Fortunately for her (yet not for him), James was at hand. He was reading underneath a tree by Shacklbolt's outdoor class, expecting the prof to come out any moment. This was actually an uncharacteristic mis-calculation on James' part- the Headmaster had a crazy habit of popping where ever he was unwanted. So James Wake had waited in vain. At least he'd finished his homework.
He stopped by the lake and sighed. Tonight was another full moon night. That kind of sucked. He had no fights, no hate, no anger to vent out. The moon gave him only a slight increase in power, due to his incomplete bite. His alchemic arm swung loosely at his side. He was watching the waters, when some movement caught his eye. Werewolf? Perhaps.
He whipped out his wand, and, feeling the power of the moon encroaching on his body, and leaped forward, chasing after the werewolf. Maybe THIS would be fun. For some reason, his powers gave him an advantage in a battle against a werewolf- he could control his actions, think things through, and use that power unlike most other werewolves. He may not have been as strong, but he had a good head on his shoulders. That was probably more than enough.