The early morning after the full moon, before Zel (and other Hogwarts werewolves) get taken back to school

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He ached, everywhere. And he didn’t sleep—couldn’t sleep. Zel never did during a transformation. His dose of wolfsbane hadn’t been quite right, so there were moments (especially toward the end) where he hadn’t been himself. Or maybe he was himself. Zel didn’t know. At the very least, towards the end he didn’t have his ‘human’ mind. He had a few bruises on his shoulder (and a couple of self-inflicted bite marks on his leg), but he came out mostly unscathed, considering that he had been ramming himself against the door (and walls) looking for an escape.

Zel was thankful for the security of the ministry safehouses. Otherwise, someone would have been seriously hurt.
Before the full moon, he had written to his social worker (the one who had overseen his and Emeline’s case earlier this year), wanting to get a meeting together. He had some concerns, to say the least… And no one seemed better to talk to about it than her. Zel could talk to Figaro, Ji Hyun, or Winnie, but that wouldn’t change the situation. Besides, he wasn’t sure how seriously they would be able to take it. And above all, he didn’t want to burden them.

He changed into a fresh pair of clothes and was released from the ministry cell. He thanked the official quietly and made his way to his case worker's floor.

Zel always felt so embarrassed to be there.

When he made it to the werewolf wing, he found her office and knocked on the door—he didn’t see Ms. Ellis anywhere else on the floor, so it was possible she was holed up , doing paperwork.

Still, he needed to talk to her now, in person, before the Hogwarts chaperone took him and Camelia back to school.

It has been a long week that had lead straight into a long night – a night that hadn't ended with the rise of the sun. Brynn Ellis had been many places since the full moon began – safe houses, St. Mungo's, clients' homes -  but she had yet to go home herself. She was starting to wilt a bit, and though she didn't mind putting in the extra hours, her fatigue was beginning to show through. She'd been in the same robes for what felt like an age, her eyes were lined with the dark circles of sleep deprivation, and to say that her curly blonde hair had begun to frizz was an understatement. Her hair had been taken up and down so many times over the past twenty four hours that it had settled into a perpetually fluffy state somewhere in between mad scientist and french poodle, and she hadn't looked in a mirror for long enough to know, nor care. She had to keep reminding herself that she was happy to do this – happy to work herself to exhaustion, to care too much and for too long, to feel as though she wasn't entitled to a bathroom break because there was so much to do. Once a month she could be tired and uncomfortable. Her clients, after all, went through much worse. And if she had been home? She wouldn't have slept a wink anyway. This was more productive. This was better.

There was more to do. There was always more to do. It all – as always – began with documentation. That was the curse of case work, she'd long ago learned. You had to document everything. Every one of her clients was hurting today and instead of sitting with them she was hunched in her cubicle doing paperwork, perpetually reaching for a cup of tea that she'd drained an hour ago, bringing it to her lips, and finding it empty again and again. She felt like Sisyphus.

Thus, a knock on her office door was a welcome sound. Her eyes were beginning to cross! She happily stood up, calling out a friendly, if tired, “Come in!” even as she shuffled around her desk and over to the door.

“Zel!” she grinned warmly and genuinely as she came face to face with the client in her doorway. She was happy to see him, though, as always, she wished the circumstances could be different. “Here, love. Come in, take a seat,” she insisted, stepping back into the room and slipping behind her desk. She wished she'd had a larger office space. Talking to someone from behind a desk always seemed oddly official, and she thought she could do better work if only there was space in there for a sofa. She'd long ago come to realize that she was never going to be the department's first priority, however, so she made do. “How was the transformation?” she asked, looking him over from head to toe like a mother hen. “Are you feeling well?” 

Zel rubbed his eyes, incompletely unaware of how dark the circles under them looked against his gaunt skin. With his albinism, he’d always been fair—but some days his skin simply looked healthier than others.

Brynn opened the door, as welcoming as ever, even if she was busy. Zel appreciated that about her, though he couldn’t help but feel like he was imposing. “Hello Ms. Ellis.” He greeted, before stepping into her office and taking a seat in a rather rickity old thing of a chair.  He was a bit too tall for it, so his legs weren’t comfortable no matter how much he shifted. This was one of the perks of being over six feet tall. Even when he hadn’t been a werewolf, he felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb.

“The transformation was… Ehhhh.” He squinted at the case worker, “It—me—I-…” He cleared his throat, trying to get the thoughts that were jumbled up into his brain to come out in some sort of coherent sentence.

