Author's Note:

Ambrose: Hello, and welcome to the seventh chapter of our story, "Might I Introduce?". Are the safeties on? 'Cause we are so sorry that we took so bloody long, and to make it up to you guys and girls, we're going to make this chapter double length. Should end up around 4000 words or so. That's our peace offering. Now, the results are in from the poll, and the overwhelming majority is to use Review Reply - which we're fine with. These damn A/N's take up half the chapter. For those of you who are interested, the results went as follows: 10 votes (58%) for Review Reply, 6 votes (35%) for good ol' fashioned Review Answers, and 1 vote (5%) for Livejournal answers. Though where the missing 2% went, we have no idea . . .

The Professor: Final round of Review Answers, can you believe . . . Ah, well - all must come to past. So, let's start off with SerenityMoonlight - and we know you guys loved the end of chapter six, really. You just don't want to admit it. And I suspect we'll need good luck as the story progresses - we'll need to find a way to toe the line with the slash, so the, uh - non-Doc shippers don't get offended - or anyone else, for that matter. On now to aylan, a first time reviewer - they do indeed, and it's going to be a decidedly odd second meeting, let me tell you . . .

Ambrose: Mhm . . . Moving forwards to nxkris - we're glad you liked K-9 or, as we know him, the K Factor. We were a little iffy on how to do K-9, so we're happy he came out OK. On to SiriusBlackIsGod - which is a sentiment we're not going to argue with - we seem to have a universal reply to chapter six: "Update soon" and "Can't wait to see what happens next", and that makes us VERY happy indeed. Merci, merci - and now for one for all, and all for one. Yes, it's The Group Of One - we were giggling when we wrote that cliff-hanger, even though it was textbook evil, and - well, I wish being good felt as good as being bad. If that makes any sense.

The Professor: What time is it? Yes, it's the stalwart reader - Quet - za - coatls!!! Bow! Bow! I think we can all guess what was on the mind of everyone in that dining hall - namely, leaving Mickey behind, sprinkled with salt and vinegar. No? Ah, just the Doctor then. :) And yes, Harry is going to travel with the Doctor for a while - though not for long. Not gonna tell you how long, though . . . Moving on to Absentminded Dreamer 1310 - who seems to be older than us, as we're number 4242 - evil, evil, evil is all that is good! Muahaha . . . But nah, we are going to be extending chapters, starting from the next, as well as getting rid of RA, so no need to worry. And aren't we all just a little in awe of Harry? Just a little? Throughout the entire fandom, he seems to have bedded the most characters - Captain Jack would approve.

Ambrose: Getting near the end now, thankfully - and so we say 'yes' to Eloisa Skywalker on her question, that was indeed Harry. And now that you mention it, Harry/The Doctor is surprisingly thin on the ground, considering they're near perfect for each other - trouble magnets attract, after all. Moving on to TheEveningStar - why, I believe we DID leave you hanging there. Evil, we are - but don't worry, here's the answer to most of your questions. So you can get back to your hopefully comfy seat: it doesn't do to hang on the edge, after all.

The Professor: And finally, to the daughterofpenthesiliea - another first time reviewer - Harry is going to have a LOT of fun, at the expense of pretty much everyone else - and especially the Doctor, as you'll soon see. Now that's done, to the disclaimer - Harry Potter and all other people, places, concepts, species', etc that are affiliated with the Harry Potter universe are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, and of course all those guys at Warner Bros. who do the movies probably own a bit too. Doctor Who and all other people, places, concepts, species', etc that are affiliated with the Doctor Who universe are the intellectual property of the BBC and the various editors and writers, ect. Any and all other references to outside TV shows, movies, cartoons, books, etc, are not in any way inclined toward encroaching copyright.

The Professor: Enjoy, read and review friends! Also, visit our newest poll ("I like to poll it, poll it - I like to, POLL IT!") where you can vote for which story you want to give top priority. Otherwise, we'll skate between stories, depending on when the idea's come, and we don't like to do that to you guys. Kay, see you at the end of the chapter!

(Chapter Seven - Start)

"Could you make any more noise?"
"I don't know, perhaps you'd like to find out?"
"Well, if you weren't quite so clumsy - "

There was a sudden electric buzz in the sparsely lit hallway, before the line of lights above Harry and Sarah's heads switched on, and it only made it easier for them to glare at each other half-heartedly. Harry was the one who had turned on the lights, his hand still poised over the switch, while Sarah was looking at him like he'd set a swarm of bees on her - in other words, stung.

