A/N: I felt it was only right to warn the readers that I’ve never actually read a Harry Potter book in my life. I saw the movie- once- a while ago. My weird obsession with Alan Rickman however, lead me to Harry Potter sites (in search of audio files, etc.) which introduced me to Harry Potter fanfiction would eventually gave me the idea to write my own… sort of. I did do my homework concerning the matter, but all my information is coming from secondary sources so I apologize a head of time for any inaccuracies.
Something was coming.
Every fiber in his body screamed the frustratingly vague feeling that _something_ was coming.
Every time he drew on his magic he could feel it, an indefinable taint. As threatening and terrifying as Voldemort was, he was understandable. This- this was beyond his comprehension.
It was darker then darkness. It was more then the absence of light. It was as if it was -beyond- the realm of good and evil. It was incomparable to anything he’d faced before. It was the base of corruption, timeless and inescapable and unnatural and wrong….
And it was coming.
Remus Lupin wondered yet again where the hero impulses he’d been fighting for the past decade had come from. Some would say the foolish courage had always existed, he had been a Gryffindor hadn’t he? But he didn’t quite remember being this brave in his youth.
Brave wasn’t the exact word he was thinking of, but it sure sounded better then the others on the tip of his tongue like stupid, idiotic, moronic…
But regardless of what caused it, he was undoubtedly now a card-carrying member of the Reckless & Rash Heroes Society. A fact he blamed whole-heartedly for his current situation.
Something big, bag and nasty was coming. That was no secret to anybody in the wizarding community. What was, however, not known was what exactly it was, and when it was arriving. With the very real fight against Voldemort continuing furiously, there wasn’t enough to spare to mount defenses to some intangible threat across the ocean. Surely if it wasn’t for the responsibilities in their own battle, Dumbledore and countless others would be devoting themselves to this more recent development. As it was though, all useful wizards were needed to fight in the very real war tearing up most of Wizarding Europe. Which left him to go investigate the newest menace on his own. Not that he was useless, mind you, but he might as well have been with how the stigma he carried due to his lycanthropy hindered him.
So here he was, a lone werewolf on the hellmouth about an hour or two before the sun would set and a moon –a full one, no less- was set to rise, wondering what the hell he thought he could accomplish by himself.