A/N: This is what I can only call my exposition chapter. This chapter is a combination of important plot relevant information, significant background information and a few of my own ideas and speculations on the possible ways and means of Potterverse Lycanthropy, hopefully put together in a interesting and readable way that advances the story. I’ll leave it up to you to divine which is which…. ;)
6: The Werewolf Lesson
The sixth year Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Defence Against the Dark Arts class at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry were staring at their teacher in stunned silence. It was not quite the reaction he’d been hoping for.
Carefully Remus leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk as he surveyed the shocked faces before him. He fought desperately not to smile.
“Is there a problem with my choice of subject matter?” he inquired innocuously.
The class blinked. A flurry of looks were exchanged.
“Ummm…” Gryffindor courage prevailed in the face of Hermione Granger. “You’re going to teach us about werewolves, Professor?”
This time Remus did smile. “Are you suggesting I am not an authority on the subject?”
The class gave a nervous laugh. Remus hoped it was a sign that they were starting to relax; it would be a most awkward hour if they didn’t. Although he had been teaching again for almost two months now, there were still times when he felt rather as though he was on some sort of probation. Exactly who he thought was judging him, be it staff, parents or students, he had yet to establish. It didn’t change the feeling though.
Oh well. Time to press on.
“I know that you have only covered this subject with Professor Snape.” Remus pushed himself upright and strolled casually around to the front of his desk, leaning back against the wooden surface easily. “And I am aware that his view of werewolves has always tended to be rather one-sided.”
Several class members snorted at that.
Remus continued. “But I do not intend to rose-tint this for you either. Lycanthropy is not a pleasant subject, as I know better than anyone. And although the majority of werewolves are simply ordinary people trying to find a way to live with a terrible curse, I will not deny that many of my kind are indeed extremely dangerous.”
He regarded the now rapt faces of his class for a moment. “So you see, whilst I do not intend to encourage you all to join the Werewolf Capture Unit, I will not, pleasant as it might have been, be starting a campaign to Hug Your Local Werewolf.”
This time the class laughed outright, melting the tension away in a heartbeat. Feeling a little more secure in his footing now, Remus allowed his shoulders to relax slightly and smiled again.
“So then, I think the best way to start this is to see what we have to build on. What do you know about werewolves?”
The first half of the lesson passed quickly in a flurry of question and answer. Remus stepped in quickly to correct several misconceptions, confirming the basic facts of a werewolf’s appearance and behaviour and the effects of the change upon its human host, covering the Wolfsbane potion and even, much to the discomfort of the class, ways in which werewolves could be killed.
“Oh come now,” he reprimanded easily after his description of the effects of aconite evoked a particularly squeamish exclamation from Parvati Patil and Hannah Abbott. “I’m not going to sugar-coat this and you do need to know.” His gaze drifted for an uncomfortable moment to Harry, Ron and Hermione; the only three people he could be certain would fully understand. They alone in this room had seen the wild fury of his full moon half. That they had lived to tell the tale had been more luck than judgement.
“If I failed to take my Wolfsbane potion and encountered you on a full moon, I would kill you. Simple as that. I wouldn’t recognise you, I wouldn’t care, I would just do what comes naturally, and what comes naturally to a werewolf is tearing humans limb from limb.” He sighed. “Werewolves are quick and deadly. And if you took that extra moment to remember that I was a human being a few hours before, if you hesitated to act, you would die. Because for that one night I would not be your teacher. I would not be anything but a werewolf. And I would rather that you killed me than have me kill you.”
He ignored the class’ distinct air of discomfort deliberately. “If there is one thing I wish you to take from this lesson, it’s this. When a werewolf is human, treat him human. But on the one night a month he is a wolf, beware.”
A thoughtful hush descended. Pushing his hair out of his face, Remus settled back into the chair behind his desk and gazed out at the pensive rows of faces, twitching his quill between his fingers.
“Right,” he said briskly. “Now, do you have any more questions?”
Several hands rose almost at once. Remus surveyed them thoughtfully for a moment.
“Neville,” he selected.
