Fenrir frowned a little at that. He was at Hogwarts. Of course he wasn't going to be allowed to stay. The Headmaster wasn't going to let a werewolf stay on the grounds, let alone in the castle. Though what the hell did she mean by the castle brought him here? He'd just screwed up his own apparition, right? Not that he actually remembered apparating but he had been pretty upset so it could have happened.
His frown deepened as she kept talking and he began to think she was crazy. Except... he hadn't seen any kids or teachers running around and it might be early but he remembered having gotten up this early to go for a run when he'd played Quidditch. Their captain had wanted them all be fit and ready to go.
"It was my birthday," he said almost too quietly to hear then he shook his head and spoke a bit louder. "It was April 14, 1964. I'd just been at my parents' house in Devon, getting the door slammed in my face. Again."
He sighed and his shoulders slumped when she identified him as a werewolf then he blinked and just stared at her. "Another werewolf? A potion? What the hell are you talking about? Fuck."
He ran a hand down his face, grimacing as his hand scraped over the couple of days worth of stubble he was sporting. He'd had to do a runner from the rooming house he'd been staying in after he'd run out of money. He'd been stealing stuff since then, which he wasn't proud of but a man had to eat, right? And he tried to only steal from well-off people. They could afford to replace what he took.
"I don't understand," he said quietly. "How could everyone die?" He paused and then ventured hopefully, "Can I really stay? In the castle?"