Chapter 1

The usual hubbub surrounding the boarding of the train had finally died down. The steam locomotive was now well on its way out of London, storming through the English countryside. Scenes of fields flashed by the windows as the magical tracks wound their way around Muggle towns and villages, avoiding curious eyes.

Ethan Hawkehurst sat alone in his compartment, staring out at the blur of green and gold, his mind far from the scenery. The last year had turned his life upside down, over and over again. Now, as he entered his fifth year at Hogwarts, the excitement he once felt about returning to the school was gone, replaced by a knot of anxiety he couldn’t shake.

He remembered his first year with a pang of nostalgia—how he'd bounced with excitement at the prospect of learning magic, eager to become a fully-fledged wizard. Back then, he had been fascinated by the magical world his father, a researcher for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, had shown him. His mother, a skilled Healer at St. Mungo’s, always seemed to bring home stories of fascinating cases. Magic had been an adventure.

But now, as the train rattled through the countryside, all of that felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.

He clenched his fists, his knuckles white as he stared out the window. He held a secret inside him—a dark truth he had spent the last year desperately hiding from everyone at Hogwarts. He'd managed to keep it buried—just barely—but the thought of doing it all again this year twisted his stomach into knots.

Last summer, just before his fourth year, the bite had changed everything.

His family had been on holiday in the Scottish Highlands, introducing his younger sister, Isla, to the wizarding world she was about to join. She’d been so excited to start her first year at Hogwarts. After a visit to Hogsmeade, they’d travelled to a more remote area, so his father could do some research for the Ministry.

Ethan had wandered off from his family at dusk, the light of the moon washing over the rolling hills. The air had been sharp, filled with the scent of grass and earth, and he’d been lost in the beauty of the landscape—until something knocked him to the ground. His body hit the rough terrain hard, the wind knocked from his lungs, and before he could even shout, pain exploded through his shoulder.

Teeth. The bite tore into his flesh, hot blood soaking through his clothes as he screamed. The agony was too much—his vision blurred, his senses swirled, and then everything went black.

When he woke, he was in one of the wards at St. Mungo’s, his parents and sister standing over him, faces pale with worry. He hadn’t remembered much of the attack, but the Healers’ grim expressions and his father’s silence had told him everything he needed to know. He had been bitten by a werewolf.

He had cried himself to sleep that night, wishing he could go back and change everything. His parents had tried to comfort him, but he could see the pain in their eyes—the helplessness.

A month later, on the night of the full moon, their worst fears were confirmed.

Now, the same worry gnawed at him every day. Relationships with werewolves might have improved since the last Wizarding War, but suspicion still lingered. Some werewolves still followed in the footsteps of Voldemort’s ally, Fenrir Greyback, and those like Ethan—trying to live quietly—suffered for it.

The Ministry still kept a Werewolf Registry, and Ethan’s father had kept his name off it—a decision that weighed heavily on both of them. If anyone found out, the stigma would be unbearable, not just for him, but for his entire family.

Arrangements had been made at school, of course. He’d sneak away each month to the Shrieking Shack, where the ancient stone walls could contain him. Wolfsbane Potion had been provided when available, allowing him to keep his mind through the transformation. But the potion wasn’t always guaranteed. Twice last year, the Wolfsbane had run out, and the full, feral transformation had taken over.

The Shrieking Shack had become the centre of rumours again. Students whispered about werewolves, citing the infamous Remus Lupin, but most were too frightened to investigate. Professor McGonagall had even asked Professor Flitwick to enchant the shack to produce eerie sounds even when there wasn’t a full moon, ensuring it remained a place to avoid.

But it didn’t make Ethan feel any safer. Every month, the same fear gripped him—what if someone found out? What if he hurt someone?

The hardest part of it all was lying to his friends. Every month, Ethan found himself pulling away from them, keeping his distance. He hated it. But the thought of them finding out terrified him more than anything. The stigma, the whispers, the fear—it would change everything. His friendships would never be the same, and even his family’s reputation, despite his mother’s work at St. Mungo’s, would suffer.

The compartment door slid open, pulling Ethan from his thoughts. He blinked and turned his head to see Lena Winslow, already buried in a thick copy of Advanced Potions as she entered.

