Werewolves at Hogwarts

Chapter 15

Christmas with his parents had been great, Paul thought as he packed his trunk and made sure his new books were in the bottom. Their family was not large, just the three of them, but they'd still had fun together. On Christmas Eve they had travelled to London to see all the Muggle lights, on the houses and in the shops, before returning to Wizarding London to a fine restaurant. They had eaten in high style then the three of them had gone on to Manchester to watch a highly recommended play. It had been very late when they finally arrived back home, the cold, clear night letting them all gaze at the stars for a few moments before they went to bed.

Next morning Santa had been and left a pile of presents for all of them. Paul had used some of his pocket money to buy his Mother a pretty brooch with an enamelled pattern. Cloisonné Andy called it when she had brought it for him, as first years were not allowed to go to Hogsmeade. For his father he had asked Malcolm to get a tobacco tin from the Tobacconists, not one with any tobacco in it, but one of their presentation tins for his father's collection. For Charlie, Andy, Malcolm and Professor Lupin, he had brought chocolate, a giant box of frogs each for Charlie and Malcolm, a special 'girly-box' for Andy, and for Professor Lupin a box of chocolate liquors. Father had loaned him the family owl to send them on their way. By return owl he had received a ball from Charlie just like his. Malcolm had sent him some Fizzing Whizbies from Weasleys', and Andy had sent him a quill holder with a tiny little beetle caught in the glass. Professor Lupin had given them all journals to write in, saying he had to make sure they never forgot the tricks they learned.

His Mother had bought him new robes, grown-up style and everything. His Father had given him two first edition books by Wilber Montage, written about werewolves and their habits. Paul had laughed himself into hiccoughs over some of the things the silly old man wrote, but his parents just didn't get the joke sometimes. It was very sad, and not a little scary, that this fellow was the foremost authority on werewolves, and yet he had so many things dead wrong!

For Christmas dinner they ate roast pork and apple sauce, plum pudding and white sauce, followed by cakes, pies and biscuits his mother made. Then they went to the neighbourhood tea where everyone in their small housing cluster brought food to the central hall. There they all ate and drank and sang and danced until the small hours of the morning.

Paul had been surprised to see one or two of the older kids were actually familiar faces from Hogwarts, one boy Jordan, was in his House. Jordan gave him a cursory nod as he and his girlfriend, another Gryffindor danced past but neither made a move to speak to him past the nod. Paul was quite happy to sit and watch the people dancing, his parents floating past in each other's arms so gracefully. They were really enjoying themselves and Paul was so happy just to see them laugh, he felt his smile might have become a permanent part of his face. He didn't remember falling asleep but he vaguely remembered his father Apparating him home and his mother putting him into bed with a fond kiss.

Boxing Day had been quiet, reading and eating and recovering from the festivities but now they were off to have Moon with Charlie's family! Charlie lived in Lancashire on the moors and had a farm with all sorts of animals and things. His family were dairy farmers, milking cows and keeping chickens and ducks and stuff. His mother spun the wool from their small flock of sheep to make woven shawls, hats, socks and ponchos to sell at the local handcraft markets.

As the small family apparated into the farmyard, a swarm of children tumbled out of the house, Charlie whooping and bellowing in the lead. "You came! You came! Did you get good stuff for Christmas? Thank you for all the frogs, we ate them already but I got to keep all the cards! Wait until you see them! Hi Mr and Mrs Streatham, welcome to Top Fell farm, Mum and Dad are inside, go on in, we'll get the luggage. Come on you hairy lot, grab bags. Sammy, show the guests in!"

Pushing and giggling, the children managed to show their guests inside to the huge, warm country kitchen with bunches of herbs handing from the rafters and a row of cured hams hanging over the chimney brace. Gleaming copper pots and a large, blackened cauldron hung around the fire ready for use. Mrs Watts, up to her elbows in flour grinned and nodded as her husband went forward to usher the older couple in. He seated them at one end of the long, scrubbed wood table and poured out thick tea as his wife brought over scones, homemade jam, fresh churned butter and freshly clotted cream.

