If you're getting this notification on the day this chapter came out, look outside – the lunar eclipse from Book 2 is happening TODAY. I put the real lunar eclipse into the book!

Andy and I are both still trying to get ahead of the game with as many chapters as possible and will both start uploading as soon as we can. I just figured this Super Wolf Blood Moon was good timing for an update and to release this short Exo-centric one-shot! Enjoy.

"My name is Exorian."

Exo gulped and glanced around the room. Any time he had to say his name, he could sense the reaction. He tried to ignore the stares as people suddenly realized who he was. He wondered if he should use a fake name.

"And I haven't self-manducated in twenty-eight months."

There was applause, though significantly less than should be expected. It took serious self-discipline, meditation, and emotional management to be calm enough that you didn't gnaw your own body while transformed into a werewolf. No one here had broken thirty months, and most people had gotten more applause. He knew it wasn't a contest for applause, but it still slightly stung. Everywhere he had to say his name, he was inevitably treated to near-constant reminders of the damage his parents had done, plain on the faces of the people realizing whose child he was.

Here at Werewolves Anonymous was a community who were supposed to understand his pain. You came in here anonymous, and were surrounded by people who had lived your pain, and you healed together. But there was no support group for the children of supervillains. And with a name like Exorian, there was no anonymity.

His name was a beacon, but, like, the opposite of a beacon of light.

A Deluminator, maybe.

He sat down.

"My name is Fadi," said a young man, standing up next to him. "And I have not self-masticated in six months."

There was a roar of applause, much more than Exo had received. He folded his arms and tried not to be sour. For a guy with a butterfly Patronus, he wasn't exactly a fount of joy at all times. He held his tongue as the circle went around and everyone got more applause than him.

The discussion turned to best practices for avoiding self-injury during transformation. They shared strategies he'd perfected, but they never asked his opinion, even though he was one of the three longest successes in the program. The one time he did share his opinion, everyone turned to look at him, scared that he was beginning a supervillain speech and about to kill them all or something. Nobody said anything, and he wasn't even sure anyone heard his contribution. Then Jesús, the lead counselor, said "Thank you, Exorian," and the conversation proceeded without the slightest indication that anyone took his opinion into account.

Exo stormed out of the meeting, his hands in his coat pockets, and he almost slammed into an old man who stepped into view. He looked up to apologize, and was a bit startled to see who it was. "Dodecus?"

"Good evening, Exo," said Dodecus Tytezian – the only other child of a supervillain that Exo knew. "Cynthia asked me to pick you up today. She had a sudden call at St. Mungo's. I hope you don't mind."

"No, that's – that's absolutely fine," said Exo. "I just – we haven't seen you in six years! So I wasn't expecting it but I'm pleasantly surprised. How have you been?"

"I have been keeping busy," said Dodecus, smiling. "Integrating myself into a community in Australia."

"That's great," said Exo, as Dodecus motioned him to follow. Exo trotted behind him, surprised at how fast the man moved. It was like there was new life breathed into his old bones. He was happy to hear about Dodecus, too; it gave him a bit of hope. "So people have stopped associating you with your father, and now they're seeing you for the good person you really are?"

"Yes," said Dodecus. "To be perfectly honest, people started forgetting about my father after what yours did, so my surname hasn't been quite as taboo these days."

Exo deflated. "Okay. Then I guess I've just gotta wait for the next supervillain, so people forget about my dad."

"So you are facing discrimination?"

Exo measured his words carefully. He was talking to someone who was imprisoned for three quarters of a century for the crimes of his father, crimes of which he was innocent. Complaining about not getting applauded enough seemed a bit… shallow.

"I just feel like people are worried I'm gonna suddenly snap and murder them or something. They don't react to me the way they react to normal people. They stare, they judge, they… they make me feel like an 'other.' I'm already enough of an 'other' as a werewolf. I don't need to be… an… another 'other' on top of it all."

"Talk to me, I understand. Do you have a specific instance on your mind? Did it happen today?"

Exo took a deep breath, and just decided to be honest. "I… today I had gone twenty-eight months. Er – that is – without self-manducation. Er – that sounds dirty. It means chewing yourself while you're a werewolf. It happens a lot, especially to people who can't afford Wolfsbane. Your family and friends restrain you so you don't injure others, but the instincts for attacking make you bite and gnaw at your own limbs in frustration. It can be helped with extreme emotional discipline, meditating and stuff. And I've gotten really good at it after years struggling with it, even with Wolfsbane. I wasn't looking to be showered with praise or anything, but I have the second best streak excluding Mr. Lobo, our lead counselor, and nobody really made me feel proud about it the way they helped other people feel proud. The guy next to me said six months and he got better applause. And I know it's petty to be so obsessed about it, and it's so small, but it's the small things that pile up every day that make this unbearable."

