October 14
9:05 pm
The Moon is Full

CRACK!

Knox Greyfriar appeared in St. Mungo's lobby holding tightly to Fauna Blake's hand.  And suddenly the fatigue hit him.  He faltered but caught himself on a chair.  He'd been tired during the battle with the wolf, certainly.  But his feeling now wasn't exertion, it was slogging and heavy, as if all the energy was draining from his body.  The effort of Apparation seemed to have taken what he had left.  His arm was still bleeding quite a lot, most of it soaking into his clothes where he held it close to his body, but the redness glimmered wet on his left hand.

"Creature injury," he declared.  "Need a Healer straight away."  His politeness and calm was incongruous with the pain and nearly black-out fatigue.  And the possibility that he'd been bitten by a werewolf and that others were still engaged in battle.

"There's a werewolf loose in Hogsmeade," he said to the intake nurses, who were already rushing to his aide.  "On the road to Hogwarts."  He had seen Ciarra Belisario and knew she was a Ministry agent, but he had no way of knowing if she'd been officially dispatched, if the alarm had been sounded in London.  He couldn't leave it to chance. 

"No no - she's fine," he said suddenly when someone moved to help Fauna Blake.  "Right, you're fine right? No bites? No scratches?"  His concern was like a flash of emotion.  He didn't really take account of it then, but later he'd realize all the fathering he'd ever done for his students was not in vain.  Devlin might be a lost cause, but he couldn't bear it if Fauna or Sasha or Beatrix had been hurt.

Fauna kept a hold of Knox’s hand, as if squeezing tight enough would stop the bleeding from his arm and make him feel right again. The uncomfortable rush of apparation swept through her, making her feel disoriented and dizzy once they suddenly appeared in the lobby of St. Mungo’s. She could only imagine how Knox felt with his injury.  He stumbled and she moved to try and support him on his good side, taking care not to jostle his other arm.

Nurses took one look at the pair and rushed towards them, firing questions and helping Knox stand. Fauna felt so relieved. He’d be okay now, wouldn’t he? She let go of his hand, but remained by his side and shook her head when one of the Healers asked if she was hurt.

“I’m fine, completely fine,” she reassured them, voice sounding faint to her ears. There was not a mark or scratch on her. She’d been lucky.

Knox and Vlad had not. She wondered about Vlad for a moment, hoping he’d be able to receive healing soon too. If those claw marks got infected, he could be in as much danger as Knox. A young woman, a werewolf hunter, had arrived and Fauna assumed that she had the situation in Hogsmeade under control, but she couldn’t help but worry about Vlad, and even Sasha and Bea, who she’d sent off. Had she done the right thing? Where were the fifth-years now?

Fauna hovered by Knox, wanting to be there for him, but worrying that she’d get in the way. She wasn’t family, so she’d probably have to wait for him somewhere. Fauna hesitated and looked at one of the Healers questioningly.

Quincy had been at the hospital for almost a year and a half now, and so was considered able to work without constant supervision. This was her last month in the creature-induced injuries ward, and she had been given her own little projecs to work on. Bites from doxies and mackled malaclaws were the things she saw quite often, and though she was happy to help treat anyone who came through the hospital doors, it had a tendency to become quite monotonous.

She was just about to bite into a sandwich when one of the nurses came running through to door to her small office. The young girl was breathless and saying something about a werewolf, causing Quincy to jump up out of her chair (much to the distress of the baby who kicked with annoyance) and race along the corridor to the cubicle where the patients had been shown to.

Once outside the door, she turned back to the nurse. "We need wolfsbane potion." The girl's eyes widened with shock. "We have to be prepared for the worst!" The girl nodded and ran off to find someone with the keys to the potions cupboard. Quincy took a deep breath and tried to appear as composed as possible. One of the things she had learned was that the patient was already concerned, and the healer needed to have a positive outlook on the situation.

She cast one worried glance up the corridor, and proceeded into the cubicle, aware that she was going to have to hold the fort until Jason or one of the other fully-trained healers arrived. She forced a smile as she came through the door. "I'm Healer St.James, Mr...?" She looked to the elder nurse in the room who held her hands up as though to say she hadn't had a chance to find out his name.

Knox had been ushered down the corridor and he just took Fauna right along with him.  He still felt like they were in some sort of danger and he felt like he shouldn't let Miss Blake out of her sight.

