Chapter 116: The Battle at St. Mungo’s
The last Defence Against the Dark Arts class of Kyle's first year had covered werewolves, so he was no stranger to the creature.
It looked like a wolf but could stand upright, with a slightly shorter muzzle, gray fur covering its body, and sharp, hook-like claws on its front paws. The creature in front of him was unmistakably a werewolf. But weren't they only supposed to transform during a full moon?
What was this, then... a daytime werewolf?
Kyle had no time to ponder further. He raised his arm, and his wand slipped smoothly from his sleeve into his hand.
Everything he'd learned about werewolves emphasized one common trait: their minds were a mess; they had no reason, attacking anything that crossed their path. The werewolf before him was no exception. Its gaze was locked on Kyle, eyes brimming with cruelty and bloodlust.
There was nothing he could do to avoid it; he was the closest target. The werewolf bared its teeth, a row of sharp fangs at least two inches long. Milky saliva slowly dripped from between the teeth, splattering onto the brownish-red floor.
"Pat-ta..."
"Roar!"
As the werewolf lunged, Kyle was quicker, reciting the spell first.
"Spongify!"
With a dull thud, the werewolf lost its footing, tumbling sideways uncontrollably.