As I walked through the white hospital corridors at St. Mungo's, I thought about how messed up my life is. Losing my mother at birth, my father dying of grief two years later, moving into an orphanage where I was poked and prodded by all the older kids, forced to shop for my spell books alone, facing my first year of Hogwarts with no friends, and now this. The smell of smoke filled my nose as I walked past the Reg Farette Ward, which is one ward away from mine, the Dai Llewyen Ward. I was the only child in there. I got no comfort from the woman with the massive bite; I nearly puked when they took of her bandages. The red haired man was a nice but talkative character, and I spent my days talking to him. His family was coming to visit for Christmas. Oh, right, that's today. Woo freaking hoo.
As I enter the ward, I notice the Unbearable-Smell Woman was surrounded by Healers. This happens to often for me to care, so I lay down on my crisp white bed and begin to read. The door opens with many shouts and squeals of 'Dad!' and 'Arthur!' I guess the red-haired man's family was here. I kept my book up to my face, but I wasn't reading, I was watching. I guessed his children and wife were the ones with flaming hair. There was also a man with grey hair, but he didn't look very old, a girl with pink hair, who was holding the old/young man's hand, a tall black man, a girl with frizzy brown hair and a boy with black hair and glasses. Crash. Everyone turned as I hastily retrieved my book from under my bed. This man knew Harry Potter. I kept staring, but they didn't notice. Boring. I zoned out for a bit, reading again, until I heard him speak slightly louder.
"Yes, I'm fine," he said to his family. "The others in my ward aren't so lucky. See the woman in the far corner? She won't tell anyone what bit her, so she was probably handling something illegal. And that poor girl over there-" I dropped my gaze to the book in my hands. "Bitten by a werewolf, poor girl," Arthur completed in a hushed voice. "A werewolf?" said his wife in an equally quiet voice. "Shouldn't be in a separate room?" She glanced uneasily at me. "It's two weeks to the full moon," he assured her. As they resumed talking about something else, I stole another glance at them. The man with grey hair was staring at me with this burning expression. That's right, I thought sourly. Stare at me. Zodiac, the werewolf.