A warning to all, this is an AU story...Alrighty tighty then! Let's get to the story.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe and Characters belongs to JK Rowling. Or in other words: I do not own Harry Potter.
Full Summary: January 1986: Fenrir Greyback chooses his target for the night's full moon to be Hermione Jean Granger. The seven-year-old girl is bitten and infected with the lycanthropy curse. How different will Hogwarts be with a werewolf on its grounds? AU
Ships: Neville/Luna otherwise the rest is canon shipping.
Bashing: Slight Dumbledore Bashing is a definite. He isn't evil, he's just a manipulative old-Ahem.
Rating: T, for now. If you feel it needs to be upped, PM me.
Date: January 10th 1986
Time: 1804 hours
Presumptive Location: Rented Cabin, Lake District National Park, England, UK
Fenrir Greyback's breaths huffed irregularly as he paced, forming a light cloud of mist in the evening air. His grin was feral, showing off yellowed canines. He anticipated the nights of the full moon with primal glee. Fenrir loved to hunt. In fact, he lived for it.
Every aspect of the hunt was enthralling: the frantic dance of a fearful heart, the smell of terror in the air and on his victims' skin… but oh, the taste of human flesh was most glorious part. Children tasted the best, their skin healthy and soft and young, seasoned by the salty tang of tears and cold sweat. Their shrill, agonized screams were just delightful bonuses.
Fenrir's eyes flitted to the small family currently gathering their things to head toward the rented cabin. The three had been entertaining themselves in the snow all day, and were shivering and sopping wet. Fenrir licked his lips, eyeing the small, bushy-haired little girl that clung to her father. He breathed in deeply. Her smell was dampened, thanks to the wetness in her clothes, her hair, and on her skin, yet it was still distinguishable. The girl smelled like vanilla, oranges, and cookies. Fenrir licked his lips again.
Tonight was going to be fun.
Date: January 10th 1986
Time: 2106 hours
Presumptive Location: Rented Cabin, Lake District National Park, England, UK
Hermione Jean Granger shivered and buried her nose in her scarf. It was not cold in the room, but her hair was damp, her face was flushed, and her nose was runny. She sniffled.
After to sending his daughter a concerned glance, Dr. Granger set a cup of steaming hot chocolate in front of her, making her jump. She looked up at him, her brown eyes inquisitive, as she wrapped her fingers around the mug. The Granger parents rarely allowed sweets in the house, but today was a special occasion. They were leaving soon, and Hermione hadn't gotten any sweets during Christmas or New Years.
Mr. Granger shot her a pointed glance. She would have to brush and floss rigorously after this.
"Thank you, Daddy," she murmured and took a sip of the hot chocolate, flinching when the liquid scalded her tongue. Mr. Granger took a seat beside his daughter and swallowed a mouthful of his own beverage. They fell into silence. If Mrs. Granger had not gone to bed early, she would have teased them both for their solemn expressions and straight-backed postures. It was a holiday, after all: a time for joviality and repose.
After a few moments, Mr. Granger asked, "Are all of your things packed?" Hermione nodded solemnly. She had packed earlier that morning. She wished that they didn't have to leave. Living in a rented cabin that was far from the hustle and bustle of London was strangely… fantastical. Hermione knew that they would have to go back to London though, as the dental practice couldn't run itself, and she had school to attend.
Hermione huffed and took a long drink from her mug. She wasn't sure how she felt about school. On one hand, she loved it. There was so much to do, so much to learn! Every day she was a new experience. Of course, the convenience of the school library as well as the endless praise from teachers of her intellect, work ethic and academia boosted her opinion and mood as well. On the other hand, she hadn't made any friends. Making friends had been the aspect of schooling Hermione had most anticipated, but it seemed that only her teachers appreciated her. The other children teased her about everything from her bookworm-ish tendencies to her appearance. It had not helped her at all when she had stated that she had memorized all of the reading material, as that had earned her hurtful nicknames such as stuck up, know it all, buck toothed beaver, and teacher's pet. Sometimes, her peers even shoved her around, and Hermione had to be rescued by teachers.
Hermione struggled to convince herself that the silly, immature kids from school didn't matter and that as long as she had her parents and her books, she'd be fine. She wasn't fine though, and the ache of loneliness grew daily.
