Marlowe held Caiti's hand tightly as they slipped up the path back to Hogwarts, hurrying back as fast as they could. They were determined to beat everyone back to the common room so they could set up an even better celebration party than last time. One that would not be ruined by Amelia. Caiti kept shrieking as she hit patches of ice, nearly losing her balance, but the terror quickly turned to laughter.

It was fully dark now, a bright orb-like moon shining high in the sky, hanging over their heads. They looked at each other, grinning. The moonlight was just enough that he could see how pink her cheeks and nose were from the cold. Her teeth chattered violently behind her smile.

It occurred to him how rarely he had been this alone with her. If it had not been so cold, he might have been less inclined to rush back for the sake of Sean.

A short ways up the path, he felt Caiti's hand tug hard on his. She had stopped without warning. He skidded to a halt, doing his best to stay steady on the slick ground, and backtracked a few steps to her.

"What's-" he began to say, but Caiti shushed him.

"I thought I saw something," she whispered. She sidled closer to him so that their arms were stacked, Caiti's shoulder just behind him.

"Saw what?" asked Marlowe, voice low.

"I don't know... just there..." She was looking at a spot some twenty five feet ahead of them, just off the path. Sure enough, he could just make out something in the dark. What, he was not sure.

Marlowe took a few tentative steps forward, Caiti close behind. As they neared the place, Caiti stepped on a patch of ice that cracked loudly under her foot. The thing moved; it was alive. They both stopped, dead still. It raised it's head, revealing great, gleaming dark eyes, eerily human in shape. It was looking right at them. Then it bared its teeth and Marlowe breathed "Run."

They took off, struggling to stay upright on the slippery ground. Marlowe had a horrible, horrible feeling that he knew what was behind them. It was only a few seconds before his suspicion was confirmed. The creature let out a loud, high whistle, and then he could hear it's four feet pounding against the ground. Their head start would be nothing against a werewolf.

Already, he could hear its heavy breathing, even louder than Caiti's terrified gasping breaths next to him. This time, he did not bother being quiet. "Turn!" he yelled, and he pulled her to the right, into the snow. He fumbled into his pocket for his wand, pointed it over his shoulder and said, "Stupefy!" A jet of light shot out the end of his wand but missed the wolf.

Caiti tried to locate her wand as they ran on. They hit a particularly slippery spot in the frozen ground and, without either arm free to help her balance, she tripped. She screamed and her hand yanked out of Marlowe's grasp, miraculously not bringing him down with her. Caiti slid a few feet away and he scrambled to help her up, but at that moment, the wolf shot out in front of him, knocking him to the side, and dove at Caiti.

"No!" yelled Marlowe. In a moment of utter stupidity, he lunged at the wolf, knocking it to the side. They rolled over twice, Marlowe ending up on the bottom, pinned to the ground. He heard Caiti's scream again, this time not just frightened but anguished, cracking, and then he felt razor sharp teeth sink into his shoulder.

---

The scream was impossible to miss. Everyone that had not already begun the trek back up to school froze. All talking ceased at once. Then, into the quiet, Sean said loudly, "That's Caiti." His face had gone very white. He felt lightheaded. What had happened to make her produce that sound?

Evelyn gripped Sean's arm, her eyes wide. "How do you know? Sean, it could be anyone."

"You're an only child," he snapped, starting to walk at once. He shoved through the petrified crowd, Evelyn at his heels. "It's like instinct. I know that's her." Once they had passed through the crowd, he broke into a run. Shouts were growing louder as they moved. He heard several deep voices send stunners in unison, but nothing was louder than Caiti who continued to scream, now one word, continuously, "No! No! No!" 

Her voice sounded awful, breaking and gasping. They rounded a curve and Sean caught sight of four people, adults by the looks of it, rolling something over. It thudded to the ground and he was finally able to see Caiti. She was sitting in the snow, one knee tucked up to her chest, the other bent underneath her, rocking back and forth, and screaming. He sped up, not caring if he fell four times before he got to her.

