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Hogwarts' heart was breaking.
Not literally of course, as castles do not have hearts. But Hogwarts was not just any old 1000-year-old castle and the magic humming through his walls made the impossible seem at least likely. He stared in the distance at the creaking walls of the Shrieking Shack and felt his heart break a little more. Four years ago when the Shack was built, a tunnel was made between the two buildings and through it their magic connected, flowing from one into the other like a gentle current.
"You can't let him keep doing this to you," Hogwarts said softly. "He's tearing you apart."
"You don't know him like I do," came the Shack's mild response.
"I know him well enough! He sleeps in my tower and he eats in my hall. He seems quiet and stoic, but when he's with you, he's a monster."
"Don't call him that!" the Shack insisted. "He's been through so much; you can't even imagine how much he needs me! I'm his only refuge from the world!"
"And how does he repay you for that!? By hurting you? You think he does that because he loves you?"
"He doesn't know what he's doing! It's not his fault!"
"Then whose fault is it? Whose claw marks are etched into your walls? Who howls inside you and breaks all your furniture? Who gives you such a bad reputation no one even dares to approach you anymore?"
"He doesn't do it on purpose," the Shack whispered. "He just... can't help himself."
"Stop making excuses for him!" Hogwarts exploded. "He's slowly destroying you, and you know it! Just stop letting him in!"
The Shack was quiet. She could still remember the day they brought him to her. He was only a child, just turned eleven years old...
They left the boy inside hours before the moonrise and he walked around, inspecting the Shack wearily. He only popped his head into most rooms, as the Shack turned on the lights for him every time he opened a door. From the study, he seemed to be particularly impressed and spent a few minutes perusing the bookshelves. At one point he sank so deeply into a book he was supposed to be only flipping through, he didn't notice it get very cold, as the sun sank and the night fell. He shivered, and the Shack lit the fire in the fireplace. He jumped and turned around, but smiled, went to sit in front of it and began reading aloud. The book he had chosen was one filled with fairytales, and for a while the Shack closed her eyes and just listened to his pleasant voice, accompanied by the subtle crackling of the fire.
But then it happened.
The book slipped from his fingers and the boy doubled over in pain. His whole body began shaking uncontrollably and he retched on her soft rug. His fingers dug into the floor and his screams shook her walls, as his bones broke and rearranged themselves. The Shack shook with sympathy, wanting so desperately to do something for this boy who had read to her, but she was just a house, and couldn't help him in any way. His agonizing cries reverberated through her again and she shook on purpose, trying to cover them with the creaking of her walls. After a few minutes, a wolf stood where the boy had been, and it was not nearly as nice. Its eyes burned with rage, as a long, high howl escaped from its throat, and before the Shack knew what was happening, sharp claws were digging into her walls. She creaked in pain but tried to hold it together, for his sake. It ran through her and smashed everything within view, from her beautiful paintings, to her exquisite 18 th century coffee table and her wonderful china cabinet. After raging all night and breaking most of the things inside her, the wolf turned on itself, bit and scratched its own body, as the Shack was forced to watch him in horror, and once again feel helpless. After the sun rose and the boy's body once again took its previous shape, he lay unconscious in a pool of his own blood. They came to take him away, and the Shack silently prayed that he would be all right. She didn't get her answer for a whole month, but the boy did return. He walked around, surveying the destruction he caused her last time, a deep sadness in his eyes. 'I'm so sorry...' he muttered, and if she had arms, the Shack would've hugged him and told him everything was alright. That she forgave him for what he did, and that she was sorry too, that he had to go through that. He went back to the study and found the remnants of the book he was reading, pulled out a wand and repaired it. The Shack lit the fire again, and he sat down and read.
And the cycle would repeat every month since then. He would come and hurt her, and she would still let him in each time and endure it.
"I can't abandon him," the Shack muttered tearfully. "He needs me."
"He hurts you," Hogwarts countered.
"He doesn't mean to-..."
"And that makes it okay!? What if one day he goes a little too far and knocks down a wall? What then? Do you expect me to just sit back and accept this!? To wait for him to damage you beyond repair to do something about it?!"
"And where would he go if not here?" the Shack asked quietly.
"... If you care about him so much, he can stay with me," Hogwarts said. "I'd prefer it tenfold if he were here instead of with you."
The Shack's heart trembled at those words. Did Hogwarts truly care about her this much?
"But then it would be your walls that are scratched up and your reputation that is ruined. They would close you."
"I don't care. I can't keep watching him do this to you."
"... Why?"
There was a long pause.
"Because..."
'I love you' Hogwarts wanted to say. The Shack was always so kind, so gentle, so self-sacrificial. She would endure all the pain and the humiliation that came with housing a werewolf without ever complaining about it, and it was torture having to listen to her walls creak and see the wallpaper being ripped by beastly paws through the dimly lit windows.
But she loved her werewolf. All Hogwarts would ever be for her was a dear friend. But the Shack was so good; it made him want to be good, to be someone she could turn to, someone she could depend on. Even if it would never be anything more than that.
"Because I care about you. Please, let me help you," Hogwarts pleaded.
"If anyone finds out, you will be ruined. The students will be taken away, the teachers will leave... everyone will desert you. I can't allow this."
"I'm willing to risk it!"
"I'm not."
"Why?!"
"Because..."
'I love you' the Shack wanted to say. Since that first moment their magic had touched, she knew it was true. He was a big, mysterious castle, full of secrets and magic, yet he always had time for her. He was there after each full moon, despite the fact the Shack kept looking worse and worse. She was damaged and rickety, and he was strong and beautiful, and she knew it was pointless, but she couldn't help but love him.
But castles don't fall inlove with shacks. Hogwarts would never return those feeling, when there were such beauties as Beauxbatons, with her elegant gardens and fountains, and her smooth marble halls... He could do much better than a creaky run-down hut.
"Because I don't want you to suffer in my place. I can handle it. Really," the Shack insisted.
Hogwarts was quiet. He didn't like this, not one bit. But if the Shack flat out refused his help, what could he do? He turned his attention inwards and searched for the werewolf within his walls. Suddenly, he heard his name being whispered in a secluded corner of the Library.
"Will this be a good idea? What if he attacks us as animals? I am so small; he can kill me in one bite!"
"Relax, will you? We'll be there, we won't let that happen."
"You turn into a bloody stag! Wolves hunt stags! We'll be in an enclosed space, how do we know he won't get hungry and try to... eat you?"
"Like the man said, just relax! He can't take both of us, and I'm fairly sure wolves don't eat dogs."
"Fairly sure?!"
Having an idea, Hogwarts shook his shelf slightly, and a book fell from it, hitting one of the three whispering boys on the head.
"Ow! What the bloody hell...?"
The boy with the glasses picked up the book and read the title, a mischievous smirk stretching on his face.
"Secrets of the Forbidden Forest! That's it! We'll take him to the forest!"
"Isn't that extremely dangerous?"
"It's us, Peter. What's the worst that could happen?"
Over the next few months, the Shrieking Shack was happier than ever. The boy that came to see her now brought his friends along, and they told amusing stories and drank Butterbeer until he transformed, after which they pacified him and took him out to roam the woods. He no longer bit or clawed at her, and she loved welcoming him back after an exhausting night of adventures and cradling him in her bed until well into the afternoon.
"You seem in a good mood," Hogwarts told her one day, after the boy had left.
"Because I am!" the Shack smiled warmly. "He's doing so much better than before! True, he spends less time with me, but just seeing his smile makes me happier than I've ever been!"
"That's... great. If he... if he makes you happy, then... that is all I ever wanted," Hogwarts said quietly.