The second time he is alone with Pericles, he is huddled against the corner of the wall behind Fruitmeyer's, and he is panicking because his hands are on fire.
"Stop it," he pleads with them, knowing it's no use. "Stop."
If anything, they only flare brighter. He doesn't put them over his face, because even though they don't seem to be burning he's not sure how fireproof the rest of him is.
He knows exactly how fireproof Shaggy is, though. The stink of charred hair and the messy redness of burnt flesh were a good indication.
He'd gotten bigger and bulkier when he'd changed, gained sharp canines and huge blunt claws, and thought that was the end of it. And then a couple hours ago he'd gotten scared of the thing they were chasing, grabbed for Shaggy's arm, didn't mean to—
Scooby snarls and slams his fists into the pavement, leaving two smoking craters.
"You are only making it worse, you know," says the voice he last heard on tape, telling Mr. E what fools he'd made of them all.
His head jerks to the left, startled, to see the lanky shape of Professor Pericles leaning against the brick wall a few feet away. He seems to have undergone the transformation, too; his complexion is darker, grayer, his eye brighter, and fine, glossy black feathers frame his face.
"What?" Scooby asks, caught off-guard. Pericles looks out of place, here in the soft-edged glow of the late afternoon. Light and shadows don't touch him quite the right way, and it makes Scooby uneasy.
"Calm yourself, or it will never go away," Pericles explains evenly, examining his fingertips (claws, Scooby realizes, sharp and silver; his hands are like talons, the skin of them nearly black). "Your friend is fine, by the way."
Scooby stares. "How did you know about," he starts. And then, "Really?"
"Werewolves heal quite rapidly when silver is not involved. They are infamous for it, in fact. He will be fine in a few days."
There is still guilt for hurting his friend, but the sick terror of it starts to subside. As he watches, the flames flicker, and fade, and blow out in a gust of wind.
Relief pools in his stomach. "I… that… thanks, I guess," he says.
A pause. "Bitte schün."
There is the soft sound of wings, and when he looks again Pericles is gone.