Sunday afternoons had a pre-emptive hangover for the week ahead, apart from it if it was proceeded by a school holiday. As much as Camille enjoyed some aspects of teaching, there were others that filled her heavy heart with administrative lead. She had once tried to engage the students in something fun for a Sunday evening, but their own shenanigans seemed apt until the older ones were cramming for exams and the younger ones needed some diversion not to wind them up.

Carrying a small stack of exercise books under one arm, and a book selected from her very modest collection, Professor Duerr headed down the spiral staircase from her tower rooms, not for the first time wishing it were possible to apparate in the enormous castle. She wore neat navy robes over a pale blue silk blouse, her glasses perched on her dark curls.

After some minutes, the Arithmancy Professor found the door of her colleagues rooms and rapped her knuckles on the wood. Invited in, she greeted Ravindar with a polite, but slightly more professional and detached formality to her words. Last month they had disagreed in the presence of a student and she rather felt their friendlier relationship had not quite been the same since. Silly really, Professor Singh had impeccable manners, to match his taste in attire.

“Thank you for taking the time to see me, Ravindar. How have you been?” She remembered the books in her grasp. “I brought that book I mentioned at lunch earlier this week. Here, no hurry to return it. You must be very busy.” She felt like she was treading on broken glass, though she wondered if she just happened to be overthinking it all.

"Come in!" Called Professor Singh. "Good afternoon Camille." He smiled. Four books shelved themselves in the case. Hands free. He bowed politely. He was a slight man. Today he wore simpler robes. Shorter. Dusk blue.

"Thank you!" Exclaimed Ravindar. He pressed the book between both hands. Listened to her. "No busier than most. I appreciate your thought." He smiled behind his beard.

"Will you take tea?" A tea tray steamed on the side table. Ravindar knew how Camille took hers. He motioned for her to sit. Brought the book with him. Placed it down while he poured. Taking delight in the ceremony. Of not using magic. Serving another. He took his seat. Studied her book. "A kindness Camille. I will take great care." Treated it gently.

"Are you well today? How may I assist you?" She had asked for his help. Or at least he assumed that she did.

There he was, polite as ever. Though a certain formality between them once more, as if in the presence of students.

“Will you take tea?”
“Yes please,” she replied eagerly, and then more calmly added, “thank you,” as she navigated his chambers to the gestured seat. She placed the small stack of exercise books down on the edge of the table with the tea tray, and smiled at the way he prepared their refreshment. By hand, and with such grace. He really was something to watch, which only made Camille suddenly more self-conscious that she might be staring. So she glanced elsewhere. What a quandary!

If Ravindar noticed he didn’t let on, instead serving them both and studying the book she had brought to lend him, treating it like a small child or treasured possession.

“Are you well today? How may I assist you?”

“I am well, thank you. Though I count the days until the end of term, or at the very least those brighter, sunnier days which are few and far between in Scotland.” She had somewhat adjusted to the climate now after so many months, but she would very much prefer to be teaching in the warmer, sunnier climes of her old school, Beauxbatons.

“I have brought some books to show you from the Gryffindors. I know you like to know how they are doing, good or bad, so I picked out a few to let you see. Would you prefer the good or the not so good first?” She asked, splitting the small stack in half.

"You must come to India. You may miss Scottish weather." Said Ravindar. "The not so good." He chose.

For ten or fifteen minutes Ravindar examined the Gryffindor books. He made notes. Listened carefully to Camille. When they finished he set them down neatly. Took his tea. Allowed silence. Reflection. He noticed some students did not know how to behave when there was silence. The same went for adults too.

"About the other day." Began Ravindar. "I apologize for being short. Ms Pepper's topic of conversation did not bring the best out in me. Or perhaps all of us." Things had not been the same between them since. "I should have realized." Camille's late husband had been turned into a werewolf. He lowered his head. Expressing his respect and regret.

Camille could never fault Ravindar’s professionalism as a teacher. He took their role very seriously, and was a calm, considered mentor for the Gryffindors. With some of the characters in that house, she could only imagine it took remarkable strength to stay that way.

When they had finished discussing the books, and Camille had drunk a good amount of her first cup of tea, a silence fell. One of those awkward, elephant in the room ones. Ravindar was 20 years her junior, and of similar age to Johann and Balfour, yet their professional relationship made Camille feel like the junior.