"Come on, Love," Mr. Granger said, startling her from her reverie. "It's well past time for bed for you," The seven-year-old obediently set her nearly empty mug of hot chocolate on the table and slid from her seat. She slipped her hand into her father's as they walked to the bathroom. Silence fell.
After a thorough brushing and flossing of her teeth, Hermione was in her room, wrapped in her blankets like a burrito. Mr. Granger sat at her bedside, deep in thought for a few moments. Every night her father tucked her in bed and proceeded to tell her goodnight. It was a routine that had started when Hermione was very young and didn't like to sleep by herself. After a while Hermione realized that she liked routines, and this routine was her favorite.
Mr. Granger leaned over her. He began, "I love you…" He kissed her right cheek. "…more…" He kissed her left cheek. "…than life itself." He finished with a kiss on her nose. Hermione snuggled deeper into her blankets, any feeling of loneliness forgotten.
"I love you more," Hermione blurted just as he was about to stand. He raised an eyebrow.
"I love you most," Her father retorted and placed a final kiss on her forehead. He got up to leave. Just before Mr. Granger was out of her room, he paused. "Goodnight, sweet 'Mione Love," And he was gone. Hermione shut her eyes with a soft sigh.
She twitched. She twisted. She turned. She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She turned again. She wiggled. She huffed, puffed, wriggled, squirmed, rolled, and then after a final shake she stilled.
Hermione couldn't sleep.
With an irritated grumble, she sat up and disentangled herself from her blankets. She made toward her suitcase. She planned to read for a little while, figuring that lying about in bed was anything but productive. Hermione searched tiredly for The Fellowship of the Ring before she finally realized with dawning horror that she had been reading outside, and had left it on a tree stump.
Hermione bolted from her room, barely remembering to grab her boots and scarf before rushing outdoors.
The frost bit at her skin and the breeze tangled her hair. The newly lain snow glittered in the light of the full moon. The cabin was set within a glade in the woods, and the surrounding evergreen trees held a dark mystery and intrigue in their shadows that had been absent during the day. A distant howl sounded.
Hermione stepped off the verandah and sunk up to her thighs in snow, soaking her pajamas. She trudged forward. The seven-year-old couldn't believe that she had left a book out in the snow, for the pages to brittle and yellow as the ink smeared.
It was an utter disgrace.
Sacrilege.
When Hermione reached the book at last, she brushed off a layer of snow unhappily, groaning when she noticed the pages. They were soggy. The ink was smudged. With a resigned sigh,she turned to go back to the cabin. Suddenly a low, feral growl emitted from the dark underbrush of the trees.
Hermione froze.
Her heart thudded in her chest. She licked her abruptly dry lips and gulped. An intense, primal urge to flee roused. The growl rumbled again.
Run.
Hermione bolted, her boots sticking and sinking in the deep snow. She'd only moved three yards before the growling beast pounced, catching her by surprise as she landed face-first in the snow. She gave a terrified scream of agony when the beast's claws pierced her skin through her pajamas. Those lacerations felt as if hot iron pokers had been shoved into her shoulders and neck. The creature leaned back on its haunches and howled. Its claws ripped down her shoulder blades. She screamed again, her high voice mingling with the beastly bay.
Now, unbeknownst to her, Hermione Jean Granger was a muggleborn witch. She had been born with powers that a non-magical person could only dream of, and had she not been injured, her accidental magic would have been viciously set off by her panic. The beast would have been banished back into the forest, or its fur would have lit on fire, but as the creature's claws had punctured her skin, her magic was doing everything it could to heal the wound. If it had been anyone else, they would have been in paralysing pain, dead in 48 hours.
This was because this animal was as ordinary as Hermione, or to word the description more appropriately, not ordinary at all. This beast was Fenrir Greyback, the most infamous and deadly werewolf in Europe.
His howl ended and he looked down at his bawling prey. If it were still a man, it would have grinned. The werewolf's jaws promptly clamped down on the seven-year old's upper-arm, its teeth piercing her skin.
At first Hermione felt as though she had been electrocuted, the shock pulsating from the punctures to the rest of her body. It raised the hair on her arms and neck and momentarily stopped her heart.
Then it was fire. Agony. A scream tore from her throat, and her back arched. She writhed as the beast's teeth ripped through her upper arm, her skin pale and sheen with sweat. Hermione's heart faltered when the cursed claws raked down her shoulders. Another claw dragged across her collarbone, dangerously close to her throat. Her heart beat erratically.
