The last Defence Against the Dark Arts class of Kyle's first year had covered werewolves, so he was no stranger to the creature.
It looked like a wolf but could stand upright, with a slightly shorter muzzle, gray fur covering its body, and sharp, hook-like claws on its front paws. The creature in front of him was unmistakably a werewolf. But weren’t they only supposed to transform during a full moon?
What was this, then… a daytime werewolf?
Kyle had no time to ponder further. He raised his arm, and his wand slipped smoothly from his sleeve into his hand.
Everything he’d learned about werewolves emphasized one common trait: their minds were a mess; they had no reason, attacking anything that crossed their path. The werewolf before him was no exception. Its gaze was locked on Kyle, eyes brimming with cruelty and bloodlust.
There was nothing he could do to avoid it; he was the closest target. The werewolf bared its teeth, a row of sharp fangs at least two inches long. Milky saliva slowly dripped from between the teeth, splattering onto the brownish-red floor.
As the werewolf lunged, Kyle was quicker, reciting the spell first.
With a dull thud, the werewolf lost its footing, tumbling sideways uncontrollably.
Thanks to Professor Oren, who had thoroughly explained werewolf behavior in their last class, Kyle knew what to do. According to Oren, werewolves typically attacked by pouncing, a behavior that made them vulnerable if they lost traction. A softened floor worked perfectly to trip them up.
Although the werewolf quickly scrambled to its feet, that brief pause was all Kyle needed. He couldn’t risk retreating into Hagrid’s room; there wasn’t enough time, and turning his back to open the door would expose him to attack.
Without hesitation, Kyle took two quick steps back to create more distance, keeping his wand at the ready. The floor in front of him began to rise, forming a row of stone cones, each only a few inches high but sharp and solid. Even the werewolf’s thick hide would feel the sting if it stepped on them.
The creature tried to leap over the barrier—
Just then, a door further down the hallway burst open, and Hagrid’s massive form appeared. He’d rushed out upon hearing the ruckus. He froze for a split second when he saw the werewolf, but then his eyes landed on Kyle, who was only a few feet away.
Hagrid’s face flushed red with fury.
“You filthy beast, attacking a young wizard, will you?”
With a roar, he ripped the door off its hinges and hurled it like a discus.
Hagrid’s aim was true; the door struck the werewolf with a satisfying crash, making it howl in pain. Even Kyle winced at the impact, sure he’d heard bones snap.
Though the werewolf was down, its primal survival instincts kicked in, and it glanced at Hagrid in terror before limping off down the corridor.
Kyle’s eyes narrowed as he followed the creature’s path and shouted, “Hagrid, there are stairs down that way—it can’t be allowed to escape!”
“I know!” Hagrid called, hurrying after the creature.
But he was too slow. The tight hospital gown he wore wrapped around him like bandages, making it nearly impossible for him to move quickly, let alone keep pace with a fleeing werewolf.
Kyle easily overtook him.
“Kyle, come back!” Hagrid called, ripping at the restrictive gown as he ran. “Damn it, where are the St. Mungo’s staff when you need them!”
Meanwhile, as Kyle pursued the werewolf down the hallway, a gnawing unease crept over him. This was a werewolf, after all—and if it managed to bite him, he could pretty much say goodbye to Hogwarts forever. Unlike Lupin’s situation, where secrecy was carefully maintained, here at St. Mungo's, there were too many people around. If he got infected, hiding it would be impossible.
But he couldn't just stand by and watch the creature reach the ground floor, where it could attack the unsuspecting.
At least Hagrid’s right behind me, Kyle reassured himself, feeling a bit steadier as he heard Hagrid’s heavy footsteps trailing close behind.
The werewolf, now nearing the end of the corridor, started to slow down. Kyle seized the moment, raising his wand.
Two Charms struck the werewolf in quick succession. It staggered before slamming against the wall behind it.
Kyle looked over his shoulder and saw Professor Kettleburn lying on his side in the corridor, wand in his remaining hand. He’d just cast the Knockback Jinx.
“What are you... doing?”
A young voice cut through the tension.
Kyle spun around to see a round-faced boy standing nervously at the top of the stairs, clutching a lunchbox. His wide, terrified eyes were fixed on them.
Both Kyle and the werewolf noticed the boy’s sudden appearance. The werewolf’s eyes glinted with fresh bloodlust, and it struggled to leap at the boy.
The werewolf, barely upright, stumbled and fell again. Kyle then waved his wand, transfiguring an iron frame from the corridor into a sharp spear. He threw it at the creature with all his strength.
The spear only managed to pierce the werewolf’s skin lightly; it didn’t go deep. Kyle had anticipated this, though, and without missing a beat, he cast another spell.
As if driving in a nail, the spear, now powered by the Knockback Jinx, plunged deeper into the werewolf’s chest, pinning it to the floor.
“Kyle, you need to get out of here… Ugh!”
Hagrid finally caught up, taking in the scene. Seeing the werewolf immobilized, he silently lowered his raised arm. It looked like he wouldn’t be needed after all.
“Could you please go get someone from the hospital?” Kyle called to the boy. “Tell them there’s an out-of-control werewolf on the second floor.”
The boy, pale and frozen from shock, stared blankly at the scene. It took Kyle raising his voice twice more before the boy finally snapped to attention.
“O-okay… okay…” He cast one last, fearful glance at Kyle before dashing downstairs as fast as he could.
“Poor kid; he’s probably scared stiff,” Hagrid muttered beside him.
“Nothing we can do about it,” Kyle replied with a shrug. “Better he’s scared than bitten and turned into a werewolf.”
By now, Professor Kettleburn had managed to strap on his prosthetic leg and limped over to join them.
“I’m sorry, boy. I was careless,” he said regretfully. “I should’ve put up an extra Charm.”
“It’s not your fault, Professor,” Kyle replied, shaking his head. The werewolf had been weak already; it was the sudden appearance of the boy that triggered its final, desperate attack. And from where Professor Kettleburn had been lying, he wouldn’t have seen the boy coming around the corner.