Moonlight

Chapter Twelve

The Beast



The very next day was Sunday, and the afternoon was living up to that day's name, as it was beautifully sunny and warm indeed. Out in a patch of grass near the lake, in the shade of a beech tree he had once read about his father sitting beneath as James and Sirius tortured young Snape, Ted was now beneath it himself, lying out on the grass in the company of Victoire, who was lying beside him, her right hand joined with his left. He had his free hand tucked beneath his head.

Both of them were gazing upward through the tree branches, through which pallid sunlight was filtering. He had just finished telling her everything he'd found out so far from the Answers box. He was finding it tiring actually, to keep Rodger, and now Victoire as well, up to date. He hoped he had enough spark left in him to fill Harry in as well. The only problem was that he wasn't sure when he'd find time to write such an incredibly long letter: a letter that would no doubt grow to the size of a novel. Literally.

"What do you want to do once you leave school?" Victoire asked him after a moment of comfortable silence.

Thank God she asked me an easy question. "I'm taking classes to qualify for Auror training," said Ted, unable to hold back a smile. "Just like my mum."

"Oh, yeah, that's right...."

"What do you want to do once you leave school?"

"Right now I think I'd like to work for Gringotts. Be a curse-breaker like my dad."

"What's the attraction?"

Victoire's tone was a tad sensual. "There's a bit of glamour in it."

Ted smiled. "Mmm...."

"Victoire!"

Ted looked over at Victoire, who was looking over at where the voice had come from. They both raised their heads up off the ground slightly, and saw a red-headed boy and girl approaching them. Ted knew who they were at once.

The one who had called her name was her sister, Dominique, who was currently in her third year. Behind her was Victoire's brother, Louis, who was in his second year. Both of them, like Victoire, had inherited the famous "Weasley red hair".

Dominiuqe happened to be rather good-looking for her age, just as Victoire was very good-looking (Well she was more than that in Ted's opinion, but that's beside the point.). Her red hair was done up in braided pigtails. At present, however, Dominique appeared quite displeased. Her jaw was set, and her brow was furrowed, her gaze intense and full of warning not to get on the wrong side of her. She stopped a few feet away from them, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Ted and Victoire.

"You're in big trouble, Vicky," said Louis, his hands folded behind his back.

"Tais-toi, I can handle this, Louis," Dominique scolded.

Ted chuckled, because Victoire also regularly switched between French and English when it was convenient--or when she felt like it.

Louis chose to ignore his older sister and waved to Ted, a smile gracing his freckly features. "Hello, Teddy!" he called.

"Louis!" Dominique stamped her foot. "Argh!" She rounded on Ted in frustration. "Lupin! You had better be a good boyfriend to her, or you can bet that I will have something to say about it! I may be younger than her, but I'm still her sister, and I happen to be pretty good with a wand! I don't care if you're three years ahead of me: you don't scare me for a minute! And as for you--" Now she rounded on Victoire "--Pourquoi est-ce que tu ne m'as pas dit que maintenant tu as un nouveau copain, et j'ai dû le découvrir de mes amis?"

Victoire turned to Ted. "Will you excuse us a minute?"

"Sure," said Ted, releasing his hold on her hand. He watched her get up and lead Dominique over a little ways away from him and Louis.

Louis looked at his watch. "Oh, Ted, I'd better go. Er...I have this--this big important thing right now! Bye!" And before Ted could say a word, he spun around and sped off towards the castle at a brisk walk, leaving Ted with nothing but the wonderful sounds of Victoire and Dominique arguing with each other in rapid, indistinct French.

His nose began prickling. He sneezed. He conjured a tissue and wiped his nose.

In the bushes nearby, he heard a stick crack.

He whipped around to face them. He wished he had the Marauders' Map with him right then: he wanted to see if it was--

"Ted?"

Ted looked around, shaking his head slightly, and saw Victoire and Dominique striding towards him.

Victoire sat down beside him on the grass.

Dominque stopped and said to him, "Remember, Lupin: I'm watching you." She glanced about and then asked him, "Where's Louis?"

"Er...he went back up to the castle," said Ted.

"Hmmm." Dominque stared at Ted a moment longer, scrutinizing him, and then turned on her heel and went on her own way back up to the castle.

