He remembered that there was light, and that it was extremely bright. He remembered something loud, and a sensation of being struck everywhere all at once; like standing in the path of a very deep wave or feeling the shock from an explosion. The only difference was that it was very strong, and now he couldn't move, because everything hurt.

He tried to remain still, hoping to sort out what was going on around him. He heard voices, which was a relief to him since that meant that he wasn't deaf. Sorting them out, he could make out many of the people he was staying with. The echo of the room suggested that he was actually in one of the wagons, and he could tell that something was happening outside. Several voices appeared to be arguing some matter.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cool towel placed on his forehead, which made him wince from the initial discomfort. "Ah, he is awake." Grandmother Frona's voice told him that he was among friends, at least for the moment. "All of you should leave now. I need to see how hurt he is." The shuffling of feet and the creaking of the wood gave him an idea of how many people were watching over him. "Now, I want you to open your eyes slowly. Don't worry, we've only a few candles here, so the light shouldn't hurt you."

It took Eric a moment to trust, a moment to brave the possibility that he was blinded, and another to remember exactly how to open his eyes. When he did, he found himself looking into a much younger face than expected; one bearing a most uncharacteristic expression of concern. "Naomi?"

She backed up slightly while regaining her usual composure. A friendly cackle came from behind her as Frona moved closer. "Well, it was a far more welcome first sight than my wrinkled cheeks, wasn't it boy?" She laughed as he shifted uncomfortably. "Well, have no fear. You are strong and their spells were hurried. It will take some time, but you will fully recover."

Naomi had settled herself on a small wooden chair. "How do you feel?"

Eric felt no reason to lie. "Everything hurts."

She set her hand on his in a gesture of sympathy. "They cast a combination of expulsion charms at you. We think you flew about thirty yards."

Eric favored his ribs, laughing only lightly. "And without a broom – a new personal record."

The door creaked open, and several faces peeked in. He could hear Dorian's usually cheerful voice turn apprehensive. "Can we see him?"

Frona waved them in. "He will be fine. You may visit, but quickly – he needs rest."

Eric was beginning to despise bedside visits; he had been the recipient of too many of them in the last few years. The nice thing, however, was seeing everyone who cared. Dorian came in with Tylena locked on his arm. "She had just joined our ranks right before you attacked the mob. She wanted to help defend the clans – isn't she great?" Eric admitted that it said volumes for her character that she was willing to do something for others. It was a trait that too few Slytherins possessed.

Riley and Amelia were next, chanting epic praises regarding his heroic ( if extremely foolhardy ) charge against the attacking horde. Riley promised to compose a Grand And Extremely Embarrassing ballad extolling his virtues at their next gathering. Amelia was far more practical, promising to get him a thank-you gift.

Sheena and the Wainwrights stopped in. It seems that the Ministry was extremely concerned about the whole incident and wanted to speak with Eric regarding his actions. Roger, however, was firmly indignant and uncooperative. After all, Eric hadn't used any magic against his attackers, and there were dozens of witnesses. There was nothing that Eric could add of value, and why were these people allowed to make such a travesty of muggles? Wasn't the Ministry supposed to prevent that?

Sheena decided to offer a critique. "Not bad form, and taking the pole with you was a good idea. You had several good moves, especially against the one that grabbed you. Unfortunately, you let them disengage, which gave the three who got you a clear shot. Keep that in mind: use your opponents as shields." Although he had no plans for a repeat performance, he listened closely. A person never knows what tomorrow brings.

As everyone left, Naomi sat back down beside him. "Eric, why did you attack them? Together we would have held them off."

Frona offered an explanation as she dug about an herb cupboard. "Hot blood. I know it well – most of the Romuls suffer from it." She turned about to face the both of them. "It makes one impetuous, it clouds judgment, and it burns the soul with passion." She paused to smile, patting Eric on the head. "For myself, it was good to see. I was worried that your blood wouldn't burn, and your soul would be too thin for the Rapture."

Eric could feel the tone of the room change. "The what?"

Frona drew her chair closer to them. "Listen well, Eric Sable. I suspected much, and now I find that it was true – your grandfather was one of my children. You are a semi-blood descendant of the Romul clan, with enough dark power inside of you to make the difference."

Naomi turned to Frona. "A semi-blood with dark power; what are you saying?"

Eric completed the thought for her. "She's saying that I'm a werewolf." Turning away, he pulled blankets over his shoulder, wanting more than anything to hide himself.

Eric desperately wished that what Frona was implying wasn't true, but the morning proved otherwise. He was fine – in fact, he rarely felt better. All the aches and pains from the night before were gone. More than anything else, he wanted to run; to work out all the kinks in his muscles and burn off what little lethargy he was feeling.

He covered half the parameter of the camp before he noticed that he wasn't alone. Sheena was running behind him, gaining fast. "Good morning! Care for some company?"

"Not particularly." He picked up his pace. He really didn't want to speak to anyone at the moment.

"Give it up, wolf-boy! I'm way faster than you." In an effort to prove it, she drove herself harder until she caught up to him.

"Leave me alone!" He worked himself as hard as he could. Although he was gaining ground, his muscles were starting to rebel. It wasn't long before the strain was getting to him, and he began to lose his balance.

"Hey hey, easy now." Sheena was next to him, helping him find his feet again. "Slow down steadily. If you stop too fast, you'll cramp up."

Eric was getting to hate her attention. "Can't you just go away?"

She smiled. "I would, but annoying you is more fun." She waited while an irritated look passed across his face. "You want to talk about it?"

"How would you like finding out everyone's going to say you're a monster?" His chest was burning, but it was clearing quickly – very quickly.

"It's hardly that bad. You're a semi; odds are that you'll never have to go through a transformation, and with a little control, you'll be able to avoid unpleasantness like last night." She pulled them both to a stop. "I'm not just annoying you. I'm trying to tell you what I had to learn the hard way. You've got a part of yourself that Hogwarts isn't prepared to deal with."

Eric felt suspicion rise within him. "I suppose you can teach me?"

She smiled. "No, but he can."

Eric looked upward. The smiling face of Corvin Frugilagus stared back at him as a stately rook absently fluttered on his shoulder.