Dodecus said nothing, but it was in a way such that Exo felt extremely validated. He could clearly see that Dodecus had taken his complaints seriously, and was nodding, really thinking about a helpful response. This was a "small thing," too, but a helpful one.

"It is not petty," said Dodecus, finally. "You have a right to be respected. Just make sure you are doing everything you can to maintain your own pride, regardless of whether others are proud of you. A plant that cannot absorb water will die even upon the arrival of the rain it thirsts for."

Exo smiled. "I understand that. It's just hard… when you know what's coming the moment you say your name."

"But that is precisely what I mean," insisted Dodecus. "When you walked in and said your name, you were staring at everyone, waiting for them to get nervous. But if you walk in with a smile, a smile that is not dependent on others' reactions, and you greet them with happiness regardless of what they think of you… you may in fact end up changing the way people react around you. And if you change their perception of why they act the way they do, not assuming the worst, then you will start thinking for the best. Perhaps the other man has never reached six months and this is extremely impressive for him. They know his deep struggles and desire for success, but they only know you as suspicious and unhappy if that's all you show them."

Exo twisted his mouth. "I… guess so. That makes sense."

"When I was released from jail, I found the same thing every time I tried to integrate myself, anywhere. I was whispered behind, pointed at, judged from afar, judged from up close. And for a while, I was exactly what they expected. It was an easy trope to fall into. 'There goes Dodecus Tytezian, son of an incredibly evil Dark wizard, jailed for seventy-five years, full of rage.' That narrative filled me with rage, turning me into what I wasn't, proving them right. A self-fulfilling prophecy. Until I remembered that I wasn't what they said about me. And I set my life to proving them wrong. Now I have been working at a shelter for homeless Muggles, elected to my town council, and I run an advice column in the local paper."

"Wow," said Exo, his mood lifting. "You really are setting the right example, then. I hope I can be as well-adjusted as you."

"But you are," noted Dodecus. "You haven't self… bitten? Whatever the word. You haven't done that in over two years, when it was very difficult for you before. I imagine you do that by centering yourself before the transformation. You tell yourself you are not violent, you don't go into it expecting to come out with bruises and scratches, and that helps it come true. Yes?"

"That's a pretty good summary, yeah."

"Then do that when you go out in public, too," said Dodecus, smiling. "Remind yourself who you are underneath, and don't go into it expecting to come out with bruises and scratches. And your transformations in public may become less taxing, just like your transformations on the full moon."

Exo smiled widely, and then looked up; they were heading towards an alley between buildings. "I appreciate the talk," he said in earnest. "I appreciate it a lot. Not to change the subject abruptly, but, where are we going? I never actually asked. Not that I think you're an imposter, of course – no one else could give advice so well."

"Well, thank you," laughed Dodecus. "We're headed to the moon, of course. Tomorrow night is the full moon and when you are on the moon, your transformations are easier to ride out and less damaging for your body."

"I know that," said Exo, "but I usually don't go so soon. I've got a good twelve hours before the moon actually becomes full, usually I spend the night before on Earth."

"This time is a little different."

Exo bit back a smile. Dodecus noticed and didn't bite his own smile back. If this is what Exo thought it was…

"Safe travels," said Dodecus with an even wider smile, and for some reason, that smile made Exo think Dodecus knew even more than Exo thought he knew.

As they entered the alley, Dodecus flicked his wand, and the lunar portal emerged from a crack in a side wall and floated towards them. Exo stared into the portal, imagining what would be the next thing he would see when he took his eyes off it. As the alley melted away and he tore his eyes away as soon as he felt comfortable, he was proven correct.

There were party favors scattered around the moon base – little glowing stars populated the parts of the dome that weren't glass, and sparkled even brighter than the real stars outside. Streams of glittering garland were slowly orbiting the inside of the dome, and mini fireworks were bursting just outside. Dumbledog was hovering along one of the walls, a paintbrush in his mouth, painting the walls very sloppily with gray paint.

"Oh, for the love of – Dumbledog, I told you, the red paint! That's gray again! I really gotta give you color vision—"

Desulgon looked over when Exo landed, and he walked swiftly over. "Exo! My boy! Welcome back, and happy adoption day!"

Exo ran into his legal guardian's arms, and Desulgon hugged him tight. "Cynthia will be up whenever she's free," he said. "Can you believe it's been five years since we became your parents?"

"It's gone by so fast," said Exo. "And you know, for a dad without a soul, you've been pretty fantastic."