Ted and Victoire looked at each other a moment, and then laughed as they lay back down on the grass. This time Victoire snuggled right up against Ted, tucking her head beneath his chin. Ted was aware of the sweet smell of her--lilac and cacao (which Ted just realized was a prime ingredient in that delicious chocolate he and Victoire both craved so much)--and he felt his blood pound with excitement: an excitement that not only fueled the growing flame in his heart, but also a faintly, steadily growing flame down below....

He put his arms around her, taking a moment to bask in the sheer glory of holding her, and holding her so close at that. "Will you teach me French?" he whispered.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes sparkling. "Gladly," she whispered back. She lifted herself up onto her elbow, laying a hand on his chest.

He was certain she could feel the rapid beating of his heart. God, she was beautiful. Was it possible that his first love was his true love too? It obviously hadn't turned out that way for his father...but could it turn out that way for him?

Wait a minute.... Love...? Who said anything about love? He'd just had a crush on her.

For two years.

Straight.

And now here she was...in his arms....

Was he in love?

But how could he be? She was only his first. Rodger had had hundreds of girls before Cecilia had come along. Wouldn't there be hundreds more before he found the girl for him too...?

"Ted?" Victoire was gazing at him with slight concern.

"Sorry," he said, rather hoarsely. "I just...space out...sometimes...."

She chuckled. "Yes, I've noticed."

"God, you're beautiful."

Victoire's eyes widened, and for a moment she seemed stunned. Then she smiled, perhaps a little nervously even.

Hesitantly, Ted took one hand and cupped her face in it. It trembled the moment her soft cheek rested against the flesh of his palm.

She closed her eyes and before he knew it her lips were on his, and he too closed his eyes as ecstasy roared through him, making him rub his legs together, and then against her legs, which were also rubbing against each other. Swiftly and gently he turned her over so that now she was on her back and he was half-laying on top of her. As he pinned her there he deepened the kiss. She squealed with delight, and then she turned him back over and they returned to the way they were before, with him on his back and her half-laying on top of him. They broke the kiss, and for a moment gazed breathlessly into each other's eyes. She giggled and snuggled down beside him, laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around him.

He wrapped his around her, burying his face in her wonderful, fiery hair, his mind buzzing as they both drifted off into an afternoon doze laying there beneath the beech tree in each other's embrace.

~

That night Quidditch went late again. It was dark by the time their team captain, Morgan Wood, who played as one of the Chasers, decided to call it a night. Ted and Rodger were walking behind everyone else as they all made their way up to the castle, carrying the brooms over their shoulders.

"So, how are things with you and Cecilia?" Ted asked.

Rodger smiled. "I really like her, Ted. I mean I really like her. I've never felt this way about a bird before. If there was any way we were going to break it off, it'd have to be her doing the breaking, not me. I couldn't leave her."

"What if she cheats on you?"

"She wouldn't." His tone was so full of conviction that Ted thought it wise not to argue with him on the matter.

"How are things with you and Victoire?" Rodger asked him.

Ted grinned with rising warmth inside him as he thought of yesterday afternoon. "Wonderfully," he replied in a voice so soft that Rodger almost couldn't hear him. Raising his voice a little more he said, "I asked her to give me some French lessons. I've got my first lesson tomorrow at lunch."

"Oooh."

Ted's nose started prickling again. It was very intense. Whatever his internal alarm-system was detecting had to be close by. Either that or it was far away but there was a large quantity of it. Or them.

He had a feeling that whatever it was, it was somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, the edge of which he and Rodger were walking near. He stopped and looked over at the trees, feeling that just beyond his range of vision, there in the darkness, someone was watching him.

Liane Géroux....

"Ted?"

Ted saw that Rodger had stopped a couple steps ahead of him. The moon had yet to rise, so it was still too dark to clearly see the expression on his best friend's face from a distance.

"You go on ahead," said Ted. "I'll be up in a minute." He looked at the forest again.

Rodger must have followed his gaze and roughly guessed what he was thinking, because the next thing he said was, "Ted, you're a nutter to just waltz in there."

"I've got my wand," said Ted, facing his friend again. "And I'm pretty good with it. I am working to qualify for Auror training once I graduate."

Rodger tilted his head. "Liane Géroux?"

Ted nodded.

Rodger sighed. "Just be careful. You want me to take your broom up for you?"

"Yeah, sure, that'd be great." He handed Rodger his Firebolt 3000. "Cheers."

"Cheers," said Rodger, turning around and continuing up the slope.

Once he was out of sight, Ted spun on his heel as if directly confronting the forest. He became aware of his thudding heartbeat. He took one step, and then another, and then another until he reached the trees. He glanced over his shoulder at the dark outline of the castle, absently reaching up and touching the trunk of a tree that stood nearby.

