Chapter Six

"So, class." Lupin looked around the circle of benches, taking in all of their faces. It was an unusually large group, because the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws had joined them, too. That night they would all be watching Lupin as a werewolf. "I repeat to you now that you will be in no danger tonight. Both Hagrid and Professor Shivers will be aiding you. We will all be tagged with different numbers – by "we" I mean all the wolves – and you will write down which wolf you believe me to be. You may, of course, work together with your friends if you wish, but I shall demand a separate answer from each person. Now, shall we go over it again? Miss Patil, if you please – three physical signs that define the werewolf."

Parvati had returned to the class after two lessons. She, Hermione and Lavender had talked long about Lupin one night, and Parvati had finally decided to give him a try again – if nothing else to prove herself to Lavender who, contrary to her friend, found Lupin fascinating rather than daunting. Of course, Lavender didn't take Care of Magical Creatures anymore and wouldn't be having him anyway, but it still cheered Hermione to know that she didn't see Lupin differently. Much differently, at least.

Parvati cleared her throat nervously before speaking. "From the distance we'll keep, the three most noticeable signs are the rounder snout, the tufted tail and the ears' location," she said, glancing up briefly at Lupin to see if she had gotten it right. He smiled, and she looked away again.

"Excellent. Miss Parkinson, name something that distinguishes the werewolf by its movements."

"You walk with a more rolling gait, and hold your tail higher," Pansy answered the question. Her voice was lazy, and she put as much insult into the word "you" as she could possibly muster. It was not quite up to Malfoy's standards, but it was clear who had taught her. Harry glared at her, but did not say anything. He had been more quiet since Ron's outburst, quiet but brooding. Hermione was not sure that she liked the change, but as long as it kept him out of trouble, anything was good.

"Correct," said Lupin pleasantly. "Mr Corner, then... how can you tell a werewolf apart from mundane wolves by its voice?"

"The werewolf's voice is of a lower pitch than normal wolves," said Michael Corner. He was sitting next to Cho Chang, who had after appalling exams decided to retake sixth year and had since the start of school practically been glued to him. Hermione noticed that Harry was staring stubbornly in the other direction, trying to avoid seeing them, and grinned to herself. She felt guilty for it a moment later. But it was so funny, like in some corny teenage movie...

"However," Michael continued, "normal wolves vary in the pitch of their voice as well. The "higher" and "lower" pitch the book talks about is just the average of all wolves and werewolves respectively. Because of that, it is unsure whether it would be of any use to us."

"Very good," smiled Lupin. "Take five points to Ravenclaw for showing a critical and analytical mind."

Hermione looked at Michael, feeling surprised. She had spotted the same thing, of course, but she hadn't expected anyone to bring it up. Then she saw the triumphant look Michael shot at Harry, and realized he was trying to put a claim on Cho: "See, Potter, I'm smarter and more worthy of her". How cute.

"Well, I'm glad to see you have all been paying attention!" said Lupin happily. "But I must warn you – knowing all the signs is not the same as being able to easily distinguish a werewolf. Don't be disappointed if you get it wrong. Other than that, I have nothing more for now. I'll see you all tonight! Or rather," he added when he realized that many people had paled at that, "you will see me. I'm not sure if I will be able to see you." He smiled disarmingly.

Unfortunately, Parvati confided to Hermione later, that just made her focus on his teeth instead.

The tower balcony was crowded, elbows shoving against elbows, toes being treaded on constantly. Everyone had sought a place as close to the banister as possible, all the better to see down into the grounds. Hagrid and Professor Shivers had taken them to a tower with a balcony close enough to the ground to afford a good view, although high enough to put even the most nervous students to ease.

"Quiet down now... hey you, get down from there, yeh wouldn't wanna fall now... quiet, I said. Won' summon them until yer quiet, all of yer, get it?" Once Hagrid had managed to silence the class, he put two fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly. The group of students held their breath in anticipation. Slowly, they became aware of a group of grey shadows, slipping out of the forbidden forest one by one and gathering around the meat that Hagrid had left out for them. An awed murmur spread through the class, and Blaise Zabini whistled softly.

"They're beautiful," said Parvati, disbelievingly.

