Instead of returning to their common rooms, Hermione, Harry, Fred, George, and Ron were all seated on the grass before Professor Greyback on the edge of the Forbidden Forest – which was actually quite picturesque during twilight, once you ignored all of the lurid rumors that the students threw around amongst each other regarding its population.

It was a light surprise for Fenrir that there were students that actually were curious for his company after school hours, especially when three of them weren't even his students yet. Fenrir had never harmed any students in the four years he had taught at Hogwarts, but he wasn't oblivious to the fact that they found him quite frightening. It was no surprise to him that many of the students chose to avoid him if possible. Strangely, instead of feeling hurt or isolated, it was quite exhilarating for Fenrir to be able to teach and lead a somewhat conventional living and still be able to frighten others without consequence; he was grateful for whatever acceptance he was given, but he still lapped up fear like honey whenever or wherever it presented itself.

It was no secret that even some members of the staff were somewhat uneasy around Fenrir, namely Argus Filch, the school's caretaker. A rather heated incident had transpired between the two of them in Fenrir's second term of teaching that concluded in Dumbledore having to intervene after Fenrir threatened to "roast that wretched cat of his on a spit over a roaring fire and serve her with an apple stuffed in her mouth at the end-of-term feast."

The knowledge of that row was what made him Fred and George's favorite teacher.

"Werewolves have been both the fear and fascination of wizardkind for as long as they have existed," Fenrir smoothly said, seated upon the grass, too. "Our legend and likeness even managed to seep into Muggle folklore – fairy tales, as you may know them. The Lycanthropic character is often adapted and portrayed as an antagonistic archetype that I'm rather fond of: The Big Bad Wolf."

Hermione was perhaps the only first year that would be rushing to dip her quill into a bottle of ink and furiously scribble upon parchment after classes were over. Ron and Harry had separate reasons for staying: Ron so he wouldn't appear cowardly before his Slytherin brothers, and Harry because he wanted to share part of his Slytherin friend's intrigue (seated safely behind her).

"When the full moon casts its eerie spotlight from the night sky and lulls our human selves to sleep, we haven't the choice whether or not to transform," he continued. "Whoever we are before and after the change goes dormant, and we become savage enough to kill our loved ones should they be in our vicinity."

Harry made sure that it was the trembling hand that was unseen that touched Hermione's shoulder; the Slytherin girl was too engrossed in her scribbling of notes to sense his fearful touch.

"Despite that, we are able to recall all that we experienced during our lupine periods upon reverting to our human selves."

"Wow…" spoke the trembling Harry. "That's quite –"

"What is the transformation process like? Is it painful?" Hermione asked.

The twins sniggered as Harry just shrugged and kept quiet, yielding to Hermione's redoubtable will to learn.

"Oh, extremely painful if not properly treated. Days in the cycle closest to the full moon can have ill effects on a werewolf's mood and health – if not for the intervention of Wolfsbane Potion."

Hermione ceased her furious writing. "Wolfsbane Potion, Professor?"

"It is a concoction that relieves the pain of the transformation process and allows us to retain our human minds while in our beastly state, albeit having a repulsive taste. The ingredients leave quite the hole in the wallet, and the preparation is quite complex. Potioneers are usually to be hired, but while I'm at Hogwarts, Dumbledore instructs Snape to brew my monthly vial for me."

The twins were able to detect a grateful gleam in Fenrir's eye. "We always knew you were fond of Dumbledore for a particular reason, Professor," George said.

"Eh, the old man grows on you sooner or later," he said shrugging.

Harry wondered if the werewolf had suffered many years of no kindness from society; he certainly would've been able to relate. Perhaps Harry would have the chance to get to know him better as the term progressed – once he overcame the swallowing fear induced from his beastly features.

"Because of the wholesale discrimination directed towards werewolves, many of us were left in poverty, if not having to settle with jobs far below our qualifications," he continued. "Werewolves were left resentful of the wizarding government. There have even been cases of wizards and witches throughout history wishing for death when turned into lycans. Many of us felt that we had no hope of achieving work and even considered joining Voldemort."

Ron's body jumped. A sharp gasp escaped Hermione as her quill fell from her hand. Even Fred and George's normally roguish expressions paled slightly. Harry was the only one unaffected by the speaking of the name, and sent puzzled glances to each of his classmates.

"Oops…I'm not supposed to speak his name, am I?" Fenrir chuckled with no genuine remorse. He was about to continue, but his monstrous optics took notice of orange seeping through the sky and the sinking half-sun. "Oh, you lot best be getting back to your common rooms now."

Hermione's fleeting dismay evaporated. "Must we? I have far more questions, Professor!"

Behind her, Ron was hurriedly whispering to Harry and tugging his arm, eager to abide to Professor Greyback's suggestion.

Fenrir stood and patted the top of her head. "Another time, little lamb. I promise."

The twins stood. "Yeah, Granger. Besides…we have other matters to discuss," spoke Fred ominously.