"Slughorn's got us brewing Draught of Living Death in the first week," Lena muttered without looking up, sliding into the seat across from him. "I'm going to need to memorise half of this book to make it through."

Ethan managed a small smile, though his thoughts still lingered in the shadows of the past year. “You’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. “You always do.”

Lena finally looked up, her sharp grey eyes narrowing. “Are you all right? You look… exhausted.”

Ethan’s stomach clenched. He could feel the dark circles under his eyes, the telltale signs of sleepless nights leading up to the full moon. He hadn’t even realised how obvious it must have been.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, forcing the words out with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Just… didn’t sleep well last night.”

Lena studied him for a moment, her brow furrowing, but she didn’t press further. She seemed to sense when to leave things alone, though Ethan knew her curiosity was never far beneath the surface.

Before she could say anything else, the compartment door slid open again, this time with far more energy. Zach Halloway barrelled in, grinning widely as he tossed himself onto the seat beside Ethan, nearly spilling his broomstick and bag all over the floor.

“You’re not going to believe this—saw a bloke at Platform 9¾ doing a backflip while Apparating. Absolutely brilliant!”

Ethan chuckled despite himself. Zach’s unflagging enthusiasm was a welcome distraction, even if it didn’t last long.

Zach glanced between them, his green eyes bright with mischief. “You both look like you’re about to collapse. Don’t tell me the year’s already stressing you out and we haven’t even arrived yet.”

“I’m fine,” Ethan said, too quickly. Lena raised an eyebrow, but Zach didn’t seem to notice.

“Right,” Zach said, leaning back, his hands behind his head. “Well, I’m here to tell you, I’m determined to make this year better than last. I’m thinking... midnight broomstick duels, sneaking into Hogsmeade, pranking Filch—”

“Maybe not all at once,” Lena interrupted, rolling her eyes.

Zach just grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Winslow?”

Ethan let their banter wash over him, smiling faintly, though his mind was already wandering back to the heavy weight in his chest. Another year of secrets. Another year of lies.

And the full moon was only a few days away.

***

The journey continued, and the conversation shifted to more trivial topics—what they had done over the summer, which subjects they dreaded, and what part of their fifth year might actually be exciting. It wasn’t long before the subject of O.W.Ls reared its ugly head.

“Ugh, I was trying to put those out of my mind,” Zach groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Can’t we pretend they don’t exist?”

Ethan smiled, a small, genuine one this time. “You’re going to have to face them at some point.”

“I’d rather face a Hungarian Horntail,” Zach muttered, and even Lena couldn’t help but smile.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the sweet trolley, its clattering noise filling the compartment as it passed by. Zach quickly leaned out to grab a few chocolate frogs, tossing one to each of them.

***

Night began to fall, a soft purple spreading across the sky, and they knew it was time to get changed into their robes. Lena excused herself to give the boys some privacy. Ethan changed quickly, his eyes darting to the scars and bruises still faintly visible on his body from the last transformation. Thankfully, Zach kept his back turned, chattering on about something or other, oblivious to the tension running through Ethan's limbs.

Soon enough, they were ready, and Lena returned just as the train began to slow. The familiar sight of Hogsmeade Station came into view, the platform lit by lanterns and alive with the bustle of students eager to return to the castle. Each of them grabbed their bags and made their way off the locomotive and into the crisp Scottish air. The stars twinkled brightly in the clear night sky, and the moon hung above, its thinning shadow doing little to hide the growing orb.

Ethan winced. His stomach churned as he caught sight of the moon. It was so close now, almost full, and he could feel the faint stir of the wolf within him, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting. A low, tense ache formed at the base of his spine, a warning of what was to come. A flash of golden light seemed to pass through his eyes, and he forced himself to look away.

The trio moved with the throng of students towards the carriages that would take them up to the castle. In the distance, Ethan spotted his sister, Isla, walking with her friends. She turned, spotted him, and waved enthusiastically. Ethan waved back, managing a small smile. His heart tightened at the thought of what his transformations had put her through. Isla had always been there for him, desperate to help, but he knew the danger. She couldn’t be near him during those nights, no matter how much she wanted to.