Mercury had replaced her blood. Her bones ached like she had never thought they could. Then, with a final whimper, Hermione Jean Granger lost consciousness.
Date: January 11th 1986
Time: 0113 hours
Presumptive Location: Waiting Room, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, London, England
Emma and Dan Granger sat on the ground in the "Creature-Induced Injuries" corridor. Emma anxiously chewed her cuticles (a rather ghastly nervous tick that she couldn't seem to quit), and Dan gave a tense tug of his hair. In the span of three hours, the two dentists just been in the most stressful and unbelievable experience in their entire lives. Everything had happened so fast, and both were still trying to sort out their thoughts.
It began when Emma and Dan were awoken by a scream. Before either dentist could fully awaken, a howl sounded and another scream was heard. Emma and Dan bolted from their beds to Hermione's room. Emma cracked the door open further and flicked the switch.
The room was empty.
They paled. Screams still sounded and the two dentists now realized that they were coming from outside. Emma and Dan rushed outside, their shoes and coats forgotten in their haste.
The full moon shone brightly. Dan had set his hand on the railing of the deck and was just about to call out his daughter's name when he heard Emma's strangled gasp. On the snow in front of the house a gray wolf about the size of a small bear stood. It's fur was patched, its skin scarred. Underneath the wolf's teeth and claws, their seven-year-old daughter writhed.
Dan's throat caught before he let out an enraged roar, grabbed the nearest thing he could find (an ashtray) and threw it at the creature. The beast lifted its head, yellow-eyed gaze keen. It leapt off of Hermione and prowled forward, bloodied paws staining the snow. It snarled, lips pulling back to reveal yellowed teeth. Hermione, though free of the wolf's torment still thrashed and screamed until she abruptly went silent and unearthly still. Dan stalked towards the wolf. Emma unfroze from her shock just in time to grab Dan before he was out of reach.
"Hermione," Dan cried. Emma swallowed. She used her free hand to search for her pockets, before she realized that she was wearing a nightgown that had no pockets; her cellphone was inside the cabin. Panic finally gripped her. Hermione was in the bloodstained snow, so still she could be dead. Dan was in tears as he weakly fought against her hold. The wolf's back muscles tensed as if it were about to pounce.
Suddenly a red light shot from the forest. It looked almost like a plasma beam from a weapon in a sifi television show. It hit the snow near the beast's paw and the wolf stumbled, slightly surprised, before turning to the source.
A small group of men and women stood. All of them wore dresses, holding polished wooden sticks as if they were swords, and if in any other situation, all of them would've looked quite ridiculous. Then suddenly it was a light show. All of the colors of the rainbow streaked across the front yard and to the wolf. The beast was smart enough to keep out of the way of their path.
"Stupefy!" Someone shouted.
"Petrificus Totalas!" Another cried.
"Bombarda!" Snow flew in every direction as if struck by a small bomb.
"Incarcerous!"This was yelled by a bald, dark-haired man. Ropes unraveled from the man's wooden stick. They twisted and coiled in midair before shooting toward the overgrown wolf. It moved from its path but somehow the ropes still managed to curl around it, tightly restraining its limbs and bloodied muzzle. The light show ceased. Each of the strange people in dresses slumped. They flicked their sticks into the sleeves of their robes.
The dark-skinned bald man looked at the Granger couple; they were paralyzed with disbelief.
"I'll obliviate them Shacklebolt," a brunette woman offered. The man shook his head. His eyes skimmed over the snow before locking onto the prone form of Hermione Jean Granger.
Then Dan realized that Emma's grip had gone lax in her astonishment. Dan shrugged his wife off and tore down the stairs. A few of the stranger's wands sticks were flicked back into their hands. They looked suddenly alert, but Dan paid them no heed. He rushed to his daughter. The snow around her was tinted red. He let out a chocked sob as he gently flipped her onto her back. Hermione was as pale as death with a sheen of perspiration Across her skin. Her breathing came in short faint gasps. Most of her wounds were on her back and shoulders, and one ran across her collarbone. A large area of flesh was gouged from her upper arm. She was still bleeding from all of her wounds. Dan sobbed again. He cradled her head and stroked her bushy brown hair from her face. She felt delicate and frail in his arms, more so than when she was a newborn.
Emma had not moved. Her eyes were wide, her body stiff. She felt dizzy.
