The Black Forest or the Secret Diary of Prof. S. Quirrell

Aug. 5

The full moon is close at hand. I have been watching Levin closely for signs of first transformation -- if she has indeed been bit.

She displays several: She doesn't eat much, but picks at her food, as if unappetized by human cooking -- of as if she were expecting a large meal soon. Her sleep patterns have changed -- she's restless at night and sleeps late into the morning. Her face is drawn and her eyes are sinking deep into her skull from lack of sleep.

I doubt she suspects fully what's happening to her, although she must know she was bitten and will transform. But denial is a powerful thing, as well I know.

I've learned not to speak of this to her, so all I can do is wait. Tomorrow I suspect she'll make an excuse to be out in the evening and I'll follow her wherever she goes. I may not be able to track her silently as she would, but there are the ways of the sang 'solut that hunters don't know.

I'm prepared this time. If she is bitten, it will be her first time in wolfen form. That will be confusing and disorienting. I have a mind-clearing charm (excellent for tutoring, but it can also be used for controlling dogs) and several binding spells, one of which I've seen used on a werebear in The Binds That Tie: Practical, Pictorial Demonstrations of Protective Spells.

If I had wolfs bane, this would have been simple. But though I've looked for it, I've seen none on this path. Of course, this is the path of Levin's choosing and perhaps she's already seeking to avoid the herb.

I've been thinking of these things for days, but I was afraid to write this down until tonight. If this fell into her hands before I was fully ready, I don't doubt I would end up dead tomorrow. Or worse, bitten myself.

What a surprise for Hogwart's next year if the DADA professor returned a dark creature himself! A werewolf teaching England's best and brightest? Over my dead body!

Q

Aug. 6

Much to repeat. Where to begin?

Perhaps at the end this time.

There is a full grown black female wolf, asleep, some 50 meters from my feet. She has black eyes and a wicked temper. But plenty of strength, I can give her that.

The mind-clearing charm was too simple but the were-binder appropriate and still holding. She gave up breaking it a half an hour ago, after tossing herself inside it for most of the night. Once she almost broke through as my concentration was nearly shattered by an almost Levin like glint in her lupine face.

For this wolf at my feet is Levin. I saw her change before me -- and this was not her first time, as I suspected but something she has done for many many years.

Everything is suddenly crystal clear and I have been a fool.

In the afternoon, after we settled down for lunch -- none of which she ate -- Levin disappeared. I assumed to relieve herself, but an hour later, when she hadn't returned, I knew. She'd deserted me -- and without warning.

It had been easy for me to slip a locator stone into her pack while she slept her irregular morning hours. I buried it deep, but sensed she'd never feel it as preoccupied as she was with the moon's current phase. I was right -- she took the pack with her, but left the gun and the unstrung bow. For my protection? As if I knew nici' magie weaponry.

I let her go where she would for several hours, setting up camp for the night as I would if she left me to go hunting. Which she had, in a way. Clearly, we weren't going anywhere else for the day, but I wanted to keep up appearances in case Levin was still nearby.

At 6 PM, I concentrated on the stone and found it almost 25 kilometers away. Levin travels fast -- even in rocky terrain -- without me encumbering her. I apparated about one kilometer away from the stone and found myself in the vicinity of a clearing in a small woods. I climbed a tree -- before this trip, could I ever do that? -- and hid in the upper branches.

The sun sank into the west and the forest went scarlet with the fading light. Or perhaps the colouring was merely my imagination playing tricks on me in anticipation of the night ahead.

No matter. Form high up, I spied Levin's pack, but not the woman herself. Next to the pack was a pile of her clothing, the deerskins she wore carefully folded and stacked.

As dusk began to drift into night, Levin emerged from the left woods, glistening in the last light as if she had just bathed. She shook her head as a dog does to dry itself, then returned to her pack. She carefully unpacked a fur blanket and I heard her singing some words in a monotone, like a chant repeated over and over.

A mantra.

“De latratul unui lup sa nut-ti pese
nu lasa sa te muste lupul fara sa-i smulgi din par
nu lasa sa te muste lupul fara sa-i smulgi din par
Lepurele inculcusul sau se-nveseleste.” *

I don't understand much of it except “wolf,” “wolves” and “the moon.” The rest I took down phonetically.

As she sang, she laid out the fur blanket in a rectangle the length and width of her body and slipped between the two sheets so only her face remained uncovered. Her chanting grew louder.

Then we waited. The sun disappeared and the moon rose.

Levin stiffened as the first shaft touched her face. She opened her mouth as if to scream in pain, but only a howl came out. She smiled.

Beneath the blanket, her body was changing, the limbs shrinking and twisting unnaturally. I grimaced as if I felt it, but the smile did not leave Levin's face.

A great furry forepaw shot out from under the covers and then the other and again Levin opened her mouth. Not for a scream nor for a howl, but a for wolf's muzzle that emerged from it. The flesh and bone of her forehead merged with it, stretching her eyes into large animalistic ovals. Hair sprouted everywhere and fangs protruded from her now wolfen lips.

It was like nothing I have ever seen before -- I've heard transformation described but to see it in life! I leaned forward casting a sight clarifier and fell.

Thankfully I caught myself with a leviosa before I hit the ground. Unfortunately, I made enough noise to alert every dark creature within kilometers of my location. A blood-curdling cry rang the woods and I panicked and ran.

A man can't outrace a werewolf and it was foolish to try, but at first I saw only those fangs and what they would do to my flesh if they could get ahold of it.

I could hear it -- her -- behind me before I remembered that I was a wizard with 1000 defenses at my command, if I only turned around and used them.

I aimed into the trees and shouted . Two bird fell out of the air, having forgotten how to fly, but the wolf -- Levin -- did not stop. She was perhaps 100 meters from me.

“Carpe Lupem!”

The words threw me, knocking me on my back and she kept coming, fangs dripping saliva and hunger in her bottomless eyes. Just as I flung an arm up to take the bite, still concentrating, still repeating “carpe lupem” over and over again, the binding held and pulled her off of me.

Confusion filled her face and for a moment, I relaxed. My nearly fatal mistake, as the human rose in the animal and gave me a look Levin often did, a sneering half-grin.

Yes, Levin looked at me. Levin the woman, not Levin the wolf.

I was so shocked by such a simple thing that I dropped the leash for a moment and she leapt at me. I pulled it back in enough time, but I still felt her -- its -- hot, meaty breath on my face.

We were at an impasse. We stared at each other and then she threw herself against the spell, testing it. And so it has continued.

I could feel her mind, albeit a simpler form, stripped to the base emotions of hate and hunger, bumping up against mine, questioning and searching.

Or so it seemed to me. But I kept mine clear. I had to -- have to. She is very strong.

By my estimation, dawn will come in an hour, maybe a little more. I'm very tired, but I can't sleep, although the wolf seems to. I know the second I close my eyes, the leash will go lax and she will devour me before I can wake.

Is this how the others before me died?

Q

• Levin's chant: “The moon ignores the howling of wolves/hair of the wolf that bit you/hair of the wolf that bit you/ the hare always returns to her form