They sat him down on a bed and he started unbuttoning the cuff on his bloody arm.  The Healer appeared, a pregnant witch who introduced herself as St. James. 

"Greyfriar," he helped her with his name.  She was old enough, he guessed, that her time at Hogwarts would have been before him.  But no matter if she was his former student or not, he was ready to hand this business over to her.  One of the strangest secrets Knox Greyfriar kept was that he'd trained as a Healer directly after his time at Hogwarts.  He'd studied under an ancient community Healer and cavorted with his cousins, Lysander and Zalla St. James - wait. St. James.

He took his eyes off his arm for a moment and studied Healer St. James's face.  And suddenly, even with the threat of a werewolf bite, he was worried that his past would face him.  He wasn't ready for that.  The Dark Mark he'd received on his injured forearm was now very faded and blurry.  And at the moment, likely torn open and covered in gore.  But the St. James cousins had been Death Eaters.  And he'd helped them as their battlefield Healer. 

He tore himself out of the moment, and found his words.  But he was getting very tired.  He was pale and drawn.  It was the blood or the curse.

"Might be a werewolf bite," he said, trying not to sound alarmed.  He peeled his sleeve up, the scraps of fabric painfully sticking in the drying blood.  He winced as he revealed the entire bite.  It was gruesome and parts of the flesh were becoming blackened. 

Fauna was herded along the corridor, which was just fine with her, because she didn’t want to be left to pace in the waiting room, anyway. She’d felt strangely protective of the old Headmaster ever since she’d seen the werewolf rush at him, and the blood on his arm only made her more scared for him. Fauna didn’t often have any reason to worry over the adults in her life. Yet these past couple of weeks she’d been frightened for Tamis after Gawain Robards had been murdered, and now she was sick with worry over Knox Greyfriar. Greyfriar, who had been a rock at Hogwarts for years. Solid, dependable, invincible, in her mind. Fauna was not used to seeing him exhausted and injured, and it wasn’t a sight she wanted to get used to.

Swallowing, she stood off to the side in the cubicle, making sure Healer St. James had enough room to attend to Knox. The last thing she wanted was to get in the way and be sent out of here. So Fauna kept quiet, watching anxiously as Knox peeled off his sleeve to reveal a blackened and gruesome injury. She put her hand over her mouth and looked down. There was no way she was going to let herself be sick at a time like this, Fauna thought harshly.

In this grim situation, she admired Knox’s strength and calm demeanor. He wasn’t hysterical or rude, or any number of things he would have had an excuse to be. Fauna wanted to be like that too, whatever it took.

“It… it is,” she confirmed quietly, after he’d said it might be a bite. “I saw it happen.”

Fauna glanced at the injury worriedly. She hadn’t been able to process it at the time, but now she remembered the teeth… the teeth sinking into his arm. Knox’s yell. Her feeble Stupefy that hadn’t done anything.

She shuddered involuntarily, but then squared her shoulders. She had to be strong. Knox had done so much for her, for all his students. Not falling apart was the least she could do.

((Hope you don't mind, but I think that Dev should be here as well...))

"Sir! Sir, you can't go in there..."

"Getouttamyway" Devlin slurred slightly as a medi-witch tried to grab his sleeve. He had never hit a woman before, but she was testing every nerve he had left by attempting to keep him from seeing Greyfriar. The news of the attack had found him rather quickly at Signature, where he had been guzzling down Firewhiskey and frying aforementioned nerves like it was going out of style. It had taken a few minutes for the news to filter through the fog that was his drunken state and a few more for him to decide whether or not he really gave a damn that something had attacked his 'dear old dad'.

Now that he finally HAD decided to go and see the old bastard, Devlin was being held back by some dowdy old hag who didn't seem to get that he needed to see him. He still wasn't sure if he was going to cry or laugh when he saw him, but he felt a need tugging somewhere in his chest that said he had to do something. "Let go! He's my father and I need to see him!" Devlin snarled, surprised how easily the words "My father" and "Need" flowed off his tongue. It must be the firewhiskey talking, since even he wasn't a smooth enough talker to pull that sincerity off while sober.

