Chapter Text
July 22nd, 1994 | Full Moon | 10:07 pm
Reality snapped into place suddenly and with excruciating pain. No memories, no reason, not even my own name… Just pain.
Unexpectedly, but no less unfortunate, it was a burning sort of pain despite the fact that I was being bitten.
The teeth that were tearing into my shoulder were undoubtably sharp, my skin and muscle slicing without much resistance, while the jaws were applying a considerable amount of crushing pressure on the bones in my shoulder; but all together, the bite just felt like my shoulder was on fire.
Not that I could remember a time where I had been on fire, but the comparison was supplied by my brain anyways.
The forest loomed in all directions, shadows of deep indigo among the emerald leaves of a forest in summer. High above in the black sky, the full moon stood alone without a single cloud to block its radiant light.
The clearing was washed in moonlight, enlightening me to the horrific situation that I found myself in : I was being bitten by a werewolf.
This werewolf was painful looking creature. It was as tall as an adult man but its features were all wolf. It was strong despite its lanky and scraggly appearance. It had cruelly clawed hands and feet that were sculpted in crude paws. There was grimy, rough fur covering most of the body but patches looked as if they had been rubbed away to reveal the sickly grey skin. Its doggish head had a long muzzle full of sharp, oversized fangs that were currently digging into my flesh.
I was screaming but the sound was muffled in my own ears. A small mercy in a way.
I was not spared from the feeling of the gore covering my hands and forearms, but this was perhaps for the best because I was still holding the knife that was lodged in the werewolf's neck.
Wispy, faint steam rose into the cold night air from the uncomfortably warm red-black blood sputtering from the wound between the knife's blade. The exact degree of the wound was hard to see, obscured by the shadow of the werewolf’s head and the blood darkening everything, but the sounds were not pleasant.
However, it did not seem like I was winning this exchange of wounds.
The fire of pain blazed as the werewolf bit down harder, it's fangs scraping against the rounded top of my shoulder bone. Reactively, I pushed my weapon deeper into the werewolf’s neck, thrashing as I felt resistance. My back was against the trunk of a crooked oak tree, my legs were kicking and pushing against the creature aimlessly. It's claws were digging into the trunk on either side of my torso while its head pinned me against the rough surface of the oak as it savaged my shoulder.
After a jolting movement, my knife, or perhaps blade, pierced clean through the back of the werewolf’s neck. I could see the pointed end of the silvery metal reflecting the moonlight.
The more the wolf bit down, the more I dug through the fur, skin, and stringy muscles of its neck with my weapon. There was so much blood between the two of us that it was no surprise when my feet finally slipped.
My hearing came back suddenly and violently, echoing my movements as my knife finally broke free from the werewolf’s flesh as I landed ungracefully at the base of the tree.
I stop screaming just in time to hear the thump sound of the werewolf’s body against the forest floor. The black colour of the dirt hid most of the blood that was still seeping from its neck.
Shivering and breathing hard, I kicked and pushed the werewolf’s lower half off me; it had landed heavily across my legs as it slumped over. Time seemed to slow and all I could hear was my wobbly breathing as I stared numbly at the weapon still clutched in my right hand.
It was a knife, but the blade was as long as my forearm and serrated. The handle was thick and adorned with a wide hilt to protect my hands from sliding forward into the blade. The blade seemed to be silver and the handle wrapped a dark leather but everything from the blade to my elbow was completely drenched in blood.
I let the knife roll off my limp fingers and fall to the ground beside my thigh.
The sight of all the blood, and the now lifeless body of the werewolf caused a lurching sensation in my stomach but I almost could not stop staring.
With sluggish movements, I turned and titled my head towards my injured shoulder, realizing I could no longer feel the burning pain anymore.
Unfortunately, I also realized that as a bad sign.
I’m going to die.
That depressing thought was interrupted by three men—truly two men and a boy—popping into existence.
I blinked at them, feeling detached from the entire situation and not really startled by their sudden appearance.
“Well, well,” the man with the long, silvery blond hair spoke in an unamused tone, “this is surprising.” Wearing what appeared to be dark, elegant cloak and dress pants; the man looked to be in his forties, tall and carrying a heavy sense of superiority. His grey eyes were scrutinizing, accompanying his sharp facial features.
The man’s mouth sneered as he scowled at me and the dead werewolf. He looked annoyed, as if I’d inconvenienced him.
The other man; who looked to be around the same age as the first, had an unhealthy sallow completion that was only made worse by his shoulder-length black hair and dull, dark eyes.
This man was slightly shorter than the first and he was looking down his large, hooked nose at the situation with apprehension. He was wearing a plain black cloak and robes.
The boy; which had the same blond colouring and grey eyes as the first man, leaned around the two men to get a better look at the mess under the oak tree. He was wearing a pair of black pants and a charcoal dress shirt.
