Thirteen year old Harry Potter was in danger – probably the most he had been in all year – and that was saying something, considering that his first, eleventh, and twelfth years of life had all concluded with someone trying to kill him.
As a toddler, just over a year old, the Dark wizard Lord Voldemort had murdered Harry’s parents, and almost succeeded in killing Harry too, only to have the curse backfire somehow, leaving Voldemort as less than a wraith. He would retain enough of an anchor in the world somehow to use the years of relative peace and prosperity to regain his strength and hone his madness and obsession.
Eventually, Professor Quirrell, Harry’s first year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (ironically enough) would stumble across the wraith and be possessed by it, allowing Voldemort to live off of him like a leech, and picking up where he had left of in his attempts to murder Harry.
Harry, at eleven years old, would again face down his parent’s murderer, although this time with help from his best friends, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.
Last year, Harry’s second at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Voldemort was much more creative and subtle – although less choosy in his targeted victims. This time he refocused his goal to eliminating Muggle-born students, using a giant basilisk which he commanded via a sixteen year old version of himself trapped in a diary. It was all very complicated and convoluted, but Harry prevailed once again, escaping with his life.
Now, well into his third year at Hogwarts, Harry was once more staring into the face of possible death. Literally.
This time however, although it was in the form of his Defense professor again, Professor Lupin was decidedly not possessed by Voldemort. He did happen to be a werewolf though, and had mentioned that he had been Harry’s father’s best friend, although that wasn’t really relevant at the moment because it was a full moon and there was no hint of the gentle, soft spoken man in the hard gold eyes of the tawny wolf snarling at him and Hermione.
It had tracked them into the Forbidden Forest, following the fake wolf howl that Hermione had done to save their lives – well, their lives from three hours earlier. Harry had a mild headache still from trying to understand it, so he just put it up to magic when Hermione had pulled the Time-Turner from under her shirt and thrown it over his head.
Unlike the first confrontation with the werewolf, Buckbeak the hippogriff was nowhere to be seen, so they were on their own.
“Professor?” Hermione stepped out from behind Harry, cautiously meeting the wolf’s gaze. “Professor Lupin?”
“Hermione.” Harry warned in a low tone, grabbing her by the arm to stop her. “Let me try. He – Remus knows me. Maybe Moony will too.” He stepped forward and directly in front of her before she could protest, drawing a rumbling snarl from the wolf.
“Easy, Moony.” he said calmly. “C’mon, you know me. I’m your cub, remember? You and Remus used to visit nearly every day. You gave me a stuffed rabbit that I used to carry everywhere, even over that dog plushie that Sirius – Padfoot- gave me.” He felt a slight probing at his mind, and absently followed the link, even as he kept talking. “I used to call you ‘ Mooey’, cuz I couldn’t pronounce my ‘n’s. You were so thrilled and smug, because I said it before Padfoot.” He stopped in surprise. How did he know all that? He had been a year old when his parents were killed, and his best memories were more of emotions, rather than tangible pictures.