"I am not clumsy!" She hissed at him, while he simply stared at her incredulously. She gave up the animosity easily and quickly, replacing it with embarrassment, while he sent her a commiserating look; the investigation had progressed in such a way that it was no surprise that, had they not hit it off so well a few hours earlier, they would probably be at each other's throats by now.

It seemed that they had been beaten to the punch - a cupboard door in the Maths department had been open, a computer had been pulled onto a chair, with signs of having been tampered with - and it had set them on the edge, to say the least: they jumped at each other's shadows, they overreacted when one of them upset a chair and so on. Not only that, but they both admitted to a feeling of being watched, or not being alone at the very least, which only added to the stress. Sarah sighed.

"All right, I'm sorry for knocking the chair over, but I still don't think it would've happe - " Here Harry cut her off, bringing a hand to his mouth quickly in a bid for silence, and she complied (though she wasn't quite sure why - the last few times this had happened, he'd simply stood stock-still for a few seconds and shook his head, not bothering to apologise or explain at all, which Sarah thought he did just to be annoying) watching him freeze up again.

A bat cry, high and short, echoed through the hallway, and Harry instantly dived on her, bringing her down to the floor - she let him, knowing what he was doing, and she strained her ears for the next cry - would it be louder, weaker - ? The tense thought-train her mind was riding was cut short by a shadow suddenly falling over the wall they'd just been standing next to, and she clutched her mouth shut at the sight of an inhuman, gargoyle-esque shape, silently blocking the moonlight that fed in through the classroom window, and then through the window pane set in the door. Harry had pulled her close, and she could feel him - the thready thump-thump-thump-thump of his speedy heartbeat, the abnormal heat he gave out, even the short, quiet push-pull of his breathing - clutch her even closer as the shadow seemed to move.

Move as if facing the door.
Move as if to open it.

And then move away.

She released the stale breath she'd been holding, feeling Harry do the same, before realising the vice-like grip she had on his body - with the tiniest of squeaks, she let go of him, smiling sheepishly as he regarded her in amusement.

"I don't blame you - I'm very cuddly. Come on; let's go!"

(Scene Break)

"I blame the shoddy workmanship - falling apart at the seams, this place - "

Harry was staring in (fake) bewilderment at the doorknob that had, not so long ago, been attached to kitchen door, while Sarah stared at him with an odd expression - he turned to look at her, missing the look, and held out the doorknob to her, as if in offering. She grinned slightly, and pointed back at the door. "I think that goes there, Harry." Looking at her with mock-reproachful eyes, he did as she asked and re-attached the doorknob, before gently easing the door open. He ducked his head inside, then turned back to her and opened the door wide.

It was the sort of canteen you'd expect in a school like this - plain white tiles, depressing grey countertops and ultra-modern ovens. Harry grimaced, wishing for the homely and rustic feel of the Hogwarts kitchens, while Sarah paid no mind to the odd decisions made by Government architects and proceeded to start digging through cupboards. Idly combing the kitchen for anything out of place, Harry muttered, "Looking for a midnight snack?"

Smacking her head into a thick wooden shelf in surprise, Sarah swore and replied, with gritted teeth, "Hardly - though now you mention it, I could go for a pizza - think there's a place that delivers 24/7 to the local police station?" The sarcasm wasn't really warranted, nor did she mind the breaking and entering, trespass - she did mind the throbbing spot on her skull, though. Harry didn't seem to notice her small outburst, seemingly satisfied with looking perplexed at something in his hand. Intrigued, Sarah stood - at the exact same time Harry ducked his hands into his pockets.

"The oil barrels." Sarah blinked. "There's something odd about them." She looked - grey metal barrels, loads of them, with lime green safety stickers on them. She turned back to him with a sceptical look on her face, and he rolled his eyes. "I don't suppose you could just take my word for it?" Wishing she could slam her hands on the table, but knowing not to dare, Sarah contented herself with saying, "Not when you could just explain why you think so - no need to be so cloak-and-dagger."

Harry smiled mysteriously, and he said, "You'd be surprised - there are other - things in the school, the Biology department has skeletons far too realistic for a British school - and there happens to be a rather circumspect murky green tinge to some of the oil coming out of that barrel." He moved out of the way in time to avoid a collision, and settled for standing over a kneeling Sarah-Jane. He felt his nose twitch as an off smell - like hair being burnt on a soldering iron - reached him, and he decided to keep breathing to a minimum/

After about a minute or so of observing the now slightly uninteresting oil, Sarah broke the silence that had prevailed until then. "Well, that solves that then." Harry looked at her, afraid of the notion that she was carrying on conversations with him in her head, and felt his face crumple in disgust as she swept a small part of the leaking oil into her hand, where the translucent goop - there was no other word for it - seemed to shimmer the moonlight that struck her hand. Their forehead's furrowed at the exact same moment, and Harry swept up his own small puddle of oil into his hand.

