Professor Lupin Werewolf Novels & Stories

For now, she’d have to be the werewolf’s assistant. The End!

I’d catch their subtle glances during meals or in the corridors, like they were waiting for the wolf to break free again. The Lesson The morning bell chimed, and I headed to Advanced Supernatural Biology, sliding into my usual seat. The room buzzed with quiet conversation as Professor Elliot, a werewolf himself taught the day’s lesson. "Settle down," he said, his voice calm but firm. “Today, we’re discussing one of the most complex and misunderstood aspects of our kind the split personality of the feral manifestation.” The chatter died instantly. This was one of the topics everyone found fascinating and unnerving in equal measure.

"You've been all glowy since you got back. And Lanvin's been weird too. Like, extra broody. Something happened." "Drop it, Freckles," I said, nudging her shoulder. "Class is starting. Be quiet and listen to the lecture." She pouted but straightened up, flipping open her notebook. "Fine, but I'm not letting this go. You owe me details later." The professor walked in then, a tall, grizzled man with a scar across his cheek. He was droning on about pack history or something. I wasn't really paying attention. My mind kept drifting back to Lanvin's room, the way he'd held me all night. It was messing with my head. My wolf had been quiet since then, but every time I thought about him, she stirred,

change. It was a grotesque, beautiful horror. Bones snapped and elongated. Skin rippled as fur retreated into pores. In a matter of seconds, three naked, panting men stood in the dirt, their bodies covered in scars and fresh, bleeding gashes. "He’s losing his grip, boys," one of the men spat, wiping blood from his mouth. "An Alpha who can't control his hunger for a human girl is a liability." The black wolf—Zayden—didn't shift. He stood his ground, a low, earth-shaking growl vibrating through his massive chest. His golden eyes locked onto the men, a silent promise of death.

For once, their arrogance pays to my advantage - they’re too confident that no one will ever turn their backs on them or dare to go against them. “You okay back there, pup?” Professor Michael asks as he steers the car over the border. His question catches me off guard at first since I don’t remember the last time anyone bothered to ask me if I’m okay at all, but I’m thankful for the distraction from my thoughts. “Yes,” I answer quickly. Professor Michael was my medical professor back when I still attended the werewolf academy. I studied medicine while Katherine was groomed to become Luna.

His voice boomed through the room, commanding everyone's attention. “Good morning professor,” they all responded. Today,” he began, writing The Evolution of Werewolf Packs on the board in neat, precise strokes, “we will discuss the role of the Alpha in ancient pack hierarchies.” He adjusted his glasses and turned to face the class. “Werewolves, contrary to popular myth, are not just driven by instinct. Pack structure is complex, rooted in loyalty, territory, and the mating bond….” Ronan wasn’t listening. Neither were his brothers. It looked as if the professor was making noise. They could not concentrate in the class.

That depends if they have a kitchen. "Salty sugars. No ma'am." She accidentally speaks out loudly. "Pardon. You mean that the werewolf Bloodline originated from salted sugars?" A grimace appears on the professor's honey toned face. A chorus of laughter emerges in the room, making Professor Olivia turn her grimace towards the students. "Silence!" Laughing voices slow down and the professor orders us to sit. "Since none of you have this knowledge, let me enlighten you all." As if we will die if we don't know.

Feline smiled at her, “Hello Lola. It has been a while since we inserted you with the werewolf DNA and we would like an update on how you are doing.” Lola swallowed nervously, “Yeah about that. The DNA never worked so I never transformed into a werewolf. So, I wasn’t able to find any werewolves. Sorry.” Feline narrowed her eyes, “Why didn’t you come back then? We could have tried injecting you again.” “I know that is what I should have done, and I apologize for wasting your time. I ended up meeting a backpacker and I fell in love. The truth is that I have been too busy traveling and falling in love.”

Tall, pale, and dressed in an immaculate suit, he looked like he’d stepped out of a Victorian painting. "Good morning," he said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. "I am Professor Laurent. While I may not practice witchcraft, I have spent centuries studying its many forms. And so, you will learn from me." Rita slid into a seat, pulling out her notebook— And then he walked in. The shorthaired wolf from last night. He moved with deliberate calm, his shoulders tense as he scanned the room. When his eyes landed on her, something flickered in his gaze—something hungry.

“I’m afraid I’m sure as hell. Double size, strong legs, sharp canines, glowing eyes. That’s not a regular wolf you’re looking at! Come the night and they would be thrice as dangerous.” The man swallowed. “What do we do?” “I hope there’s something we could do but I’m afraid there isn’t. They are much stronger than us. No amount of collective strength would make it possible to stop them. I say let them do whatever it is they’re doing and wait till its over.” – the professor said and went inside his car again The man got no choice. Half of his mind’s still not convinced that the ones he’s looking at now are actually werewolves: a page of ancient history coming to life right before their eyes.