“Right. Th-the transformation. It.” Zel cleared his throat again. “Y’know, it didn’t feel great. But I think we’re starting to figure out the right dosage for me.. F-for the wolfsbane, y’know?” His metabolism was so fast, and he was still growing. A dose that was perfect one month wasn’t the next. It was rumored that there was some giant blood from his father’s side, and Zel wondered if that had anything to do with it.

He remembered that it had been tricky to find the right dose for Emeline in the beginning, too. She required more than most werewolves her age and size. She wasn’t as athletic as Zel was, though, so dosing was usually easier for her than it was for him.

“I…” Zel bit his lip, “Am tired of losing myself. And it's going to be like this for the rest of my life and I don't think I can do it."

Brynn was a  listener – the kind of person who liked asking questions that gave others an opportunity to talk. Sure, she could gush and ramble for ages if she was talking about something that she was passionate about, and her parents had reminded her more than once that the dinner table was, perhaps, not the best place to rant about the pigs working for the WCU, especially if she was going to be ranting mid-chew. In her office, however, she had no trouble sitting and listening to others. She had a patient soul and an open face and nodded as Zel struggled to find words to describe his transformation this month. Lycanthropic transformation bordered on the traumatic, and she wouldn't fault anyone for taking their time processing it, particularly those who she knew to be slightly less fleet of tongue as it was. When he'd finished his explanation, she nodded gently, running a hand through her mussed hair. “Do you think it was better this month or better last month?” she asked him curiously, wanting to make a note of it so that she could confer with the apothecary at the dispensary. Access to wolfsbane was usually a bigger issue than dosing it, for the most part, but Zel the gentle giant was a special case. “I want to make sure you're as comfortable as possible, so be as honest as you can. We'll get it sorted.”

When Brynn made promises, she liked to deliver. She took pride in being the sort of person who always came through, even when it meant going above and beyond to the point in which she wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't doing somebody else's job. In this case, however, she was an advocate – which was even more significant because, for as long as he was in school, Zel was a child. He was a child who didn't have the sort of family support he deserved. She planned to do whatever she could to compensate for that.

Of course, it was hard to be the rock that she wanted to be when her clients said such heartbreaking things. She didn't think that his comment about 'losing himself' was entirely about the wolfsbane potion, either. “This is not easy,” she told him, validating his feelings, “It is absolutely so very, very hard.” She sighed softly through her nostrils. “Have things felt different recently?” she asked, giving him space to talk, “Tell me more.” 

“Er, I think it was worse this month.” Zel responded, “Better last month, but worse the month before…”  He rubbed his leg self-consciously, though the self-inflicted wounds from his transformation were hidden by clothes. It was common for werewolves, especially when there was a mistake in the dosage, or they didn’t have wolfsbane at all.  It would heal soon enough, but changing in front of his dormmates would be uncomfortable. Zel doubted that they would notice, but what if?

At least Brynn said that she’d get it sorted, and he believed that she would try.

“I—“ She wanted to hear more about what he was feeling, wanted him to elaborate.

He took a deep, shaky breath. Zel’s words felt like lead in his throat.

“I-I’m angry. All the time.” He said. Or at least it felt like all the time—when it was close to the full moon was when it was at it’s worst. “And that’s not me. But it is. But I don’t want it to be this way. I feel out of control. I don’t have control over anything.” He cleared his throat, “I can't protect my family or make them happy. My stepdad doesn't want me or my siblings to live there anymore."

Now Zora was living with Garrett. She was going to be a first year when school started up again. He, Lucas, and Emeric would have to go there. And little Nettie was to be with Rhys. She was their half sister, and Rhys was her biological father so he had no qualms about keeping her around. It was his soon-to-be-ex-wife's kids that he had a problem with supporting.

Brynn nodded as Zel explained just where this month's transformation ranked compared to others, at least in terms of how the wolfsbane had worked and how it had affected him. It seemed as though there wasn't a lot of consistency, and she wasn't sure whose end that was on. Was Zel growing and changing more than usual, or were the apothecaries who worked for the wolfsbane dispensaries incompetent? Frankly, she wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter. If the boy had been ill with some totally benign medical affliction then she could almost guarantee that he'd be receiving a respectable, working dosage by now – but, once again, the stigma of lycanthropy more or less promised that her clients were getting screwed by some bigot somewhere down the line.

“Alright, love. What I'd really like is to send you for a physical exam so that I can hand deliver it to the dispensary next month and make sure they're taking updated information into account,” she explained. Who knew how old the information they had on file was, or if they were even bothering to consult it? If she had to stand over them while they tended their cauldrons then she'd do it. “Would you feel comfortable going to see the healer at school? I can send an owl,” Brynn suggested, ever the task master. If she didn't make this happen, nobody else would – and as Zel continued speaking, it occurred to her just how true that was.