They clambered into a carriage, the Thestrals pulling them beginning their familiar canter towards the castle. Zach launched into a debate about which subject the new professor might be teaching, but Ethan barely listened. His eyes drifted to the inky black water of the lake, his mind wandering back to that night in the Highlands.

It was always there, waiting to ambush him. The chill of the evening air, the feel of grass beneath his fingers, the distant hoot of owls—and then, the wolf. The terrible face, teeth bared, saliva dripping, the sound of his own scream echoing in his ears—

A shriek.

It took a moment for Ethan to realise that the sound had come from him, not from the past. He had shot to his feet, his body trembling, sweat breaking out on his forehead. The carriage bounced slightly as it moved, making it hard to steady himself.

“Ethan?” Lena’s voice was sharp with concern, her grey eyes wide.

He sat down heavily, the tension in his chest too tight to breathe properly. “Sorry,” he muttered, forcing a weak smile. “Bad daydream. Like I said, I’ve not been sleeping much.”

Zach frowned but shrugged it off. “Mate, you need a good night's sleep. Hopefully, the feast will knock you out.”

Ethan nodded, but he couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on him.

They arrived at the castle just as the first stars blinked into the night sky. The sight of Hogwarts, with its warm lights and towering turrets, should have brought him some comfort. It always had before. But now, as they disembarked and made their way towards the Entrance Hall, the looming shape of the castle only deepened the dread curling inside him.

They left their trunks to be carried up to their dormitories and entered the Great Hall. The long tables were already filling up, and the room buzzed with the chatter of students, old and new. As they entered, the trio bid each other goodnight for now, splitting off to their respective house tables—Zach to Gryffindor, Lena to Ravenclaw, and Ethan to Hufflepuff.

Ethan slid into a seat at the Hufflepuff table, trying to lose himself in the familiar surroundings. The golden plates gleamed under the candlelight, and the warmth of the room settled around him, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the cold dread pooling in his gut.

He glanced up at the staff table, his eyes scanning the faces of the professors, looking for the new addition. He spotted a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, dressed in dark, well-tailored robes, seated near Professor McGonagall.

“Must be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” whispered a student next to him.

Ethan wasn’t so sure. There was something in the way the man held himself, an air of mystery and control that sent a shiver down Ethan’s spine.

The Sorting Ceremony began, but Ethan’s mind was far away. He stared down at the table, the noise around him blurring into background chatter. The full moon was only a few days away, and he had no idea if this year would be easier or harder to keep the secret hidden. He had made it to the end of the last year—just.

***

Professor Neville Longbottom was coming to the end of the Sorting Ceremony, and as the last student found their place at their house table, Professor McGonagall rose to her feet.

“Thank you, Professor Longbottom, and welcome, first years, to your home here at Hogwarts. Welcome back as well to all our second- to seventh-years. It is lovely to see you all again. Just a few notices before we begin the feast.”

Her eyes scanned the room, and her usual stern expression softened ever so slightly. “A reminder to all that the Forbidden Forest, by virtue of its name, is forbidden. Any student wishing to put themselves in extreme danger might want to think again.”

There were a few stifled giggles from some of the older students, but Ethan only tightened his grip on the table. McGonagall’s eyes narrowed, and she continued.

“Also, a reminder that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is still out of bounds. Now, to some more positive news, I would like to welcome Professor Gideon Alden,” McGonagall gestured to the man Ethan had spotted earlier. “Professor Alden is joining us as the new Professor of Care of Magical Creatures. We hope he enjoys his time here at Hogwarts. Anyway, enough of me talking. Let the feast… begin.”

With a grand wave of her hands, the golden platters in front of the students filled with food, and the entire hall dug in, filling the room with the clatter of cutlery and lively conversation. Ethan reached for a roasted chicken leg, though his stomach still churned with nerves. He’d thought the anxiety might ruin his appetite, but his body had other ideas. He hadn’t realised how much energy the worry—and the constant mental preparation for the coming full moon—was draining from him.

As he ate, though, a prickling feeling crept over his skin, like the sensation of being watched.

Ethan froze for a second and glanced towards the staff table. Professor Alden was looking his way, his dark eyes studying him with unnerving intensity. There was something in Alden’s expression that made Ethan’s insides twist—a look too probing, too curious, as if the professor were dissecting him from a distance.