"Caiti!" he said, dropping down next to her. Evelyn caught up a few moments later. "Caiti what happened?" He tried to take hold of her, but she wrenched out of his grasp and continued to scream. She would not look at him. He turned to look at whatever she could not wrench her eyes from and saw, from behind several of his professors, who he now recognized up close, a body lying on the ground, unmistakable: Marlowe. And a short ways beyond, unconscious and bound up in ropes, was a werewolf. Professor Westwick raised his wand and it's limp body hovered in the air to be carried away.

Everyone around them was talking rapidly, ordering instructions at one another, calling for the nurse.

Evelyn gripped his arm tightly again, so tightly it hurt.

"Come on Caiti," said Sean. His voice was clear and strong.

He did not know why he was so calm. It was like his mind had shut down his emotional side and all that was left was logic.

One of the professors moved, giving Caiti a clear view of Marlowe's face. She screamed louder than ever, and crawled forward on hands and knees, pushing past the people who were trying to ensure that he was still breathing. Her face crumpled completely and she fell forward, forehead pressed into his chest. Her tears were falling so fast that Sean could actually see the wet spot she was leaving on his shirt. Evelyn stood, making a tentative move towards Caiti. She knelt next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Caiti..." she said. Caiti shoved her away the same way she had Sean, and collapsed onto Marlowe again, balling up his robes in her fists,

Then Raigan had arrived. She took one look at Marlowe and said. "St. Mungo's." She waved her wand and a stretcher appeared, settling neatly on the ground, and then she knelt by Caiti, trying, like he and Evelyn had, to ease her away from the situation with a gentle touch. Caiti clawed away from her, hanging onto Marlowe like if she let go, he would suddenly disappear altogether, out of existence. Sean hurried to help, grabbing Caiti around the middle and heaving her off of him.

Her screams began again. "No! No! No!" she said, each one wrenched straight from her gut. It took more strength than Sean had been prepared for to contain her. Raigan helped Marlowe onto the stretcher and performed a few spells to render his condition stable enough to apparate with him to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. All the while, Caiti fought, hard, to break free from Sean's grasp.

"Take her to the hospital wing," said Raigan. "I'll be there soon." And then she gripped Marlowe's arm tightly and they disapparated.

It was only when Marlowe was finally gone that Caiti finally fell limp. One last strangled sob slipped out as she sank back to the ground. She put her face in her hands and Sean finally felt all the things he had pushed to the side.

"Oh my god," he whispered. He looked at Evelyn and tears were sliding down her cheeks.

---

There was no party in Ravenclaw tower that night, but not a single Ravenclaw went to bed. They all gathered in the common room, pajama clad, and huddled in groups, clustered around the fire and on the sofa. The first years had all banded together on the floor looking shaken. Elliot was not among them. He had already been whisked off to join his family at the hospital. The only other person missing was Caiti.

Sean and Evelyn had stayed with her there until Raigan, looking tired and beaten down, had returned. She'd given Caiti a very strong calming potion for shock and suggested that they let her alone a while. She was staying in the hospital wing over night.

Evelyn sat next to him, her knees tucked up and tipped over into his lap. Her head rested in the crook of his shoulder and she held his left hand in both of hers. No one spoke. Besides the whistle of the winter wind outside the tower windows and the inappropriately merry crackle of the fireplace, the room was completely silent when the knocker sounded outside the door.

It was Professor Westwick who entered. He stood just inside the room, his lower lip quavering, and looked around at them all.

"It is wonderful," he said quietly, "to see you all here together, supporting one another." There was a long silence before he spoke again. "Tonight, a tragic event took place, something which never should have happened. I'm sure word of what happened has already reached your ears, so I'm only here to clear up the facts from the rumors, as I believe it would be an insult to Mr. Finnegan if we let it go on that he was anything less than the hero he proved he is tonight. 

"You see... and this I can tell you because it is not a secret, though I doubt many of you knew... one of our judges, Mr. Fenwick of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, is a werewolf. Responsibly, he drank the wolfsbane potion made for him tonight, and left the task early when it was not finished before dark. However, something went wrong. Mr. Fenwick was apparently unable to return home, as planned, before he was forced to transfigure. And it seems - I have no more answers than you here, we shall have to wait for further information - it seems that the potion was not effective. 