“It’s a girl,” he said uncertainly.
I can’t be the first one you’ve ever seen. My thoughts were snippy despite the shock I was experiencing.
It was at this moment that I regarded what I was wearing : dark pants and similarly coloured shirt and flimsy windbreaker. Although, it was also hard to see under all the blood. Blood speckled my face and torso, pooled by my stomach and over my legs from where the werewolf had bled on me, and of course, my shoulder was a open bleeding wound as well.
Gross.
Both of the adults ignored the boy, and instead the black haired one addressed the other, “the wolf appears to be one of Greyback’s sons.” There were clearly words left unsaid by the sullen man, his tone and words spoken slowly and clearly.
“Yes, it does.” The blond man replied before he glared at me again. His grey eyes were accusatory.
I put every ounce of exhaustion and frustration into my inhale. “If you aren’t going to help me, can you at least let me die without you all staring at me.” I would have been proud of the snap in my voice if I wasn't currently slumped pitifully against the tree.
My outburst seemed to surprise the dark haired man and the boy, but Long-Blondie seemed even more annoyed. “It’s a muggle,” he spat the word before turning towards the dark-haired man, “but perhaps I can offer it to Greyback if it survives the bite. Replace one wolf with a new one. What do you think, Severus?”
The other man—Severus—had an impeccable sense of foreboding as he suddenly stalked towards me. If I had the strength, I would have scrambled away.
“Father, how did-?” The boy spoke up again with a demanding and petulant tone but his father interrupted him with a strict : “Not now, Draco.”
The boy looked put out by the dismissal.
With his cloak billowing behind him like huge lifeless bat wings, Severus approached me at my injured side and produced a wooden item from an unseen pocket.
A wand.
I wasn’t sure how I knew what it was but I leaned away hesitantly as the man waved his wand vaguely over my body. A faint bluish light appeared at the end of the dark colour wand before flickering out. “She may survive... If you are confident that Greyback will be appeased by getting a replacement, an application of silver and dittany would aid in her survival…”
As he spoke, he motioned with his wand again and I felt a soft sensation run across my entire body. I flinched but realized I was suddenly clean of all the gore from the werewolf attack. My shoulder wound only gave me a moment of peace before blood began to trickle back down my arm and side.
“The girl is young but old enough to transform. Since she is newly bitten, wolf’s-bane will still be effective even this late… She will undergo the first transformation soon.” Severus pocketed his wand, grimacing at me as he finished speaking but he obviously was not looking for my opinion.
I decided to give it anyways.
“Are you serious? I've been bitten by a werewolf, I’m going to die,” I replied, my words shaking as much as my body. I wasn't afraid, everything seemed too unreal but I suppose my body was still reacting as normally as it could.
Again, I startled the dark haired one and the boy; the boy looked at me wide-eyed and eyebrows raised, and again the long haired man just seemed annoyed.
“Heal the girl, Severus. Muggle or not, Greyback will take a new wolf to replace the dead one.”
─── ⋆⋅ ⟡ ⋅⋆ ───
‘Healing’ turned out to be a poultice and a bottle of mysterious liquid. The man named Severus summoned a bundle of plant material and a pouch of silver powder first.
Perhaps it was my blood loss or just the shock from the werewolf bite, but I numbly watched as the dark haired wizard used his wand to magically crush the dittany plant and add the silver powder to the forming poultice.
Magic. Huh.
With a quick, irritated flick of his dark wooden wand, Severus sent the combined dittany and silver to cover my ravaged shoulder.
There was something spectral about the combination : the silver and dittany swirled within itself, a soft dance of the two materials that sparkled in the moonlight. It stayed where it was applied on my wounded shoulder and I imagined it would feel soothing… but I couldn’t feel it against my skin.
That’s still probably not a good sign.
The sudden snap of fingers startled me to look up at the gloomy man. There was a mysterious bottle of liquid being levitated by his magic. The glass was a dark grey colour and rounded like a bulb, I could see a darker liquid within.
“You will drink this potion,” the man droned, “I will lower this towards you. Are you capable of using your arms?”
His tone irked me but I still attempted to raise my arms. I was vaguely aware of numbness spreading from my ingury and it turned out that I couldn’t move that arm either.
“This one works,” I replied flippantly and waved with my uninjured arm.
Severus did not find that amusing.
The man used magic to float the bottle down to my waiting hand, slowly and carefully. The glass topper disappeared into a cloud of smoke as my fingers brushed the rounded bottom of the potion.
It didn’t smell like anything.
“Drink it.” Snapped the wizard as he glared at me.
As disorientated as I was feeling, there was just something inherently concerning about drinking a mystery liquid. I raised the potion until I could see the faint glowing shape of the moon through the dark transparent glass.
