Scott Prince, Jr., commonly known as Wolf, sighed and leaned back in his seat, an unfinished potions essay sitting on the desk in front of him. He'd staked out the corner desk, the one closest to the fire, to do his homework, because the fire helped him study harder with its strange warmth, but tonight it was too warm and he felt half-baked. Running a hand through his rumpled blond hair, he picked up his quill and started to write again. Professor Snape had done the potion on killing those who were werewolves during the night of their wolfism on purpose, just to spite him.
"Having fun?" an amused voice asked from his right elbow. Wolf looked up and grimaced at the owner of the voice, a girl dressed in combat boots, ripped jeans, and a navy blue sweatshirt that was just a tad too long for her. Despite her appearance, Ginger was one of the nicest third-year girls Hogwarts had to offer. She wasn't overly tall, but she could hardly be called short, and she was a bit too leggy. A lot of the guys had mentioned that she was too leggy to be liked.
"Yeah, I'm having loads," Wolf retorted, setting his quill down. "Are you finished with yours?"
Ginger whipped out a roll of parchment and, with a deft twitch of her slender fingers, unrolled it for him to read. "Not quite," she admitted with a shrug. "I really don't see the use for this potion, so I'm not hurrying to finish it."
"Neither do I," Wolf muttered darkly under his breath. Putting on a fake grin, he said in an audible tone, "I'm almost done myself. I'm at the part where it can be injected with a needle."
"Huh?" Ginger asked, looking at him to explain why he would use a needle for a potion.
"Muggle sort of medicinal tool. You can shoot them out of contraptions called guns," Wolf explained patiently. "I'd better hurry. Dinner's in half an hour."
"I'd better go then," Ginger replied, brushing a hand through her burnished copper colored hair. "I've gotta talk to Rex."
The third-years, Wolf decided, had some of the weirdest names. Himself being included, there was a Rex in the Ravenclaw house, a Hunkie in the Hufflepuff house, a Wolf in the Gryffindor house, and a Slappy in the Slytherin house. Wolf, who was a brand new third-year because of his being a werewolf and not being able to attend due to the threat he caused other students, actually had a reason for his nickname, but he told nobody.
He finished the essay with a flourish, scowling darkly as he added a note to Professor Snape at the bottom to please not go into deep extent about killing werewolves and that if Snape did, that he would go to Professor Dumbledore. He knew it was a rash move to threaten Snape, but himself being a werewolf, the whole subject bothered him deeply. Werewolves were people, too, even though they didn't act like it three or four nights a month.
"Wolf? Wolf!" Wolf jerked his head up, realizing that dinner was starting in two minutes. The famous Harry Potter was shaking him by the shoulder. "Wolf! Are you awake?"
"Yes," Wolf said sheepishly. Harry grabbed his essay and was reading the last few lines. "You don't have to do that! It's sort of, um..."
Harry set the paper down and gaped at him. "You're a..." He dropped his voice. "Werewolf, aren't you?"
Something like a jolt of electricity hit Wolf and he slumped back in his seat in shame, cheeks burning, hands wound deep in his hair. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. Cheeks bright red, he glanced upwards at Harry, who was, strangely enough, smiling back at him. "I suppose I'll have to leave now...Dumbledore said I wasn't to tell anybody about my secret," Wolf mumbled shamefully. He felt like he'd let down one of the wizarding world's greatest men.
"No, no, you don't have to. I figured out on my own. I'm quite nosy," Harry said quickly. "And it's okay that you're a werewolf! Doesn't bother me a bit!"
"Really?" Besides Ray and his parents, nobody, not even Wolf's childhood friend Joey, had accepted him. To have one of the wizarding world's most famous and liked people accept him for what he was, the freak that he had been since that fateful bike ride six years ago, was astounding. Wolf nearly cried, but held onto his pride by a shred and grinned lukewarmly.
"Yes, really. In fact, I do know Hermione would have a million questions for you. She's quite interested in that stuff. But we'll deal with that later. Let's go eat dinner."
***************
The first morning of Christmas break dawned coldly enough for Wolf, watching out the window of the Shrieking Shack a full three minutes after the moon had disappeared. Shivering, he climbed up to the attic and threw on the cloak he had put in a plastic bag to hide his smell. The Hogwarts Express tootled brightly in the distance, painfully reminding Wolf that he wouldn't be going home. Addy and his parents were going to visit Uncle Herb, who didn't like Wolf because of his being a werewolf.