"He did not retain his human mind when he transfigured. He was, indeed, a werewolf in body and mind tonight, though that was certainly not his plan. Miss O'Connell and Mr. Finnegan were unfortunately nearby the wolf before anyone else. It attacked, and, from what we've been able to gather in a very, very brief interview, Marlowe knocked it away from Caitlyn, taking the bite instead."

A gasp swung around the room. No one had wanted to believe that he had been bitten. Not Marlowe. Not good-natured, funny, quidditch star Marlowe.

Sean had known of course. He had seen the bite. Still, hearing it out loud, confirmed, made him sick to his stomach. He swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling.

"We don't yet have more word on Mr. Finnegan's condition, but I ask that you all keep him and his family and friends in your thoughts. This is a difficult time for Hogwarts, but for Ravenclaw house in particular. It is, really, such a comfort seeing you all here together. But now, I suggest some rest. I will, of course, keep you updated in the coming days, when I can."

Evelyn had started to cry again. Sean smoothed his hand over her low back, and pressed his lips to her forehead. He was not typically a crier but he almost wished, tonight, that tears would come. He felt like something was stuck inside him, a painful knot twisted in his ribs, a rock shoved into his throat. Still, his eyes remained dry, his face set.

"Hey."

Sean looked up. Theo was standing front of them, shifting back and forth with his hands shoved in his pockets. "Is uhm... is Caiti alright?" he asked.

"She'll be fine," said Sean coldly. It was just like Theo to try and weasel back in the second Marlowe was gone.

"Is she... where is she?"

Beyond Theo, Sean could see a group of Elliot's first year friends talking to Professor Westwick by the door.

"In the hospital wing," said Sean.

"I'm going to talk to her," said Theo, and he stalked off to Professor Westwick.

"You aren't allowed, she needs to rest." said Sean loudly. "Alone." Theo glanced over his shoulder, but didn't stop walking. "I swear, if he messes with her..." said Sean to Evelyn.

Theo waited, staring at the ground, until the first years had scattered, and then he approached Westwick. Sean watched his professor's face soften, and nod. He read his lips: "We'll try." They opened the door and walked out together. Sean clenched his teeth, but he did not have the energy to do anything else.

---

Caiti lay flat on her back with her knees up. She stared at the crisp white ceiling of the hospital wing, watching one fan circle lazily around and around. A few beds over, Raigan was tending to Eline's injury again.

Caiti felt stifled. The potion she had been given to help her calm down, while certainly effective, felt temporary, and concealing rather than healing. Somewhere out of reach, she could feel a tightness, a twinge that things inside her were not alright.

She heard voices outside the door, but she did not move. Her hands lay immobile on her belly. The door opened and she heard Raigan's shoes clicking towards the door and then their hushed voices, all s's and p's. She could not make out the words. She stared resolutely at the ceiling and did not see Theo approaching until he was standing over her.

He opened his mouth to speak, clearly unsure, now he was here, what he was going to say to her. Caiti blinked hard. "Please go away," she said. Her voice was scratchy and weak, her throat sore from so much screaming.

"Oh-" said Theo. She heard him take a clumsy step back as she rolled over to face away from him. But he did not leave. She heard no more footsteps leading away and she could sense him behind her, just hovering.

"Sorry," said Theo finally. "I just wanted... I'll go." But still, she did not hear him move.

Caiti bit down hard, squeezing her eyes shut. She balled up the sheets in her fists. A few tears leaked out. She tried to take a deep breath, but it turned into a sob as she let it back out. She felt the mattress depress on the left side and then a hand in her hair. Suddenly, she did not care that Theo was the last person she would have thought she wanted to see. He was familiar and he was good to her and he was very bad at these kinds of situations. He never knew what to say, and just now, that was perfect, because Caiti did not want to, could not talk about it.

