Tales > Boy Who Cried Wolf

Remus sighed as he sat in the boy’s dormitory and looked out the window at the night sky. In the middle of the room, James and Sirius were engaged in a ferocious, friendly pillow fight. Occasionally after beaming the other, a large amount of feathers would erupt from one of the boy’s pillows. Remus, however, took no notice, as he had something one his mind. Tomorrow night was the full moon. Poor Remus would have to spend another lonely, painful night in the Shrieking Shack.

Finally noticing their friend’s quieter than normal silence, James and Sirius gave the pillows a break and walked over to Remus.

“Furry little problem gettin’ you?” James asked knowingly. Remus smiled slightly and nodded.

“I’ve got just the cure!” cried Sirius, jumping up.

James cocked an eyebrow. “Do I know where this is going?” he asked Sirius.

“No, but you will!” he grabbed a pretend microphone and began dancing around.

“Do you know where this is going?” Remus asked James, who shrugged.

Grinning madly, Sirius sang into his invisible microphone, “I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand walking through the streets of Soho in the rain! He was looking for a place called lee Ho Fooks; gonna get a big dish of beef chow mien!” He turned his face toward the moon. “Aaahoo! Werewolves of London! Aaahoo!”

The fourth boy who stayed in the dormitory, Jim, walked in and shook his head at the other three.

“You hear him howling around your kitchen door; you better not let him in. Little old lady got mutilated late last night. Werewolves of London again.” Sirius sang, shaking his head at Remus in mock fear and shame.

“Aahoo! Werewolves of London! Aahoo!” James joined, his common sense no longer strong enough to fight his urge to cause random chaos.

Jim looked up from his book fearfully at Remus, who was trying to shush his friends.

James merely laughed and walked over to Jim’s bed.

“He’s the hairy, hairy gent who ran amok in Kent. Lately he’s been overheard in Mayfair. You’d better stay away from him! He’ll rip your lungs out, Jim!” James sang, pointing accusingly at Remus.

“Huh, I’d like to meet his tailor,” Sirius added.

Jim gasped in horror and backed out of the dormitory, his wide eyes staring at Remus the whole way to the door.

Sirius and James laughed as they heard his footsteps pounding down the staircase at an extreme rate.

“Aaahoo!” Sirius called after him. “Werewolves of London!”

“Aahoo!” James called.

“Honestly, if he tells someone,” Remus interjected.

“Who’s going to believe him? He’s the one who always reads that crazy Quibbler magazine, remember?” Sirius laughed.

“Well, I saw Dumbledore walking with Remus, Remus the werewolf of London! I saw Professor McGonagall walking with Remus! He’s the werewolf of London!” James danced around a little.

“I sat a werewolf drinking a Butterbeer at Hog’s Head. His hair was perfect. Aaahoo! Werewolves of London draw blood,” Sirius sang, throwing a pillow at Remus for his big finale.

“You two are the most irresponsible, loud mouthed, lousy friends,” Remus cried in outrage, throwing the pillow back at James and Sirius, who were both laughing themselves silly.

“Lousy friends, telling everyone,” Remus said, but he stopped and started laughing. “But the look on his face was pretty good.”

“You see? Being the boy who cried wolf doesn't have to be a bad thing,” James winked.