"Got to wait for Department of Magical Creatures to get here to take care of this," Emma heard someone pant.
Pause.
"Thought it was a false alarm, you know,"
"Nah. Lovegood wouldn't do something like that. He has his imaginary creatures but he knows when something's serious. I was his housemate in Ravenclaw, you know."
"I know... It's just... a werewolf... wow,"
"Yeah,"
Silence.
"Was she scratched?"
"...Yeah. The poor girl was bitten too. She's not going to survive." That jolted Emma from hr stupor. She's not going to survive?! No. No!
"She'll live!" Emma exclaimed. The two people who were conversing started and gave guilty looks when they saw her furious, tear-filled gaze. "Hermione˗Hermione won't die! My daughter has been doing amazing thing all of her life! She'll survive!" They sent her pitying glances but the bald dark-skinned man ˗ Shacklebolt, he was called ˗ flitted his gaze to hers.
"What amazing things does your daughter do?" His voice was deep and soothing. Emma found herself relaxing slightly.
"Hermione... she brought my rosebush back to life! When she scraped her knee... it healed so fast... and... and she made that snake fly across the yard when we found it in the garden! And... when she made the neighbor's daughter's hair turn blue... and... When she lost her bear, it just flew out from under the bed and into her hand. It flew through the air like a bird." Emma's voice broke multiple times. She let out a choked sob. Who was she kidding?
"Your daughter is going to be alright," Shacklebolt said slowly. Emma gave the man a sharp look.
"What do you mean she's going to be alright?" A black haired man sneered. "Muggles die within forty-eight hours of the bite, and even if the girl was a mudblood she wouldn't be alright. Unless you consider being a bloody savage alright!" Shacklebolt ignored him.
"Higgs, come with me to escort these people to St. Mungo's. The rest of you stay here and watch the werewolf," He ordered. Emma blinked. Werewolf?!
"I don't think that girl is well enough to apparate," A young man with blonde hair muttered. Shacklebolt regarded him a moment before turning his gaze to Hermione. He nodded. Shacklebolt strode over to the ashtray that Dan had thrown, picked it up, took out his wooden stick and tapped the ashtray once, intoning, "Portus," He hurried to Dan and Hermione. Shacklebolt put one hand on Hermione's head and the other grasped Dan's shoulder and the ashtray. Suddenly each of them seemed to be pulled inward by their stomachs and out of existence. Emma blinked. Then she laughed. Her laughter bordered on hysteria. The same blond man that had mentioned "apparate" walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. He gave her a patient smile.
"Everything is going to be alright. I'm Higgs, if you haven't guessed. Now brace yourself," He warned. "This isn't going to be pleasant," Abruptly Emma felt a tugging sensation, as if she were being pulled through the eye of a needle. Then they were somewhere else.
After Emma was done being sick all over the cobblestones, she recognized where they were. They were in the heart of London. She herself sometimes shopped there during Christmastime. Emma was facing an old building that was never open and always displayed dummies that wore clothing at least a few years out of date. It was called Purge and Dowse Ltd. Emma still felt nauseous from their way of travel, and she was a little shocked at the sudden transportation. She looked around for her daughter and husband.
"They must have portkeyed directly inside the hospital reception room," Higgs explained when he saw her searching look. She blinked in incomprehension and he sighed. Higgs led her forward and knocked smartly on the glass of Purge and Dowse Ltd.
"Alright? We're here with Kingsely Shacklebolt to escort the muggleborn girl," Higgs told the dummy behind the glass. Emma gave him a strange look. Then the dummy cocked its head in her direction. She sucked in a breath. It seemed as if she had stepped right into an episode of the Twilight Zone.
"Oh, she's with me," Higgs assured. The dummy nodded, lifted its hand and then crooked a finger. Higgs pushed Emma forward and she stumbled through the glass.
Suddenly they were in what looked like a crowded reception room. Rows of people sat in old wooden chairs. Every person wore a dress and some of them had even stranger appearances. Some had multicolored/rainbow skin tones or outlandish disfigurements such as a trombone for a mouth or extra appendages growing out of their buttocks. One young man seemed to have an awful cold, except every time he sneezed there was a sound of a fog horn. An old woman had her grandson on a leash because he kept barking and trying to chew on the chair leg.