Across the lake that had become a steely mass of grey water, Wolf saw three cloaked figures flinging weapons compacted of snow at each other and grinned. Harry Potter and his friends had stayed for almost every Christmas break and a snowball fight was a tradition with them. Wolf didn't want to join in on that tradition yet; he felt as if he were breaking on something sacred.
"I thought I'd find you here," said a voice behind him. Wolf whirled to see a tall, worn-out man with shaggy silver-streaked brown hair. "This used to be my least-favorite place in the world."
"I'm not too fond of it either," Wolf remarked. He held out a hand. "I'm Wolf Prince. My real name's Scott."
"Remus Lupin. Harry Potter asked me to come talk to you."
The man pulled two bottles of butterbeer out of his briefcase and handed one to Wolf. "I always found this drink comforting after I transformed." He noticed Wolf's gaping look and gave him a bemused smile in return. "Yes, I'm a werewolf, too. The reason that there was a Whomping Willow already in place when you got there is me."
"You're like me?" Wolf asked. He'd never really met another werewolf and had often wondered if his quiet hard look was normal. But Lupin seemed relaxed and was even smiling, something Wolf never did unless he was talking to Ginger.
"Yes. I'm also part of the Werewolf League. Come, come, did you think you were an island unto yourself? Hardly! I'm supposed to take you to meet some people today. You ready?"
"Floo powder?" Wolf asked nervously.
"Of course. We'd freeze on broomsticks on mornings like this and you can't apparate yet, so we're going the classy way." Lupin threw some Floo powder onto the fireplace and stepped in. "Werewolf Hall!" he cried and disappeared as the flames shot up around him.
Wolf joined him a couple of minutes later, shaking snow and ash out of his hair. "Sorry, wrong fireplace," he explained. Lupin nodded and gestured from Wolf to follow him down a blue-carpeted hallway. "Where are we going?"
"To the meeting room. You may think you're an outcast, a freak, but trust me... you're not. Come this way. You'll want to meet Larry, my boss."
Wolf followed the strange man he had just met down the hallway, wondering just what the future held for him at the Werewolf Hall and not in the least bit afraid.
Disclaimer: Okay, not many of these characters are mine. Most of them, plus a lot of the setting, belong to the wonderful JK Rowling and don't you dare even think I would even dream of using her characters for making money, because I can use my own and do that!!
"Having fun?" an amused voice asked from his right elbow. Wolf looked up and grimaced at the owner of the voice, a girl dressed in combat boots, ripped jeans, and a navy blue sweatshirt that was just a tad too long for her. Despite her appearance, Ginger was one of the nicest third-year girls Hogwarts had to offer. She wasn't overly tall, but she could hardly be called short, and she was a bit too leggy. A lot of the guys had mentioned that she was too leggy to be liked.
"Yeah, I'm having loads," Wolf retorted, setting his quill down. "Are you finished with yours?"
Ginger whipped out a roll of parchment and, with a deft twitch of her slender fingers, unrolled it for him to read. "Not quite," she admitted with a shrug. "I really don't see the use for this potion, so I'm not hurrying to finish it."
"Neither do I," Wolf muttered darkly under his breath. Putting on a fake grin, he said in an audible tone, "I'm almost done myself. I'm at the part where it can be injected with a needle."
"Huh?" Ginger asked, looking at him to explain why he would use a needle for a potion.
"Muggle sort of medicinal tool. You can shoot them out of contraptions called guns," Wolf explained patiently. "I'd better hurry. Dinner's in half an hour."
"I'd better go then," Ginger replied, brushing a hand through her burnished copper colored hair. "I've gotta talk to Rex."
The third-years, Wolf decided, had some of the weirdest names. Himself being included, there was a Rex in the Ravenclaw house, a Hunkie in the Hufflepuff house, a Wolf in the Gryffindor house, and a Slappy in the Slytherin house. Wolf, who was a brand new third-year because of his being a werewolf and not being able to attend due to the threat he caused other students, actually had a reason for his nickname, but he told nobody.
He finished the essay with a flourish, scowling darkly as he added a note to Professor Snape at the bottom to please not go into deep extent about killing werewolves and that if Snape did, that he would go to Professor Dumbledore. He knew it was a rash move to threaten Snape, but himself being a werewolf, the whole subject bothered him deeply. Werewolves were people, too, even though they didn't act like it three or four nights a month.
