Disclaimer: JKR owns the universe.

Chapter 1: El Lobo

July 2, 2015

The pickup truck bumped and creaked along the winding dirt road, approaching the Mexican-American border. Its occupants huddled together in the overcrowded truck bed. Their expressions ranged from fearful to downright determined as they peered out into the cold, cloudy night, alert for any signs of border guards amongst the shadowy cacti. Finally, the truck ground to a halt on the side of the secluded road. The driver jumped out and spat a large wad of tobacco onto the dirt.

The man glared out from under the shadow of his black cowboy hat. He had dark, leathery skin from being out in the sun, a well-trimmed black moustache and four parallel scars that ran from below his left ear and disappeared beneath his buttoned-up collar. The man looked rough and borderline untrustworthy, but that was exactly why people trusted him to do this job.

"This is as far as I take you tonight," the man snarled in Spanish, "from here you will travel on foot with El Lobo."

No one in the truck bed had noticed the other man get out of the passenger side of the truck, but there he stood. His snakeskin boots spread wide, strong, tattooed arms crossed his tank-topped chest, and, like his partner, a black cowboy hat shielded his face from the glare of the headlights. Even the bravest passengers shivered involuntarily, but they followed him willingly to the opening of a large forgotten sewer pipe hidden behind a pile of rocks. It is not as though they had any other choice.

After what felt like days, the entire group crawled out of the tunnel followed by their mysterious coyote, El Lobo. El Lobo stood up, stretched his limbs, and took off his hat to gaze at the full moon. Suddenly, his entire body spasmed. The runaways watched in horror as his muscles rippled and grew, his hands ripped back to reveal sharp claws, and his snarling head twisted in agony, became long and triangular, and grew sharp canine teeth. He was now covered in shaggy black hair and standing on four gigantic paws. The refugees shrank back and became petrified, unable to run away from the monstrous wolf that now confronted them.

The werewolf let out a blood-curdling howl and soon other werewolves peeled out of the darkness and encircled the cowering refugees.

The shivering humans had given up hope. All of them, that is except for one. He stood now, a hooded man who had kept to himself for most of the journey, and planted himself between the humans and the werewolf who had once been their guide. Slowly, confidently, he pulled out a wand in his right hand and a silver dagger in his other while he made some quick calculations. The odds were not great. There were too many werewolves and too many helpless humans—there was no way he could protect them all. Not with only a short dagger and a wand that could only do minimal damage to a werewolf. He wished he could have smuggled in some wolfsbane for the others, but werewolves can smell the flower, even in their human form. He, at least, could survive and he would try to save as many of the others as well. It was not easy for one man alone to protect so many humans from the surrounding werewolves but he fought valiantly, taking on all five wolves at once.

More than anything else, it was the dagger that kept him alive. There were so many wolves, they could have easily taken a lone, unprepared wizard, but the silver of the weapon kept them at bay. If a wolf was too slow, and was caught by the point of the blade, the wound, however small, would boil and burn and so incapacitate the werewolf that it could only mope off into the wilderness, tail between its legs. It was purely the fear of the blade and the dishonor of the wound that kept most of the werewolves at a distance.

A piercing scream brought the man's attention to a werewolf that had been sneaking up behind the refugees. Quickly, he raised his wand. "Stupefy!" the wolf was hurtled back into the darkness, but other than that, the spell had little effect: the werewolf merely shook itself off and returned to his position in the circle.

The man glanced around at the onslaught of grinning teeth. He knew fleeing was impossible with so many humans, so he blasted apart the werewolves that had gathered in front of the tunnel and tried to herd the humans into the entrance where it would be easier to defend all of them.

He was an adept fighter but there were an awful lot of werewolves and they gradually overcame their fear of the silver blade due to their overpowering bloodlust. The werewolves were also used to hunting as a pack and were able to hold formations that forced the wizard onto his toes and kept him constantly distracted.

It was during a maneuver such as this when the man, being preoccupied with most of the wolves on one side, failed to notice the fifth bounding out of the darkness behind him. This would have been the end for our mysterious hero had it not been for an even more mysterious girl who leapt out of the tunnel and held the wolf at bay with well-executed shield charm.

Busy as he was, it was quite some time before the male realized he was no longer fighting alone, but rather alongside a fairly attractive young woman. He would never have guessed he would encounter a witch in such a location. Given the circumstances, however, he was neither surprised nor disappointed in any way and failed to waste any time expressing confusion.

Before long, the first rays of the sun burned their way into the sky, chasing away the night and, with it, the werewolves. The hero found himself surrounded by the expectant expressions of the handful of freshly established criminals.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he growled in his best Spanish, "You're safe now." Then he chuckled at the irony as he watched them stagger off into the brave new world.

Ten minutes later, the dark haired young man fumbled his car keys out of his pockets and opened the driver's side door of his old beat-up jeep wrangler, which was conveniently concealed near the tunnel's exit. Starting the engine, he jumped when he realized he was not alone. Seated comfortably to his right sat the witch he had met only hours before.

"I thought you were going to forget me here." She smirked in fluent Spanish.

"Maybe I was trying to." He replied.

"Well it's not very polite to leave a poor lady stranded in this barren wilderness. It's not like I have any where to go this side of the border. You should be ashamed of yourself."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, if that's the case…"

Eventually, the red jeep pulled onto a deserted back road somewhere in the south of Arizona.

"I don't believe we've been introduced… my name's Violeta"

The wizard took a long look at his companion. The witch had short black hair, bright colored eyes, and a rather pale complexion for a native Mexican.

"You're not from Mexico are you?" he asked, venturing to switch to English.

The girl frowned at him. "I travel a lot." She followed his change in languages easily.

"You really like to travel in style I take it. Spend much time in the sewer?"

Violeta's frown deepened as she glanced at the stains on her clothes. "It's not like I have a passport, let's just say I like to experience these things first hand."

The pair sat in silence for a while before Violeta ventured at conversation again. "You still haven't told me your name…"

"Nope."

Violeta narrowed her eyes.

"Fine, my name is Manuel."

"Manuel… that's a nice name."

The car stopped.

Violeta looked out her window. The scenery had hardly changed. They were parked in front of a small plateau. As Violeta watched, the rocks in front of the car began to move. The rocks tumbled and rose like some sort of mineral hunk of a garage door and when it ground open, the jeep pulled in.

The rocks crushed back down behind them as Violeta got out of the vehicle and stepped in to what could have been a very ordinary muggle garage. Or what might have been had it not been for the obvious facts that the usual drywall had been replaced by the dank stone walls of a cave, the lawn equipment with shelves of potion ingredients and the broken bicycles with bent broomsticks.

The house matched the garage, bearing heavy resemblance to the cave it was. The rough walls and low ceiling absorbed most of the light that streamed from the enchanted windows. The furnishings, though dark, were springy and inviting and Violeta could not resist sprawling out on the couch's soft cushions. It had been a long night and despite the burning questions that littered the room, the two needed rest so Manuel left Violeta to sleep on the couch and climbed the stairs to his own room.