There was a long queue of people lined up in front of a desk marked INQURIES. The wall behind the desk was blanketed in posters and notices, saying things like: ANTIDOTES ARE ANTI-DON'TS UNLESS APPROVED BY A QULIFIED HEALER and PRONOUNCE YOUR SPELLS CORRECTLY! NEVER FORGET WIZARD BARFFIO WHO SAID 'S' INSTEAD OF 'F' AND FOUND HIMSELF WITH A BUFFALO ON HIS CHEST! In the center of all of the papers, a large empty portrait hung. It was labeled:
DILYS DERWENT
St. Mungo's Healer 1722-1741
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry 1741-1768
Witchcraft and wizardry? Emma thought. Werewolves and teleportation? I'm surely dreaming. Though she knew that she was fooling herself. This was no dream. Emma had always been a factual person; her imagination was not this wild. She read the floor guide.
ARTIFACT ACCIDENTS...Ground Floor
(Cauldron explosions, Wand backfiring, Broom Crashes, etc.)
CREATURE INDUCED INJURIES...First Floor
(Bites, Stings, Burns, Embedded spines, etc.)
MAGICAL BUGS...Second Floor
(Contagious maladies, e.g, dragon pox, banishing sickness, scrofungulus)
POTION AND PLANT POISONING...Third Floor
(Rashes, Regurgitation, Uncontrollable giggling, etc)
SPELL DAMAGE...Fourth Floor
(Unliftable jinxes, hexes, incorrectly applied charms, etc.)
VISITOR'S TEAROOM AND HOSPITAL SHOP...Fifth Floor
IF YOU ARE UNSURE WHERE TO GO, INCAPABLE OF NORMAL SPEECH, OR UNABLE TO REMEMBER WHY YOU ARE HERE, OUR WELCOME WITCH WILL BE HAPPY TO HELP.
Emma swallowed and searched for her daughter wildly. When she found Hermione, she blinked. Hermione was near a flight of stairs... floating in midair. People in lime-green dresses held her up by pointing at her with their wooden sticks ˗No, wands. Her blood dripped down, but before it could hit the marble floors it vanished. People stared. A woman in lime-green robes was talking to Shacklebolt and after a few moments she paled, motioned to the people who were levitating Hermione, and they all were suddenly rushing up a flight of stairs.
Higgs pushed Emma forward and she followed robotically. She was led up a flight of stairs before they started down the "Creature-Induced Injuries" corridor. Higgs pulled her to a stop at the second door to the right, which bore the words "DANGEROUS" DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES. Underneath this was a card in a brass holder on which had been handwritten, Healer-in-Charge:Charles Abbot, Trainee Healer:Hippocrates Smethwyck. Dan Granger was sitting on the ground, leaning against the corridor wall and looking sick.A man in a green dress stood guard at the door.
"She's going to have to wait outside," The man said, nodding at Emma. Emma's heart constricted with worry. She didn't care if these people were wizards at the moment. All she wanted to know was if her little girl was going to be okay.
"How...How is she?" Emma croaked. She knew that it was a stupid question, but she didn't know how else to ask. The man must be a doctor of some sort, she reasoned.He'd know. He gave her a once over.
"I'll tell, you, but I'm not going to sugar-coat it, clear?" He replied. Emma nodded the affirmative. She wouldn't have it any other way. He sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "The girl has multiple curse wounds down her back and shoulders. One such curse wound has severed the left interspinous ligament, acromioclavicular joint, and the sternoclavicular joint. Also, the cursed bite in her upper arm cannot be healed by magic, which is one of the biggest problems because it has ripped open several veins in her arm and is still bleeding profusely. We have had to give her five blood-replenishing potions already. We're going to have to wrap up her arm until it naturally heals... Maybe we could try muggle stitches. She is also, obviously, infected. It's a miracle she was brought here in time. We're not sure she would have survived had she not gotten immediate treatment." Emma tried to translate what he had said in her head. She had taken anatomy in high-school and a little in college, but that had been years ago. Apparently, she wasn't the only person who was trying to understand.
"Interspinnes and acromantula what?"Higgs asked. The doctor blinked.
"Sorry. It's a requirement to get at least an E in muggle anatomy to be a full-fledged healer... The girl is... she's bad," he said. Higgs nodded. Emma sank to the floor and put her head in her hands. Here she was, in what seemed like a magical hospital, talking to a doctor who was telling her how they couldn't magically fix up their daughter. She peeked over at Dan. He looked just as overwhelmed as she felt.