Hermione spotted Lupin almost immediately. He was at the back of the group – a sign of his low status. When he took the Wolfsbane Potion he was no more than a human in wolf form – the real wolves must sense that, and treat him accordingly, she thought. They allowed him to run with them but offered no respect. Despite this he carried himself proudly, and when she looked at him through her binoculars – the ones Harry had bought her during the Quidditch World Cup – his face looked intelligent and alert. (That might have been her imagination, of course.) She quickly assured her guess by checking all the usual signs, then filled his number in on her parchment and turned to give it to professor Shivers. As she did so, a trace of movement near the forest edge caught her eye. She looked back quickly, putting her binoculars to her eyes again. She was just in time to catch sight of a wolf loping back into the shelter of the trees. It was not marked with a number, and it looked strange...

"Professor Shivers," she said quietly as she handed him her parchment, "are there any more werewolves in the forest?"

"What?" He smiled at her. "No, that would not be possible. They live as werewolves only a couple of nights per month – the rest of the time they are human, as you well know. And no human could live in the Forbidden Forest." He smiled again, making her feel a bit stupid.

"No, of course not," she muttered, thinking that she must have been mistaken. It had looked like a werewolf, but of course she hadn't seen quite clearly. It had been lurking in the shadows, and run off very quickly. It might have been some trick of the eyes.

"Here, professor." Harry hurried up with his piece of parchment, and Ron followed close by, apparently ready as well.

"Thank you. You were very quick, all three of you," said Marco, sounding impressed. Harry and Ron smiled nervously.

"Do you think it will count against me if I tell him that I've been two feet away from Lupin when he transformed?" Ron whispered to Hermione as they took their place at the banister again, gazing down at the sleek, grey creatures. "I recognize him easily, could pick him out from a pack of werewolves as well if I needed to. There's nothing like having two-inch fangs thrust at your face for making the memory a very vivid one."

"Hey, Herm!"

Hermione lifted her head from the breakfast table, staring muzzily at Ron as he sat down beside her, looking concerned. "What have you been up to lately? You look like you haven't slept for days."

"Parvati was on a date this weekend, with that guy from Ravenclaw she got partnered with in the Astronomy assignment. They talked about it last night. At length." Hermione yawned, cursing the girls in her room to oblivion and back. (Not literally of course. She hadn't grasped the finer detail of that curse yet.)

"Ah," said Ron and sat back, grinning. Well, he could grin, he was not the one living with the twittering idiots. Parvati and Lavender had invited Parvati's sister Padma, too, for some "inside information". The three of them had kept her up until four o'clock, and then asked her help to get Padma back to the Ravenclaw house safely. Sometimes Hermione thought of committing suicide.

It wasn't as if she didn't like girl talk. She loved chatting with Ginny and Molly, or with those two or three girls she still had contact with since her muggle school, or with her own mother, or with whoever. She just couldn't stand the insane yammer that the other girls in her room were so fond of. Oh, how tired she was. So, so tired...

"Hermione!"

"Huh?"

"I said," said Ron patiently, "that you've been spending a lot of time in the library lately, too. What's up? Something on your mind?"

"You're not thinking of starting up spew again, are you?" asked Harry in alarm. She bristled.

"It's not spew," she started, but the other two finished for her, in perfect synchronisation and mimicking her voice expertly, "it's S.P.E.W." Startled, she shut her mouth. Her two friends grinned.

"Wow, we got her to shut up."

"It's a start."

"Oh, be quiet, both of you." She cuffed them over the head, but grinned. They wore on her nerves, but she liked that in them. Cocky little bastards, she might just give them a Bedbug hex one of these days to show them their place. "I've given up on S.P.E.W., you know that. And what I've been doing in the library is looking up on some curses, just to improve my general knowledge a little." They both gave her a tired look and then turned to each other.

"General knowledge, she says."

"You think she knows that her so called general knowledge in History is roughly what Professor Binns used to write his thesis?"

"She went through it during the holidays, pointing out mistakes. Do you know what she bought to read on the train when we went to France? The complete works of Nicholas Fleming. That is forty-three volumes."

"And she finished it how fast...?"

"We had hardly crossed the Channel before she started complaining that she had nothing left to do."

Hermione smiled and let them talk. Ron was exaggerating as usual – she had just bought the first book, and it wasn't as if it was more than two or three thousand pages. Also, she had just lied a little to them. She was not just reading for pleasure right now – she was reading up on Suicidal Curses. And what she read made her frown.