She appreciated now what had always bothered her about Theo. He did not ask her questions or say meaningless "It'll all be okay's." And Caiti was glad of it. It would not all be okay. It wasn't okay at all. When Sean had been here, all he had wanted to do was ask again and again what had happened, but Caiti could not answer him. She could not say it out loud, because that would make it real. When he had left, it had been a relief, but being alone hadn't really been better.

She rolled over again, pressing her forehead into the side of his knee. He smoothed his hand over her back a few times and left it between her shoulder blades, a light fingertip touch. When she heaved out another huge sob, he slid back so that he could sit against the pillows and the headboard, and he pulled Caiti up to lean against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her without a word.

---

The next morning, lukewarm sunlight streamed in through the windows and woke Caiti. She opened her eyes. There was about a three second grace period where she took note of the fact that she was not in her own bed, and then she realized why.

The calming drought had long worn off and now, the images, the constant replay that it had pushed out of the front of her mind, were back. The wolf's eyes when it had first looked up. Too human. Then Marlowe's hand pulling out of hers as she fell and the wolf's front paws soaring towards her. Her body frozen, unable to respond. Then Marlowe pinned to the ground.

After that she remembered very little.

Her body began to seize up. Her hands shook uncontrollably. She count not get enough air into her lungs. She felt like someone was standing on her chest. Her eyes and her throat burned. And her mind would not stop circulating over the last detail she knew: Marlowe had been bitten.

The scream rose out of her like someone else's voice.

Someone helped her sit up. She was now shaking so badly she could not support herself. There was a cool hand on the back of her head while she was given another dose of the calming potion from the night before and then they let go and Caiti slumped forward, sucking in shaky breaths. It took a full quarter of an hour before she could lift her head again, at which point, a breakfast tray was set in front of her. Raigan sat down in the chair by the bed.

"He's going to be alright," she assured her. "Alive and recovering."

This did not make Caiti feel all that much better. She had never doubted that he would be alive. She stared at the food on the tray for a minute and then looked away. She could not eat.

"But he's-" Caiti still could not say it.

"Unfortunately, there is no cure," Raigan told her gently. "However, there is-"

"The wolfsbane potion, I know," said Caiti. "I need to go."

She sat up, ripped off the sheets, and started to stand.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to leave yet, maybe another night here..." said Raigan, hurrying around to the other side of the bed to stop her. "At least eat something."

"I can't," said Caiti. "Thank you." And she slipped her shoes on and headed for the door.

Raigan ran, heels clicking, to catch up. She held out the potion bottle for her. "Every three hours today and tomorrow," she said. "After that, as needed. Two tablespoons at a time."

Caiti paused, took the bottle, and nodded, leaving without another word.

She turned into the nearest bathroom in the hallway and splashed water on her face. Her eyes were bloodshot. She looked exhausted. She dried off with a paper towel and then she headed downstairs to the dungeons.

If anything could make her feel better, it was a quiet classroom and her cauldron.

---

St. Mungo's was an odd place, Marlowe thought when he awoke the next morning. He had been out cold all night. The pain of the bite had sent his body into an immediate shut-down. Still, he was very aware what had happened, where he was, even what he was. He could feel the wound healing in his shoulder. It felt off and unfamiliar though it no longer hurt. For now at least, he felt quite calm.

His head had fallen over to one side in his sleep, away from the bitten shoulder. He stared at the uncomfortable chair next to him, scratchy gray fabric coating a worthless excuse for a cushion. The wooden arms were left bare. Still his mother was draped over the chair. Her sleep could not have been comfortable. She was, perhaps, the oddest thing in this room. What with her jeans and her flowery blouse, the iPhone sticking out of her taupe leather handbag which kept buzzing with messages and emitting a little tweet sound like an odd, robotic bird.

It occurred to him how very little he had seen her in a completely magical environment. She was so comfortable with magic in their split home, asking his dad to summon things for her from the top shelf or to get the water boiling faster with a flick of his wand. She loved her husband and her children. She found magic to be a convenience in her everyday life. 

But she was still a muggle. She still found movies more interesting than the radio. She would still rather shop in the big shopping centres than Diagon Alley. And Marlowe knew his dad had long given up buying her anything magical in the hopes she might enjoy it. Too many bottles of Sleekeezy's Hair Potion had gone unused ("If you can't pronounce the ingredients. Don't use it," she always told him. "And I've got no idea what any of that is.").