The full moon was higher in the sky now, a perfect sliver coin sitting on top of the back velvet sky. All around, the trees were shivering against the whispering wind and the cold of forest floor was beginning to seep into my bones.
Stalling, I pretended to suddenly be very interested in the ongoing conversation between the wizard father and son :
“I've allowed you to accompany us, Draco, like I had agreed when you requested. Now, return to the manor before your mother begins to worry.” The father was ordering his scowling son.
“Father, you agreed to let me join you and Professor Snape to investigate what triggered our wards. I want to stay.” The boy—Draco—argued, keeping his tone even.
“You have seen what the wards detected, and the wards are not broken or down. I will investigate further but there is no reason for you to stay longer."
I got the impression that this was less of an argument and more a debate.
“I should be able to stay and see if the girl survives. If I return to the manor now, mother will have questions that I won’t be able to answer.”
“Your mother will be very cross with me if I allow you to be present for a werewolf transformation. When you return home, you will tell her that I am handling the situation.”
“Mother is going to be cross about this situation regardless. I’m safer staying with you and Professor Snape." The boy's face soured, and as if he could not stop himself, he added : "And Potter got to witness our shabby Defence teacher transform just a few months ago!"
I missed the father’s reply as the dark haired wizard beside me snapped his fingers again. He didn’t have to repeat himself, his glare was enough.
Not that I would be able to hear him anyways, as it seemed that my heartbeat decided to relocate itself into my eardrums. My vision was beginning to waver and the tips of my fingers were starting to tingle.
Oh well, I’m going to die anyways.
I tipped the potion into my mouth without giving myself another chance to hesitate.
I didn’t taste it right away so by the time the awful ash and sourness flooded my mouth, it was too late and I had to swallow the thick liquid. The glass disappeared from my hand as I was coughing but at least I was able to wipe the budding tears from my eyes.
The heartbeat in my ears disappeared but not the tingling in my fingers and toes. My mouth felt fuzzy, a strange combination of numb and dry. I coughed again and I looked up towards the dark haired wizard.
I had meant to ask him to conjure up some water with his magic but once I looked into his dark eyes—Inhale.
Dark shifting mist and shadows clouded the exterior surroundings but in the centre clearing, the wizard was crowding over a blackened wooden desk. The tome sittings before him contained a string of runes that were inked in a quicksilver liquid. The wizard’s left hand was planted beside the book and just a breath out of reach was a large photograph. The young woman in the imagine had deep red hair and bright green eyes, and she was smiling. Smiling and laughing within the photograph. The wizard produced his wand from an inner pocket in his robes. With intensity and care, the wizard began to draw the runes into the air above the photograph. At first, the runes appeared suspended in the air as silvery wisps but would only stay a moment before the shape of the rune would shatter and fade into nothing. He kept drawing the ill-fated runes over and over, his face impassive but his arm shaking as the magic drained his strength. Again and again, the runes shattered into silvery dust and he just kept starting the string over and over again.—Exhale.
Feeling overcome with annoyance and impatience, I snapped. “Can’t you see it’s not going to work?” I hadn’t really realized that I spoken until all three of the wizards turned towards me.
Suddenly and viciously, Severus Snape brandished his wand and pointed it at my forehead, “Legilimens.”
Someone was screaming, and it was probably me but I felt suspended from my body as images from my mind flashed in front of my eyes. First it was the moments of Snape with the runes and the photograph and then it was the werewolf attack. Then nothing.
The spell broke just as the young wizard named Draco was speaking, “Father, he’s hurting the girl.” His voice was wavering but demanding.
I was left with a lingering pain in my eyes and under my skull like sharp tiny claws dragging under the surface. I managed to curl my legs up and rest my forehead against my knees as my eyes watered. I brushed them away as discreetly as I could with my uninjured arm.
Unmoved by my distressed, Snape regained his chilly composure. “Lucius,” he addressed the other adult wizard gravely, “this situation may be more dire then it first appeared. The child appears to be a Seer…”
“Does she?” The father wizard said in a tone that suggested cruelty. Lucius made no indication that he was going to continue the conversation, causing Snape to scowl at him.
“Yes, without any intention or incantation, she just saw something that I was planning on doing in a few days.”
“And what would that be?” Lucius interrupted with a smirk.
Snape ignored the wizard’s question and instead continued with : “Evidently, the child has no personal memories beyond the werewolf bite. Only a strong memory charm casted by a competent magician could implement a spell such as a triggered Obliviation… This child getting bitten on your property is cause for concern.”
I had been watching the exchange between the two wizards with my chin on my knees, hugging my legs with my uninjured arm. Lucius turned to look down at me but instead of annoyance, his face was thoughtful.