling a few trees, marking his territory, stretching and rolling the leaves.

Within an hour, the wolf was tired from the burst of energy following the painful transformation and he retreated to the cave, curling up in a place where he could see all parts of the cave. A weary tail beat against the ground as the wolf snuggled in for the first nap of the night.

It was the full moon and it had escaped his notice. He blamed Trixie, who had managed to keep him in bed for most of the day. She was hurting – her newest beau had returned to his wife, calling her all the usual names that still carried the usual fire power. By the time he realized, he had no time to waste. He apparated to Hogsmeade, running through the village. Halfway through, he realized the Wolfsbane was not in his pocket. He faltered, wanting to go back. But to retrieve it would be to expose Trixie to the wolf, for she was still in her home. He cursed and kept running. He would just have to deal.

The transformation left his throat raw for screaming. He had forgotten the painkillers and it nearly killed him, he swore. When he came to, the wolf was out of control. He willed it to remain in the cave, but if his mind took any place in the wolf, it had to be in the tip of the tail, as powerful as he felt.  Soon, he grew too tired to fight, and Gabby slipped from control.

Trees, leaves, brambles. He moved from the wilderness behind Hogsmeade in a long arc, moving towards the Forbidden Forest. The wolf had a scent in his nose as he approached. It struck a chord in Gabby, not the Gabby that remained in the wolf, but the Gabby that felt the truth in this – he was in a nightmare.

A flash of flesh-colored sticks that had to be arms. The quickening of fearful breath. The turn of red hair. The wolf lept and the deed was done quickly and messily. And it was suddenly all so familiar.

Gabby jumped to his feet, going from asleep to awake in a second flat, a familiar scent remaining in his heightened nose. The dream had come to him in his final sleep of the night and now that he was awake, he found the transformation back to human had come during the dream, and that he had slept much longer than usual. Afternoon was approaching. He heaved breaths out of his body, staring around. His shoulder collapsed against the cold stone walls of the cave and he trembled. This was not like him. Gabby Short did not shake.

He straightened himself out and began the naked, hobbling journey back to the Shrieking Shack, where he would usually dress, taking more medicine, and sleep off the lasting effects of the transformation. Sleep had to be forgone today, however, for he had business to attend too.


His intention was to just strike up conversation with Jack Dyllan. He figured the topic of her cousin’s own transformation would come up naturally. There was the chance Charlie would be there, recovering from the full moon under her cousin’s watchful eye, but he was certain he could get the information out of Jack casually, seeming indifferent to what it may mean to him.

He forgot to factor in the general Dyllan weirdness that typically upset such plans.

His hand had been up to knock on the door when it was thrown open, and he almost made the grievous mistake of knocking on Jack Dyllan’s forehead.

“Oh. Gabby,” she said, reeling back. “Weird. I was just about to head out. Oh, perfect! Are you doing anything?”

“Actually, I was just about to-“

“Come on in! Charlie should be coming down soon. She’ll need something to eat. Oh, and you’re recovering too, huh? Well, I defrosted some steak in the fridge. You wolfies can chow down. Shit, running late. Gotta go! Thanks so much!”

And he was left in the quiet house, steak in the fridge, the teenaged werewolf somewhere in the house. He sighed and began pulling out pots and pans, determined to cook the steak.