"Bitten by a werewolf, poor chap. No cure at all."
Chapter Eleven: Lycanthropy
"Magical Maladies: and How to Identify Them" By: J.M. Isaacs.
James sighed deeply as he took the book off of the shelf and looked up Lycanthropy. It took him mere seconds to locate the section. He quickly skimmed the page only to find that it featured a few paragraphs that held little or no new information that the other twenty million books he'd been through before hadn't offered already. Even with the bits of useless information that it did offer it seemed to be, from his quick skimming of the contents, the only book, thus far, that he'd found that even treated the poor people with the disease like they were human beings. The other books had only offered the five different ways to identify them as werewolves and not wolves and then they would list graphically how to kill them.
James simply stared at the page for a while, debating whether or not he really wanted to read what the book had to say. His eyes were drawn to the picture to the right of the paragraphs on Lycanthropes. It featured a young man turning into a large fanged beast. The transformation seemed to bring the man nothing but pain. James hated to think about the thoughts that ran like mad through his head. How could he even think that one of his friends could possibly be a werewolf? Yet, at the same time, all of the signs seemed to be pointing to it. He groaned at his thoughts and swiftly dog-eared the page before he went to go sit down in a corner at the back of the library, well away from everyone else.
He reopened the book and stared at the page as if expecting the words to just read themselves. The picture to the right taunted him as it showed the man scream silently into the night as his body morphed into the beast inside him. James was partially glad that the picture didn't talk like the portraits did because he wouldn't have wanted to hear the man's screams. He could hardily imagine how anyone could live like that. It seemed a terrible fate for anyone, a fate that was almost worth just giving up for. His heart sunk as he finally began to read the paragraph that would hopefully reveal the truth of his friend.
A Lycanthrope, or more commonly known as a werewolf is a person who has been mauled by another werewolf and survived the initial attack. Now, I say mauled instead of bitten because it gives a more realistic view of the preliminary transmission of the disease. For a werewolf does not just bite a person and run off like many people have come to believe when they hear the term "bitten." The full intention of a werewolf is to kill their prey and that usually takes some effort, therefore, the infection itself is an accident. Of course a werewolf is only harmful to humans, and noticeably only humans can have Lycanthropy.
There are only two real ways to identify a Lycanthrope, when they are in human form. One, and most obvious, is to wait for the full moon to show the truth and see for yourself but of course this is a bit dangerous. The second is called a silver burn. This is a simple procedure, just apply a bit of pure silver to the person’s skin and almost instantly a welt will appear at the point where the skin and silver made contact.
Lycanthropy is a serious illness, but the people with it are only harmful once a month. Certain phases of the moon affect people with the disease differently. There is no cure for Lycanthropy and people with the disease generally do not live more than twenty-five years after the initial infection.
James stared at the last line for a long while before he felt as if he was going to throw up. His stomach seemed to have hardened and yet, at the same time, it felt full of slop that he was ready to release on the library floor. He looked up from the book at the line of bookshelves that were laid out before him. Twenty-five years? That was hardly long enough for anyone to live. That was barely living.
He tried to think of all the things one could possibly do before the age of twenty-five. He soon decided there wasn't much to offer because after school that would leave only eight years to do what you dreamed of doing. James looked down at the book once more and looked at the picture as he regretfully started to imagine Remus dying in his twenties. He felt numb at the thought of it and hoped that he was wrong about everything, for both Remus' and his own sake. Yet, he knew he wasn't wrong, he couldn't be wrong. He read through the last paragraph once more.
The phases of the moon affect them differently. That fit, Remus always got sick right around the Waxing Gibbous phase of the moon, right before the full moon. He let his thoughts run further away from him. I could put a Silver Sickle on Remus' skin but that seems too cruel. How would he explain his actions if he was wrong? Or, worse yet, what if he was right? He felt sick; there was no doubt about it. He was, slowly but surely, worrying himself to the point that he would eventually have to admit himself into the hospital ward.
"Werewolves, eh."
James jumped at the sound of the voice that had interrupted his thoughts. He looked up and his eyes fell on Chris Weasley. "Yeah, it's interesting." James said non-enthusiastically.
"Doesn't sound like you're very interested in it." Chris then he added with a half smile. "You do know that we don't start learning about dark creatures until third year."
James nodded, hoping the boy would just go away. He wasn't in the mood for talking with anyone at the moment. "I was just interested in it so I thought I'd look it up." James lied. "That's all." He added finally hoping that that would end their discussion.
Chris nodded in understanding. "Next time look up “Vampires.” They're more interesting and there's a lot more information on them."
He smiled falsely at his peer. "I'll keep that in mind." He then watched the red-headed boy leave and once he was sure the boy had gone he closed his book and walked up to Madam Pince.
She was just as charming as ever as she checked the book out for him. He left as she yelled out after him. "If I find a rip, folded corner, or notes written inside of that book you will be fined until next September."
James just waved at the old woman, happy that she had missed the dog-eared page making a mental note to himself to fix the dog-eared page before he returned the book as he left the library. He headed up to his dormitory and was relieved to find that no one was there. He knew that Remus had had yet another seizure after History of Magic class and had to endure Sirius teasing him for not getting sick before Binns' class. In return the boy had retreated to Madame Pomfrey's office to get checked out because they wouldn't let him do anything else until he did.
James, though, had made his venture to the library to find out once and for all the truth after Madame Pomfrey made them leave because she "needed to talk with Remus." He still disliked the results to his hour of searching but came to grips with them soon enough. He opted not to tell Sirius anything until it was absolutely necessary. He knew Sirius would overreact and he also knew that if he said anything it would finalize the truth. Then what would they do?
James quickly slipped the library book under his mattress knowing that that was most likely the only safe place for him to hide it. He grabbed his bag and picked up his Transfiguration essay and stuffed it inside next to Sirius'. He sighed heavily to himself. They still needed to get Sirius a new bag. He wondered momentarily where on earth Sirius and Peter had run off to but quickly decided not to care. Who knew what they could be doing without him there to keep Sirius in check? He laughed to himself and quickly put his Astronomy book back into his bag before he headed to his next class.