A Heavy mist caresses the rolling hillside, the moon, fat and full, gleaming like a gold coin, casts it's mellow light upon a tiny secluded cottage.

A pair of hazel eyes peek over the windowsill, amazed by the mist. "Mummy!" calls the tiny boy attached to those eyes, "mummy look - candy floss! I want some!"

Mummy glances nervously out the window, twitches the curtain closed. "No dear, not tonight. You must stay inside tonight."

"But mummy I want candy floss! I want it! I want it!"

"No!" sharply, "you will not leave this house tonight."

Abashed by the sharpness of his mother's tone he smiles meekly. "Yes mum. Maybe next time." He trots over, smacks her with a wet goodnight kiss and hops into bed. "Night mum," he coos, "night dad," louder. Mum leaves, 'snick' closes the door behind her. He hears his parents, voices low "did you lock the door?"

"Fire's out?"

"G'night"

"Night."

Silence but for the tick-tock-tick-tock of the old clock. 'BONG!' Twelve-thirty. Wonder what flavour the candy floss is? 'BONG!' One o'clock. Cherry? Strawberry? 'BONG!' One-thirty Blueberry? Lime? 'BONG! BONG!' Two o'clock. One way to find out. Stealthy as a wolf the boy slinks out of bed. Cccreeeaakkk! The window screams in warning but mum and dad sleep on. Pit-pat, little feet on the windowsill. Thump; tiny fotprints in the flowerbed and-Oh the glory! Candy Floss! Candy Floss as far as the eye can see! A chubby hand grasping-reaching-clutching...nothing. His little senses are confused. He can see the floss. Why can't he touch it? He sniffs the air. Grimaces. Yuck, wet-dog. Where is the happy aroma of spun sugar? He sticks out his tongue. Where is the sugary sweetness? Why would there be a blanket of candy floss with no taste, smell, touch?

Saddened, he turns, tries to hoist himself back through his window, growling with the effort. Growling? No. Not he. He turns swiftly and finds himself staring into two yellow, soul-less eyes. Gggrrr, a deep rumble, a warning; "You disobeyed your mother. Foolish boy." Gggrrr, a promise "I'm going to eat you."

The boy shrieks "MUMMY! MUMMY PLEASE! MUMMY! DADDY! HHHEEELLLPPP!"

His parents thunder from their room, dazed, unaware of their son's plight. The wolf lunges. Steel jaws clamp on the boy's tiny arm. "MUMMY!"

Mother sees the iron teeth clamping her son. She looks the wolf in the eye and she knows. She seizes her wand. Please don't let her be too late. "AGMONIUM!" she cries, a silver jet shoots from the tip. The wolf howls in agony releasing her son. She snatches him to her breast while daddy pursues the wolf, a crossbow with silver-tipped arrows cocked and ready.

Little Remus cries, "I'm sorry mummy! I'm sorry! Please! I'm sorry!" He slips into the comforting embrace of unconciousness.

Voices. Near. Far. Clear. Cloudy.

"...a bad bite..."

"...but will he?..."

"...no way to tell yet..."

Days pass. Remus' wound heals faster than expected. He is pleased but mummy and daddy exchange dark looks.

A light rain trickles over the hills. Moonbeams dance off the rain, like fairies at a ball. Fat and full the moon gleams down like a gold coin, casting it's mellow light upon a tiny secluded cottage.

A pair of hazel eyes peek over the windowsill. Mummy stands nervously twining the curtains in her fingers, watching her son through the glass.

A howl cuts through the night. Remus, ears and nose quivering with excitement, turns and responds. A final look at his mother, he lopes off. He'll see her in the morning-when the moon no longer calls him. But will she want to see him?

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