Brynn was very familiar with the mental health crisis amongst the werewolf population in Britain. They were disenfranchised, which made them struggle to find opportunities both socially and within the workforce, and that lead to a great deal of depression. Other things contributed, of course, such as family support or lack thereof, and she had no doubt that Zel's family situation played a major role in his feelings about the curse. When you were a child and your family despised you, how could you possibly come to feel good about yourself? This, however, was the first she was hearing about his stepfather's latest behavior, and though she had a decent poker face, it was hard to keep her brows from drawing together with confusion and concern.

“Has he kicked you out of your home?” she asked, trying to settle the anger she felt fluttering about in her chest as she took in this new information. “He's the guardian of an underage werewolf. He can't do that without contacting the ministry directly.” She knew full well that Zel would be of legal age before long, but at the moment he was still a minor wizard, and all of the rules still applied. She shut her eyes for a moment, took a breath, and then looked across at the boy in her office, sucking her teeth. “You have every right to be angry. That's cruel, and absolutely no part of it is your fault,” she assured him with a firm nod. Now she had to figure out how to make this right. 

“Do you all have somewhere to stay?” she asked, “You and the little ones? We'll need to fill out a Change of Permanent Address and file it with the registry or there will likely be a fine.” There was always more documentation to be done, after all. Unsurprisingly, the stack of paperwork on her desk was about to grow taller. “We'll work it out,” she told him, “I'm very glad you came and spoke to me. That's an excellent way to take control. We'll get it sorted together.”

He nodded, “I-I can do that. Tulojow is nice. I don’t mind seeing her.” He’d always felt comfortable around the school’s healer. She was a competent healer, and he never felt judged by her, which was nice. Still, at times Zel felt nervous around her because that was his default setting, but Tulojow was easy to loosen up around. That was important in a healer. He hoped that her evaluation of him would help him find the right dosage of wolfsbane potion.

“Well. Not exactly, but he doesn’t want us back.” Zel explained. “I mean, we aren’t his kids. He never adopted us. The only one of my siblings that’s related to him is Nettie, and she’s only four. He’ll keep her but…” he cleared his throat, “I think what happened with my mom and sister, makes him… Not want to see us.” His hands were shaking as he spoke, and Zel was unsure if it was because he was sad, anxious, or angry. Or a mixture of all three.

“My little sister is with Garrett now… “ Garrett was Zel’s oldest brother, who was close to Brynn’s age, and a squib. He bore scars from the werewolf attack that killed Zel’s biological father and turned Emeline into a werewolf. Luckily for Garrett, he hadn’t been bitten, just clawed. Garrett was also a squib, married to a muggle woman and a new father. 

“There’s not a lot of space at his flat, though… I might stay with Emeline? I’m not sure what my permanent address will be. Is it possible to write both my brother and my sister’s address down?” His eyebrows furrowed together, “I think the younger ones will stay with Garrett—but I don’t want to impose too much…” Brynn was right, though. Going to her was a good way to take control of the situation. He was starting to feel a little relieved, but he couldn’t allow himself to relax completely.

Brynn's younger sister was terrified of healers to the point in which she'd snap at anyone who even suggested she go seek medical advice from a professional. Sometimes it seemed as though she'd rather bleed to death then have to face a witch or wizard in a lime green robe. She'd been like that since she was very young and, given her history with medical procedures, Brynn really couldn't blame her for being anxious (even if, like, most things in Beth's life, her response to anxiety involved a massive over exaggeration). Even given her sister's particular hang ups, she'd mentioned once or twice that the healer at Hogwarts was decent, which was more than she'd ever said about any other individual in the medical profession. That was essentially a shining recommendation in Bethan-language. Thus, she didn't think Zel would have any particular trouble acquiring an up to date physical from Tulojow up at Hogwarts, which would make things easier on everyone.  She didn't care how the physical was conducted as long as the information got where it needed to go, things got fixed, and nobody was traumatized in the process.

“We'll still need a guardian on record for you, at least until you turn seventeen,” she informed him as he explained the rest of the situation regarding his stepfather. Everything about being a registered werewolf in Britain was complicated, but it became infinitely more complicated when you were a minor, and Zel's stepfather was not making this any easier for him. “I can speak to Garrett about getting his name on the paperwork, or even Emeline, if you think she'd be willing,” she assured him, thankful that they had some options. Not everyone was so lucky. If the one thing she accomplished during her career was keeping the Trumble kids out of foster care, she'd accept that and be happy with her work. All they needed in this case was to find someone seventeen years old or older who was willing to serve as a guardian (in title only) for less than three months. If it really came down to it then she'd sign the paperwork herself. She'd probably get lambasted by her superiors, assuming they bothered to take notice at all, but she'd do it.