"Wolf? Wolf!" Wolf jerked his head up, realizing that dinner was starting in two minutes. The famous Harry Potter was shaking him by the shoulder. "Wolf! Are you awake?"
"Yes," Wolf said sheepishly. Harry grabbed his essay and was reading the last few lines. "You don't have to do that! It's sort of, um..."
Harry set the paper down and gaped at him. "You're a..." He dropped his voice. "Werewolf, aren't you?"
Something like a jolt of electricity hit Wolf and he slumped back in his seat in shame, cheeks burning, hands wound deep in his hair. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. Cheeks bright red, he glanced upwards at Harry, who was, strangely enough, smiling back at him. "I suppose I'll have to leave now...Dumbledore said I wasn't to tell anybody about my secret," Wolf mumbled shamefully. He felt like he'd let down one of the wizarding world's greatest men.
"No, no, you don't have to. I figured out on my own. I'm quite nosy," Harry said quickly. "And it's okay that you're a werewolf! Doesn't bother me a bit!"
"Really?" Besides Ray and his parents, nobody, not even Wolf's childhood friend Joey, had accepted him. To have one of the wizarding world's most famous and liked people accept him for what he was, the freak that he had been since that fateful bike ride six years ago, was astounding. Wolf nearly cried, but held onto his pride by a shred and grinned lukewarmly.
"Yes, really. In fact, I do know Hermione would have a million questions for you. She's quite interested in that stuff. But we'll deal with that later. Let's go eat dinner."
***************
The first morning of Christmas break dawned coldly enough for Wolf, watching out the window of the Shrieking Shack a full three minutes after the moon had disappeared. Shivering, he climbed up to the attic and threw on the cloak he had put in a plastic bag to hide his smell. The Hogwarts Express tootled brightly in the distance, painfully reminding Wolf that he wouldn't be going home. Addy and his parents were going to visit Uncle Herb, who didn't like Wolf because of his being a werewolf.
Across the lake that had become a steely mass of grey water, Wolf saw three cloaked figures flinging weapons compacted of snow at each other and grinned. Harry Potter and his friends had stayed for almost every Christmas break and a snowball fight was a tradition with them. Wolf didn't want to join in on that tradition yet; he felt as if he were breaking on something sacred.
"I thought I'd find you here," said a voice behind him. Wolf whirled to see a tall, worn-out man with shaggy silver-streaked brown hair. "This used to be my least-favorite place in the world."
"I'm not too fond of it either," Wolf remarked. He held out a hand. "I'm Wolf Prince. My real name's Scott."
"Remus Lupin. Harry Potter asked me to come talk to you."
The man pulled two bottles of butterbeer out of his briefcase and handed one to Wolf. "I always found this drink comforting after I transformed." He noticed Wolf's gaping look and gave him a bemused smile in return. "Yes, I'm a werewolf, too. The reason that there was a Whomping Willow already in place when you got there is me."
"You're like me?" Wolf asked. He'd never really met another werewolf and had often wondered if his quiet hard look was normal. But Lupin seemed relaxed and was even smiling, something Wolf never did unless he was talking to Ginger.
"Yes. I'm also part of the Werewolf League. Come, come, did you think you were an island unto yourself? Hardly! I'm supposed to take you to meet some people today. You ready?"
"Floo powder?" Wolf asked nervously.
"Of course. We'd freeze on broomsticks on mornings like this and you can't apparate yet, so we're going the classy way." Lupin threw some Floo powder onto the fireplace and stepped in. "Werewolf Hall!" he cried and disappeared as the flames shot up around him.
Wolf joined him a couple of minutes later, shaking snow and ash out of his hair. "Sorry, wrong fireplace," he explained. Lupin nodded and gestured from Wolf to follow him down a blue-carpeted hallway. "Where are we going?"
"To the meeting room. You may think you're an outcast, a freak, but trust me... you're not. Come this way. You'll want to meet Larry, my boss."
Wolf followed the strange man he had just met down the hallway, wondering just what the future held for him at the Werewolf Hall and not in the least bit afraid.
Disclaimer: Okay, not many of these characters are mine. Most of them, plus a lot of the setting, belong to the wonderful JK Rowling and don't you dare even think I would even dream of using her characters for making money, because I can use my own and do that!!