He wondered how she had felt when the healers told her what her son was. Would she have laughed? Cried? Would she have even believed them? He knew she loved him deeply, that she would be upset by what had happened, but he wondered too how much of that she would show him and how much she would hide behind her typically cheerful attitude and easy jokes.

He shifted very slightly and she woke up. She must not have been sleeping very deeply. Perhaps not at all. They made eye contact for a full three seconds before either of them spoke.

"Hi Mum," he said.

She was looking at him like she didn't know how to explain to him what was happening, where he was, any of it.

He started to try to sit up, but she stood quickly coming to the side of the bed. "Don't. You aren't supposed to."

He settled back down again, feeling, for the first time, frustrated by his predicament. "Oh," he said. In truth, he had not really given the matter much thought. He was aware of it, certainly, but he had never fully considered the consequences of his actions, what his future now looked like. There had simply not been time, and then he had been unconscious so long.

One thing was sure, though. He did not regret it. He would not let himself regret it. And if he ever felt himself starting to wish things were different, he would just have to think how much worse he would feel if he had let it be Caiti lying here instead of him.

Then a second prickle of fear peeked through his perfect calm. "Caiti," he said out loud. "Caiti, where is she? She's not..."

His mother frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She's not here?" He started to sit up again, panicking. What if, even after what he'd done, it had still gone after her?

"Of course not," said his mom.

"She's okay then?" he asked. "She's not hurt?"

She seemed confused by this. "I don't see why she wouldn't be?"

"She was there, mom. She was there. I- I tried to save her. I need to know that she's okay. She hasn't written? No one's sent word?"

"Sweetheart, everyone's been worried about you. I'm sure she's fine."

Marlowe fell back against the pillows, both relieved and frustrated. If she was here too, his mother would have known. They would have arrived together. Still, he wanted definite confirmation. He knew so little.

"I need an owl. I need to write her," said Marlowe. He actually glanced to the window, hoping to see an owl waiting there for him. None was there.

"In a while," said his mother softly. She touched him for the first time, one icy cold hand on his cheek. When she removed it, she looked away, eyes on the partially open door. "Tell me what happened."

"We were coming back from the second task," said Marlowe. "You know that thing Sean's in. And then she saw something and we tried to slip away, but it heard us and then we ran, and Caiti slipped and fell. And I saw it jump and.... And I knocked it out of the way. So it wouldn't get her."

"And... what was the thing Marlowe?" she asked. She still wouldn't look at him.

"A werewolf," he said at once. And that was when it hit him. Really hit him. The bite healing in his shoulder smarted. A werewolf. That was him, now. His breath started to feel too short. He felt unlike himself, too similar to just a few hours before to pinpoint the difference, but unfamiliar enough that he was aware of it. He looked to his mom, hoping for some kind of comfort: a joke had always been her go-to. If you can laugh about it, you'll get through it. That's what she'd always said. He would have even taken a hug.

Instead, she stood up and walked out into the hall, crying.

It was for her, Marlowe told himself. I did it for Caiti.

Still, he had begun to feel scared. He did not know who he was. He did not want to know what he was capable of.

Marlowe's healer arrived a quarter of an hour later. "Healer Driscoll," he said, holding out a hand to shake Marlowe's. His grip was firm.

"Hi," said Marlowe, unsure whether he needed to introduce himself or not.

"As you're of age," he said, "we can speak alone if you'd prefer. Or I can get your parents. They're waiting in the hallway."

"They can come in," he said. He shut his eyes. He did not want to look at his mother anymore. He didn't want her to know how much she had scared him. It had hurt, seeing her cry. He did not regret his decision. He did not want anyone else to make him feel he should.

When they were all assembled, Marlowe carefully looking only at the healer, a kind-faced man with very light eyes, Healer Driscoll began to explain. "Now, I understand your condition is not a surprise to you, which is excellent. However, I do regret to say, as I'm sure you know, that there is no cure, at this point in time, for lycanthropy. Naturally, we've sealed the wound with powdered silver and dittany. It looks to be nearly healed already, so it shouldn't give you any more trouble, though it will likely scar. What I want to discuss, is your future."