He noticed the night grow brighter. Looking to the mountains, he saw that the moon was beginning to rise now. That's good, he thought. Now I'll be able to see better. He took a deep breath and stepped into the dark trees.

He picked his way through the shivering pines and elms and sycamores, vaguely pondering how the forest could be so cold even in the depths of spring. He saw the first rays of moonlight reflecting off of the wet leaves, and gradually his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. He used his nose as his guide, doubling back when the prickling weakened and trying new directions, and repeating the process until he went in a direction that caused the prickle to intensify, whereupon he eagerly quickened his step. Several times he nearly tripped and caught himself only just in time.

The forest became fully illuminated with silvery moonbeams filtering through the foliage. It was nearly as bright as day, and this caused a slightly tense knot to form in Ted's stomach, because he knew: the brighter the moonlight, the fuller the moon....

He looked up and saw...the moon, full...a perfect circle in the sky....

It was not long before the worst conclusion towards which he had been sluggishly groping was confirmed.

His very breath and heart both stopped cold as a mournful howl filled the night air, like the blade of a knife being plunged slowly into its victim.

Werewolf....

Ted had never heard one howl before, but he knew that nothing else could have made that sound, for there were no normal wolves in Britain. For a moment, the long, drawn out howl that he heard now hypnotized him, and he stood there lit by a single shaft of moonshine, transfixed, his mouth slightly open.

He was jerked from his trance when his nose burst without warning with prickling so intense it was like painful shocks of electricity were going through it. He dropped his wand as both his hands flew to his nose, clutching it, while he fell to his knees, giving muffled yells and moans. He forgot the pain momentarily however, when a new sound cut the air--one that sent his seemingly stilled heart thumping wildly in his chest, and restarted his held breath at a shallow pace--for what he heard now was vicious snarls.

They were getting louder too...and the prickling...was getting...more and more...painfully intense...which meant the werewolf...was getting closer to where he was....

His brain was yelling something at him...something about his legs...but his legs didn't seem to listen, and hewasn't listening either. All he could do was stare ahead of him, where the shrieks and snarls were coming from. He felt the earth tremble beneath him from pounding feet upon the forest floor. He heard the pounding feet as well, also drawing nearer...and nearer....

Ahead of him, he saw a large shadow hurtling towards him.

The head of the werewolf emerged from the darkness and became illuminated by the rays of streaming moonbeams, and then the rest of its body--half a normal wolf larger than a normal wolf, dark gray, bristle-haired, and hunchbacked. It landed on all fours, sniffing the air--for him.

At last the message from his brain was coming in: Run, you idiot! Run!

The werewolf growled, fixing him with its hungry stare, its eyes glowing with that eerie yellow caused by the moonlight that reflected off of the tapetum lucidum behind its eyes.

Inside Ted there was a scream bursting to get out, but he was too full of shock and terror to let it out. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He could only stare agog at the werewolf.

Then it threw back its head...and howled.

And just as his father had been all those years ago, Ted too found himself oddly awestruck by the hauntingly mesmerizing sound of the werewolf's mournful howl--which seemed to even numb the pain in his nose from the wildly intense prickling. But the trance was broken and the prickling returned the moment the beast stopped and snarled. Since Ted was so terrified that his mind was blanking on what part of the werewolf was the vulnerable spot, he did not have a chance to raise his wand in defense before the werewolf charged and pinned him down flat onto his back, expelling the breath from his body, and knocking his wand out of his hand, his cry of pain and fear strangled upon the creature's impact.

His heart and breath were both going a mile a minute at a rapid yet nonetheless steady rhythm. He gazed up wide-eyed into the eyes of the werewolf.

The werewolf drooled saliva from its mouth onto the front of his robes.

Ted felt as if his nose was filled with crackling sparks, and that it might even burst into flame any second. The pain caused his eyes to water, and through the blur of lachrymose he made out the creature glaring down at him...could feel its hot, moist, dog-like breath upon his face. The monster held him down at the shoulders, and it held him there in a way that gave his shoulders and partially his collarbone a sharp, prolonging pain. Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to escape all the pain that was being thrust upon him at once, but suddenly while half his mind remained in the present, the other half floated back to the past of a life that was not even his own.

Remus Lupin whimpered with wide eyes, and gasped as the weight of the brute slowly crushed painfully down on his lungs.