The plump Gryffindor fidgeted slightly. “Is it true that werewolves are killed by silver?”
Remus grinned. Ah, the old urban myth. “If you hit them hard enough with it,” he replied with a friendly smile. Neville gave a sheepish grin as the class laughed. “To my knowledge, which on a matter such as this I like to think is pretty extensive, silver has no more effect on werewolves than any other metal. I can handle sickles just like the rest of you. There is a Muggle legend that says that werewolves can be killed by a silver bullet shot through the heart, but frankly if you shoot any kind of bullet into a werewolf’s heart, it’s a fair bet you’ll kill it. Next?”
He considered the coppice of hands once more. “Dean.”
The young man regarded his teacher uncertainly. “When I was in Diagon Alley, there was this guy protesting about werewolves. He said…” He hesitated, unsure, but Remus’ gentle nod encouraged him onwards. After all, there was very little he could say that his teacher had not heard before. “He said all werewolves should be locked up because they’re too difficult to stop. He said they’re immune to stupefy and the Killing Curse. Is that true?”
Remus pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Partly. You’ve brought up a very good point Dean, thank you. ” He rose to his feet once more, tapping his quill on the desk before dropping it back into the ink pot. “Listen carefully to this “ if you encounter a werewolf on full moon some day, this could save your life. Magic does not affect a transformed werewolf. You can cast whatever curses and hexes you chose in a werewolf’s direction, but on that one night a month they will simply bounce off. That is why werewolves are so dangerous. They cannot be directly damaged, slowed or stopped by any kind of spell. Even the Killing Curse.”
“But then…I mean…” It was not like Hermione to struggle for words. “But then how are they ever stopped? How does anyone survive an attack?”
“Violence.” Remus decided to be blunt. “As I said before. If you shoot a werewolf through the heart, it dies. Hitting it hard enough over the head with a large lump of silver should do it too.” He smiled at Neville again, who smiled back. “A werewolf is immune to direct magic but not to physical violence. In that way, magic can be used indirectly against a werewolf. Levitating a rock or a club to drop on it, banishing something sharp in its direction, summoning a weapon with which you can defend yourself, all are effective ways of self-defence. If they don’t kill the werewolf, they may just give you enough time to get away.”
“But what about the rest of the time?” It was Ernie Macmillan, the Hufflepuff prefect who spoke up. “Are you immune when you’re human too?”
Remus shook his head firmly. “No such luck. If you were to hit me with Avada Kedavra, right here and now, I would be as dead as anyone else. The same goes for stupefy, impedimenta and any other curse you’d care to name. There are only two spells that affect a werewolf differently in their human form and they are the remaining Unforgivables “ the Imperious Curse and the Cruciatus Curse.”
“You’re immune to Imperio and Crucio?” It was Harry’s astonished voice that broke the stunned silence.
“I didn’t say that.” Remus sighed. How in Merlin’s name should he explain this? Quietly he moved away from his desk, pacing quietly in front of the blackboard as he gathered his thoughts. The class watched and waited, almost hypnotised by their teacher’s wanderings.
“The Cruciatus Curse causes as much pain to a human werewolf as it does to anyone else.” Remus tucked his hands behind his back, staring determinedly at the floor as he walked. “The difference is that due to the agony of their monthly transformations, a werewolf has a much higher pain threshold. They can walk through a crucio that would cripple anyone else.”
He did not miss the gasps that rose from the desks before him.
“It hurts then? It’s painful?” The uncertain voice belonged to Justin Finch-Fletchley. “Changing into a wolf, I mean.”
Remus hesitated, gazing out at his class with firm eyes. Truth was truth and he would not lie to his students again, not after their third year. His voice, when he spoke was soft, but clear. “They say the only thing more painful than being bitten by a werewolf is transforming into one. Yes Justin, it hurts very much.”
Tearing his gaze away from the horrified faces of his pupils, Remus began to pace once more.