He did not stop to ask if Marlowe had questions, or to confirm that he was following.

"As you can imagine, going back to Hogwarts would certainly be a great risk-"

Marlowe could not help interrupting him. "I've got to go back to Hogwarts," he said. "I've almost finished. I've got- I've got N.E.W.T.'s."

"Which I'm sure," said Healer Driscoll, "you will excel at. You'll stay here with us for a month, of course."

"A month?" Marlowe interrupted again, sitting up quickly. The healer looked at him in such a way that made it perfectly clear letting Marlowe rise was against his better judgment. "I can't stay here a whole month. I've got Quidditch. There's a game in two weeks. There are scouts coming." His heart had started to beat very fast, not at the thought of missing a quidditch game, but at the thought of potentially never playing Quidditch again. Would the pro teams still want him now? He had never heard of a werewolf player before.

"Unfortunately, it is standard protocol to keep newly infected lycanthropic victims in hospital care for a full month to help ease the psychological transition, as well as to ensure that your first full moon happens in a safe and controlled environment."

Marlowe felt very ill all of the sudden. He clenched his teeth shut and took a deep breath through his nose. He did not want to think about transforming, literally losing his mind, forgetting himself, being capable of really hurting someone, of passing this on. His mother had let out an involuntary noise at these words too, and finally, finally, he looked at her. He felt clammy and cold, but sweat was starting to bead around his forehead. 

His father took his mother's hand, drawing small circles with his thumb. Marlowe allowed himself a childish wish that one of them would hold his hand instead. Neither of them seemed to have noticed how sick he suddenly felt.

And still, Healer Driscoll plowed on.

"Now if you do plan to return to school, we'll have to start making the arrangements straightaway, as there will be a fair amount of preparation on their end, for safety. Most importantly, you would not be allowed to return if we cannot find someone capable of brewing the Wolfsbane Potion for you. I'm sure the potions master at Hogwarts would be up to the job, but as we don't know that for sure, we should not count on it just yet. We'll also need to prepare a place for you to go at the full moon, just in case. There is, of course, a place already in existence from a past student, however, it's been out of use so long, I think it will take some fixing up."

Marlowe wished he would stop talking about the full moon. He could not stop picturing it the night before, bright and beautiful, maybe the last time he would see it that way. He felt a pressure building in the back of his throat and the roof of his mouth. "Mum," he said," talking right over the healer, who had continued to prattle on about other options, besides returning to school if it proved impossible. Marlowe did not want to hear it.

"I'm sorry," she said to the healer. "Can we just have a few minutes?"

"Of course," he said. He turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. It clicked loudly and then Marlowe began to cry for the first time. He tried to hold back. He did not want to cry in front of his dad.

He just wanted someone to hug him, but still his mother remained where she sat.

"Mum," he said again, more urgency in his tone this time. She chewed her lip and watched him, but did not come any closer. "I need you," he said slowly, "to not be scared of me." His voice shook as he struggled to keep the tears in. He sniffed loudly. "Because, I'm scared of me. And that's enough."

Finally, she stood, going to sit on the edge of his bed, and pulled him into her arms.

Marlowe looked at his dad over his mom's shoulder.

"We're not," said his father. "I'm proud of you."

Marlowe managed to smile a little bit, just for a second. He knew his dad was proud of him - proud of his grades and his quidditch captaincy and of him as a son in general. But he wasn't the sort to say it.

Marlowe looked like his dad. He'd inherited his dark, almond eyes and his unruly curls, even his height. But he was much more like his mother: bookish, a little more sensitive than he liked to let on, arrogant and prideful, and a natural born comedian. His dad had been a Gryffindor. Jumping in front of a werewolf to save someone else was maybe the most Gryffindor thing Marlowe had ever done.