Ted cried out mentally for both his parents--his mother as well as his father, wishing there was some way they could protect him from beyond the grave.

Remus heard a woman scream, "REMUS!" somewhere to his left: his mother. Wildly he looked over to see her and his father burst from the house.

The werewolf licked its chops anticipatorily, and raised its left front paw that was pressing down on Ted's right shoulder, its claws glimmering in the lunar radiance that streamed through from above.

Remus' father was a few steps ahead of his mother, already running down the steps, his wand raised as he shot spell after spell at the monster.

Ted realized with great horror that the werewolf's target was his stomach: it wasn't in the mood for biting and infecting--it was in the mood to eat...to devour human flesh....

His human flesh!

"GET AWAY FROM MY SON!" his father was roaring at the werewolf....

The werewolf made to strike, but was stopped in its tracks, and gave a whine of pain as something equally large and furry came leaping out of nowhere and threw itself into the werewolf's side, knocking it clean off of Ted, and bringing both itself and the werewolf rolling down onto the ground beside Ted.

Ted meanwhile wasted no time lying about. He rolled over in the opposite direction--towards where his wand lay on the ground. Deftly he snatched it up in his right hand and leapt to his feet to face the fray ensuing before him.

The werewolf and the large, furry something were tumbling around and around in the leaves, claws slashing and jaws snapping. Then the werewolf gave a kick with its hind leg and sent it flying into the nearest tree, where it slumped to the ground. It sprang back into action momentarily, but not before Ted realized that the werewolf's opponent was another werewolf--a black one, like his father had been. It also appeared to be just slightly smaller than the dark gray, and it also appeared to have less bristle to its coarse fur, but there was no underestimating the ferocity in its eyes as it locked them with the werewolf that had nearly had Ted for its moonlit meal.

Ted decided that now was the perfect time to run for his life. But he was stopped despite his madly crackling nose when he saw the dark gray one leap and--before the black one even had a chance--clamped its jaws tight onto the back of the black one's neck, causing the black one to give a pitiful shriek of pain. As it struggled to break free, it caught sight of Ted standing there dumbstruck and clutching his wand. It snarled at him, snapping its jaws and growling.

With a great jerk of its head and a well-aimed kick in the larger werewolf's chest with its hind leg, it broke free at last. As it staggered away from its whimpering opponent, it growled, snarled, and snapped its jaws at Ted again. In its yellow eyes, Ted could have sworn he was reading a message in them...a message from whatever poor human soul existed presently dormant within the wolf:

Get out of here. Now.

It snapped its jaws at him again, just before the larger werewolf rammed into its side, knocking it to the ground.

Ted's nose was fit to explode from the intensity of the painful, smarting crackling prickling in it. But now that he was sure he knew what the prickling was roused by, he knew that the only way to get it to stop was to do what he should be doing, what this smaller werewolf that had come to his rescue out of nowhere desperately wanted him to do: run away.

Without further hesitation, he spun on his heel and sprinted through the forest, the prickling sensation gradually dissipating as he did so.

Understandably, of course, the only reason it had taken so long really for Ted to act on this decision is because true Gryffindors hardly ever consider running away as an option for action. They often have to be ordered to do it, or coerced into doing it by some means. Sometimes it's merely because their common sense finally kicks in. However, it is especially hard for them to do it, when they see someone--or something--in trouble, and feel a powerful urge to stay behind and help them. This is the feeling that had overcome Ted when he'd seen the bigger werewolf clamp its jaws onto the back of the smaller one's neck.

This feeling stayed with him even as he fled. Repeatedly, he glanced over his shoulder at the fray that shrunk in the distance as he ran. This caused him not to see the root sticking up out of the ground, and so he was unable to evade it and thusly his foot caught on it and he tripped.

His wand flew from his hand. Again. And he fell hard to the earth onto his hands and knees. He cursed under his breath, remaining on his hands and knees to search for his wand.

He felt the prickle in his nose intensify again, and realized with dread that the werewolves were on the move, heading in his direction. Panicking, he searched even more frantically for his fallen wand.

His nose was about to blow up--

A great weight fell into Ted's back, and sharp claws sank into it, right through the fabric. He yelled out and was pinned flat again, this time on his stomach. His mind raced--desperately he tried to remember what the vulnerable spot was: was it the eyes? No! That was for dragons...not that it mattered anyway...he still didn't have his wand back....

His nose crackled and sparked on the verge of rupturing. His heart went hammering, and he could scarcely breathe for the weight of the werewolf crushed his lungs.