"Welcome to the madhouse, I'm David, my wife Maureen."

"We're Harold and Lucy Streatham. It was very good of you to invite us to spend the full moon with you. Paul is never good with it, so delicate," Harold said worriedly.

Maureen laughed heartily. "A werewolf is not delicate, I'm afraid. A werewolf is always a handful and a half but give them a place to run about and waste their energy, and they are fine. The wolf-yard is all fenced and charmed: the changing house is padded so they will do minimum damage to themselves, and it is heated so if they get too cold they can go in and warm up again. I made Paul a ball of his own, as Charlie said he really likes playing with the one I made him. Charlie sent it to him for Christmas. All you have to do to keep it sanitary is to toss a cleaning spell over it from time to time. Better yet, teach Paul to do it for himself, saves you work. Hey, you lot, slow down on those stairs, and do make sure Paul has a pair of wellies if you are going into the yard, its muddy out there! Tea at four thirty, don't forget."

The quiet, three person family was simply absorbed into the big noisy Watt clan, who treated Paul like just another brother in their wild games. The older Streathams discovered that the Watts were keen canasta players and, as soon as the children were sent up to bed, a cutthroat game of canasta wars was undertaken and thoroughly enjoyed.

Next morning started at five with cow milking and egg collecting, even though it had snowed the night before. Paul watched as Charlie helped herd the cows into the milking shed where very odd Muggle machines milked the cows, but magic cleaned the shed and animals before and after the operation. A big truck came and took the churns away from the farm gate, the driver calling Merry Christmas as he pulled out. The eggs were duly taken in to Mrs Watts, who made enough breakfast to fill up all of Gryffindor House, but it all was eaten by the Watts clan and their guests. The fresh moors air and the early morning start made them all ravenous! Half way through the meal, a pair of solid school owls arrived with parcels for Charlie and Paul.

"What is it? What is it?" the kids asked eagerly, as the two boys unwrapped the small bundles.

"Note here," Charlie said self-importantly and cleared his throat. "'Mr Watts, the potion is to be taken twenty four hours before Moon, and half an hour before food. Professor Snape.'"

"Mine says the same," Paul piped up, shaking the small flask to make the sluggish liquid swirl. "Its Wolfsbane potion, it tastes like cow pat and sour lemons, but it's really effective."

"How kind of the professor," Lucy Streatham murmured as her son slipped the vial into his pocket. "Don't lose it dear."

"Not likely, it's the difference between fun and terror," Paul said flatly then bit his lip as Charlie gave him a reassuring slap on the shoulder.

"Never mind Cloud, you'll have fun tomorrow, I promise you. Come on, I'll show you my yard, it has trees and snow and everything!"

"Don't forget your chores boys," David reminded them, coming in red and rosy from the cold. "Good thing they'll be wearing fur tomorrow, its forecast for another cold snap. I'll get the boys to give me a hand to move the sheep down into the lower folds this afternoon."

~~*~~

Moonrise was at seven, the cold light spilling into the large, fenced area where two small boys became two wolf cubs at her first caress. When they emerged from the changing house, Cloud was a bit worried about putting his feet onto the snow without boots but wolf paws were a lot tougher than human skin. Having no such qualms, and having run about in the snow on many occasions, Red bowled his smaller pack mate over and ran off yipping tauntingly. Cloud stood up and shook the loose snow off before giving chase. They ran and rolled and played rough games, occasionally running into the fence in their enthusiastic abandon.

Finally, panting and laughing, Red sat back on his haunches and howled, managing to get a fairly good belling note into his childish effort. Cloud yelped a laugh and tossed back his head, howling too, his high soprano yodel making the red wolf cub bowl him over. In the very far distance a wolf answered high and sweet, another wolf cub by the sound of it. After an exchange of greetings, they tumbled away from the changing house, leaving more tracks in the pristine snow as they played chasing and running games and attempted to cock their legs on trees.

