An educational experience PV Arkady

The full moon at the end of May came and went. He wished he could say it did so without incident, but that would be so far from the truth the word lie would not even begin to cover it. He knew he had taken it too far. Even while in the middle of it an inner voice had been screaming how it was wrong. But as usual he had tuned it out. Turned out, this was one of the many times he should not have done so. Why did @Dylan Astor have to be so annoying anyways? He couldn’t quite remember how the asshole had found out that he was a werewolf, but it hardly mattered. Once he knew, he just wouldn’t stop asking questions. It was fine, at least at first. Annoying to be sure, and invasive. But he had kept his patience surprisingly long. That was until he had none left and in a strike of what he believed to be genius offered the second year a close-up look at the beast he was so curious about.

If it had been any other day of the lunar cycle he probably would have thought better of it within a couple of days and the situation never would have happened. Sadly for all parties involved it was the day of transformation, and Harvey was as moody as ever. He never looked forwards to the transformation, but it was as if his entire body had come to dread it without asking his permission. His limbs ached. Wether it was actual pain or simply imagined he did not know. It hardly mattered. It made him grumpy. Not that anyone would ever call the boy a ray of sunshine to begin with, but around the full moon his mood always worsened. Everything lost humor, and what was left was simply cutting words and brutal shoves.

What he still failed to put into words was exactly how he had managed to smuggle that stupid idiot in. It was a forbidden area, and not lightly guarded either. Nevertheless they had managed it. They stuck to themselves as the afternoon dragged on, Harvey forever trying to keep his temper in check in order to give Dylan the scare of his life. The night came dragging, the agony began burning through his body. He had no way of knowing how long it took, or what the time was when he stood there in his gaunt form. It seemed irrelevant. Communicating was tricky, but he managed through gestures and nods. Luring him in had been easier than pickpocketing tourists. Astor had stepped right up, commenting on whatever it was he found the most fascinating. That was when Harvey had pounced on him and bared his teeth. That was as far as he had planned to go. He knew it would be too far already, but he couldn’t help himself. Lowering his snout, he closed in on the idiots throat with canines dripping with saliva. He didn’t know exactly what he had planned, or when he would stop. He was just so tired of the invasive questions. Next thing he knew, before the baboon got a proper taste of what he could dish out, he was blasted across the space. A member of staff had discovered the scene, broke it up the best they knew how and got the whimp to safety.

He had raged for most of that night. Angry over not being able to do as he wanted, frustrated over his lot in life, creeping worry for the consequences he knew would come once the sun rose, but most of all scared beyond his mind by what he had done. What could have happened if no one intervened. The space was normally more than big enough to keep him content through the night. This night however, he got more than a couple new scratches and cuts from clawing like a maniac at anything within reach. When the moon finally left its place in the sky in favor of dawn, he was exhausted. He had expected a full quadrant of aurors or other ministry officials showing up and marching him off school grounds. Instead, he could barely remember anything at all. That is, until he woke up in his bed a day later. A tray containing food was placed next to him, as well as a note stating he was expected in the headmaster’s office later in the day.

Groggy from sleep, more than a little thirsty and having no appetite for food, the hours passed somehow. Leaving it a bit closer to two pm than he probably should have, he got dressed and found his way. Pausing outside the door, he took a moment to drag a hand through his golden locks and throw a glance at his clothes. He had gone with the uniform, it seemed like the smartest choice. It was even buttoned correctly for once. Sadly, it somehow still looked a bit tattered. Not much he could do about that now, nor about the dark patches beneath his eyes. His body felt stiff, like it always did within a few days after the transformation. Somehow he forgot every time just how horrible it felt.

Raising a fist he paused again. It was not the first time he had been summoned to this office, though it would be the first time he was summoned by Headmaster Piecyk. What sort of name was that anyways? He knew it was Eastern European, that much was clear. The possibility of it being Russian had made it all too easy to instantly dislike the man. The mixed accent helped infuriatingly little in clearing it up, not that he had vivid enough memories of a russian accent to be able to spot it from a stranger. The wild rumor of what he had done to his predecessor only acted as kindling. Not that Harvey believed it of course. He had seen the new headmaster, he didn’t look like much of anything. But it gave students something to gossip about, and Harvey willingly contributed. A small part of him wanted to throw on a lazy smile and burst through the door. It was far from a good idea on a good day, let alone today. Straightening out a bit despite the tiredness, dread, and suspicion set in his bones, he let the fist fall. Three knocks and he waited.

The office looked to him like it was decorated by the most indecisive person on planet earth. The mess and clutter of headmaster Dolus had been cleared away, and in its place was art, calculations and a collection of furniture he had no trouble thinking up quips about. The bookshelves got a long look, as did the collection of alcoholic beverages. Perhaps if he survived this meeting and sat like a good boy while he got yelled at or whatever the headmaster had in mind, he could steal one? It would make for an easy way to make a bit of cash, selling it to the upper years. The blackboard was next up, and he narrowed his eyes. If he had paid the slightest bit of attention it would perhaps not have come as a surprise to him that the new headmaster was a researcher. It caught him more off guard than he’d like to admit. Somehow, it didn’t fit with the man he thought he had such an accurate image of. A man who would rather sit, hold hands, and sing campfire songs than anything else. An adult who thought he was hip enough to keep up with the teenagers he was responsible for. He suddenly itched to walk closer and study the writings, but his feet remained planted as if glued to the floor. He shoved the thought away as his gaze finally landed on the Professor. He fought the automatic wrinkling of the nose and careless smirk his face stretched into and put up his best attempt of stiff politeness. «You wanted to see me, Headmaster Piecyk?» He hadn’t intended it, he could have sworn to that. His accent was broad on any given day, with the classic southern drawl. What he had not intended was to broaden his speech. A bit of vowel shifting and a syllable dropping out in ‘headmaster’ he wondered if it was even possible to interpret it. Oh how he wished he could just skip this part. He was never good at sucking up. Years of him interacting with them, it seldom led to anything but the worst from every adult and person of authority he interacted with. Of course Harvey later became just as much to blame, by making himself a problem that couldn’t be ignored. Yet the distrust and dread always gathered in his stomach like a ton of bricks.

The thought of possibly gaining just a tiny bit of leeway from switching to Russian entered his mind and was stomped away in the same moment. He was still a fluent reader, but had not spoken the language in years. First because he felt abandoned. Then later because knowing several languages did not exactly match the vibe he wanted to portray to the rest of the world. Now it was just… not an option. Waiting the minute or so it took to be greeted, he rolled his shoulders and found himself in a sudden need to do something with his hands. It wasn’t like he could just clasp his hands behind his back either. Only idiots in the army did that. So he resorted to shoving his hands in his pockets. It was better to hide them, concealing any potential trembling from nerves or whatever else. He regretted the choice soon after, but he deemed it too late to change. Hopefully if he acted accurately ashamed and scolded in a minute, this would get over and done quicker.