From the Ashes

Who: Gerard and William
When: January 3rd or so?
Where: The library
What: Post-traumatic werewolf disorder

With the students returning, there was slightly more to be done in the library than there had been for the last month. William had put the necessary class texts on hold, placed another literature request with the headmaster, and was re-sizing some of the bookshelves to better suit the needs of the collections they housed.

It still wasn't nearly enough to keep him distracted from thoughts of the past few days.

The sight of movement in the doorway made him tense and move half-behind the nearest shelf before cautiously looking out. It wasn't Z, for which he was grateful - Bob had declared him patched up and released him from the infirmary with nothing more than a few dull aches, but he still had no desire to get into another fight. It was, however, someone nearly as unfortunate. Gerard.

Gerard, the secret werewolf.

Who: Z, Adam, Bob (and Betsy)
When: Very late on December 31
Where: Hospital Wing
What: Z introduces Bob to The Patient

After successfully levitating Adam after Gerard's attack, Z made her way to the Hospital Wing as quickly as possible. She decided to eschew the not-so-secret-passages that would make the trip shorter, but would also increase the odds of Adam getting some kind of unintentional damage from his head bouncing off a wall or something.

"-so I'm sitting with Greenwald and Alexa and it's sort of confusing because she also goes by Alex sometimes? So we've instituted a last names policy thing when it comes to Alexes and Mikes and Nicks, only we're all rather sloshed at this party and it's really hard to pronounce Runion's last name after a certain point and that point is also when "Mark" and "Mike" start sounding alike? So I'm sitting with Alexa and Greenwald, trying to talk to Murray and Runion about...something, and someone was distracting me and somehow this becomes a game of truth or dare? These things happen, and then someone dares Greenwald to snog Mike, but it comes out like Mark or maybe Runion ended up sounding like Ronson? Either way, the only Mark in the room right then is Ronson and that was hilarious because they had a thing neither of them admits to-and you're not listening at all, are you?"

Z'd had to take a flight of stairs that was notorious for shifting direction and she'd ended up one floor above and most of a corridor away from the Hospital Wing. Adam was sliding in and out of consciousness and Z was certain he shouldn't be allowed to pass out entirely so she needed something he could focus on. Stupid stories about her friends obviously weren't doing the trick-singing might?

"What are your thoughts on Queen, Professor? No objections? Excellent. Feel free to sing along then." Z started singing Bohemian Rhapsody (figuring that with Adam in tow and The Events of Which No One Should Ever Speak, it was a better idea than Somebody To Love, which was the only other Queen song she knew most of the lyrics to). She got most of the way through the song when she came the Hospital Wing doors. Z stopped midlyric to rush forward, bang on the door and yell

"Healer Bryar! Professor Lazzara's been hurt!"

Who: Nate, Gerard, William, Jon
When: New Year's Eve
Where: Out on the grounds
What: The hunt

It was freezing outside. Scotland in the dark time between December and January, of course it was. William had a heavy woolen cloak and a warming charm in his winter boots, but even that wasn't enough to cut the cold seeping through his many layers of clothing. He wasn't planning on staying out here long, at least. No more than an hour or two.

Bob's warnings had been frustratingly paradoxical. It would be best to quarantine him away from the students in case anything went wrong, but too dangerous for him to leave the grounds. William had decided on a walk around the outer wall of the castle, footfalls crunching quietly in the snow. It was peaceful out here, and he knew enough charms to avoid frostbite. The moon hung pregnant, full and round in the night sky. He could pick out an abundance of constellations from here, and wished briefly that he'd invited Mikey along for the walk.

It would have been too dangerous, though, if anything went wrong, and too cold, besides. Knowing Mikey, he would have agreed in the spirit of friendship, when he could have been curled up with Spencer in front of a roaring hearth. The potion Gabe had promised to attempt wouldn't be ready for another half-day, at least, so for now William was on his own, walking the grounds outside the castle.

WHO: Adam & Gerard & Z
WHERE: the DADA classroom & surrounding areas
WHAT: SHENANIGANS
WHEN: New Year's Eve (Thursday, Dec. 31)

Adam, being prone to getting into trouble when the mere thought of boredom set in, had spent the day locked up in his office, scribbling away at a myriad of notes and research. He was trying to compile them into something that made sense (he had been for years - he was an extremely unproductive researcher). So if time got away from him, that was totally understandable.

That was why he was running late for a hot date with a hot lady as he tried to stack all the mess scattered around his office and get everything locked up whilst paying attention to personal hygiene (not awful, even though there was a big smear of ink on his cheek) and the state of his clothes (dismal).

He got his jacket caught on the doorknob of his classroom on the way out, and had to stop to untangle, swearing all the while.

Who: Gerard and Bob
Where: Warded containment chamber on the third floor, and then... well. That's the problem, isn't it?
When: 12/31, and the moon is rising
What: See above

It was a boring fucking room. Well, it had to be, because even with the wolfsbane potion, Gerard usually went fucking stir-crazy when the transformation hit, couldn't resist tearing around and biting and clawing and ripping until he'd tired himself out, stopped itching to run. Much more sensible to stay in a barren little room, nothing to destroy in it but himself, he knew that, but knowing it didn't stop the wait from being a total demon-balled dickdrag. Nothing to read, nothing to do, nothing to do. Not even a window to look out of. Just pacing, and more pacing.

He could feel it, the moonrise tugging at his bones and nerves and veins. Hot. Itchy. Fuck, soon now. He reached the east wall and turned again, hands flexing, and then he grimaced and spit to the side, and that was just an extra little jolt of misery, wasn't it, that taste, that fucking taste. He normally took the wolfsbane in a series of shot glasses, let as little touch his tongue as possible, but the taste had really lingered this go-round. Spitting again -- useless, he could still fucking taste it, bitter and cloying -- and then he reached a wall, and turned, stalked in the opposite direction.

Soon soon soon, he could feel it, but it wasn't -- he hit a wall and stopped. It didn't make sense, his skin was usually rippling by now, his spine shifting. It didn't -- he didn't understand, and he was so hungry. Fucking hell, fucking room, fucking walls. Walls walls always walls. He bared his teeth and slammed a fist into the wall -- fucking wall -- and then froze.

Fist. Hands. He had hands. He licked his lips -- lips, not snout, and then slowly smiled, wide and toothy. Well. This was -- this could work. This was convenient, this was sneaky. He didn't do sneaky, because sneaky was not what tearing someone's throat out with your teeth was about, but he'd been locked away for so long, and this -- this was a gift, a chocolate-covered blood-filled cherry just for him, and he was going to take it. He could smell them, the wizards and witches, just out of reach, and oh yes. He looked like a lamb, but he had teeth, and they were going to be sorry for all these fucking walls.

He pondered his options, flexing his wonderful, lovely, opposable fingers, and then looked around himself. There. Door. Locked, locked with bolts and with magic, but he could do this. He was going to figure this out, except then he howled in outrage as his knees came in sharp contact with the floor. Two legs now, two legs. Keep it together, remember how the humans walk and talk and taste, mmm. Taste.

Staggering back upright, he glared at his feet and shook himself until the body felt -- he knew this, yes, he did. His human self knew this, and he would take that and use it, pathetic whiny human knowledge. He shoved at the door, snarled and then shoved again, and again, and harder, with his rage and longing for open spaces and running and teeth and things to tear, and it opened. Swung right open, easy as biting into a bunny.

Gerard stared at the empty corridor for a moment, hardly able to believe it, and then giggled in delight and bounded forth, licking his teeth. This was going to be fantastic.