“About the other day…” Her reaction was immediately move to meet his apology, that it wasn’t necessary, out of sheer awkwardness. “… I should have realised.” At the respectful dip of her colleague’s head, she realised he was referring to Wolfgang, her late husband, and the heat of embarrassment and fluster suddenly turned to a cold pool of dread in the pit of her stomach. She turned away and averted her gaze anywhere, anywhere but the other human in the room. Unfortunately the elephant was now pressing its back on the ceiling, and its trunk had wrapped around her chest.

“Well I,” she managed in a voice which was caught in her throat, “well I did not have all that experience when… when it happened. But the circumstances…” She took a breath and rearranged her hands on her lap. “I’m sorry, it is a difficult subject.” She flinched to wipe an eye threatening a tear. “It destroyed him, and because of that it is hard for me to entertain the positives.”

Ravindar had always known of Camille's husband but they did not speak about. He respected her privacy. Had kept their friendship professional.

In Ravindar's religion cremation followed death within hours. Deliberate mourning was forbidden. Death was God's will. The soul moves on. If God wills it then you would be reunited in God's love. Death was just a short sleep before rebirth.

"If you would like to talk about it I am listening." Ravindar spoke kindly. Poured them more tea. "You have carried your burden a long time now. You can set it down with me."

Camille met Ravindar’s gaze, a little stunned, but not entirely surprised. There was a watery sheen to her bright blue eyes.

“You are so very right, Ravindar. As you are about so many things,” she replied, voice quiet. She shook her curls in disbelief that the wizard the other side of the table could be quite so wise at his age, but she was glad to be at the receiving end.

“I have been carrying that burden. I have got used to carrying it and I forget it is there. But this society brings it back.” The teaspoons tinkled against the china as they stirred by charm.

What did she have to lose to explain? It would drag it all up, but it was a year and a half since it had happened, since he had passed, and longer since the … event.

“His name was Wolfgang. Brought up through Durmstrang, traditional wizarding values. Sharp edges. Believed those afflicted were lesser beings. They were different times. People hid it. I imagine many did not survive their injuries to turn. It was no great issue in our lives.” Her mind’s eye returned to their home in Frankfurt. To simpler times when all there was to fret about was working late and keeping tabs on Johann.

“But then our son, Johann, a little younger than you, he got engaged to a clever young witch. The only difficulty was she was a werewolf. Instead of the joy at the possibility of marriage and grandchildren, my husband could focus on nothing else.” Her fingertips went to work an engagement and wedding ring she no longer wore. They found bare flesh between the joints.

“Well, to cut a long story short. Their engagement did not last long. We fell on hard times and made a move over here. I did not know, but Wolfgang had not let it drop. The whole matter had awoken such hatred in him I am unsure how I recognised him. One July full moon I was summoned to St Mungo’s with the news he had been attacked by a werewolf.”

She took a breath, shoulders rising, and forced them down. Her gaze had lost focus on Ravindar’s study and was instead focused on her inner eye recalling the bruises and bandages in a hospital bed.

“He had excuses, but when it came down to the investigation, he had become involved in a werewolf fighting ring. The werewolf would be abducted days before the full moon and caged. They would take homeless muggles and pit them against the wolf at the full moon. Take bets on the outcome. Sport. Only he had been attacked.”

Attacked by the slight witch he had pursued so relentlessly in retaliation for ever becoming engaged to their son. Detail she declined to include in this retelling. She looked to her fellow professor. Finding his gaze as she reached conclusion on her account.

“So I know the brutality of what a wolf can do, Ravindar. I have seen the outcome with my own eyes. I saw my husband through two transformations before he passed. He was a changed man, but perhaps he had changed beyond recognition before he was attacked. Now I look back. Time brings clarity.”

Ravindar listened. He prided himself that he was a good listener. Camille spoke. Sometimes students needed prompting. Encouragement. Sometimes they did not know when to stop. Camille's late husband sounded hateful. He should not judge but he could not stop his instinct. That she was better off without him.

"Thank you for trusting me with your story." Said Ravindar. "A heavy load to say the very least Camille."  He stayed quiet. Should she wish to speak again. Let the story sink in.

"It is that hate which SAWS oppose." Said Ravindar eventually. "There was time. When young witches and wizards turned werewolf were banned from the school. Not just outcast. But ruled. Fear is powerful." He was thoughtful. "Do you fear werewolves?"

For a fleeting moment, Camille wondered if she had offloaded too keenly on Ravindar when prompted. ‘A heavy load to say the least’ he had put it. Though he was not evading her gaze, there was a silence between them. She glanced back and forth to read his reaction, as ever rather stoic. She had never seen anything really rattle Ravindar.