"Are you a doctor?" Dan finally asked. The doctor gave him an insulted look.
"You mean those crazy muggles who cut people up?! No! I'm a healer," The doct- no, healer corrected. Dan turned an interesting shade of green. Emma swallowed.
"How long... how long?" Emma asked. He knew what she meant.
"Your daughter will probably be stable in a few hours. Healing joints and ligaments... it's nasty business, that."
"Healing," Dan snorted deliriously. "Healing ripped ligaments and severed joints in hours?"The healer sent him a startled look.
"You aren't... you aren't muggles,are you?" He asked. Dan gave a cold, humorless laugh.
"If you mean normal folk then yes," Dan snarked. The healer looked offended.
"Dan!" Emma hissed. He was going about offending the only person who would be keeping them informed of their daughter's well-being! It didn't matter if these were strange people who waved wands about and walked around in dresses. It didn't matter that this seemed to be an entire society made up of wizards and witches. Emma stopped herself before she became hysterical.
"It's their fault!" Dan snarled. His eyes swam with angry tears as Emma looked on in dawning comprehension "If there wasn't wizards and witches and werewolves and whatever this nonsense is,this wouldn't have happened!"His voice broke. Then he broke down into a renewed wave of sobs. Emma pulled her husband close and rubbed his back the way she did for Hermione when she woke up from a bad dream. She shushed him and let a few tears fall too. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.
"She- She almost died," Dan blubbered. Emma's throat caught. "Our Hermione almost died!" Emma cried too.
Then someone cleared their throat. Emma and Dan looked up. Higgs was gone. The healer was still there, but he had turned away to give them as much privacy as he could. Though, another man was there. He was an old man with blue eyes and spectacles. He wore a long dress that had Hawaiian style flowers. The most prominent thing about his appearance though was his long, flowing white beard.
"Please tell me that's not Gandalf," Dan sniffled as he wiped his eyes and coughed. The old man's eyes twinkled.
"No, I am not Gandalf, though I must say that he is a character one might aspire to. My name is Albus Dumbledore, Mr...?"
"Granger. Dan Granger. And this is my wife, Emma," Dan said hoarsley.
"Ah! The Grangers! Are you, perhaps, the mother and father of Hermione Jean Granger, born September 19th, 1979?" Dumbledore asked. Dan blinked.
"Is that a magic trick or something?" Emma inquired. Dumbledore's beard twitched.
"No. It was simply an educated guess. Hermione Jean Granger is written down as a future student in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I presume that the girl in this room is she?" Dumbledore questioned, his eyes turning mournful. Emma remembered the empty portrait in the reception room. DILYS DERWENT...Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry 1741-1768.
Dumbledore continued. "Today is a sad day, indeed,"
"Enlighten us," Dan said, sounding angry again. "What the bloody hell is going on?" Dumbledore gave him an inquisitive eye.
Albus Dumbledore took out a polished stick—wand—and waved it. A plush red chair materialized out of thin air. Emma didn't have the gall to be shocked anymore. "Have you ever heard of the saying 'In every lie there is a grain of truth'? That fits well with this instance...I'm sure that you have heard of many things from mundane literature and moving pictures? Things such as werewolves, witchcraft, wizardry, elves, goblins and so forth? " Dumbledore paused, as if unsure how to continue. "There is a certain gene that is a portion of human DNA that determines whether a person will have magical abilities. Those people born with the gene active are witches and wizards, while those who are not are called Muggles in our society. Your daughter, I suspect, has done some very extraordinary things before that usually happen when she is feeling a particularly strong emotion?" He peered at them over his half-moon spectacles. "I thought so. Young Miss Granger is a witch. She will be able to control her magic once she has gone to our school for magic, Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. Or at least," Dumbledore's eyes turned sad. "she would have." Dumbledore straightened. "Not only witches and wizards are reality. The awful curse that is lycanthropy is also true. Unfortunately, lycanthropy is considered less as a disease in the wizarding culture, and more as a scorn.
"Occasionally spreading the curse happens by complete accident, as during the full moon the beast takes control of the cursed body. Though, there are several criminals that use their condition to purposely terrorize and harm others, spreading the curse to other people, even young children." Emma closed her eyes in dread. " There is one particularly notorious werewolf that targets children specifically. His name is Fenrir Greyback, and tonight he had targeted your daughter," Emma's breath left her. "Fenrir had waited near the cabin that you were staying at, and waited for the full moon to rise. When it was risen, he attacked young Miss Granger and she was bitten. She has been infected with the werewolf curse." Emma fell against the wall heavily.
