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Somewhere on the western edge of France, 1980

Albus Dumbledore stood still as he looked out over the Channel. It was a still night in summer and he was eager to return home soon; the Potters and Longbottoms had just had their babies. Albus smiled faintly at the thought of the children. Even in these dark times there was still such light. Though the new lives had to be born to such horror, Albus had hope that the children, like all their generation, would grow up in a peaceful world. The Dark Lord would be defeated and the good would return to encompass their lives.

Two distinct 'pop's sounded behind the man and although he didn't tense at the sudden sound, he was still alert as he turned around. Relief flooded him as he took note of the couple, knowing no Polyjuice Potion or spell could duplicate their appearance. Breathtaking was the word to describe them. Tall and slim and positively gorgeous, the two ethereal beings before him made even the great Albus Dumbledore take a moment to compose himself, their charm almost tangible. He strode towards them, his face unsmiling though not unkind, and stopped metres before the pair.

Both parties were equally silent, watching the other. Quietly assessing and drawing conclusions from their posture, expressions and perceived intent, each seemed to then accept what was before them and previously straight backs relaxed.

"Dumbledore," greeted the man, his Bulgarian accent thick.

"Andrei," Albus replied, bowing his head slightly in respect, his smile light and curious. "Is this the newborn you mentioned to me?"

Andrei turned slightly to angle his body closer to the woman holding the child by his side.

"She is almost one now," the woman spoke strongly, but not rudely, in a slightly faded but still quite pronounced Greek accent. "She is strong, Professor Dumbledore," she added, frowning sternly at the older man, as though he had doubted it.

Albus smiled at the beautiful creature and her child, stepping forward and crossing the bridge between them.

"For the child of two Veela, I have no doubt," he agreed with her, stepping close enough to look down into the blankets at the sleeping infant. "Why have you asked me here?"

"For protection, Professor Dumbledore," Andrei responded. "Our daughter is not safe in the mainland but she would be with you."

Albus frowned gently at the hopeful couple.

"You must know of the situation in Great Britain at the moment, my dear Andrei, Aphrodisia. It is not safe for anyone, let alone a baby girl."

"It is safer than here where the Guild may take her," Aphrodisia affirmed, not cowed by the darkness permeating Britain.

"It may not be, Aphrodisia," Albus continued to stress. "Voldemort is more powerful than any dark lord we've seen in centuries. To place such a strong creature within his reach is unwise. That is not even touching upon allowing her to be in a country as intolerant towards magical creatures as mine."

"Then place her with muggles, I do not care, just keep her safe," Aphrodisia snapped angrily in a suddenly powerful Greek accent. Her fierce temper emerged in a show of flashing ice blue eyes as she barely contained her fury.

"Until she comes of age she will pass as a normal witch," Andrei intervened, stepping close to place a calming hand on his wife's back. "You can do much for her until then."

Albus sighed at the couple before glancing down at the bundle in the woman's arms. She was sleeping, the little one, and her hair brown until she came of age, disguising her true nature. She was such a sweet thing, so innocent. It was a pity yet another child had to be pressured by and thrust into darkness that should have rightfully and justly belonged to and been resolved by their parents. The softly breathing child stirred slightly as a light wind picked up and burrowed deeper into the blanket, the white-gold head of the man turning to glance at her in paternal concern, absentmindedly shifting her blanket further up her body to rest under her chin.

"Please, Albus," Andrei begged, turning his blue eyes on the elderly man. "Please take her and keep her safe. Until she comes of age."

The bearded man looked between the two. The Veela woman stood stoic and proud, a faint scowl on her face as if daring him to refuse and if he did, she would unleash her rage. The Veela man, on the other hand, stood patient and blank-faced as he waited for the wizard's response, having pleaded with the Englishman enough to last him a lifetime, even if it was to protect his own child.

Albus finally looked to the child and sighed.

It would be a long sixteen years.

Hogwarts grounds, 1994, fourteen years later

The wolf ran at breakneck speed through the dark woods, hunting. The howl, the howl had called to him and he could not refuse. Such a sound, such a call; it connected with the deep part of his soul. He knew that howl like he knew his own. He'd never heard it aloud before, of course, but the resonance had slipped past his defences, through his hunger and his fury, past the human mind asleep within his own, and aligned with him. It was not a wolf, though, he knew that. It was convincing enough to fool one of those humans, but never a wolf's ears, and definitely not his.

Paws pounded rhythmically against the forest floor, pine needles and twigs crunching beneath and rocks flung behind him as he ran. The chill in the air permeated even his thick coat and he knew it was unnatural. Steam poured off the powerful creature as he ran faster and faster, closer and closer. By now he could hear their little footsteps as they ran, too. The chill grew stronger as he grew closer to both his prey and those soul-sucking creatures. The anticipation manifested within him as the heartbeats he sought became audible, their quick, panicked pants sending him toward frenzy. He was so close. He could hear them clearly now and the smell, the smell was so strong.

He skidded to a stop in the clearing, using his sight to search them out. They were here, he knew that; he could still hear them. For the life of the wolf, though, he could not see them.

Snap.

The wolf stalked his prey, listening for their breaths, their heartbeats, sniffing deep their scents into his lungs and cataloguing them in his mind. He curved his body as he prowled around the tree, listening to their cautious footsteps back. Then they were within reach and he emerged for them to see. The growl in his chest intensified as he saw them, saw the one who called him so desperately. The smell from her was intoxicating. Like the sweetest of meals, the most intense of mating calls, the greatest of pleasures, the most demanding of creatures; the wolf wanted nothing but to please her and prove to her he was worthy. He wanted to be accepted by her.

He stepped forward, the growl growing ever louder as the pup-almost-grown possessively held his creature. He wouldn't stand for that, he couldn't. She had such a sweet scent, such a sweet, appealing, intoxicating aura about her. She was perfect, though that scent was dulled; he doubted the humans even knew she was so special. But she was, and he would continue to stalk her until he had her.

His focus was interrupted by a beast charging the clearing, slashing his muzzle and screeching into his sensitive ears. His growl was louder now, menacing as he demanded the other creature back off. The horse-bird beast did not and continued to slash. With one last look at the man-child and the sweetly scented young female, the werewolf fled the clearing, howling his outrage, displeasure and longing to the moon.

He refused to let his hunt end this night. He would have her. She was his.

Voila! There is the prologue. I hope it was enjoyable. This is a teaser, I suppose, to see the kind of initial response a creature story like this would get. Fair warning, I have an idea only of where I want this to go, but go it shall, and the rating will definitely go up. Now, reviews, anyone? I would love 'em, I most definitely would. Until the next chapter, readers of mine!

Hermitt