Prologue- The rise of the wildebeest.
Three days after Draco had returned from Peru, the nasty looking rash that adorned his neck, turned a weird purple colour.
"Mum, I'm feeling really faint," he staggered into the kitchen, looking close to death. Fever had turned his normal pallor, into sweating, and dripping and the collar of his shirt gaping, to reveal a festering, black wound.
"What is that?!" Narcissa shrieked, alarm jerking the last note.
"I...don't...know."
"That wasn't there before!"
"Yes...it...was."
Narcissa's fear rocketed, not least at the stilted way her son was talking. He must have used a lot of determination to roll out of bed, and crawl down the stairs. Not even one flight. But three!
"Mum..."
Draco lurched forwards, and fell on his knees. He was trying to hold onto the kitchen counter, but the smooth granite surface wasn't giving him an inch. In the end, his grip faltered and he fell prostrate to the floor. Narcissa jumped out of the way, not wanting her feet to become infected with his disease.
A dark trickle of fluid left the corner of his lips, the last mark of someone unconscious.
"Lucius!" Narcissa screamed, before remembering he was still in Azkaban. "Winkle! Fetch a healer! Hurry, my son's dying!"
Winkle apparated what should have been in front of her, seconds later, clutching onto the robes of a petrified healer. The healer dropped what he was holding, which coincidentally, was a sponge.
"OW!" Narcissa screeched.
"Sorry!" the healer ducked.
"Not you! Winkle, stop apparating on top of my head! Go to your room, and have a good hard think about what you've done."
"Mistress, forgive me. It's a reflex habit-"
Narcissa clicked her fingers, and that frightened Winkle to let go off Narcissa's scalp. Sobbing hysterically, she apparated to her quarters, probably to hang herself by her ears from top of the linen cupboard with clothes pegs. The healer lent down, and grabbed his sparkly amber sponge.
"Mrs Malfoy, what a surprise. I was in the middle of bathing a patient-"
"Forget it," Narcissa snapped. "At this time, my son matters more. Healer Ramsey. You were the one I first turned to, three days ago, when Draco returned home in this state. You said it was a mild flu! That it was a passing scare - but now look at him! He's licking the kitchen floor."
Trembling, Healer Ramsey crouched beside Draco, and touched his deceptively cool forehead. Draco's tongue was lolling out of his mouth, swollen and red. Almost like he had bitten it in two. The healer curled up a corner of Draco's lip, and gasped in dismay, when he saw the beginnings of a deep-rooted canal.
A wickedly sharp, but short canine was protruding out of his gums.
"Merlin have mercy!" Healer Ramsey scooted backwards, when a dark growling noise overtook the room. "Your son is starting to transform! Into some type of wildebeest!"
"WHAT?"
"Ask him!" the healer pointed a finger. "Ask him if he'd been attacked there!"
"I would love to do that," Narcissa growled. "But he isn't really speaking to me. Or anyone for the matter. What is this nonsense I'm hearing about a wildebeest?"
"Like the werewolf curse, the South Americas have entered a new forray into the mix. Their numbers are still low, but their strain more vicious and lethal. For the wildebeest to survive it's initial 24 hours after transformation, it needs to slaughter a great number of people, preferably in the same vicinity and in the dark."
"This is the magical community!" Narcissa wrung her hands. "Surely there's a potion to cure this thing!"
"I'm afraid not. It's either kill, or be killed."
AN: Hi yall. Nice to meet you. Stick with me, if you wanna ride :) And don't forget to review!