“Now, the Imperious Curse, as I’m sure you’re all aware, puts the human mind into a dreamlike state in order that it be more pliable, more open to suggestion. The victim must then watch helplessly as his or her body performs acts that they themselves do not wish. I have been told that the experience is quite blissful at the time.” Remus paused, resting one hand against the wall. “Excepting the bliss, being placed under the Imperious Curse is very similar to what occurs with the mind of a Wolfsbane-free werewolf at full moon.”
Remus did not look at his students just then. He did not want to see the rows of intrigued or shocked faces as he described the worst part of his monthly torture. The physical pain, oh even pain such as the contortion of limbs, the melting and reshaping of bones, the pain could just be tolerated. No, what Remus had always hated most about his transformations was the moment when he lost his mind. Discussing in front of so many the facts of his life that he had previously only described to close friends and family left him feeling vaguely exposed. But they deserved to know.
“The human part of the mind fades, drops into a kind of numbness as the wolf’s mind takes control.” Remus knew his fingertips were biting sharply into the wall: he tried to force himself to relax. It didn’t work. “But the human mind is, in some part, still aware. The senses of a werewolf are very different to a human’s, very difficult to interpret and comprehend, so the images the human takes away from the full moon are confused, half-forgotten, vague impressions, no more. But you always know that you are trapped “ that this is your body, what’s left of it, and you have no control. The wolf can do as it pleases and you can only watch.”
He could feel dozens of eyes drilling into him “ he realised that, lost in his thoughts, he had strayed slightly from his point. Shaking himself firmly, he pushed away from the wall and moved to perch on the corner of his desk. He met the curious, saddened gaze of his students with determination.
“The same, as every werewolf knows,” he added softly. “Applies to the wolf during the rest of the month. It is, to some extent, aware. Waiting. And that is why the Imperious Curse is ineffective. The moment the victim’s mind succumbs to the curse, it replicates the numbing of their mind at full moon. The moment the human mind shuts down enough for it to be controlled, the wolf steps in and takes over.”
Hermione gasped. “It makes you transform?”
“No, there is no transformation. A werewolf can only change form under the full moon.” Remus sighed. “It is a kind of inverted Wolfsbane effect. The wolf’s mind takes over the human body. And there are few forces on earth more powerful. If the caster of the Imperious is lucky, they are simply thrown backwards by the force of their expulsion. If they are unlucky, the power of the backlash could kill them.”
Wide-eyed horror filled the faces of the watching teenagers.
“What happens to the werewolf?” The tremulous voice was Neville’s. “Once the curse is lifted?”
“That depends.” The class’ insightful questions were leading Remus into murky waters. He was absolutely certain that neither the Ministry nor the governors would approve of his spreading the information he was about to give to these young people. But then again, why shouldn’t they know? Why shouldn’t they be warned? The decision had been made not to inform Harry of the threat posed by Abraham Kane for now, but by teaching the signs of the feral in class, he could prepare him and his classmates for Kane’s possible appearance without revealing covert Order intelligence.
He met the curious stares of his students. “The affect upon the human side of the werewolf often depends on the strength of the human mind. You see, once a part of the wolf has found its way into the human, it can be very difficult to put back. It takes a great deal of strength and determination to stay human on the werewolf’s part in order to push the mind of the wolf back into dormancy. The wolf very rarely wants to go. This is not just something that those werewolves affected by the Imperious Curse have to deal with “ it is a fact of life for every werewolf. We have to be as strong as we can, because we know that there is an enemy within who will pounce at the first sign of weakness.”
“What happens?” The hushed voice belonged to Ron. “What happens if the wolf gets in?”
Remus took a deep breath. Once more into the breech… “What happens is that the boundaries between the wolf and human minds are broken down; the wolf either becomes dominant or the two bleed together and become one. The phenomenon is known as turning feral.”
Shudders passed through the many of the wizard-born children in the class; some it seemed had heard of ferals.