It seemed oddly both solid and liquid at the same time, congealing if left alone but flowing like liquid if it was touched - Harry was no expert on oil separation, but he knew that oil, proper oil, was a liquid. Burning with curiosity, he couldn't help but consider what would happen if he ingested some of it, before realising with a slight blush that those sort of plans would fall into the stupid category. Sarah, too, was examining the goo with renewed interest, and Harry barely concealed a grin as she began playing with it as one would with those poets of goo that you bought for seven year olds.

He brought the liquid up to his nose, reasoning that it would have affected him by now if it were toxic and airborne, and took a deep sniff.

There was a loud clattering as Harry practically threw himself against the counter, trying to shake off the oil like it were a spider about to bite him, and Sarah watched with no small amount of concern as he shuddered violently, wiping his hand free of oil convulsively, and sneezed deeply. His throat was bobbing as he recovered his cool, and he only realised after swiping his forehead that he was sweating buckets, which made him stare without comprehension at the sheen of moisture that was pooling in his hand.

He sneezed once more, so deeply that he had to grasp the counter top (which began to buckle under his deathly-strong grip) in order to stay upright. Sarah made as if to approach him, with fear and apprehension written all over her face, but Harry shook his head violently, managing to dislodge a few droplets of the thin liquid that had begun to run out of his nose - eyes watering, Harry still managed to blush, thinking that it was snot that he had managed to spread around the kitchen, and wiped the remnants of it from his still-running nose. It was with widened eyes that he saw that it didn't have the consistency or the colour of mucus.

It was blood.
Blood that was bubbling, as if it were boiling on his shaking hand, when it came into contact with the moonlight.
Thunderstruck, Harry saw the shape of his hand begin to blur, with a current of intense pain shooting up his arm as if electrocuted, and he knew - of course he knew! - that tonight wasn't a full moon.
And yet he was changing.

(Sarah's Point Of View - Deffry Vale Kitchen)

Oh God, oh God, Harry - what the - what happened? The oil - it's changing him. No, no no, no! But there was no denying it - Harry had by now collapsed to the floor in what seemed like intense pain, not letting anything but a whimper out as his body began to enlarge and his lip tore as he bit through it. Then he shouted out, a sound devoid of anything but pure agony. Sarah felt her eyes prickle suspiciously as her friend contorted and convulsed in seemingly random ways, and it was only as his body began to take on a more canine - no, scratch that - lupine shape that she began to realised what she needed to do. His limbs seemed to grow, his fingernails ripped open to release vicious claws, and Sarah could only fall backwards toward the other door as the thing - it no longer retained any remnant of Harry's gangly body - twisted onto it's stomach, digging it's claws into the tile in a frenzied attempt to crawl - after her, after her, she knew it!

She threw her body into the door, not daring to see how far the transformation had progressed in case of losing her nerve, and beat on the door with the power of desperation backing her up. She grasped the doorknob in a desperate grip, rattling it, begging it for a reprieve from the nightmare this night had descended into, and it was with an inaudible sob of relief that the door gave way, splaying her on the floor. There was an unpleasant ripping sound, which was even worse than the shuddering gasps that had by now turned into throaty growls, and then a sickening, thin splatter of blood caked the upper part of the door.

Sarah kicked herself away from the kitchen, her mind too firmly swathed in the cloud of terror that had swept over her mind to even consider getting up, and she manage to roll herself onto her side - which was when she locked eyes with immensely familiar brown eyes. Her mind began to edge back to reality, recovering enough ground to allow her to scream a warning to the owner of those eyes - and two other's as well. The one in the middle, the one with the eyes tensed up like a spring, made as if to move forward and help, but she shook her head like a floundering fish - they were going to get torn apart, they all were, and the thing wasn't going to be finished, either - shouting another warning, which elicited the oddest of responses from the tall, brown eyed stranger.

"Sarah?!" There was no mistaking the warmth in that tone, and even though it was a brand new voice coming from a brand new mouth, she knew exactly who was standing here after leaving her so many years ago. Sarah's mind boggled at the odds of it all, and she couldn't help but reply. "Doctor!"

The light in the man's eyes was the answer even before he nodded - it was the Doctor, and it would all be all right, how couldn't it be - and, undeterred by the young blonde woman who stood next to him, who was looking between Sarah and the Doctor with the most jealous expression Sarah had ever seen, a smile - new teeth, Sarah dizzily noted - broke out over the new face.