It seemed to work, for after she gave him a wary one over and saw the family resemblance, she let his arm go "Very well... but if you cause any trouble, we will have to remove you." She said the last part with a hint of threat in her voice as she patted the wand jutting from her robe pocket. He just nodded, too tired to make anything of her veiled threat and stumbled a little as he walked towards Knox's room, his hand trailing against the wall for balance. When he got there, his hand hovered above the knob for a moment as he wondered if he should or shouldn't bother. Why was he there? Why did he feel a strange need to see the man who screwed his mother and left him without a real father? Whatever the answer was, Devlin imagined he would find out when he opened that door, so very quietly, he turned the knob as silently as possible and slide the door open a crack.

"Might be a werewolf bite,"

“It… it is, I saw it happen.”

He didn't know what sobered him up more: The realization that his father had been attacked by a werewolf and would now be one himself, or that Fauna had been there and witnessed it and was now sitting in that very room. Whichever it was, it washed over him like an icy shower and Devlin almost immediately sobered. His hand clenched on the knob with such firmness that his knuckles turned white and Devlin took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. It didn't work all that well, for when he did push the door fully open, he did so furiously and when he demanded "What happened!" There was a hint of anger laced through his voice. Angry, and still slightly inebriated, eyes jumped between Fauna's worried face and Greyfriars bloody arm. Swallowing, he stepped into the room and managed to repeat in a slightly calmer tone "... Who did this?"

Devlin barged in and just after him a gale of a boozy aroma.  Knox's face immediately washed with annoyance and disappointment.  It was his usual first reaction when his students had been found to be drinking like idiots, getting a head start on a terrible useless habit.  Knox's fatigue and head buzzing with his injury didn't stop him from criticizing his son.

"You're drunk!" he accused with a disapproving scowl. 

But Devlin's question was relevant.  Who dunnit, indeed.  There was no rhyme or reason with a werewolf attack, but the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest were excellent wardens.  It had been decades since a werewolf had been loose in those woods.  And it had been a very foul omen indeed for it to happen upon them.  The slim chances seemed to combine into a grim destiny or a calculated arrangement. 

He sighed and confirmed what Fauna had been brave enough to say.  "Werewolf attacked us on the way back to Hogwarts castle," he explained to Devlin and Healer St. James simply.  "Seemed to have been stalking us."

Normally a man of many words and lengthly explanations, Knox was possessed of a haunted brevity.  He was inspecting his own wound, his old Healer training taking over.  The blackened flesh, the exposed muscle, the jagged, ragged tearing.  It was a solid, bite. 

"There's a chance this bite will cause the curse," he admitted mildly.  It was a drastic understatement.  It was a realization that was content to sit on his lips, but it hadn't hit him in the head yet.  Life as a werewolf - it wasn't something he was registering.  It was a quiet denial.  Surely, his bite was a perfect example of how the werewolf curse was spread - but surely, not to him, right? He sat on the Wizengamot.  He couldn't be a werewolf.

"Only time will tell," he said grimly.  He knew that the first thing that would happen is that he'd fall very very ill.  He was already beginning to feel it.  The massive fatigue.  The ache in the arm that had spread to his chest and head.  He'd be bedridden and feverish for maybe ten days, ten days is what they always said.  And then, apparent recovery.  And finally, the truth would be made known at the next full moon.  November. November 13.  Of course, the Healers and the Ministry wouldn't take that on chance.  He'd be required to come to St. Mungo's and take the wolfsbane potion in a safe room.  And then they'd know for sure.

He looked up at the Healer.  "We'd better get his washed and dressed.  Should probably stitch it up?"

Then, to the students.  He turned to look at them, the fear on their faces.  The concern.  They didn't believe him one lick did they? That time would tell, that he might come out of this unchanged.  They looked like doom.   He was glad they were there.  He had to behave in front of them, show them how not to be afraid.  But Knox was confusing his abject denial for tranquility and poise.  If he'd allowed himself to believe what he knew to be true, he'd be just as afraid as Fauna and Devlin.  A werewolf's life was a broken one. 

"I'm alright," he assured them.  "It looks bad, but I'm not dead and neither is anyone else.  Sit tight, okay?"

As the patient introduced himself, Quincy let any recognition of his name wash over her. She was not there to judge, and though she had heard stories about the Greyfriar cousin, she was not the kind to let her views overpower her work. Unlike a lot of her family. What had passed, had passed. From what she had heard, Knox Greyfriar had done a stellar job as headmaster, and she was only sorry he wouldn't be there to oversee her eldest son's education.