He knew it was going to go for his neck. All it had to do was fasten its teeth onto it, just as it had with the smaller, black werewolf, and his head would be half-severed from his body....

The crushing weight lifted miraculously, and Ted inhaled painfully. He rolled over onto his back, and saw that the black werewolf and the gray werewolf were locked once more in a fierce whirl of fur, claws, and teeth. The black one had obviously chased the gray one down, still bent on protecting Ted for some inexplicable reason, and had rescued him for the second time that night.

Then, to Ted's horror, the black one gave a screeching sort of whimper, and was thrown several feet through the air, before it smashed into a tree trunk and fell limp to the ground with a THUNK, where it lay motionless.

Ted snapped his eyes to the larger gray werewolf, which had now turned its attention onto him. It approached him slowly, allowing him to drink in the very last sight he would ever see in his life--

It drew nearer to him, keeping its slow pace.

The pain of the crackling in Ted's nose was fit to burst, but he was coming to ignore it easily now, though it still made his eyes water.

He slinked backwards on his back, sliding up the roots of a very large old tree, using his elbows and feet to crawl along them.

And then he heard a light clatter on his right, and looked to it to see--his wand!--rolling down the roots on the other side of the tree and onto the natural pathway of the forest floor, away from him. He must have knocked into it with his elbow just now. He whipped his head around in time to see the werewolf rearing back its head for a lunge.

As it lunged, he rolled over to his right, down the roots, and fell flat on his back onto the path. He rolled over onto his hands and knees and scrambled to his feet, spotting his wand a mere five feet away from him further ahead. Vaguely he heard the werewolf to his right growling in fury as it had managed to mangle the roots of the tree instead of him. Trying not to the think of the black werewolf that was probably now dead because it had been fighting to save his life, he ran, snatching his wand up from the ground on the way.

This time he did not look back. Not once. Though he had a powerful urge to do so. He wanted to know if his mysterious werewolf protector had really just died while fighting to save him. He found that he did not wantthat to be so.

The death of a werewolf...meant the death of the human being inside.

His parents had died to save him from the cruelty of a world ruled by Voldemort...a world that would have seen him--their son--dead because of his parentage--what with his "half-blood" mother and his "half-breed" father. He didn't want anyone else dying for him...even if they were a total and complete stranger to him in every sense of the word.

Suddenly, he heard a cry of agony so great it shattered the very air around him.

Ted stopped dead in his tracks. Panting, his nose prickling faintly now, he heard the sound peter out in faint whimpers. So the werewolf that had saved him was still alive...but maybe not for long. He spun around, and could just distinguish the outline of a large shadow throwing a smaller, struggling shadow to the ground. He should keep going while he still had a head start on the werewolf that was trying to kill him, but he also wanted to help the smaller one. The terrible hand of indecision had a powerful grip on him now, as he tightly clutched the handle of his wand.

"Ted! Thank God!" gasped a voice behind him.

Ted swiveled and saw Rodger, leaning against a tree as he caught his breath. He saw that he had his own wand out, and his brow crinkled in confusion. "Rodger? How did you--?"

"Are you bleeding mad?!" Rodger cut across him vituperatively. "Didn't you know tonight was a full moon?! I heard the werewolves howling from all the way up in the dormitories! And you were out here! Come on, we'd better get back before we get caught for being out after hours! Or worse: caught by a werewolf!"

"Rodger, I can't leave.... There's...there's something I've got to do first."

"What? What do you have to do? Come on, Ted. I'm serious! I was prepared to fight a werewolf in the likely event that I'd find you mere inches from being slaughtered by one, despite the fact that I have no idea how to fight a werewolf in the first place! So, let's get back before we have to do something that neither of us knows how to do yet! Like fight werewolves for instance!"

"You go back if you want, Rodger, but I'm going to fight a werewolf, and I've decided on this of my own freewill too. And don't tell me we don't know how to fight them, because we do. We learned way back in third or fourth year, remember?"

"No. You're the one who's always got his nose stuck in werewolf books, or some defense book that isn't even required school text! What the bloody hell are you on about, anyway? Why are you deciding out of the blue to go pick a fight with a furry killing machine?"

But Ted did not reply. He had realized right then that he could no longer hear the sounds of the struggle between the two werewolves far behind them. In the worrying silence he listened hard, turning to gaze in the direction where he'd last left them fighting each other.

"Ted, come on, this is--!" Rodger began imploringly, but Ted silenced him with a, "Shhh!"

