Chapter Four
The Way We Are
Drew was finding it difficult to eat anything. His stomach had been churning as though it were a cement mixing truck all day. He pushed food around his plate, feeling like a kid himself for doing it, and stared at Matthias Potter.
He'd had the boy in class today, the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw class, and the boy had proved himself a bit brighter at Potions than his adoptive father. He'd had every Gryffindor scooting over to make room for him, anxious to be his friend, and the boy had walked over to the Ravenclaws and seated himself like nothing was wrong with that. Drew realized that the boy didn't like the fame that came with the Potter name. That was something. Being good at Potions was something, too. He could like the boy, he thought, just as he'd been thinking during the sorting.
But it did nothing to settle his stomach.
He'd killed this boy's parents. He'd nearly killed the boy. Five years ago, it wouldn't have meant anything to him. Or maybe it would have, if he'd paused long enough to let it. Maybe that was his problem. Not that he'd suddenly developed a conscience overnight, but that he'd always had one and it had chosen to poke its ugly head up in the aftermath of killing Longbottom, when he'd finally had time to think about it. It was amazing, how badly he wished Longbottom hadn't made him do that. And how badly he wished he hadn't done what he'd done to Matt Potter's family.
Last night, it had been all he could do to reassure the boy that it was no problem, he could talk about his nightmares if he needed to, and stumble back to his rooms before he'd retched up everything he'd eaten in three days. Which wasn't much, honestly. He'd been too nervous to eat much. He looked down at his plate. And now he was too upset.
Smith was looking at him suspiciously, Drew realized. He forced a small smile onto his face and took a bite of . . . something. Ham. He could barely taste it, and swallowing it was work.
"Long day," he grunted.
Smith nodded with a bit more sympathy. "You'll get used to it. Took me my whole first year of teaching to settle into being a professor at the school I'd just graduated from. Bit of a shock to look at the children and realize you're the adult now, isn't it?"
Hell of a shock, actually, Drew thought, then said it aloud. It would be good for Smith to be thinking of him as a blunt American. He'd caught himself sounding far too much like a cultured British pureblood several times in the past two weeks. It was just being back here, he thought. He hadn't had a lot of trouble passing himself off as an American Muggle once he'd gotten the accent right. The hardest part had been to stop even thinking about Muggles, Mudbloods, and purebloods, and he'd managed to let that go while he was in the hospital five years ago. It was the memories that were making him slip in his disguise.
He smiled to himself as he realized what he needed to do. He was tired and needed to prepare for his classes tomorrow, but at the moment, he'd really rather go to Hogsmeade for an hour or two. He stood up and gripped his cane tightly as a lightning bolt of pain rushed down his leg. He'd get used to the damp soon, he assured himself. He'd just take a potion for the pain before he slept. With a pang, he knew he was addicted to the stuff, but there really wasn't anything else for it, was there? Besides, he was looking forward to his time in Hogsmeade too much to worry about that.
---Break---
Matt was a little worn after his first day of classes and knew he should go to bed, but he was much more interested in sitting around the common room and laughing at the antics of a fourth-year, one Madeleine Smithy who was happily changing the colour of her hair and her eyes upon request. She paused at one particularly lurid combination of green hair and bright purple eyes and turned to her best friend Lana.
"You know, I think I'll leave it like this."
Lana laughed, but it was her older sister Lark, the prefect, who spoke up. "Your mother would have a fit, Madeleine."
"All the more reason to do it, then," the girl said dismissively.
"You look disgusting, Maddy," Lana giggled, and watched her friend return to her normal combination of brown and brown.
Madeleine's eyes lit on Matt. "Your parents have a friend who's a Metamorphagus like me, don't they?"
Matt nodded, feeling his cheeks burn at being singled out. "My aunt."
"What colour is her hair?"
Matt shrugged. "It's usually normal, since she got married. Uncle Remus says it makes him feel like he married one of those Muggle kids who go around with their clothes torn up and too much makeup on." Madeleine's face fell. "But she always changes her nose for me and Sirius when they come over," he added hastily. "The last time she did her hair, it was blue."
Madeleine concentrated, and her hair came out a rich cobalt blue colour.
"Ooo, I like it, Maddy," Lana said eagerly. "It's pretty."