As Knox explained his theory of what he thought the bite was, Quincy nodded. From what she had been told by the flustered nurse, it certainly sounded like he knew it was a werewolf bite, as opposed to just thought it was. Then it was the young girl's turn to chirp in. Quincy smiled sympathetically, placing a hand tenderly at the top of the girl's arm.

"I'd like you to be looked over, if you don't mind. It won't take long, I promise."

She turned back to her more needing patient just as the door burst open and a young man barged in. Greyfriar's face seemed to tell a story, and not one of elation at his new visitor. Quincy narrowed her eyes very slightly, assessing whether she should ask the newcomer to leave, but before she had the chance to make a decision Greyfriar was explaining once again, in more detail.

An eyebrow rose as Greyfriar made his suggestion of what they should do. "And you'd better relax." She smiled. "We've got it all under control." The nurse was back with a startled expression and a vial of wolfsbane potion. The pale blue liquid was smoking slightly, and it smelled disgusting. But if Knox Greyfriar knew what was good for him, he would drink it.

Quincy refrained from wrinkling her nose as she unpopped the cork from the vial and handed it to Greyfriar. "Drink this, then we'll get that wound sorted out."

Another gentleman had appeared, revealing that he had been scratched by the werewolf. Quincy looked at the nurse and nodded, who scuttled off to get some more wolfsbane. Better to be safe than sorry; even a scratch from a werewolf could prove problematic, if some of it's saliva managed to find its way into the wound. "I just need to get hold of your records, Mr...?"

Fauna simply nodded when the Healer kindly put a hand on her arm and said she’d like her to be looked over at some point. She knew she’d escaped miraculously unscathed, but it was easier to agree than to argue with someone who was trying to do her job.

Fauna could barely believe it when Devlin stormed into the hospital room, desperation and anger in his eyes. At first she wondered if he’d gotten hurt- it would just be the kind of night they were having- but realized that he looked fine, if slightly intoxicated. He must have heard about his father. Despite their argument in the Leaky Cauldron, Devlin clearly cared enough to see him, and it made her feel sympathetic towards him for a moment.

Professor Greyfriar’s reaction to Devlin's drunken state was so… normal, so typical, that Fauna could almost pretend that this was a normal night, and Greyfriar was scolding Devlin like he had when he’d been the Headmaster.

When Vlad walked in next, relief washed through her. Greyfriar’s friend was well enough to be walking, and if he was here, the werewolf was probably under control. He suggested that Knox had been singled out, and her expression grew even more worried as that thought sent a new bundle of fears running through her head.

Knox went on to reassure them that he was alright, in his calm and unruffled way. Fauna just stared at him. Perhaps some people reacted to this kind of traumatic experience by putting on a brave face, or maybe the reality just hadn’t sunk in yet. Whatever it was, his resigned demeanor was a little unnerving. She knew that he was right- the bite likely meant he was infected with lycanthropy. Fauna tried to focus on other worries before despair could well up inside… she couldn’t think about Knox as a werewolf, not now.

“Mr. Dragulia?” she piped up softly. “What happened, uh, to the werewolf? Is everyone alright? Do you know where Sasha and Bea went?”

The questions came out in a rush, and she felt slightly guilty bringing them up, but she needed to know what had happened after she and Greyfriar had apparated.

Fauna inched closer to Devlin, instinctively reaching out to hold his hand in a small, quick movement. Her hand fell back to her side when she realized what she was about to do.

"Dragulia," Vlad answered the Healer. At the insistance of the werewolf hunters, he had left the fight and come to have his injury attended to. He did not know if Gabi would follow him here, but there was little she could have done anyway.  "I am not seriously hurt," he explained to the people at the front desk. He saw the Healer glancing his way and held up his hand for her to see. "The werewolf clawed me, I was not bitten."."

It had turned out to be an interesting evening to say the least. He was not as offended by Devlin's being drunk as Knox was. Then again...Devlin was not his son. But after the yelling match between father and son Vlad could not find it in his heart to blame the boy. It would be a hard adjustment for both of them. Hard enough without having to deal with this too...

"I'm alright. It looks bad, but I'm not dead and neither is anyone else."

That's something to be grateful for, thought Vlad.

As the healer asked about his hand he sighed, knowing what she was thinking. Suppose the werewolf had slobbered on those gashes...

"My dear," he told Fauna in his Romanian accent, "I do not know what became of the werewolf. I hope  those two hunters will not kill him, as he might be able to answer all our questions, once the full moon is over...

"You're drunk!"