The silence stretched on, and the longer it stretched, the more Ted's stomach churned.

"AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHH--!"

Ted wheeled on his heel to see Rodger pinned flat on his back by the large gray werewolf. He saw the terror in his best friend's face as the werewolf raised its claw to strike, going for the stomach like it had tried to do with him....

That was it!

The werewolf's most vulnerable point was its stomach!

"Impedimenta!" Ted cried, aiming for the gray werewolf's underbelly with his wand.

The gray werewolf went flying sideways off of Rodger and was slammed hard into the trunk of a tree. It landed on its feet as it slid to the ground, and glared directly at Ted. Then it charged.

Rodger grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the way just in time.

The gray werewolf turned and prepared to charge again.

Ted raised his wand with a quavering arm, and felt a rush of gratitude as Rodger raised his as well. "Go for the underbelly," he whispered tremulously to him out of the side of his mouth. "That's his weak point."

"Good to know," Rodger whispered back. Ted could feel him shaking too.

Then, the black werewolf came hurtling out of the trees right behind them. It went around them and leapt onto the gray werewolf's hunched back, clamping its jaws onto the larger one's neck.

Ted and Rodger both lowered their wands and watched, mouths slightly agape, as the black werewolf tore mercilessly at the gray one's back until it was so badly wounded its back was thick and wet with blood. The gray sank to the ground and lay still, breathing heavily and whimpering.

The black one got up off the gray one's back and walked around the gray so that it stood before it. It assumed the position of dominance, with its tail, head, and ears all proudly held high. Ted noticed that it too bore wounds from the battle that had just occurred, but unlike the gray, it had risen victorious in the end.

The gray meanwhile, looked up at the black. For a long moment it stared, and then, in a begrudging sort of way, it held its ears back and tucked its tail beneath it in the posture of submission.

The black nodded to a random direction far off in the woods.

The gray raised itself a few inches of off the ground, keeping its ears back and its tail tucked as it slinked away into the darkness of the trees and disappeared from sight, limping slightly along the way for the undoubtedly excruciating wounds on its hunched back.

The black stared after it for a moment, and then turned to Ted and Rodger, who were both trembling, but not as badly as they had been before.

Rodger gasped and took a step back, raising his wand again.

But Ted grasped his wrist and lowered it. His eyes held Rodger's surprised ones as he said, "It's alright. This one saved me."

Rodger seemed to decide that now was not the best time to argue and simply nodded, lowering his wand completely. He kept it out, however, just in case.

Ted did not put his wand away either. He turned his attention to the black werewolf who had now saved his life three times in a row that night, which was still staring back at him. It lowered its head, its eyes never leaving Ted's.

Ted nodded. "Thank you."

The black werewolf raised its head again and darted off into the trees right as a breeze blew through the forest, causing all the leaves to rustle.

Ted stared after it. "Come on, Rodger. Let's get back to the castle."

Rodger rolled his eyes. "Well that's the first sensible thing you've said since I found you."

"I just wanted to make sure that black one would be alright," said Ted, tearing his eyes from where he'd watched the black werewolf disappear into the shadows.

"And why's that?" Rodger asked as they made their way through the gradually thinning trees. "Because it saved your neck?"

"Well...yeah. Three times in fact. Twice before you came along and then once after you had."

"Oh, what, did you feel attached to it or something?"

"In a way," Ted admitted as they emerged from the forest and made their way up the slope towards the castle shining from within. Although he hadn't really thought of the idea that he'd felt any sort of "attachment" (as Rodger had put it) until Rodger had suggested it.

"Because of when it saved your life the first time tonight?" Rodger inquired lightly, sticking his wand back into his belt.

Ted did the same as he considered his friend's query. "Maybe...." Then he remembered something more important that he needed to tell Rodger. "Oh yeah! There is one good thing about what I did tonight though."

"Are you referring to when you decided to go skipping off into the Forbidden Forest alone at night?" Rodger said facetiously.

"I am actually."

"What? No, you're joking!"

"I'm not," said Ted, his impish grin widening.

"Okay then. Enlighten me: what good did it do you getting yourself nearly mutilated by a werewolf in its dangerous form?"

They walked up the front stone steps of the castle.

"Well...I figured out what makes my nose prickle."

They both stopped at the oak front doors and faced each other.

"Really?" Rodger smiled expectantly. "And?"

Ted's grin went from impish to smug. "Werewolves."