This was unbelievable. It was overwhelming. It was impossible.
First she had to find out that her daughter had unnatural magical powers and that there was an entire society of people with magical abilities. Then she discovered that her daughter was cursed to transform into a beast on the full moon in the same twenty minutes.
"Like I had said earlier, the lycanthrope is considered as one of the lowest of beings—half-breeds, monsters, evil things. When your daughter was taken into custody of the hospital, they were honestly contemplating-" Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed. "They were contemplating erasing all memory of your daughter from your memories, and then putting Miss Granger out of her misery." Emma and Dan shot to their feet.
"No!"
"They can't—I won't let them!"
"I am afraid," Dumbledore said heavily. "That if they had proceeded with that choice then you would have had no say in the matter. I had intervened, and instead they have treated to your daughters injuries as best they could. As you can see, the wizarding world does not view this curse lightly."
"Well, she doesn't have to be in the wizarding world then!" Dan declared. "If that is how she is going to be treated then we could just get her to college and she can get a normal job."
"Ah, that is the crux of the matter, Dan." Dumbledore said. " What job allows for a worker to be absent several days a month, every month of every year? What school? What college?" Dan seemed to slump. "The only chance young Miss Granger would have at a relatively normal life is if she came to a wizarding school. Of course, I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but I am afraid that I am not sure if I can allow your daughter in the school, as she may be a danger to other students." Dumbledore caught Emma's gaze and held it. He searched her eyes as if they were searching her soul. After a moment, Dumbledore looked satisfied and Emma wondered what he had found.
"I suppose that I can make an exception. I will set precautions in the school to keep the wolf at bay during the full moon. The new Wolfsbane potion that has been created is surely helpful to this situation as well. Of course, it will be five more years before Hermione will be allowed at Hogwarts, and you will be raising a werewolf child all on your own. That will not be easy in the muggle-world.
"I have therefore connected your fireplace to the floo network, which means that you have means of transportation into the wizarding world at all times. You can go in and out of Diagon Alley- wizarding Britain's shopping district- to buy things such as the Wolfsbane potion and so forth. It would also be smart for you to buy an owl so that you may contact me at all times." Emma and Dan were confused. How would you use an owl for communication? "I also suggest that you buy a few books at Flourish and Blotts, so that you may be more informed on the aspects of the wizarding world. Now, I have already paid all expenses for the services of the St. Mungo's healers. It was no issue at all, and I would not have it any other way. I hope this has helped you cope with your new roles and that this condition won't hinder your lives too much. If you have any issue at all you may contact me." Dumbledore stood, waved his wand again and his chair vanished. Then without another word, Albus Dumbledore spun around smartly on the heels of his purple boots and marched to the flight of stairs.
That had been an hour and a half ago. Emma and Dan Granger sat on the ground in the "Creature-Induced Injuries" Corridor. Emma anxiously chewed her cuticles (a rather ghastly nervous tick that she couldn't seem to quit), and Dan gave a tense tug of his hair. In the span of three hours, the two dentists had been in the most stressful and unbelievable experience in their entire lives. Everything had happened so fast, and both were still trying to gather their thoughts.
The healer (who they had learned the name of an hour ago: Hippocrates Smethwyck) tapped Dan's shoulder. He nodded at the Granger parent's desperate look and opened the door to the Dai Llewellyn Ward. The two dentists rushed inside, ignoring the two empty beds beside the occupied one.
Hermione was sleeping. Her color had returned and she wasn't wearing bloodstained clothes any longer. Her hair fanned out under hear head and her breathing was even. Her face was relaxed despite the wrappings around her upper arm.
Dan leaned over and shakily grabbed her uninjured arm. He pressed his lips to it. He then sat down in the chair near her bed. One of his arms rested on a side table that was covered in potions. His other hand was occupied with repeatedly stroking his daughter's bushy brown hair. Emma dragged a chair next to his and sat down. She leaned her head onto his arm, and her hand grasped her daughter's small pale one. Emma sighed. Her eyes drooped closed. She was awake long enough to hear Dan's whisper.
"Everything's going to change."And he was right.
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