Chapter Ten

A Wild Creature Tamed

Drew limped up the hill, humming to himself pleasantly. Dusk was falling earlier every day, the moon rising quickly, and the weather was getting very cool. The bright light of the full moon spilled over the Hogwarts grounds to reveal the fallen leaves being scattered by the cold breeze that was stinging his nose. He had a red and gold scarf wrapped around his neck and hadn't thought once about what colour it was since putting it on. He'd spent a pleasant hour in Hogsmeade, time just to himself, and he was coming back with a hint of regret over leaving the cosy warmth of Rosmerta's place to grade essays in his cold classroom. He didn't really need to have them graded till the end of the week, and he entertained the idea of simply going to his room to read a book on a new Potions theory that he thought he should be informed on, whether it was valid or not.

As he passed by the greenhouses, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and was reminded of the significance of the brightness of tonight's moon. Ran was spending the night in the greenhouse, hopefully peacefully. Hagrid had been asked to keep an eye out on the place, mostly to ensure none of the other students tried to break in and bother the boy. Drew had been worried about the potion he'd watched Ran drink this afternoon. He'd never brewed Wolfsbane himself before. He'd seen it done, he'd read about it, never done it himself. Normally he didn't worry about doing it wrong. He was usually perfectly confident with knowing the instructions inside and out. But this was serious business, and it was a boy in his house that he was responsible for.

As a teacher, he knew the spell to enter the greenhouses when they were locked up and off-limits to the students. He glanced at Hagrid's hut and waved, on the chance that the half-giant was actually watching, before using the spell to enter. He felt a little wary as he started looking for Ran. He was a werewolf right now, not a boy. And he was betting his life on his own skill at Potions. He reasoned to himself that half-grown or not, Ran in werewolf form was not likely to be held at bay by the greenhouse walls if he were truly wild, and therefore must be safe.

Then Ran was suddenly there, ghosting out from underneath a table covered in potted plants that the students were obviously working with. Drew sucked in a surprised, hissing breath, and held perfectly still. He was bigger than Drew had expected, with shaggy brown fur and the tips of white teeth showing against dark wolfish lips on his long snout. It was obvious that he wasn't full-grown—his paws were big and ungainly, his legs too long and thin. But there was a lot of power in the furry four-legged creature approaching him. His golden eyes were eerily intelligent as he watched Drew. Drew remained unmoving as a sculpture while the werewolf sniffed around his feet, and up his legs. His hand clenched white-knuckled on the head of his cane. The creature pushed his muzzle into Drew's free hand, and Drew took in a few quivering breaths through his nose, his nostrils flaring out as he tried to stay silent. Then he felt something warm and wet against his palm, and he looked down with shock to see the werewolf licking his hand and gazing up at him with those too-human eyes.

Drew released a deep sigh, and his entire body relaxed. The Wolfsbane worked. Ran was in his right mind, despite his current form. He looked directly into his eyes, feeling strange for doing so, as he spoke.

"I wanted to check on you. I hope you're comfortable in here. We'll come back and let you out first thing in the morning, all right?"

He nodded, almost to himself, and turned to go. He was caught up short and nearly fell by a tug on the trailing end of his scarf. He looked back to see that Ran had caught the scarf in his teeth, and was holding it firmly.

"Is something wrong?" he asked hesitantly. Oh, really, how would he answer you, anyway? he thought to himself, but waited to see if there would be an answer of some kind.

The werewolf Ran made a growling noise deep in his throat, causing Drew's heart to jump, but he only shook the end of the scarf he'd caught. He tugged on it, growling again, and looked up at Drew, his furry tail wagging.

"Oh, Merlin, Ran, you're not serious," he muttered.

Ran shook the scarf again, his eyes alight with playfulness.

Drew sighed, and unwound the scarf. He must be so bored. "Let me sit down, then," he said sternly. "You know you could pull me over if I don't." He found a chair and sat down, then proceeded to play tug-of-war with an adolescent werewolf and a Gryffindor knit scarf.

---Break---

An hour later, the wet and shredded scarf lay in an inglorious heap on the floor. Drew was laying on the ground with a good portion of his warm robes wrapped around his forearm, the rest dragging in the dirt, while he fended off Ran's attempts to bite him. Ran had so far only succeeded in gnawing the robes to a soggy mess. Ran ducked his head toward Drew's throat again, and Drew threw his arm up, giving the werewolf a mouthful of drool-soaked wool. He laughed, not caring that this was far from dignified and probably not altogether safe. He was wrestling with a werewolf for the sheer enjoyment of playing rather than working. Ran was obviously having fun, too. He'd scored a touch on Drew only once so far, carefully pulling his lips over his teeth before slipping his mouth onto the muscle of his professor's shoulder.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a bang.

"Stevens! 'Ere, get off 'im, ya brute!" Hagrid bellowed, rushing forward like he meant to remove the werewolf pup by bodily force.

"No, Hagrid!" Drew shouted. "It's all right! I'm fine!"

Hagrid stopped short, his huge furry eyebrows drawn close together and his frown well-hidden by the thicket of his beard. "What're you doin'?"

"We were . . . uh . . . well, we're playing," he said.

"Playin'?" Hagrid asked in disbelief.

"Well, he's bored, being cooped up in here all night," Drew said defensively, "so we were just, ah, having fun."

