Here's the rewrite of my story, Rise of the Creatures.

No Promise that it will follow perfectly to the old version.

Care of Creatures

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Lying curled up upon the floor was a petite girl. The girl had raven black hair and looked to be around eleven or twelve. Her clothes were beginning to get soaked with blood as it oozed from her wounds. Lashes covered her back, swelled painfully from the bruising of what little skin was left. Welts pulsed as she softly traced her legs with swollen hands. The petite girl wondered how long it had been since the end of her fourth her at Hogwarts. Odd name for a school, but it was no ordinary school. Just like it was no ordinary girl lying upon the floor. The girl was none other than the Tri-Wizard Tournament winner, Harmony Potter. Fourteen-year-old Harmony lied curled in a ball, trying not to make a noise. She feared what her uncle might do if she was too loud. Already she had been beaten so much, she couldn't remember how long she had left until school started again. Hogwarts was her home. Despite all the life-threatening situations she had been in, it was where she felt safe. Her first friends were made on the train ride there. Ron and Hermione. Wonder if they're worrying about me. Uncle Vernon probably hasn't sent any of the 'I'm okay' letters. Harmony shifted, before shoving her hand into her mouth. Her foot had hit the door of the cupboard she was stuffed in. Upon hearing that she had been involved with the death of another student, her uncle shoved her in there. After beating her, of course. Her thoughts drifted to her adventures. They would be quite the tale if anyone cared to ask. A sudden bang jolted her from her thoughts. Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs, shaking dust from the ceiling of her little haven. No one to hurt me in my quiet, dark haven. Just me and the spiders. A roar descended from upstairs. Her uncle's voice screamed at someone. A deep voice roared back, sending her uncle screaming and slamming the door. Harmony tried making out what was holler but found it was like she was under water. More dust fluttered down from the ceiling. Harmony stilled and quieted her breathing. The door to her tiny room creaked as someone pulled at it. With a crack, it was ripped from its hinges. Aunt Petunia's gonna blame me. I don't wanna be in trouble. A callused hand dragged her from her haven as growls echoed in her ears. Blearily, she looked at who it was. A large man with silver hair and a fur coat was holding her up. As he placed her on her feet, she couldn't stop the shriek from escaping her throat. He let go of her. Pleads left her mouth as she collapsed. Soft words reached her ears as darkness crept around her vision. Yay. None thing to cause hurt in the dark.

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Worried eyes stared at the prone form on the floor. Blood was staining the rug beneath the girl. She was covered in wounds. Why had she begged not to be hurt? This was supposed to be the righteous Girl-Who-Lived, not an abused child. The man knelt, carefully picking the girl up. His worry increase at the weight of the girl. She weighted no more than an eight-year-old. He quickly left the house. Running, his thoughts were jumbling around about how the Golden Girl could be in such a state. Could the light really be ignoring the abuse? That whale of a man had called her a freak. He entered the forest as he came upon it. Once out of sight of the road, he vanished with a crack. Reappearing in what look to be a nomadic tribe, he began running once again. He entered a tent, calling for help. An elder woman approached, taking control at the sight of the child in his arms. He was ordered out of the tent. He sat a little to the side of the entrance, waiting. Many had neared to ask what had happened. The man stayed silent, worry pulling his lips into a frown. Anger swelled. What was going on with this girl?

"Fenrir." The man turned, seeing the elderly woman with blood stained clothes. Raising, he let out a sigh.

"How bad was it?" he asked. The woman's eyes softened. Leading him in, she informed him of the wounds: lashes across the back, cigar burns on her feet, bruising all over, especially around the throat, burns along her wrists, and severe malnourishment. Fenrir couldn't stop the growls as his vision turned red. Soft whimpers made him freeze. Glancing down, his eyes meet a vivid green. The tiny teen he had brought back was awake. She stared, terror lighting her eyes.

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It was a surprise when her eyes saw brown as she woke. Muffled voices enacted from a little away. Slowly, Harmony turned her head. Fur. She was lying on a pile of furs. Other lay about. Some looked like they were merely sick while others had large gashes. Growling jolted her attention back the people talking. It was the man from earlier. He was speaking with an elderly woman. The growls suddenly raised in volume. Fear snatched her breathe. Whimpers escaped her. The man turned, looking down at her. Amber eyes meet teary green. Moony had those eyes. Was he a werewolf? The man stepped toward her. She tried to back away but the man grabbed her.

"Shush, sweet one, I'm not going to hurt," he cooed. His hand stroked her hair. Harmony looked up at the man, wary of him. Everyone else had hurt her before, knowingly or not. Why would this man be any different? "careful of your wounds, little cub. We don't want anything to reopen."

"W-where a-am I?" she whispered. The man scooped her up, settling her in his lap. He continued to stroke her hair, rocking slightly.

"We're at my pack's current home. I brought you here after you passed out. I understand that you're afraid but I won't hurt you. My names Fenrir. I hope you don't mind that I'm a werewolf." The man, Fenrir, spoke in a quiet voice. He sounded shy about being a werewolf. Fenrir. Where have I heard that name before? Maybe it was okay to trust him. He felt safe. Wait! No, that's the man Moony talked about. Fenrir Greyback. He serves Voldemort. Panic rose. Her breathes were coming quick and shallow. A hand rubbed her back. The man was cooing soft words. "What's wrong, little cub?"

"Y-you w-work for V-Voldemort." Terror laced her voice. Was she going to die? Death was supposed to be an escape, not a punishment for just being born. She was clutched to a muscled chest. The hand returned to her hair, humming echoed instead of words.

"I'm not going to let him hurt you. He's just as responsible as the light for your abuse. I want to help you if you'll let me." He waited for her to decided. She shakily nodded. "Alright, do you know what state your vaults are in?"

"Vaults? I only know of my trust vault." Rage twisted Fenrir's face. Whimpers caused him to calm down. He glanced over at the woman. She held up two fingers before heading other to another person.

"Alright, we have two day before you can leave the Healer's care. I'll teach you some of what you'll need to know before we head to Gringotts to get this worked out. Have you at least received any letter from Gringotts?

"No." her voice was quiet, almost ashamed. Fenrir sighed once more. He lied harmony down. Quickly shedding his coat, he draped it over her.

"It's not your fault. I'll see you in the morning. Get some sleep, Little cub." Harmony hummed softly. The coat was fur. Slowly, her eyes fluttered shut. A voice echoed in her ears. "Goodnight, Cub."

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So, what do ya think? I hope it's better or at least a little more flowing.

I own nothing. IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ!

See you next time.