At the windows of the cosy house, the four parents watched as their young sons disappeared into the silvered night, sighing. David lowered the camera he had been taking pictures with and smiled at the Streathams, who were clutching each other like life lines. "Beautiful, aren't they? And yet they are so savage. Wild beauty, we call him, but not where he can hear us. The Wolfsbane seemed to make the transition a little easier, and having company has made it less lonely for Charlie. He writes such long and terribly excited letters about what they do and what they learn when its moon time. Professor Lupin impressed me with his cool good sense when we met at the station and everything Charlie writes only proves that he is very good with them. We were lucky the Headmaster managed to get him to teach this year."

"Paul always hated it, fighting it as hard as he could, but he could never win, and he ended up hurting himself badly. We tried putting him into as small a cage as possible, but he fought the wire so hard he literally tore the fur off himself. We couldn't do a thing for him except to watch and try to comfort him with our presence, but it just made him worse." Lucy sniffled into her handkerchief.

Both Watts turned to stare at the older couple in disbelief. "You stayed there while he was in change? Oh dear! Werewolves in their natural state hate humans, and your presence would have been like a burning stick held against your son's mind. Didn't anyone tell you to leave him alone during change? My goodness, we don't even go into the yard when Charlie is normal in case we leave a scent trace behind. All work in the enclosure is done by magic, and the area left as free of human scent and influence as possible. Oh, we can take pictures of him from a safe distance away, but we make sure he never sees us or he attacks the fence trying to rip us apart."

"But, but the book said...."

"The Wilber Montage book? 'Safe Werewolf Raising'? Good Merlin! The man's a menace!" Maureen exclaimed in disgust. "Our families have been on the moors for quite a few centuries and Charlie isn't the first of us to be bitten. There are still a few wild wolves out on the moors as you heard; a few more since the War of course, but most of them are harmless. Most of the wild ones are people who have been bitten late in life and have no idea of how to cope with it. One or two are even Muggles, but they don't seem to last as long as Magicals. I think the lycanthropic disease destroys their brains and drives them totally insane, poor things."

"Occasionally we have to organise a hunt and take care of a rogue wolf, which can be a sad duty," David said softly. "That's what happened to my brother and sister-in-law; a rogue took them out more or less on purpose. Some Magicals get that way, vengeful you know, so then the neighbours have to go hunting and solve the problem. That's the bad side of having a werewolf for a son, the times when a rogue casts doubt on the whole population, and fear rules the mob."

"Does it happen often?" Harold asked, holding his wife close.

"Nah, three times in my lifetime, and each time the hunt was for a good reason," David assured the older couple calmly. "I'll get Maureen to copy out the family notes for you tomorrow; they are much more practical than that idiot Montage's book. 'Safe Werewolf Raising' indeed! How to traumatise a young wolf into going rogue, I say."

"Oh, here they come again," Maureen broke in tactfully. "Oh, look at that, they're so sweet together!"

The fond parents continued to watch their offspring late into the night.

~~*~~

Other eyes watched the cubs playing so freely and mindlessly in their safe enclosure. The watcher lined up his omnioculars for a closer look as the two cubs sat on their haunches and howled at the moon. He almost jumped out of his skin when the howl was answered. Glancing around wildly, he shoved the omnioculars into his robes and apparated out in terror.

Someone else, equally intent on the cubs, jumped when the howl was answered then looked around wildly when the pop of apparation sounded. Cursing softly under his breath, the second watcher hurried over to where the noise had come from and studied the tracks, wishing he could read the scent as well as the marks. Running a hand through his red hair, he weighed the odds of the stranger coming back against the very well crafted protections spells on the wolf yard below, and decided the cubs were probably not going to get out or get hurt this full moon. Decision made, a second pop of apparation sounded and the snowfield was suddenly empty again.