"For the son of a man with the worst soul on the planet, you've turned out pretty okay, too," jested Desulgon, jabbing his elbow into Exo's side. "It's been an absolute pleasure, as I knew it would be. I still remember baby's first words: 'Don't worry, you can't be any worse than my last dad.'"

"Exo!" roared Teddy in delight from the kitchen. "I'll be there in a moment – just finishing making the pancakes!"

Exo waved to Teddy and then laughed, gesturing around. "You didn't have to do all this! I mean, there's an anniversary every year and you already go all out for my birthdays, too! Do I really deserve this twice a year?"

"This day's a bit more special than usual," said Desulgon, winking. "There's something else we're gonna be celebrating."

"What do you—"

Before Exo could get the rest of his question out, there was a pattering of feet behind him and he was hugged from behind. "Exo!" cried Cynthia. "So glad to see you – happy adoption day, sweetie!"

"Mom! Dodecus said you were at St. Mungo's—"

"Situation's under control there, and I couldn't miss this!"

"Couldn't miss what?" laughed Exo. "What is this other thing that's overshadowing my adoption day? I'm so offended—"

"This," said Desulgon, holding up a vial. "I did promise Teddy, after all."

Exo stared at the vial. The first thing he noticed was that it was full of a silver liquid. The next thing he noticed was the look on Cynthia's face. Desulgon was usually unreadable, with his emotions not being completely genuine, but Cynthia was an open book, and there was only one thing that could be in that vial that could possibly be making her this excited.

"You're not serious," he said, his mouth drying. "It's not… Did you…"

"Tested and approved," said Desulgon. "We figured out the recipe. It's not contagious in the slightest, and it's more powerful than any other Transfection known."

"I thought trials would take years."

"They will," mused Desulgon. "But you know me. You know I know everything and so I know it's completely safe, and you know there's no security strong enough to keep me from getting something I want. Nobody needs to know."

For the two decades of his condition, he had wished every day for a cure. He had risked his life for it more than once. But now, staring at it, he was a bit terrified. He didn't know what he would be without it.

"I… are you really sure? They said the Inanimagus trials were largely unsuccessful, they could be promising in other fields but none could overpower the Transfection for lycanthropy. Are you… totally sure it'll work?"

"I'm basically an omnipotent machine incapable of mistakes at this point, so, yeah," said Desulgon. "I'm sure."

"But, even just last month, you said it wasn't powerful enough to overcome the—"

"Yes," chuckled Desulgon. "But a lot of research can happen in a month when you refuse to sleep until a breakthrough. Yes, the most recent update you heard from the research was that the new Transfection discovered was not strong enough to overpower the werewolf Transfection. And really, who would want to turn themselves into an inanimate hunk of rock or wood anyway? But the versatility of this Transfection is not to be underestimated. You can only choose one, but the wielder can choose any element or substance into which they want to be able to transmogrify. And unlike the vast majority of magical research, the obvious idea presented itself almost immediately, and… it worked."

"It's a Transfection… that will let me turn into solid silver?"

Exo was hardly breathing as he stared into the vial, transfixed as if he were staring into the lunar portal… but this vial would transport him even farther than the moon.

"I'm not sure how useful it will be in general, apart from having a friend sell you for a large sum of money and then transforming back in the middle of the night and walking away," said Desulgon, "but the usefulness of the Transfection isn't the point. It's the fact that it's a potion made using silver. Which means it reacts uniquely against the Transfection that causes lycanthropy. And under the right circumstances, overpowers it. If you drink this while you're on the moon… You'll never transform again."

Exo stared.

"It should certainly help you keep that no-self-manducation streak going," Desulgon joked.

Exo pinched his own arm, rather painfully, to check if he was dreaming; Desulgon and Cynthia laughed. Teddy raced over from the kitchen. "Have you shown him already? Are you gonna do it now? Should I put the pancakes in a time vortex so they stay hot?"

Exo looked up at his parents, and he saw a look on Desulgon's face that he had never seen. There was a warmth there – a glowing, parental warmth that he had never genuinely seen his father wearing. He slowly reached forward and took the vial. Cynthia lit the tip of her wand on fire and held it under the vial for half a second, and the vial instantly started bubbling. She took the wand away. "It's ready to drink immediately," she said. "Go on. Within the next minute, before it stops bubbling."

Exo slowly raised the vial, in a sort of toast, and put it to his lips. He wondered what the future would bring.

And then he remembered what Dodecus said. It was like anything else. He wasn't defined by what was happening to him. He was defined by what he did about it, how he faced it. As long as he went into this with a positive, open mind… not expecting the worst… ready for the best… then that was all he needed.

He closed his eyes.

He cleared his mind of all his doubts and fears.

And he drank.