“The wolf mind is the stronger.” Remus fought against uncomfortable memories that rose and battered his psyche relentlessly; firmly, he ordered himself to concentrate. “It becomes the driving force, the desire. A feral lives to hurt, to kill, to see others in pain. Any human emotion such as compassion or morality is lost, swamped beneath bloodlust. But it can have human intelligence too “ it is a werewolf that can think, can plot, and its strength and senses are those of a wolf. There is very little in the world more dangerous. A feral is the only kind of werewolf it is worth being afraid of.” Remus forced back a shiver at the memory of the fiery chill of wolfish desires sliding across his vulnerable mind all those years before. “There are many ways in which a werewolf can turn feral. The most frequent is simply losing the will to go on, giving in to the wolf because the human simply cannot continue to live that life; this is a common occurrence in a werewolf who has bitten another, consumed by their remorse. These ferals go insane. They become nothing but a pure wolf mind in a human body, for in giving up the human part condemns itself to the same numbness as at full moon. It is a straight swap instead of an intermingling. Ironically enough, this type of feral is less dangerous.”
Remus took another deep breath “ the next part of this explanation would take him into very personal realms of experience indeed. “Then there is those who turn feral by accident. As I said, the wolf is always waiting “ one moment of weakness is enough. Extreme grief, misery, depression, anger or rage can provide an opening, especially in combination with alcohol. Alcohol lowers the mind’s defences and heightens emotion and it can become a catalyst to disaster for a werewolf. If, even for one instant, those defences are lowered enough, the wolf will force itself through. In most cases, it is a brief incursion, a quick flash of wolf fury before the human mind manages to regain control; this is know as a feral incident and is supposed to be reported to the Werewolf Registry immediately.”
“How come?” Susan Bones ventured the question. “If it goes away so soon, why does it matter?”
Remus sucked in his breath. Oh yes, personal territory indeed. “Because it is believed that a werewolf who has suffered a feral incident may be more prone to turning feral in the future. Therefore it has become Ministry policy in the last decade or two that if no one has been hurt, the werewolf should be sent immediately to a special facility for observation. If anyone is hurt or killed during the feral incident, the werewolf is either sent to Azkaban or executed.”
“Can’t see many werewolves coming forward and admitting it then.” Seamus Finnegan’s Irish lilt put an end to the ominous silence. “If that’s what they get for it.”
Remus bit his lip against the flood of unpleasant emotion. Oh, where, oh, where is the bell? Why did I start on this topic? What was I thinking, believing I could just talk about this as though I didn’t know what it means? Hermione’s astonishment at the beginning of the lesson as to his choice of subject was beginning to seem like foresight worthy of a seer.
“Indeed not,” he replied, proud of the evenness of his tone. Well, there was no going back now. He had no choice but to plough on until the end of the lesson. “The final kind of feral is easily the most dangerous. Those who turn feral by choice.” The gasps were becoming commonplace in this oddly out of control lesson, careening along like a runaway hippogriff through taboo after taboo. This had certainly not been what Remus had intended for this class. “These werewolves allow the wolf mind in, permit it to dominate their humanity and take control of their lives. They are, as I described, a wolf’s drive and desire combined with a human intelligence.”
“Why?” Hermione’s voice was a whisper. “Why would anyone want that?”
Remus allowed himself to smile in spite of his well-hidden shakiness. “You’re asking the wrong person Hermione. It is the antithesis of everything I believe in.” His mind wandered back to the deluded souls of The Howling, desperately seeking some kind of release without any idea of what it would mean. “Desperation, I suppose. A desire for power perhaps. A simple lack of understanding. I think some seek the feral as a freedom or strength that they feel they lack, or a better alternative to their often-victimised attempts to be human: if they are no longer allowed to be human, why not be wolf? Most probably do not realise that in becoming feral, they give up ever inch of their humanity bar the cold logic of their mind. And those that do realise deserve it.” Remus sighed, his own memories of that dreadful instant tugging at him ruthlessly as he shook his head. “I cannot comprehend any person who wish that. Luckily that kind of feral is very rare.”
“How can you tell?” Dean spoke nervously once more. “If a werewolf has turned feral?”