With a shrug, Madeleine stopped changing herself and left it blue. She'd had her fun entertaining the kids, it seemed, and she retreated into a corner with Lana and their friend Pierce. Those three were the Chasers for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Kerry had told Matt earlier. Matt looked over at Kerry, who was entertaining Davis and Trevor with stories of stuff his dad had done in Quidditch matches. His fellow first years were all so loud and fun-loving, he thought. Maybe Matt should have been in Ravenclaw. He looked over at Ferris Forsythe, who really should have been a Ravenclaw, the rest of his family was, but he seemed perfectly content to talk about their first day of classes with Paulette Burns—who was adamant about being called Letty—and Berengaria Talbott. Those two girls were both so odd, he thought. Berengaria was a big, tough girl with a very serious side, and she seemed perfectly content with being a girl and wearing skirts and everything. And Letty was a tiny, frail little wisp of a girl who wanted nothing more than to exchange crude jokes and roughhouse with the boys. That was something Matt didn't think was ever going to make sense.
Ran Edwards approached him. "Mind if I sit here?"
Matt shook his head and smiled as Ran sat beside him on the floor in front of the fire. He'd noticed that everybody had been avoiding Ran, and he wondered why. Then a thought struck him, and he asked before he could stop himself.
"Have you ever hurt anybody when you were transformed?"
Ran's smile fell, but he didn't react. "No."
Matt frowned at that. "Sorry, I just thought . . . well, everybody kind of stays away from you. I thought maybe it was because you did something."
Ran sighed. "I haven't. They just think I will."
"Why would they think that?" Matt asked in puzzlement.
"Because they're bloody ignorant!" Ran growled. "They just don't know anything about werewolves. They all think I'll start tearing their throats out any time, now."
Matt shook his head. "That's just stupid. It's not even the full moon. Besides, even when you transform, you can take precautions, can't you? They're stupid." He turned around to glare at the room, and realized that it was rapidly emptying out. Lark and Bran and another fifth year named Richie were the only ones who looked like they were staying. Berengaria and Letty were saying goodnight to Ferris before they split up for their dormitories. He turned back to Ran.
Ran looked only into the fire, but Matt could suddenly sense a certain tension in him without being able to see it in his face or eyes. "It doesn't bother you, then? That I'm a werewolf?"
Matt was frustrated. "My uncle is a werewolf," he said. "He'd never hurt me. Why would it bother me? Uncle Remy always says it doesn't hold you back unless you allow it to. He came to school here, you know."
Ran was looking at him now, much more happily. "Yeah," he said, his voice strong. "Yeah, he's right." He raised his arms and stretched, and the tiny whining noise in his throat sounded just like Uncle Remy when he did that. "I'm going to bed now. You'd better get some sleep, too, you don't want Professor Stevens coming in here again."
Matt shrugged. "He was really nice. He just sat with me for a few minutes and let me talk about it. I felt bad for him, too. It's hard for him to get up and down."
"I like him," Ran declared.
"Me, too, I guess."
"Well, anyway, get some sleep, you look tired," Ran commanded, pushing him over with his foot, grinning.
Before Matt could even laugh, much less get up, Berengaria Talbott was there pushing Ran away and standing in front of Matt.
"Don't touch him, werewolf," she hissed.
Matt scowled, and grabbed her shoulder angrily. "Leave him alone! He didn't do anything!"
"I saw him kick you," she countered. "Don't worry, I know about werewolves."
"You don't know anything about werewolves," Matt corrected her, shoving her aside and grabbing Ran's arm. "Come on, Ran, let's go to bed and leave the ignorant kids to their misconceptions."
The big girl was staring at them. "Wait."
They paused, and Matt could feel Ran's muscles straining under his arm.
"You really weren't going to hurt him?"
"No," Ran muttered. "Why would I?"
She shrugged. "Sorry. I just don't like bullies." She eyed Matt as if to make sure he was intact, then held out her hand. "No hard feelings, then."
Ran looked at her outstretched hand incredulously. "Except your problem with werewolves," he said in disgust.
"But I don't. Have a problem. I just thought you were kicking him, so I was going to make you leave him alone. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
"Why are you so concerned about me?" Matt broke in.
She looked down, uncomfortable. "Well, my parents always say that since I'm . . . since I'm so big and everything, that I should use it to help other people. I always make sure bullies can't pick on people at school."
Strangely, Ran was smiling. "Me, too," he said, and held out his hand.
Berengaria gaped at him for a second, then shook his hand firmly. "Thanks."
"Well, goodnight," he said.
"Yeah, goodnight," Matt parroted.
"See ya's," she replied, and they turned away for their respective beds.