"Tell me sumthin I don't know..." Devlin retorted with a slur, glaring at his 'father'. Where did Knox get off reproaching him like that? It wasn't like he had the right to. He couldn't play daddy unless he played daddy in other places, like getting Dev off the street. And taking him into his own home was not an option, since Dev knew he would feel more like a rescued dog then an independent teen down on his luck. How was he supposed to do his 'job' with an old bear looming over him every second?

He fell into a surly silence as the room begin to discuss the question he raised, 'who' had done it? As usual Knox was being domineering and condescending, telling the pretty healer how to do her job. Fauna was worrying her pretty head over nonsense, namely Bea and Sasha who Devlin didn't give two shits about, instead of worrying about the fact that He, Devlin, was going to be the son of a freaking monster! And that Draguila guy... well Devlin didn't know what his deal was... calling Fauna 'dear' like he knew her. Devlin felt his drunken anger start to boil over.

"Really? Really? Is that how you find out if people are werewolves?" He said suddenly, his face growing a bit red with anger " You 'wait and see'? There seriously isn't any sort of... test or something to figure this shit out? You just let a potential monster run free until he transforms and eviscerates a few kids?" Devlin was building up steam now and no one could stop him. Stumbling to his feet, he begin to rant "... What do ya do when you see a shady guy with a knife in an alley? Hm?... Do you say 'oh gee, we don't have any way of knowing if the knife is sharp enough to stab us so let's just keep walking towards him until he KILLS US!' ARGH!" Devlin threw his hands up and grasped his hair in exasperation "... You all are freaking crazy! The thing that attacked you was probably just a normal man just like you who had his potion tampered with... You are gonna be a creature like that too..."

At this point he was just talking to himself, as the realization of the situation dawned on his sluggish, firewhiskey addled mind "... You want me to live with you but how the hell can I do that?.. Laying awake every full moon wondering if you are going to transform and turn me into a nice rack of ribs... Wondering at every meal if I am just being fattened up... I finally have a father and now I have to be scared that he is gonna eat me at any moment... AHH I CAN'T TAKE THIS SHIT!" Grabbing his coat, Devlin stormed (well, stormed as well as he could considering his blood alcohol level) out of the room, slamming the door behind him dramatically. Down the hall, he collapsed on a chair near one of the windows and gazed out upon muggle London. Why did this crap always have to happen when his plans were going so well? Sighing, he rested his head against the cool glass.

Knox was grateful to see Vlad, but deeply worried that his wounds would prove as dooming as his own.  Vlad's words seemed to indicate otherwise, but the risk was definitely there.  However, if Vlad was here, Knox could feel sure the situation was under control.  That the werewolf hunters had been able to do their job and that Sasha and Beatrix were safe. 

But before much else could happen, Devlin erupted.  He was frantic and angry and being completely stupid! Knox Greyfriar wanted to shout right back at him, tell him how obtuse and impatient he was being, to quit screaming like a child and take this in stride.  That everything was under control and the thread of fate had been spun.  The only thing to do wait. And that maybe Devlin should go sit and do that somewhere until Knox could escort his drunk arse back to school were it belonged.

But Devlin did the job for him and disappeared, and Knox was thankful he was gone.  As ashamed as he was to feel that way, Devlin ranting and the bite together: well, Knox couldn't take that shit.

"That boy..." Knox growled putting a hand to his face.  What horrible curse had their ancestors conferred upon their families to damn Devlin and Knox to each other. 

But in a breif realization, Knox looked up, feeling blessed to have something else to think about.

"We need to owl Hogwarts straight away.  They need to know about the attack and that we've got Fauna and Devlin, and to check for Sasha and Beatrix."

With is right hand, he patted at his pockets and found what he needed.  He quickly scrawled a note and held it out.  It seemed as if Fauna was the only one who might do this task for them. 

"There is an owl service at the front desk.  Could you?"

Fauna was not entirely reassured by Vlad admitting that he didn't know what became of the werewolf or of Sasha and Bea. It wasn’t his fault, of course, but she was worried. Her face paled as she considered the possibility that the capture unit could have killed the werewolf – no. In denial, she gave a slight shake of her head. They were supposed to find and subdue werewolves… the werewolf had already been in bad shape… surely they hadn’t needed to kill him. The idea that someone had died tonight, even their attacker, made her ill.

