Back at Ilvermorny the next Monday, Harry was surprised to see Professor Fontaine standing behind the podium as he took his seat in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Some of the already-seated students began whispering amongst themselves – it was not usual for a professor to have an unannounced absence.

Professor Fontaine waved his hands up and down to get the commotion to die down. "No need to panic, class," he assured the confused first-year students. "Professor Lupin is feeling just a little bit under the weather today and I promise he will return for Wednesday's lecture. I will do what I can in his stead; thank Merlin he was kind enough to lend me his notes…" He shuffled his papers and cleared his throat. "Let's see… everyone open your texts to page 93."

If there was one thing the impressionable first-years appreciated about Fontaine's teaching style, his voice was clear and his methods were deliberate and concise. He clearly knew the subject and knew it well, but his approach was a far cry from Lupin's enthusiastic and occasionally unorthodox style. Harry mentally admitted to himself that he even missed Lupin's somewhat high-strung demeanor – he preferred moving about the class as he taught, not to mention his occasional facial tics… Harry wondered if Lupin might have had a mild nervous condition of sorts; regardless, he just never seemed to be completely comfortable in the classroom.

Before he dismissed the class, Fontaine informed the students that they were to write a brief one-and-a-half page essay on the differences between jinxes, hexes, and examples of each, and that they were to hand it in to Lupin when he returned on Wednesday. Considering it was somewhat shorter than some of the previous assignments they've received for Defense, few students complained – not even Othniel uttered so much as a peep of frustration.

Harry was in the middle of packing his things when he heard the Headmaster call for him. "Oh, Mister Potter? Could you stay behind for just a moment please?" Fontaine's expression was impassive, but Harry's conscience was clear as he didn't do anything wrong to his knowledge. Harry remained standing at his desk until his classmates had vacated the room.

Harry relaxed as he saw Fontaine nod and smile. "I won't keep you but for just a few seconds," he promised. "I just wanted to let you know that your friend Miss Goldfarb has been discharged from the infirmary Friday afternoon, and has been most anxious to resume her classes. She also sung Miss Harrison's praises as a tutor." His smile grew. "Professor Goode takes her duties as the Quiz Bowl administrator quite seriously… while it's certainly uncommon for second-year students to be selected as participants, I think her judgement was quite sound when appointing Miss Harrison as one of the Horned Serpent representatives… it wasn't all that long ago when the Deputy Headmistress herself made the team as a third-year Thunderbird. She was a victim of bad luck as a second year… five out of the eight Thunderbirds were seventh-years, if memory serves, and the other three were either fifth or sixth-years… sorry, I'm getting off track. I know you were concerned about her and I just wanted to share the good news personally. That's all I have, Harry."

"Thank you, sir," replied Harry respectfully. "I know she's glad to get back to her normal routine, and that she didn't have to stay any longer than expected."

After dinner in the common room, Anastasia provided a most stunning revelation to Harry, Tallulah and Othniel.

"Erm, can you guys keep a secret?" she whispered. Her eyes narrowed and her next words were little more than than an ominous hiss. "I'm going to hex you to next Friday if any of you utters a single syllable…"

"Erm, alright," gulped Harry. "What's so top-secret that you have to threaten us to keep quiet?"

Ana scanned the room for any eavesdroppers, and waved her first-year friends to come closer. "I think… I think Professor Lupin's a werewolf," she said in a barely-audible squeak.

"A what?!" yelped Othniel, momentarily forgetting to keep his voice down.

"Shhhhh!" Ana whisper-shouted. She looked like she was about to give Othniel a hard slap across the cheek, but let out an exasperated sigh instead as she drew her wand. "I'm not taking any chances… muffliato!" She then spoke in a more normal voice. "I said, I think he's a werewolf."

"Wow, Ana," gasped Harry. "Not even Nova can cast that yet… how'd you do that?"

Ana giggled. "Professor Rudiger showed me last year. It took some practice, but I got it down."

"Soooo. what makes you think that he's a werewolf?" asked Tallulah, who didn't seem fully convinced. She then arched an eyebrow. "D'you think that has anything to do with his absence today?"