Listing a permanent address was going to be harder, however, and listing two definitely wouldn't streamline the process when it came to getting the forms approved. If anything the inclusion of two addresses would lead to an inquiry, and whenever anyone went out for an inspection, they tended to go out of their way to look for a problem. “Let's list Emeline's address,” she decided, “There's already a registered individual with lycanthropy at that address, so it'll be easier to push the paperwork through.” She nodded a few times, satisfied that she was making decisions and accomplishing things that, with any luck, would help keep Zel and his family out of trouble. Brynn knew as well as anyone just how infuriating her own department could be, and she liked to save as many others from that headache as she could. It was a calling.

“You'll let me know if you have trouble finding somewhere to stay, won't you, love?” she asked him, looking him straight in the eyes to make sure he understood just what she was offering. “I can find you a bed. It's really no trouble. Whatever you do, you can never, ever bother me, do you understand? If you need something in a pinch, we'll find a way.” Every word was spoken in earnest. She'd had Sophie Flickwick staying with her over the Easter holiday during the previous month, and frankly, she hadn't minded the company.  She genuinely enjoyed having someone around to dote on, and even doing small things like leaving out guest towels and cooking for herself was more than she might have done if she'd been alone. “I know that must have been heavy on your mind,” she remarked, “But I'm concerned about the way you've been feeling. What have you been doing to help you feel better?” Paperwork she could do later or tomorrow, but she didn't want Zel to leave her office feeling unstable – at least not without a plan.

“Um.” He still needed a guardian on record, for himself. That was true. Zel thought it was absolutely ridiculous. After all, he was going to be of age by the end of August. That’s not too much time! It was only three months. But, at the same time, he didn’t think that either one of his elder siblings would mind being listed as his guardian, if only in name.

“Garrett’s older, and he has a reliable job, so he might be better… “ Zel hesitated. Garrett was  twenty-eight, and Emeline was nearly nineteen. Garrett did some sort of muggle technology work that Zel didn’t understand, and Emeline was a waitress/bartender.

“If listing my address as Em’s is easier…” He didn’t know what would be best for the paperwork. And he didn’t care either way. If things went the way he planned, maybe he’d be spending some time with his friend, Figaro this summer.
Plus he wanted to get a summer job. Anything to help his siblings pay the rent and help support the younger ones.
If he was having trouble finding a place to stay, to be honest, he probably wouldn’t tell Brynn. “I… I know you’re there if I need you.” Zel replied.

And now she wanted to know what he was doing for himself, to make himself feel better. That was an odd question, and not one that he expected.

“Um. Err….” He hesitated, “I… Swim in the lake? But you already knew that… I also….  Run?” But that was about it. Being active helped take his mind off of things. “And sometimes I eat cheese toasties”

“Does Garrett use a telephone at home?” she asked, something twinkling in her eye as a fun little loophole dawned on her. While Brynn was fairly straight laced in a general sense, she did have a tendency to do what she had to in order to make sure that she was genuinely helping the population she'd set out to help, not merely filling out forms all day. She'd have to document sending post or making floo calls, and she'd have to document a home visit... but a muggle phone call that lead to a quick signature would save everyone a lot of time and stress. She could just pop over to her parents' house, ring Garrett, explain the situation, and get it done within the day. The thought of doing that much apparition while she was already falling over with exhaustion was rough, particularly because her shift was technically supposed to end in about two hours... but when was the last time she'd actually gone home at the end of a shift on the day following a full moon? She wasn't sure she ever had.

If it wasn't dealing with the Trumbles, it would be something else, she knew. She certainly didn't blame the boy in her office for his own misfortune. Again she peeked over into her long empty mug, only to find it just as empty as it had been five minutes ago. There had to be a charm for that! Tealess, she looked back up and across at Zel. “Right now your job is school. My job is making sure to deal with the paperwork, and looking after everything on this end. If we both do our jobs, everything will get done, and things will get easier.” She wanted to ask him to trust her, but given how badly the adults in his life had let him down, she didn't know that she could ask that much of him blindly. She'd just have to prove it to him through her actions.