Ethan forced himself to look away, returning to his plate, but his appetite had suddenly vanished.

"Strange bloke, isn’t he?" whispered Daniel, a fifth-year Hufflepuff sitting beside him. "Looks like he could be hiding some big secret of his own. Wonder what’s up with him."

Ethan only nodded, his mind racing. Alden seemed like more than just another quirky professor. It felt like the man had seen something in him, something hidden deep under the surface.

Alden had noticed him looking, too. When Ethan stole another glance at the staff table, Alden had already turned back to speak with Professor Hagrid, who was seated a few places away, his usual imposing figure towering over the other teachers. Ethan hadn’t seen Hagrid in quite a while—he had heard Hagrid had stepped down from teaching Care of Magical Creatures and was back to focusing on his groundskeeper duties. Perhaps Alden was his replacement.

But Alden’s stare still lingered in Ethan’s mind, like a weight pressing down on his chest.

***

The feast ended with full stomachs, laughter, and the chatter of students catching up, but Ethan couldn’t shake the unease Alden’s attention had left him with. As the students began filing out of the hall, he caught sight of Lena and Zach across the room, both giving him quick waves. He waved back, managing a weak smile.

Ethan made his way towards the Hufflepuff dormitories with the rest of his house, falling into step with his sister Isla as they walked down the familiar kitchen corridor towards the Hufflepuff Common Room.

“How are you doing?” Isla asked, concern filling her voice. Her eyes were bright, but there was a shadow of worry beneath her usually cheerful demeanour.

“I’ll be okay,” Ethan replied, though his voice was less convincing than he’d hoped. “I think I just need sleep… and then to focus on lessons. I’m not getting good vibes from that new professor though.”

“Alden?” Isla asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, he did seem a bit… off. But then, magical creatures do attract oddballs, don’t they? Just think of Dad.”

Ethan smirked despite himself. Their father had always been a bit eccentric, constantly absorbed in his research and theories about magical creatures. They often teased him for it, but it was a fond kind of teasing—the sort that bonded them closer together. Professor Alden, however, didn’t strike Ethan as “odd” in a charming way. There was something darker about him.

The pair joined the rest of their house in the common room, the cosy warmth of the Hufflepuff basement washing over them like a comforting hug. For a moment, Ethan let himself relax, soaking in the familiar atmosphere. It had always felt safe here, deep underground and away from the rest of the castle.

But as they headed up to their dormitories, the safety felt more like an illusion—one that could be shattered at any moment if his secret ever came out.

“Night,” Isla said softly, giving her brother a quick hug before disappearing into her own dormitory.

“Night,” Ethan replied, the weight of the day finally sinking in.

***

Ethan entered his dormitory to find it empty. His roommates were still downstairs in the common room, chatting with the other Hufflepuffs. This was one of the rare times he was grateful for the solitude. He didn’t have to answer awkward questions or keep up the act.

His trunk had been delivered, and his clothes were already laid out neatly by the furniture surrounding his four-poster bed. Ethan sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling off his shoes and robes. As he changed into his pyjamas, his eyes flickered to the faint scars that still lingered across his arms and legs—reminders of the transformations he could barely control.

His roommates had never questioned his disappearances each month, but that had only been possible because Professor Sprout, the former Head of Hufflepuff, had covered for him. She had explained to his dorm mates early in the year that Ethan was undergoing “medical treatments” due to an accident with one of the magical creatures his father worked with. It had been just vague enough to keep them from prying too much.

At least, he hoped they weren’t prying.

Ethan slipped into bed, the cool sheets soothing against his skin. The bed was soft, the familiar comfort of Hogwarts that usually lulled him into sleep. But tonight, his mind refused to quiet.

Images of Alden’s piercing stare flashed behind his eyes, followed by the ever-looming presence of the full moon. It was only a few days away now. And as much as he wanted to believe this year would be easier than the last, he could feel something stirring in the air.

Something was going to change.

As his eyes finally drifted shut, his last thought was of the wolf lurking just beneath his skin, waiting for its moment to break free.

This is the first Chapter - Chapter 1 - Next