Hagrid puzzled over that for a moment, then suddenly grinned. "Yer all right, Stevens," he proclaimed. He held out a huge, beefy hand, which Drew clasped over a moment's hesitation, and hauled the much smaller man to his feet. "Good o' ye ter think abou' stuff like that." He clapped Drew on the back rather harder than was necessary, in Drew's opinion. "There's not many would be brave enough ter come in here."

He seemed not to have forgotten Drew's bad leg, for he was keeping a firm grip on him as if to keep him from falling. Ran had retrieved Drew's cane and was dropping it from his mouth onto Drew's feet, his tongue lolling out. Hagrid bent to retrieve it, offering Ran an affectionate pat on the head, which the creature ducked from with a look of offended dignity on his expressive face.

"Thanks, Hagrid," Drew said, taking a step away from the big man to show he was standing on his own. "I'd better get back inside now, I really need to get some work done and check on the rest of the students."

Ran suddenly wilted, his tail falling and his head hanging. Drew actually laughed aloud at the way a werewolf could pout, but it didn't escape him that Ran still had to spend the next seven or eight hours alone in here, and it was reportedly quite difficult for a werewolf to sleep, even under the effects of Wolfsbane. He felt a bit sorry for the creature.

"It's all right, Hagrid, I'll lock it up, you go on."

Hagrid did, looking inordinately pleased with the whole affair. Drew had to admit, that if werewolves could be entertaining, perhaps Hagrid's instincts were more correct than he'd ever believed—his affection for magical creatures might even have some merit.

"I do have classes to teach in the morning," he told the boy with a raised eyebrow, not letting the dejected pup sway him. "And you'll be back to normal in the morning yourself, I'll expect to see you in school." Ran snuffed, almost sneezing, with derision. "You've got another night of this to go, too, so you need to settle in a bit." Ran looked around the greenhouse and made a small whining noise, his tail falling for real this time. Drew almost gave in, but he really did have to play the adult for now. "You ought to get some rest just as much as the rest of the school, so do try. I've got to go make sure your classmates are in their beds." Ran padded forward and licked his hand again, and Drew found himself resting his hand on the soft head for a moment. "I'll come back to spend an hour or two with you tomorrow night, okay?" Ran began to wag his tail again hopefully. "You know, in the morning, you're going to be awfully embarrassed that you actually put your tongue on your professor," he teased.

Ran let out a sharp yipping noise that might have been a laugh, and nudged Drew toward the door. Drew stepped out and reset the spell to keep the door closed for the rest of the night, pausing for a moment to peer in and see that Ran was trotting obediently to the corner where Drew's scarf lay rejected to curl up for the night.

Minerva was taking her daily walk through the school on the arm of Fayne Forsythe, a Ravenclaw prefect whom she'd chosen to do this particular duty this year. Fayne was a quiet lad for the most part, but he took his role as Minerva's aide seriously, and kept up a constant stream of talk as they walked the castle and grounds. He reported anything that looked out of place, commented on how good a class was going or how well a greenhouse crop was growing, and speculated on the friendships and rivalries of the students they passed by.

"Looks like the Quidditch teams are getting well into shape," Fayne was saying cheerfully, "we're passing by the Slytherins coming back from practice just now."

"Afternoon, Headmistress," a husky voice called out, interrupting Fayne momentarily.

"Hello, Jackson. How is the team looking?" Minerva answered, knowing it to be the Ancient Runes professor's younger brother.

"Looking great, Headmistress, thank you," he replied politely, and the chattering group moved on. Minerva reflected briefly that Gregory Kilburne was really almost too young to have taken on the position he did; only twenty years old and already Head of a Hogwarts House. And yet speaking to him or his brother Jackson, still a seventh-year student, was enough to remind one that the Kilburne family was quite a good one. They had raised their boys to be responsible, respectable, and dutiful. Almost surprising that they were in Slytherin at all, but that wasn't quite fair to the House. The members it had produced recently were no reflection on hundreds of years of history.

"And there's Professor Stevens with one of the Gryffindor students," Fayne said, Minerva hardly realizing she'd missed what he'd been saying before. "Oh, it's that Edwards boy, the werewolf."

"Oh, good, wait a moment, Mr. Forsythe." She kept hold of his arm as he came to a stop, and she called out in what she hoped was the right direction, "Professor Stevens, Mr. Edwards, a word with you?"

The two approached, and Minerva knew it was them because young Edwards carried a very distinct smell. She wasn't at all sure that she didn't imagine it, no one else seemed to notice it, but it was a useful thing all the same.

"I trust the last few nights went by without incident," she spoke to the taller blob.

"They did, Headmistress," Stevens replied. She really ought to call him Drew, she knew that's what he wanted.

"I'm glad to hear that, Drew. Any concerns, either of you?"

There was a moment of pause that made her nervous, then Drew answered. "Nothing serious, Headmistress, but I would like to talk to you about a few ideas of mine for the future, when you have some time. Perhaps in your office?"

"Certainly. Anything wrong?"

"Oh, no, I just think Ran might enjoy being able to get out of the greenhouse to stretch his legs next time."

Minerva wasn't sure she liked the sound of that, but she nodded. "We'll discuss it. Mr. Edwards, what do you think?"

"I'd like that," the boy said, "but only if Professor Stevens is there."

"Course I would be," the teacher answered, and Minerva suddenly felt much better about the idea. The young man was settling in here, it seemed. And becoming fond of his students, too. Damn Dumbledore, with such good judgement even from beyond the grave.