She sunk into one of the visitor’s chairs in the room and found, with mild and detached surprise, that her legs were quite shaky. Devlin began to rant at the Healers and Knox, becoming more and more emotional and saying things that didn’t make much sense to her. She stared at him with an incredulous expression, biting her lip and looking back and forth from Knox and his son. The former Headmaster did not need to hear this right now. Fauna felt a flash of irritation and wished Devlin would run out of steam soon, or that a Healer would tell him to leave. Of course he was upset. They all were, but in her opinion he was acting selfish, drunk or not.

Devlin stormed out and she watched him go with a mixture of frustration and relief. Fauna gave Knox a sympathetic look when he put a hand to his forehead and muttered something. He didn’t dwell on Devlin though, instead suggesting that they needed to inform the Headmistress of the attack.

Fauna nodded, rising from the chair and watching him scrawl a quick note.

“I can-” she mumbled, but he’d already written it and handed it to her before she could offer. Quick thinking, steady Knox. Even with a chunk out of his arm he still had his head on straight.

“Yeah, of course,” she told him, hesitating for a second and studying his face. She wanted to give him some words of comfort, tell him that Devlin was just being Devlin, and that everything would be okay. But the words wouldn’t come and they needed her to run to the owl service, so Fauna nodded at him again and rushed out into the hallway.


((OOC note: I'm starting a new thread with Fauna in St. Mungo's so she can run into Tamis, though she might return to this thread later!))

CRACK!

Gabrielle had finally arrived to St. Mungo's, quite a mixture of being distraught as well as going slightly mad from what had occurred. The poncho cloak around her body swished as her boots clicked rather loudly against the marbled floors. She figured her father would be in this area, as well as Knox -- she was more concerned for Vlad than the former Headmaster. It was awkward slightly since she was hardly accustomed to being so worried for his health, but this incident brought out those emotions Gabrielle rarely wished to show. "Is there a Vladislaus Dragulia registered in here?" she commented to the receptionist, looking quite nervous about all that had happened this evening. "Dragulia? Hm... yes. Apparently, ma'am, he's being looked over by another Healer. Then again, I think he headed off to ..." A pause in her voice made Gabrielle all the more irritable in the situation.

"Where. Is. He."

"He headed off to Mr. Greyfriar's room, but of course, you need clearance." "I'm a Ministry worker, dear, and I think that constitutes a good clearance. Thank you kindly," she remarked rather bitterly as she tightened the fabric around her tighter as she headed down the hallway. A distraction caused by Devlin provided her to snap back to reality -- what on Earth? She had stopped to see him leaving in a fury and that made her raise an eyebrow. Standing as if like a statue, Gabrielle waited a few moments to collect her thoughts and emotions before walking on to find Knox's room. Her arrival was met with Fauna Blake leaving and her seeing Knox on a bed already.

"The scene's been taken care of or so I hope," was all she could muster as it came out in a semi-whimper as her eyes laid upon Knox and her father. "Are the two...of you all right? Anything I can do?" She luckily had spotted a chair nearby and placed herself into it. Oh, the agonies that would occur soon enough because of these events.

Gabrielle Murray-Harker's arrival was a welcome one. She was cool-headed and looked completely unharmed.  If there was anything to be done, Knox figured she'd be the one to get it done. She was a very powerful woman in the Ministry of Magic and would have many doors open to her.

"I'm going to want to see that report, from Hendric," Knox said, knowing full well he wouldn't be permitted.  "If they were able to take the werewolf into custody.  Find out what he was doing out like that."

He wanted to add, bloody idiot. He was incensed at how irresponsible that werewolf had been.  How reckless to be caught out without Wolfsbane Potion.  To be out at all.  How many lives he'd risked, and how many lives had changed because of it.

"I want to know what went on back there."

With his wound bandaged, he picked at the edges of the dressing, inspecting the work.  It was well done, but he knew a few ways he'd do it better.  Just to make it easier to re-dress.  He knew the bite would need constant care. 

The ward was very hush-hushed, but he knew what they were preparing behind some curtain somewhere.  They'd be warming up some Wolfsbane Potion.  If he'd truly been infected, and it was sure that he had, there was a slim chance he'd transform.  From what he knew about 2% of recent bites would transform on that self-same full moon.  But even as unlikely as it was, the Potion would help delay the onset of the illness that was coming, and perhaps alleviate its affects somewhat.

"Better get it over with.  Where is it?"