Ana nodded. "It has everything to do with his absence, Tallulah." She then pulled open a lunar calendar. "As you can see here, last night was a full moon."

"Well, maybe," countered Harry. "But that could be just a coincidence…"

"It could be a coincidence," agreed Ana, "but last Thursday after Potions, I saw Madam L hand a strange-looking elixir to Professor Lupin. I haven't seen anything like it before, but I saw enough of it to try and identify it." She then pulled out a strange textbook from her backpack. "This is an advanced Potions textbook I checked out from the library." She flipped to a bookmarked page and showed her three friends a picture of the concoction, which looked like a chalice with blue fumes emanating from it.

"Wolfsbane potion," Ana explained to her friends. "It's used to alleviate some of the effects of lycanthropy – it's not a cure, but it keeps those inflicted with the condition sane while transformed. Unfortunately, there is no cure for lycanthropy… if there ever was, it's a secret that's been lost for ages."

Othniel shook his head in confusion. "Lycan-whaaa?"

"Lycanthropy," Tallulah finished. "It's a more technical term for the condition that affects those like Professor Lupin."

Othniel pointed at Tallulah. "Got it."

"It's a lot more complicated than just one potion," continued Ana. "He has to take a potion a day for a week straight prior to a full moon, otherwise the benefits of Wolfsbane may be rendered null and void. It's a very, very tough condition to live with… most werewolves are indigent because they're outcasts in the wizarding world. Very few have stable jobs and a lot of them end up committing suicide because lycanthropy is both literally and figuratively painful to deal with…"

"Professor Lupin is awful lucky then," said Othniel.

"He's extremely lucky, Othniel," replied Ana. "Professor Fontaine knew he was taking a risk with this hire – you'd better believe he and the rest of the Ilvermorny staff are doing everything they can to keep his condition under wraps, because if word gets out that there's a werewolf teaching Defense… both Lupin and Fontaine will be unemployed…"

"I don't care if he's a werewolf," huffed Harry. "He's a good teacher. And he cares for his students."

Ana nodded. "He's a very good teacher… arguably better than Professor Whitten, who was more than capable himself. Now, d'you see why it's so important that this does not leave the room?"

Harry, Tallulah and Othniel all nodded.

The next morning was another running day for their morning physical training session. Harry and Othniel helped set the pace for Tallulah. The boys noticed a bit of improvement on her part as she could run somewhat faster, and for longer distances. Her arms and legs were beginning to show hints of muscle tone, and even a little bit of the baby fat was disappearing from her cheeks.

"At this rate," panted Othniel, "you'll be setting the pace for us by the end of term!"

"I highly doubt that," grunted Tallulah between gasps. "I'm still nowhere near as good as either of you…"

"You're beginning to catch up… you didn't even finish last in your sprint heats earlier," remarked Harry. "I'm sure Missy has noticed… aww crap!" Harry was suddenly off to the side of the track, and holding his left foot.

"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Tallulah, who jogged in place while checking on her friend.

Harry groaned. "I might have rolled my ankle… definitely doesn't feel good."

"Can you put any weight on it?" asked Othniel.

Harry put his foot down, but bit his lip in the process. "A little bit, yeah, but it's pretty sore. I can kind of gimp around but I won't be able to go full-throttle for a bit."

"Should we ask Missy?" offered Tallulah. "She's probably seen this before."

"Sure, why not," Harry replied with a shrug. "You two just go on… I'll try and hobble for the next few minutes; we're almost done anyway."

"Just be careful, Harry," pleaded Tallulah. "I don't think you're hurt bad, but you definitely don't need to make it worse." She and Othniel began weaving their way around the track to find Missy the trustee, while Harry limped and gimped near the edge of the track.

Harry plodded about as well as he was able for a couple of minutes, when a trio of troublemaking Thunderbirds came up from behind him… thud! Replogle stuck his foot out as he passed Harry, and the smaller boy face-planted on the track. Harry's already-slightly swollen ankle began to throb, but using his anger as fuel, he got up and ignored as much pain as he could while he tried to track down his three laughing assailants.

