Despite James' attempt to mask his shock, Ted saw it on his face and nodded. "Yeah, quite a secret, that was. Your dad told me the whole story himself a few years back, when I was old enough to understand it. Grandmum never talks about it at all, even now. I think she's afraid. Not so much of what was, but… well, what could be."

        James was a little afraid to ask. "What could be, Ted?"

Ted shrugged. "You know how it is with werewolves. There're only two ways to become one. You can get bitten by one or you can be born of one. Of course, nobody really knows exactly what happens when only your mum or dad is a werewolf. Your dad said that my dad was pretty upset when he found out Mum was going to have a baby. He was scared, see? He didn't want the kid to be like him, to grow up an outcast, cursed and hated. He thought he never should've even married my mum, because she wanted babies, but he was afraid to pass on the curse to them. Well, when I was born, I guess everybody breathed a big sigh of relief. I was normal. I got my mum's Metamorphmagus thing, even. They tell me I was always changing my hair color as a baby. Got no end of laughs about that, Grandmum says. I can still do it today, and a few other things, too. I usually don't, though. Once you get known for stuff like that, it's hard to be known for much else, if you know what I mean. So I guess Dad died feeling a bit better about having me, then. He died knowing I was normal, more or less. I'm glad of that." Ted was staring out the window again. He took a deep breath, and then looked back at James. "Harry told me how your Grandfather James, Sirius Black, and Pettigrew used to run with my dad when he changed, how they'd change into animal forms and accompany him around the countryside under the full moon, protecting him from the world and the world from him. I even started thinking it was all sort of adventurous and romantic, like those dopey Muggles who read those werewolf stories where the werewolves are all handsome and seductive and mysterious. I started almost wishing I had got the werewolf thing after all. And then…" Ted stopped and seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment. He lowered his voice and went on. "Well, the thing is, nobody really knows how all this werewolf stuff works, do they? I never gave it a second thought. But then, last year… last year, I started having insomnia. No big deal, right? Except it wasn't any normal insomnia. I couldn't sleep, but not because I wasn't tired, exactly. I was… I was…" He stopped again and leaned back in his chair, staring hard at the wall by the window.

        "Hey," James said, feeling nervous and embarrassed, although he didn't quite know why, "you don't have to tell me. Forget it. No problem."

        "No," Ted said, returning his gaze to James, "I do need to tell you. As much for me as for you. Because I haven't told anybody else yet, not even Grandmum. I think if I don't tell somebody, I'll go nutters. See, I couldn't sleep because I was so hungry. I was starved! I lay there in bed the first time it happened, telling myself that this was just crazy. I'd had a nice big dinner and everything, just like normal. But no matter what I told myself, my stomach just kept telling me it wanted food. And not just anything. It wanted meat. Raw meat. Fresh-off-the-bone meat. You see what I'm getting at?"

James understood. "It was…," he began, and then had to clear his throat. "It was a full moon?"

        Ted nodded grimly, slowly. "Eventually, I got to sleep. But since then, it's gotten worse. By the end of last school year, I finally started sneaking down to the kitchens below the Great Hall, where all the elves work. They have a big meat locker down there. I started to… well, you know. I ate. It tends to be a bit of a mess." Ted shuddered, and then seemed to shrug it off. "Anyway, the point is, obviously I didn't completely skip the whole werewolf thing. My dad gave me his own shadow to live in, didn't he? I don't blame him for it. For all I know, this is the worst it'll ever get. And this isn't all that bad. Helps me bulk up for Quidditch season, at least. But… it's scary, a little. I don't know how to manage it yet. And I'm afraid to tell anyone about it. People…" Ted swallowed and looked hard at James. "People don't respond well to werewolves."

James didn't know whether to agree with that or not. Not because it was untrue, but because he wasn't sure Ted needed any more affirmation of it. "My dad could help you, I bet," James said. "And me, too. I'm not afraid of you, Ted, even if you are a werewolf. I've known you my whole life. Maybe we could, you know, work it out like your dad and his mates did. He had his James Potter to help him, and you have yours."

        Ted smiled, and it was a huge, genuine smile. "You're a brick, James. I'd hate to have to eat you. Learn how to turn yourself into a giant dog, like Sirius did, and maybe being a werewolf wouldn't be so bad after all, with you trotting along next to me. But I almost forgot why I brought this up at all." Ted leaned forward again, his eyes serious. "You have the shadow of your dad to grow up in, just like me. But I can't choose whether I'm like my dad or not. You can. It's not a curse, James. Your dad's a great man. Pick the bits of who he is that are worth being like, and be like them, if you want. The other parts, well, that's your choice, isn't it? Take it or leave it. Those are the places where you can choose to be even better. Your dad didn't much ask for help, did he? But that's not because he didn't need it. The fact that you asked for help doesn't tell me you're worse than him. It tells me you learned something he never learned. That's you being you, not just a copy of your dad. I think that's pretty cool, if you ask me. And not just because it means I get to help pull a fast one on Tabitha Corsica."

        James was speechless. He simply stared at Ted, unsure what to feel or think, unsure if what Ted was saying was true or not. He knew only that it surprised him and humbled him, in a good way, to hear Ted say what he had. Ted closed the gigantic book in front of him with a loud clunk.

        "Come on," he said, standing and gathering the books together. "Help me get these to the common room so Petra can look them over before the match. She's going to have to help me get this right or we're doomed for sure. Dinner is in an hour, and after that, we're going to be pretty preoccupied for the rest of the night, if you know what I mean."

The afternoon of the last Quidditch match of the season was cool and misty, covered with a veil of restless, grey clouds. Silent and unusually somber, the Gremlins trooped through the tunnel behind the statue of St. Lokimagus the Perpetually Productive. When they reached the steps that led up to the interior of the equipment shed, Ted slowed and tiptoed. By now, Ridcully had probably already retrieved the Quidditch trunk from the shed, but it didn't hurt to be careful. Ted peered around the cramped space, saw only some dusty shelves and a few broken brooms, and then beckoned the rest to follow him up.

        "It's all clear. We should be safe in here, now that Ridcully's been and gone. He's the only one that uses the shed."

        Ralph climbed the steps and looked cautiously around. James remembered that Ralph hadn't been along the night he and the Gremlins had used this secret tunnel to go raise the Wocket. "It's a magic tunnel. It only works one way," he whispered to Ralph. "We can get back through it because it's the way we came, but anybody else would just find the inside of the equipment shed."