"Blind bravery," he said. Marlowe had heard this a thousand times. Blind bravery. You run into the situation you should run out of. Not because it's not stupid to do it, not because you won't get hurt, but because you care. And there are things more important than safety.

Marlowe let go of his mom and sank back down into the bed. He was starting to understand why no one seemed to want him to sit up. Even supported, he had begun to feel a little woozy. His dad came to sit on the other side of the bed. He ruffled Marlowe's hair.

Marlowe was quick to smooth it back down again.

"Must be some girl," he said.

For the second time, Marlowe managed a very small smile. "She is."

---

Sean and Evelyn sat in the Great Hall, as far from everyone else as possible. Sean had not slept in his room the night before. With Marlowe missing, it felt like a crime scene. Instead, he and Evelyn had pushed together two couches and she had brought her comforter and pillows downstairs. He had only gone up this morning to change because she had told him he was being ridiculous. It wasn't as though Marlowe was dead, and anyway, he couldn't avoid it forever.

Sean was infuriated that Evelyn could still read the paper that morning. He couldn't imagine getting through a sentence. He could barely eat. He couldn't stop thinking about Caiti. He'd gone to the hospital wing first thing that morning to check on her, but the nurse said she'd already left. He was sure she would not have gone back to the common room and she definitely hadn't come to eat.

"Sean, look at this," said Evelyn.

It was the first time she had spoken since the paper had arrived. She handed him the Daily Prophet, not yet opened past the cover page.

R.W.W. MINISTRY OFFICIAL RESIGNS

Early this morning, Mr. Robert Fenwick, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic resigned from his post suddenly. Fenwick, a registered werewolf, was an instrumental part of the establishment of laws protecting victims of lycanthropy in the workplace.

Fenwick resigned due to an incident that took place following the second task of the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts this Saturday (see pg. 3 for details). Though he assured the Prophet that he took the Wolfsbane potion, as directed, when Fenwick transformed that evening, he was, body and mind, a werewolf. Fenwick was found attacking two students heading back to school after the task finished.

Both students were reported alive. One remains whole and healthy; the other was bitten and has been transported to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Their identities will not be released to the public.

When interviewed on his decision to abandon his position, Fenwick was honest and open. "I was infected over twenty years ago and I have never once bitten someone until this weekend. It was, undoubtedly the worst experience of my life, to wake up and to know what I had done. I cannot remain in a position of authority until I have discovered a better way to ensure I am no danger to the people around me."

Our reporters asked Fenwick why he was at the task at all, knowing it was a full moon that night. "I left early," he explained. "I had taken my potion earlier, and I had planned a safe place to go, but I never made it there. I never thought anything could happen. The other judges discussed it with me, and we all agreed it would be safe. A thousand times I have taken that potion, prepared exactly the same way each time. Not once has this happened. "

Of the potion itself, Mr. Fenwick suspects foul play, though he has yet to present any such evidence. The matter is being investigated thoroughly. In the meantime, Fenwick continues to declare support for the laws he helped establish which allow werewolves to work and associate regularly with uninfected wizards. "This cannot be a setback for people like me. It cannot. Further oppression to an already oppressed people will only cause dissent and subsequent danger."

Fenwick's successor at the ministry is yet to be determined.

"He was gone when the task finished," said Sean, putting down the paper. "I should've known it was him. I should've..." But he did not know what he should've done. What would knowing have changed? It was done by the time he arrived.

"How could you have known, Sean? You were thinking about people you love. Of course you wouldn't have been riddling it all out." Evelyn folded the paper up and put it in her bag.

"Well, that was the first task wasn't it? Riddling stuff out."

"Sean," said Evelyn. "It's not your fault."

"I never said it was," he snapped.

"So quit acting like you need to feel sorry for yourself, alright? I know it sucks. But think about how Caiti feels. You have nothing to complain about in comparison."

Sean opened his mouth to argue, but Evelyn cut him off.

"No, Sean. I'm not exaggerating. He did this for her. And she didn't ask for it. Just think about how that would feel. What if I had done that for you?"

"Don't," said Sean slowly, "ever do something like that for me."

Evelyn smiled a wry smile and gave his knee a little squeeze.