Harry caught up to Replogle, and jumped on his back. Crack! He landed the hardest right hook he could muster straight at Replogle's jaw, who collapsed in a heap on top of him.

"C'mere, pipsqueak," grunted Replogle as he got up from the track. Harry's face turned white – his ankle had now swollen to the size of a medium-sized grapefruit and at that point, he couldn't put any weight on his left foot – he was completely at Replogle and his cronies' mercy. Two big hands picked Harry up off the ground, and held him steady off the edge of the track.

"All right, boys," Replogle said with a nod to Madigan and Bungus. "Make it quick, and make it painful." Madigan and Bungus smirked as each other, and let several punches fly towards Harry's breadbasket. It was all over in a matter of seconds – a flurry of smacks left Harry gasping for air, and again he collapsed in a fetal position off the side of the track. He was too sore to even attempt to get up, so he just laid there battered and beaten for several minutes until help arrived.

The first to arrive on the scene was Ana. She gasped with horror when she saw how Harry looked. "Oh my God," she squeaked. "Harry, are you okay?"

Harry looked at Ana and forced a smile. "Ehh, I s'pose I can say I've been through worse."

Ana shook her head. "You look like you've fought the Sasquatch and got flattened pretty badly… here, let me help you up." She put her arm around Harry's shoulder and helped him to his feet. "I'm not going to leave you," she cooed. "So, what all happened, if you don't mind my asking?"

Harry sighed. "I must have somehow rolled my ankle about ten minutes ago, so I told Othniel and Tallulah to just go on ahead without me. I just kind of hobbled along for a few minutes when Replogle and his goons tripped me up… I wanted to show them my lack of appreciation so I just bit my lip and gave the big gorilla the hardest punch I could manage… it must have been a big hit because he fell to the ground on top of me… on top of my bad ankle." He then bared his teeth angrily. "He then picked me up, and squeezed my shoulders so tight that if his grip was any stronger, he might have broken my collarbone. He made sure I stood still while his minions took potshots at me, and then just left me to wither on the side of the track…"

"The Replogles are bad news," replied Ana. "They're all a bunch of troublemakers that think they can get away with everything, because well… they pretty much can. They're one of the most powerful wizarding families in North America… it's a lot harder to expel him than most other students, unfortunately…"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that's what Samantha said. The wizarding world is really, really unfair sometimes…"

"Ugh, tell me about it," groaned Ana. "I study my ass off in the hopes that maybe I can break the glass ceiling and become MACUSA President one day… but pretty much every notable MACUSA position has always been held by an Old Money member, or someone very, very close to one of those families."

"I think you can do it," said Harry. "I'd love for you to prove everyone wrong… the wizarding world definitely needs some new blood."

Ana smiled sweetly. "Thanks, Harry." She then pointed toward a blonde ponytailed figure on the opposite side of the track. "Oh, I think I see Missy. Just… be honest with her. She may give you a demerit for throwing a punch, but she's very reasonable as well. She can probably make your ankle feel a little better too – I'm not the best with healing spells yet."

Two minutes later, Missy stopped by the side of the track to address Harry and Ana. "All right, what happened here?"

Harry told Missy everything… including the bit about him striking Replogle. Missy simply stood and let him finish the story, before producing her wand. "Episkey," she whispered as she pointed it toward Harry's sore stomach and ankle.

"Wow," Harry exclaimed. "They feel a bit better already… thanks, Missy!"

Missy smiled at Harry. "You're welcome, Potter. I know you're not a troublemaker, plus you were honest with me, so I won't give you any demerits… this time. I'll see if I can talk to Professor Goode today and see if there's any way that she can keep Replogle and his entourage away from you and your friends." She let out a frustrated sigh. "I've been the target of his older brother Flavius before… I've had to learn to defend myself from any… unwanted attention he seems to give me. I know it's difficult to ignore them, but next time he gives you any trouble – just look for me. I'll be more than happy to put him in his place."

Her smile broadened. "You're beyond fortunate to have a future trustee looking out for you like that." She winked at Ana. "All right, you two. We have only a few minutes left before cooldown time. Do the best you can, Potter, and if you have to walk, you have my permission."