“It is that hate which SAWS oppose.” Her friend and colleague spoke at last. She nodded and hummed in agreement. Yes, that seemed reasonable. Nobody could really support werewolf fighting rings in their right mind. Not even widows who had seen their husbands’ mauled limbs.

“… Fear is powerful. Do you fear werewolves?”

She paused, fingers knotted in her lap. Considered the question, gaze turned away from him. After several seconds she gave a meek nod.

“Yes, yes I do. Is that wrong?”

"No. It is reasonable." Ravindar replied. "Fear is an emotional response to threats and danger. It is human. But it is different from anxiety. Anxiety occurs without any external threat. Worry of the uncontrollable or unavoidable." He spoke calmly. Thoughtfully. "As a Sikh we learn if one accepts that God, the Creator is the real provider and sustainer then there is only one valid fear. The fear of God." Ravindar touched his Kara on his wrist. "One who does not fear God shall live in fear; without the Guru, there is only pitch darkness." He lifted his tea cup. Smiled a little under his beard. "Despite their behavior. Our werewolf students are no threat to you."

"Well, no, I didn't necessarily mean I was in fear of our students..." Camille hurried to clarify, blushing at the suggestion. She wasn't the best of teachers, but she tried very hard and was improving quickly.

"Just that something I merely read about, and happened in textbooks and perhaps in newspapers in foreign countries had happened to my family. I don't know whether it is down to the fact back home they were more in hiding or if there were not so many, but there are more werewolves here. In Britain."

Perhaps if they hadn't moved here, Wolfgang might still be alive. But knowing what he did, Camille wasn't at all sure she would have prefered it. Perhaps living in ignorance, but once known, one cannot truly forget such sins of those you love. At least not in her book. A line had been well and truly crossed.

"The other month, some escaped from the Ministry houses, and a Ministry wizard killed in his own home by a wolf too." The January events had worried Camille deeply, especially since young Balfour had replaced the aforementioned wizard in his post.

"It doesn't sound at all safe, Ravindar. These people are still dangerous, deadly beasts at full moon, however kind and polite they are the rest of the month."

Ravindar took a breath. He held it before he let it out slowly. It was not urgent to reply. This was a difficult topic for Professor Duerr. A topic they disagreed on. It was healthy to disagree. But this was the first of note.

"Am I dangerous too?" He asked Camille. "I get to choose when I transform. By your reasoning I must be more dangerous?" Professor Singh was an animagus. A Bengal tiger. Twenty years now. He had never transformed before his friend. He did not do it for entertainment with adults. Not now.

"No, no!" Camille heard herself protest. Her voice had taken a strained quality. She gripped her knees and hunched her shoulders, most unlike her usual poise.

The older witch took a breath, her lungs feeling shallow. Let her head dip. She had never seen him change, but she had seen others change. Camille very much disliked to disagree with kind, thoughtful Ravindar. She felt like she was his intellectual inferior or a student in his classroom receiving sharp correction. Camille had not come her to debate, but be heard by a friend.

"No," she said again, and lifted her head. "You are different. You make a choice. You are in control when you change." She nodded unconsciously to emphasize her points. Frustration was pricking the corners of her eyes.

"Werewolves are out of control when they change. Tell me I am correct. If they were in control of their actions then they would not need to be locked up every full moon. You do not change and attack the students. If they are not enclosed they are a threat to us all."

Ravindar was silent. He was thinking deeply. Camille was upset. Sometimes space was better than words. She was scared of werewolves because she had seen what the curse could do to someone she loved.

"They do not wish to be a threat to us all." Said Ravindar. "They want us to see them as people. Not what they are one night of the lunar cycle." He did agree they were a threat to others if precautions could not be taken. "But so many are in fear of them. They do not want to say what they are. And once people know they shun them too. That is not fair."

“No, it’s not fair,” Camille agreed, her voice breathy, not her usual. It felt caught in her throat, like a hand was clamped across it.

“But fair does not counteract that they are a threat, even if they don’t wish to be.” She drew a sharp breath. “If they were perfectly contained then we would have no new werewolves. No children with the curse in our classrooms.”

She reached out and placed the books she had brought into her lap. It wasn’t that she was intending to flee from a difficult conversation, but that she did not want to prolong it and lose what had become an enjoyable friendship with her younger colleague.

Alright, maybe she was, but she was not Ravindar’s student, but his equal. His elder if one split hairs.

“Let us not fall out over this,” Camille appealed, looking up to the wizard across the table, “but accept our experiences are very different, Ravindar. Please.”