"Werewolf." All four of them froze as the dark-skinned young man on the other side of the Doctor whispered with terror laced in his voice and pointed back into the kitchen. Sarah didn't dare look back, only readied herself to spring forward as she knew the monstrosity behind her was, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as the creature stepped forward and growled, as if stating a claim.

The Doctor slowly turned to the blonde girl in the seconds that followed, who looked as pale as Sarah felt, and said to her, "Tell me you have silver bullets." Sarah knew she wouldn't, and only felt her stomach tie itself in knots as she shook her head slowly. "What are the odds we'd need them two times in a row?" The Doctor turned back to the still creature, shrugging lightly, as he did whenever facing down the backwash of the universe. "Pretty low, I'd think."

And then it pounced.

(The Doctor's Point Of View - Deffry Vale Dining Hall)

The Doctor knew from the moment the werewolf had pattered out of the kitchen that it was either in the mood for food, play - or both. He still held the sonic screwdriver in his hand, and even though he knew that it wouldn't cause any lasting damage (which was exactly what he loved about it), he could still give the wolf a sound-bite it would never forget. (He was glad that this terrible pun would never be known to the world beyond his mind)

The wolf had pounced not on any one of them, but instead had leaped from the doorway leading into the kitchen to the table not two metres away from the Doctor. In short; it was right in front of him, he didn't dare move, and he really wished he could do a Vulcan nerve pinch properly (it only worked three out of ten times, and he'd tried sixteen times this last century - so he had to wait for another failed attempt to pass). Slowly and deliberately, he moved his hands in front of him - not to protect himself, but as if he were going to catch the werewolf when it leapt on him (which it was - he knew it, and he was rarely wrong), and said, "Now - stop, and THINK."

That was what he had planned, at least - in reality, he had missed the werewolf tense its immensely powerful leg muscles tense, and as such he only managed to say 'stop' before it propelled itself forward right onto him. He groaned as the heavy creature came to rest on his body, feeling the air being forced out of his body like a trumpet - he missed the others gasping in fear, and probably wouldn't have cared if he did (he was the one being pounced, after all) - before letting his head clunk against the wooden floor. His eyes lined up with the wolf's exactly at this angle, and his forehead furrowed as he saw the intense autumn gold eyes with just a glimmer of emerald green around the rim - could - ?

His thought train was, however, derailed as the wolf leaned its furry head closer to him, eyes boring fiercely into his, razor sharp teeth gleaming - and licked him.
The wolf licked him.
On the face.
The wolf had licked him, on the face - eurgh, that was just - eurgh.

He had no way of stopping the beast, though - its heavy paws were firmly perched on his legs and chest, and it seemed far too interested in his hair and face to even consider eating him. Far be it from the Doctor to remind it, and so he let the curious beast lick to its heart's content - he could feel the wolf's tail wagging so much that it was shaking the Doctor himself - for a minute or so before patting it on it's muzzle (noting the almost blanket-soft feel of the black fur) and sending it a look that clearly said 'I'm tired.'

The lupine gave a plaintive whine, like a dog that was being shrugged off after greeting its master, and the Doctor - rolling his eyes up at Rose, Mickey and Sarah, who had gathered above his head and were looking concerned, though no longer scared - scratched it behind the ear, which it seemed to like, and made as if to sit up. The wolf, huffing all the while, complied, and the Doctor winced as he felt blood return to the places the wolf had put its paws. Still wincing, he held a hand up to his three companions - well, two and a half - for help getting up and was soon back on his feet.

Rose seemed intent on checking his face and neck for bites or scratches (she alternated between this and sending glares at the wolf who, having hunched over as if it were sitting on thin air, looked nearer smug than anything else) while Mickey was staring at the wolf with something like terrified respect in his eyes - Sarah had sat herself on one of the tables, clutching her heart, and glancing between the Doctor and the creature in intense confusion. The beast looked at her, and she could only shield her face in her hands, the memory of her fear imprinted freshly on her mind. It gave another whine, and she shook her head, though she didn't know why.

Mickey sighed heavily, gaining everyone's attention (even the wolf's, which had leaned forward in something approaching interest) and said, in a mock-forceful tone -

"If he leaves a present in my shoe, I'm out of here."

(Chapter Seven - End)

Ambrose: So whaddya think? Eh, eh? Tell us! We need to know!

The Professor: Excuse him for a minute - he's a little bit over-excited at the moment, but he DOES have a point - make sure you send us a review or mail, even if it's just to tell us that we should stop writing, that we're gits for not updating, that a deer can swim better than a wolf (true fact) - whatever. And check out the - fourth poll? Something like that.

Ambrose: Thanks for reading, and leave a review. See ya next chapter!