Upon returning to Hogwarts, Eliot was displeased to learn that the new Defense professor was the most annoying man to ever walk the earth: Gilderoy Lockhart.
Some people loved Lockhart. After all, he was a supposedly talented man. He claimed to have done all of these impressive things, but many people — Eliot included — were skeptical. It just didn't add up. Even if he had done any of it, he was rude, arrogant, and self-important, which was incredibly annoying and detracted from everyone's education. Not that he taught them much, anyway. All he ever talked about was himself.
However, one of Lockhart's supposed achievements particularly interested Eliot: His interaction with the Wagga Wagga Werewolf. Supposedly, Lockhart knew a charm that could cure lycanthropy. Of course, Eliot had a personal interest in the topic of helping werewolves, so he stayed back after class one day and approached the professor. He had his doubts, but he was willing to set his misgivings about Lockhart aside if it meant the possibility of curing Remus.
"Hello, Professor Lockhart." Eliot forced a smile, trying his very hardest to be nice. "I had a question. Um, you said you cured the Wagga Wagga Werewolf with the Homorphous Charm—"
"Yes, yes! I suppose you're here to ask me to sign your book, then?" Lockhart asked, picking up a quill.
"Um, no, actually." Eliot held the book close to his chest. He couldn't afford Lockhart's books, but since he and Fred had Lockhart's class on different days, Eli was able to borrow them. Fred despised Lockhart as much as Eliot did, if not more, and probably wouldn't appreciate his books being defiled by the man. "I was wondering, if, um, you might be willing to teach it to me. The charm."
Lockhart gave him an absolutely befuddled look. "Oh, er, no. I think it's... It's really far beyond your abilities. Far beyond OWL, really."
"Could I at least try?" Eliot begged.
"No, I don't think you should." Lockhart gulped. His hands were shaking and his face turned bright pink. Eliot had never seen him like this — normally he was so confident and cocky.
"Well, could you at least tell me the incantation?" Eliot requested. "I know a werewolf, and I really wish I could help him."
"Er — No." Lockhart swallowed hard. "I won't teach it to you, not yet. Too dangerous if done incorrectly, you see. Perhaps in a few years' time, if you're still interested."
"Oh." Eliot frowned. "Alright." He hung his head and shuffled out of the room. Lockhart would never last more than a year — no Defense professor ever had. Eliot might never learn the Homorphous Charm, if it even existed.
After a short bit of moping around, Eliot decided that he didn't need Lockhart. If he had any speck of trust or confidence in the man before, all of it had vanished. He could do some research on his own, but first he'd ask around a bit more. There were plenty of other, more capable professors at Hogwarts that would likely be willing to help him. Flitwick or McGonagall must know — it was a charm, after all, but perhaps it fell under the umbrella of Transfiguration. As much trouble as Eliot could be, he was a good student, and his professors welcomed him into their office with open arms.
Flitwick chuckled when Eliot brought up the charm. "Oh, if something as simple as a charm could cure a werewolf, the world would be a much better place for them."
"So it's not real?" Eliot's shoulders slumped.
Flitwick shook his head. "No, no, it is real. But Professor Lockhart, er... misled you, let's say. It's no permanent solution. It can only temporarily change a werewolf back to his human form. It might save you in a pinch, but no, it won't cure anything."
"Oh. I see." Eliot sighed. Back to the drawing board, then.
"Why so inquisitive, Mr. Black? Is this for more than theoretical purposes?"
"Yes, sir. I have a werewolf in my family. I thought I might've finally found a way to help him." Eliot felt tears welling up in his eyes. He balled his hands into fists and willed the tears to go away. "He's a good man. He doesn't deserve it."
"Of course." Flitwick pulled a tin of biscuits and a box of tissues out of his desk and slid them over to Eliot. "No one deserves such a curse. You might be better off asking Professor Snape about Wolfsbane potion."
"Yeah." Eliot sniffled, though he knew Wolfsbane wasn't an option for Remus. It was prohibitively expensive, even if they were to just buy ingredients and brew it themselves. For either of them to attempt to brew it might end in disaster, as an incorrect brew would certainly kill the drinker. Remus was rubbish at brewing potions, and though it was Eliot's best subject, he didn't think he was skilled enough to make it without help, at least not yet. He wasn't about to kill Remus, and he certainly wouldn't ask Snape for help. He already knew the answer would be no. Snape hated him.
Eliot trusted and respected Flitwick and fully believed his answer. However, he was too determined to give up after just two rejections. McGonagall was no more helpful, but equally empathetic. She had the same answer Flitwick did: "I wish I could help you, Mr. Black, but sadly there is no cure for lycanthropy."
Eliot frowned. "That's not fair."
"It's tragic, I know. One of my all-time favorite students was a werewolf." She smiled, a knowing glint in her eye.
Eliot stared at her for a moment as he quickly did the math in his head. He was pretty sure he knew what she was getting at. "You taught Remus?"
"Of course I did. So did a few of your other professors, though none of them were lucky enough to be his Head of House." She looked happier than Eliot had ever seen her. "You take after him quite a bit, you know."
Eliot tried to suppress his shock. He was so used to hearing that he was like his father, but rarely did anyone say he was like Remus. Eliot was tempted to ask her about Sirius, but stopped himself. McGonagall surely knew who his father was if Eliot actually looked as much like Sirius as Remus claimed he did, but what if she didn't know? Either way, it seemed wrong to bring him up. He supposed it was probably always wrong to bring up the fact that a Voldemort supporter was your father.
Instead, he asked, "You think I'm like Remus?"
"Oh, yes, you remind me quite a bit of him as a young man," She said. Eliot was hoping she'd explain further, but it seemed she was finished speaking.
"Then why am I not in Gryffindor?" Eliot asked.
"I cannot answer that, seeing as I'm not the Sorting Hat." McGonagall chuckled. "But I imagine your values align more with Hufflepuff. Patience may not be a virtue you're well acquainted with, but I certainly see you believe in hard work, based on your grades."
Eliot beamed. A compliment from McGonagall was nearly unheard of, but that sounded nearly like a compliment to him.
"Well, about the charm, I can't help you there. As I said, there's no cure," McGonagall said. "However, if you're not willing to take no for an answer, I'd be willing to write you a pass to the Restricted Section of the Library for some further research."
Eliot thought for a moment. He would normally never say no to a visit to the Library, but what was the point? He'd gone through three professors, the more trusted two both telling him that what he sought was nonexistent. Was there really anything in the Restricted Section he didn't already know? If there was anything better than Wolfsbane potion to help werewolves, it would be more common knowledge. Certainly someone would have mentioned it by now. As headstrong as Eliot could be when there was something to be done, he knew when it was time to let it go.
"No, that's alright." Eliot sighed. "I know Wolfsbane is the best thing. I just thought... I had a bit of hope."
McGonagall nodded solemnly. "At times, hope is all we have."