Suicidal Curses were something you didn't learn at school, of course, just as little as you learned how to perform the Avada Kedavra. Professor McGonagall had only mentioned it once during a lesson, never gone into what they really meant. But to perform a Suicidal Curse, Hermione learned, in some old, musty book from the restricted section, you had to have at least a basic knowledge about spells that weren't taught in school until at least fourth year. And after that, of course, you had to be pretty damn upset.

But where had Sarah Aniki learned how to perform such a curse?

"I think it just comes natural to her," said Christine.

"What do you mean, natural?" asked Hermione carefully. She had gone to see Christine to ask if she had any idea how Sarah had learned magic on that level. The girl had only shrugged, carefree as usual.

"I mean, she's always been pretty powerful – we both are. I didn't know it was magic until I got the letter though. Now I understand better." Christine spoke as if this was all natural. "And she's always been very sensitive. She's easily upset. And then she does stupid things. But she feels better when I'm there. I feel better when I'm close to her, too."

She had answered so simply, so easily. For her it all made sense. But for Hermione, it sure didn't.

"Hermione, you're doing it again." Ron waved a hand in front of her face, looking exasperated. "I swear I've seen more alertness in shop dummies."

"You mean the ones at Mungo's?" Harry asked.

"I meant it as a metaphor, idiot. Herm, can't you keep yourself from zoning out for at least ten minutes at a time? Please? My fingertips are sore from constantly snapping them in your face."

"Oh, you're unbearable," she laughed, but chided herself silently for not being more attentive. She knew she had a tendency to think about other things and she knew Ron hated it, so she tried to keep herself from drifting off as much as she could. Lately she hadn't been doing too well. She had too much on her mind.

Rachel walked past, and when her eyes met Hermione's, gave her a fraction of a nod. It lightened up her mood immediately, and so did the fact that Rachel was now looking much better. She had looked paler and more unhealthy than usual for a while, but that finally seemed to have passed. And although Hermione knew that the other girl would probably hate her for it, she couldn't help worrying about her. She hadn't been in class at all for a couple of days, and Hermione couldn't but wonder if it was something serious.

"Hey, guess what?" Ron was suddenly grinning, looking very smug about something. Hermione rolled her eyes, but decided to humour him.

"No, what?"

"It's Friday!"

Hermione shared a look with Harry. "And...?" the latter asked.

"Double Potions this afternoon! For you two, that is... my day ends at lunch!" Ron threw a fist in the air, smiling gloatingly at them both. Hermione groaned. He liked to point that out, and therefore did so every Friday and sometimes during the rest of week, as well. It was driving her nuts, which was of course the entire point. She suddenly recalled an old yearning to turn Ron into a frog and wondered if she should maybe look that spell up after all. Harry, however, grinned.

"Yeah, except for the fact that you have additional Keeper's training with Ginny this afternoon at one thirty sharp." He smirked, and Ron's grin faded.

"Aw geez, did you have to remind me? That girl is nothing but a slave driver!"

"Sweet, sweet revenge. And yes she's harsh, but she's good. One of the best replacements for Angelina we could have found."

"But she's my little sister!"

"And therefore the optimal Captain and trainer for you, Ron," said Ginny briskly, as she sat down beside him and knocked his elbow off the table. "I've been watching you fly since you let in your first goal and I know exactly what you're doing wrong."

"Ugh," said Ron. "Can't you just get your boyfriend to predict what's going to happen in the match and then we can act accordingly?"

"Would that it was that simple," sighed Dean, and sat down opposite Ginny. "I only see really cloudy stuff, that's only understood after it's happened... I'm getting better though. But I tried betting on a Quidditch game and I lost three Galleons, so it doesn't really work as well as I'd like it to. Sadly." He sighed again, and was echoed by Ron.

"How come you two always arrive within max five seconds of each other?" he asked, looking suspiciously at Dean. "It's like you're glued together or something... ouch! What was that for!" He glared at his sister and stretched down his hand to rub against his shin. Ginny glared back.

"For being an insufferable, oblivious jerk. Oh, and a start on the punishments I'll give you for all the goals you'll let in this afternoon."

"What, are you a Seer as well now?"

"No, Ron." Ginny sighed. "Some things are just sadly obvious."

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Hello! I'm in a rush – am off to work – so here's just a quick thank you for reading the story! Hope you like it!