It seemed like Zel had a few good coping mechanisms, and she was glad. If the Hufflepuff boy was really as angry and stressed out as his words implied, she couldn't comfortably send him back to school knowing that he wasn't actively pursuing wellness. While swimming in the lake this early in the year was mental, it was actually a good sign – it meant that Zel was still Zel. Resilience was a good trait in an individual with lycanthropy, but not everybody could be resilient all of the time. His little remark about eating cheese toasties made her smile, and she sighed a very faint sigh. “Don't we all?” she asked, grinning at him with a soft chuckle. “Do you feel as though you have someone at school who you can speak with about this? A friend? A teacher?” she continued. “It's important to be able to talk about whatever might be bothering you.” She wanted to make sure his safety net was in place before she sent him back out into the world.

He nodded in response. “Yes, and he also has the internet.” Zel enunciated each syllable. “I don’t know what that is, exactly… But muggles use it often.” He bit his lip. “I don’t know his phone number though… But you have his address? And I think muggles have a record of residential numbers…” Also known as a phone book.  “His wife—err… M’sister in law is named Hannah… If that helps. She took his last name. Hannah Trumble.” That’d make things infinitely easier. “Their phone number is the one she’s had awhile… I think her maiden name is Hall.” He wasn’t completely sure about that, though.

Zel was just getting to know her—Garrett hadn’t been close to the family  earlier this year, and Zelig was sure glad that things were different in that aspect now.

“I—I don’t really have anyone I want to talk to about this.” He mumbled, wringing his hands together. “I have Figaro and Winnie but… I don’t want them to worry. And I don’t know if they can take it seriously. Verity is nice and all but she’ll try to fix things and I don’t want her to worry about that.” He cleared his throat, “B-but, there’s a teacher, who’s also a werewolf? Professor Donovan? Maybe?” He would be more comfortable talking to another werewolf about his werewolf-related issues.

Brynn took up a quill and quickly scribbled “Hannah (Hall?) Trumble” on the notepad that sat on her desk, nodding to herself as she read the name back. “I'll be able to look them up. It won't be any trouble. I should have it sorted by the end of the day,” she assured him – and, frankly, she had little doubt that such was the truth. The only obstacle she could foresee was falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon and waking up in a haze of confusion – but even then she was fairly certain that she'd be able to accomplish what she set out to within twenty-four hours. There wouldn't be anywhere to file paperwork until Monday morning as it was, but she'd feel badly pestering the young couple on a Sunday. The sooner she fixed this mess that Zel's stepfather had made, the better it would be for everybody.

“I think talking to a professor would be an excellent idea,” Brynn told him, nodding in approval, “There are many adults who go on to lead happy, productive lives, even with the curse... probably because they listen to their case workers,” she teased, winking at Zel as she went into her desk for a sheet of stationary with the department letterhead on top. “Let me just write up a note for the school healer,” she spoke as she poked around amidst the stacks of paperwork and bottomless drawers. She wasn't sure an office existed that could comfortably accommodate all of the forms and documentation that she needed to keep track of. She did what she could with the space that she had but, Merlin, what she could do with a few extra feet! She managed to find some room on her desk  on which to lean the parchment, but only after shifting a few stacks to the side. After a few moments of dedicated scribbling she nodded at the paper, “We'll just let the ink dry, I'll find an envelope somewhere, and you can deliver that to Madame Nagde once you're back at school.”

It was nice to feel as though she was actually getting worthwhile tasks done, especially in the midst of filling out a bottomless stack of bureaucratic paperwork nonsense. Post-moon office work was rarely so fulfilling. She sighed softly, feeling more content than she had since the previous day. “Do you reckon we've accomplished everything we can accomplish today?” she asked him, “Is there anything you're still unsure about, that you'd like me to look into? We've done fairly well, I'd say, considering it's before seven in the morning the day after a full moon!”

Maybe he would talk to Donovan later. Zel wasn’t sure. He knew that she was one of his favorite staff members—in fact, she was probably tied with Professor Storm as far as effectiveness and likeability as a teacher was concerned (at least, for Zel!).  He waited as she wrote up a letter for Tulojow Nagde—and it seemed like she was going to send it with him instead of by owl. It would probably be quicker, and more convenient. The sooner he saw Tulojow, the better. Who knows how long it would take for the paperwork to go through.

He hoped there wasn’t anyone else in the hospital hut when he went in. Maybe, if he saw her as soon as he got back, there wouldn’t be anyone? Or at least, there wouldn’t be anyone awake. It was a weekend, so most of the people he knew took advantage of that extra time to either sleep or study.

“I… Don’t know? I think that’s it?” There could be more that he needed to talk about, but it wasn’t coming to mind. Not right now, at least. Zel smiled bashfully, “Um… Thank you.” He said, nodding at the case worker politely. When the ink dried and the letter was placed in a proper envelope, Zel gladly accepted it from her—thanking her once more before saying his goodbyes.

End Thread