Remus gave an internal sigh of relief and silently blessed Dean Thomas for moving the conversation back into rather safer territory. “At full moon, you can’t “ they’ll all try to kill you just the same. A feral might play with you a little more, might drag it out for the malicious fun of it “ the remains of their human intelligence carry through to the full moon - but physically the wolf is no different. But the human feral is very distinctive; aspects of the wolf will merge into their human appearance. Their eyes are werewolf eyes, bright gold and very sharp. Their fingertips are topped by short, dark claws and they have unnaturally sharpened canine teeth; wolf-like in fact. They are also very strong and very fast. And of course, like every werewolf, they will have the scar of their original bite somewhere about their body - the wounds made by a werewolf, be it bite or claw, will always leave a scar that even magic can’t remove.”
Remus smiled suddenly. “However I wouldn’t recommend trying to strip any potential feral naked in order to find it.”
The laughter was a relief. The atmosphere in the classroom had weighed down like a lead weight upon them all.
“Professor?” It was Seamus again. “Does that mean you’ve still got the scar from when you were bitten?”
There was a shocked hush. In spite of the intimate revelations of werewolf behaviour in front of the class, Remus had noticed a certain reluctance of the part of his students to address the matter of his lycanthropy directly. Seamus had apparently decided that it was time to cross this final line.
He nodded shortly. “It does. However, since I am not given to stripping my robes off in class, I have no intention of showing it.”
Another laugh followed. Better, better…
“Sir?” Seamus looked uncomfortable. Oh no, now what? Where is that bell? “It’s just, me mam was reading this article in The Prophet. The bloke who wrote it, he said that he reckoned that most folk who became werewolves… well…well, they deserved to get bit ‘cos they must have been doing something reckless or dangerous or evil for it to happen in the first place. I ain’t saying I believe it!” he added hurriedly. “But it’s just… how did you get bitten, Professor Lupin?”
If the class had been hushed before, they were utterly silent now, awed at the audacity of one of their number. Remus was pretty impressed himself. Rising slowly from his perch on the edge of his desk, he circled it slowly, resting his hands against the firm wood once more as he faced out over the most awkward class he had ever taken. Flashes of his dream tortured his mind, playing against his sense, the slap of branches, the glint of the silver moonlight, the drag of claws and teeth against his skin. But how had he come to be there, in the dark woods he assumed were the ones behind his childhood home, all alone, late at night, when only three years old? Why would he have been there? Where were his parents? But in this part of his memory at least, the wall held firm. And even if he could recall, the chances were good that he had been too young to understand.
He stared blankly for a moment. What could he possibly say?
He swallowed hard. “To be quite honest, Seamus,” he said softly. “I don’t really remember.”
Incredulity filled every face. “That’s a pretty big thing to forget,” he heard Ron mutter under his breath; a moment later he winced sharply as Hermione’s foot connected firmly with his ankle.
“Ron!” she hissed.
In spite of himself, Remus smiled at their antics. “I was just a child at the time,” he explained gently to the rows of curious faces. “Only three years old. I remember getting bitten…” He winced at the still fresh sensations of the dream “ his side twinged sharply and he rubbed it absent-mindedly. “But I don’t remember how it happened. I don’t know about reckless or dangerous…” He forced himself to smile. “But I would have been a very precocious toddler to be doing anything evil.”
They laughed once more. That was something.
And then, oh yes, at long, tortuous last, the bell echoed through the classroom. Remus felt himself breath a huge sigh of relief.
“Good lesson, everyone,” he lied pleasantly as they packed away their quills and books in a bustle of motion. “Ten points each to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Homework “ well, never mind homework. I’ll let you off today.”
A cheer arose from the ranks of hurriedly departing children. In moments they were gone, leaving nothing but an echo of chatter and a very confused and shaken professor in their wake.
A/N: My idea for the nature of the feral werewolf arose from reading many fanfics in which Remus has acquired what I tend to call FWP “ Funky Werewolf Powers. Although I have no particular objection to the idea of werewolves having stronger senses etc in their human form, it is not something I can read from or see happening in canon. The impression I get from reading the books and listening to JKR’s interviews is that lycanthropy is akin to a disease or disability and I can’t see it being of any advantage to the human side of the werewolf if that is the case. So the feral is kind of my compromise “ it is possible for a werewolf to be stronger, faster and have keener senses but it comes at the cost of their humanity and their mind.