It took Remus Lupin only a few days to win over nearly every student in the school.
He was knowledgeable, engaging in his lectures, and responsible toward every student... Of course, it helped that his predecessors were people like Lockhart and Quirrell!
"Professor Lupin is the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher I've ever seen—well, except for Professor Dumbledore!" Jon had heard this more than once.
He just wondered if they would still say that after learning Lupin was actually a werewolf.
But that would be understandable—werewolves were extremely dangerous creatures. If you were bitten by one during the full moon, you would either die or be cursed. Very few people would want to stay anywhere near such a creature, no matter how kind or harmless it seemed.
Back during the summer holidays, Jon had finished reading Under the Moonlight, which he had borrowed from the Restricted Section, and had gained some understanding of a werewolf's physiology.
He had even come up with a few ideas:
For example, extracting Lupin's saliva on the night of the full moon, inactivating it, injecting it into an African green monkey or chimpanzee, and then drawing the chimpanzee's blood... He wondered if such a simple immunization method could produce immunoglobulins capable of resisting wolf poison.
However, the risk of such an experiment was enormous. Given the terrifying potency of wolf poison, one slip could mean he would be infected himself.
So, although the idea interested him, Jon decided to postpone this sort of exploratory experiment until a few years later, when his abilities were stronger.
...
The other classes were mostly the same as last semester.
Charms and Transfiguration simply picked up where they had left off, even using the same textbooks. Astronomy and History of Magic hadn't changed much either.
On Friday afternoon, Jon entered the Great Hall and sat down at the Hufflepuff table for lunch.
A large group of students in yellow-and-black Hufflepuff Quidditch robes walked in together.
"Good afternoon, Jon!" Zacharias Smith strode at the front of the group, head held high.
"Hello," Jon replied lazily.
"Hey, mate!" Zacharias hurried over. "Can you at least look me in the eye?"
"Huh?" Jon turned his head, puzzled, then asked in surprise, "You made the Hufflepuff Quidditch team?"
"That's right! I passed the tryouts!" Zacharias laughed loudly. "Seeker!"
"Seeker?" Jon repeated, incredulous.
"Substitute," Cedric said with a smile as he walked over with the rest of the Hufflepuff team.
"A substitute, sure... but still a member of the Quidditch team!" Zacharias grinned. "Only 226 second-years have ever made their house team this century. I'm honored to be one of them!"
"Oh, by the way, Jon," Cedric stopped, "do you have to retake flying class?"
Jon blinked. "How did you know?"
"Draco Malfoy," Cedric said, glancing toward the Slytherin table. "He's been telling everyone you have to retake it. By now, the whole school knows."
Jon curled his lips but didn't really care. He had failed on his own merits and was taking the advanced class on his own merits—nothing to be ashamed of.
"We've got Quidditch practice this afternoon!" Cedric said earnestly. "Why don't you come practice with us?"
"Yeah!" Zacharias quickly added. "A bit more practice will definitely help your score."
Seeing their sincerity, Jon didn't feel right turning them down. He had no classes that afternoon anyway... The only things left this week were Saturday afternoon's flying class and potions tutoring in the evening.
So he nodded. "Alright, thanks."
...
At six o'clock that evening, Cedric and Zacharias carried something wrapped head-to-toe in bandages—looking like a mummy—back into the Hufflepuff common room.
"Huh?" Hannah Abbott looked up in surprise. "Starting the Halloween decorations early?"
"No... Hannah..." Cedric shook his head, speaking in a low voice. "It's Jon."
"Jon?" Hannah blinked, not quite processing it.
"Jon Hart," Zacharias sighed.
"He took four hits from a Bludger..."
"Fell off his broom six times..."
"And crashed into a goalpost once..."
The two of them recounted the afternoon's disaster.
"Jon, are you alright?" Hannah asked quickly.
"Madam Pomfrey says it's just superficial injuries... He'll be fine after a night's rest," Zacharias answered for him.
"It's my fault!" Cedric said, hanging his head in shame. "I never should have taken him to the Quidditch pitch... If I hadn't—"
"How… could anyone invent… such a stupid… sport… as Quidditch..." came Jon's trembling, strained voice from under the bandages.
Normally, Zacharias would have argued.
This time, he just gave Jon a sympathetic look and shook his head.
...
Saturday morning.
Astoria Greengrass arrived early at the library.
"You're hurt?" she hurried over to a desk, concern written all over her face.
"I'm fine... I've mostly recovered now," Jon said with a faint smile.
Astoria gently touched the scars on his face that had yet to heal. "Let's go see Madam Pomfrey again," she said softly.
"No need," Jon said firmly, shaking his head. "Astoria, after what happened yesterday, I've realized something... I'll probably never pass the flying exam in my life."
"Don't lose faith, Jon!" Astoria said quickly. "Believe in yourself—you can do it!"
"No, it's not about losing faith," Jon said with confidence. "I've found a shortcut."
He handed her a piece of parchment. "Look at the part I circled."
"Hogwarts Rule 67," Astoria read aloud. "Students who have made outstanding contributions to a course may be exempt from the final exam for that course..."
She looked up, puzzled. "Jon, I don't quite understand?"
"Help me out," Jon said, not explaining further. He had already turned his attention to the pile of scrolls on the desk. "Help me sort through the data on these."