Just past Midsummer, the stars bright overhead, the moon a bright circle pouring ghost white light into the trees.

A swift-moving stream, water rushing over rocks, splashing in diamond glitters into little pools of radiance.

And wolves. Many, many wolves.

There were roughly three dozen of them, from grizzled elders to half-grown pups, lolling in a relatively clear place near the water. Sometimes, one would yawn, displaying long sharp wolf fangs. Most of the adults were content to watch the pups play, or to nap. They had just eaten very well; feathers were just about everywhere - including poking from wolf jaws.

Over all of them a huge shaggy black furred wolf kept watch, perched on a fallen tree. His mate, a smaller gray-furred wolf, was drinking from the stream and occasionally batting at rambunctious pups who thought her tail was a great toy.

A cinnamon furred pup was playing a fierce game of tag with a leaf; when in a fit of playfulness he batted it near the gray-furred female she pinned it to the ground with one firm paw. Bent her head to examine it, blinked pale blue eyes.

The gray furred wolf reared and shifted, becoming a gray-haired young woman in a pale blue gown. She turned the 'leaf' over and over in her hands, her expression puzzled, as her change caught the attention of every wolf nearby.

She ignored all of them, stepping gingerly on the rocks toward her mate.

"It's a letter," she said. "Look, it has wax on it. Can anyone here read?"

* * *

Marrok tugged at the fastening of his robe, making a face. "I'll never eat owl again," he snapped.

Bardulf, a lanky man with wavy brown hair, grinned. "Owl season is a good time," he corrected lightly. "We were expecting them soon anyway. You're the right age - about two winters before the mate-choosing - so of course there are owls."

Marrok stared at the ground, black curls obscuring his eyes but not his scowl. "So if it happens to everybody, why do I have to go?"

Bardulf only shrugged. "Because your father told you to?" he said, and when Marrok bared fang he gave the boy a sharp rap on the top of his head. "None of that!" he snapped. "We're not with the pack any more, you behave!"

"Owwwwww," said Marrok, rubbing at his head. "You still haven't answered my question."

Bardulf paused, turned a more serious expression on the boy, knowing Marrok would pay attention. Bardulf was one of the pack's two Betas, and had won the job through cunning. "You want my guess?" he asked. "Urlach doesn't tell us why he does things, Marrok, but I think I know - if you want to hear."

Marrok tugged at the cloth of his sleeve as if it irritated him. "Better than nothing," he said in a surly tone.

"Because you're his son, and unless you become very strong - or grow a great deal - you'll never make Alpha after him," said Bardulf simply. "If you go to..." he paused, trying to remember, "Hogwarts, yes - the school - you'll probably learn new tricks you can use in a succession fight."

"Wizards use wands," said Marrok. "It said so in the letter, I'm supposed to carry a wand. What good is that?"

Bardulf shrugged, regarded the small pouch of coins that were all the pack had of human coinage. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe the wand just helps?" He sighed. "Urlach said you're to be fully equipped to go to this Hogwarts, and for the life of me I can't figure these metal things out. "

"Good," said Marrok, turning around. "Then we can go back to the forest and call this one of my dad's dumber ideas and everything's - urk!"

Bardulf, his hand very firmly around some of Marrok's curls, scowled at the boy. "Obey your alpha, boy!" he snapped. "I'll figure the metal bits out, and take more from the wizards if I have to. You do what you're told!" He peered myopically up at a sign that had a picture of a stick on it. "Ol...li..van...der's..." he read slowly. "Wands. You said you needed one of those, right? Come on, let's get one."

"I'm not a dog!" squeaked Marrok, trying to get Bardulf's hand out of his hair. "Nobody's making me play fetch with some stupid stick!"

"Obey - your - alpha!" snarled Bardulf, struggling to get the stubborn boy into the shop without breaking anything.

* * *

Marrok's nose twitched as he entered the castle that was Hogwarts. It was the only part of himself he was allowing to twitch. He knew perfectly well that if he'd had a tail it would be curled right between his legs, and was briefly grateful that manshape had no such obvious signals of fear.

He'd been consistently terrified since being abandoned at the train station by his Beta. Trains were huge, smelly, and made an unholy racket, and the trick to get onto the right platform he'd managed completely by accident - while dodging someone else's cart.

Marrok did not like trains. Not at all. He wanted to find a compartment and curl up and hide from whatever denizens might find such a place home, but that was not proper behavior. Marrok son of Urlach, Alpha of the Black Forest Pack, was not to be seen as weak. That would reflect badly on the Pack, and on his father, and it had - finally - been firmly impressed upon him that he was going to Hogwarts as an ambassador. No one from the Pack had studied wizardry in generations, most of the spells long forgotten, and Urlach did not want Dumbledore thinking the werewolves needed any of this muttering and waving of wands.

So Marrok sat very stiffly in his seat, staring out of the window at the scenery, and did his best to hide his absolute terror of buildings that moved and roared along metal tracks. That was the easy part. The boats were much harder; sit too stiffly and you unbalanced the craft. But if he didn't keep a grip on himself he shook enough to make the boat ripple in the water. He compromised in the end by forcing himself to relax, and kept one hand firmly on the edge of the boat, in a white knuckled grip.

So it wasn't until he was firmly on solid ground that he was relaxed enough to recognize the scents wafting past his dulled human nose. Giant? he blinked. I'm supposed to study with giants? Are there goblins here too? Elves? There was a lot of fear, he realized. A lot more than just his own. And only one giant. He'd been given the impression only humans studied at Hogwarts - he'd been told in no uncertain terms that he was not to be seen Changing, not even the tiniest little bit, and what reason could there be for that unless only humans were allowed inside?

He was herded inside with the others, and tried not to twitch at the unreal sky overhead. Then they were presented to a battered old hat, which he found insulting right up to the point where it started singing.

Marrok spent the song trying to decide whether it was easier, in the long run, to get out of here as fast as possible so his father could rip his throat out, or if it'd be less painful to stay here with singing hats and unreal skies and - he realized as he took in his surroundings - ghosts. Consequently he completely missed the song's purpose, and in fact was only startled out of his worries when his name was called - "Marrok Urlachson!"

He startled very badly - worse when he realized he was standing alone on the floor. Gingerly he stepped toward the woman who had called his name, and she peremptorily gestured him toward the stool. He sat down and stifled a sneeze - someone had cat fur on their robes nearby, which always got up his nose. The hat was thunked down over his head, and he froze solid when a voice spoke in his mind.

Well well well. It's been a while since one of your family came here. Where shall I put you?

Marrok swallowed hard. - I'm supposed to become stronger.

Well, there's lots of ways to do that. There's not a half bad mind in here, yes, and dedication, and courage...

Marrok wondered why anyone would believe such an obviously deluded piece of cloth. He was fighting down an urge to make a run for the doors, which didn't strike him as being all that brave or intelligent. But he wouldn't let the pack down. He would stay wherever the talking hat put him and he would succeed. Just like Bardulf had solved the puzzle of the money. He would be Alpha one day!

Well, thank you for making my job easier, came the wryly amused reply from the hat. Better put you in "SLYTHERIN!"

The hat was jerked off his head and a table full of people wearing green and silver were applauding. Marrok took that to mean that was where he was to go.

He wondered why some of the adults at the high table looked disappointed. Surely the teaching hadn't started yet?