Prologue: Gomorrah

Disclaimer: I neither own the intellectual property of the Harry Potter universe, nor do I profit from this work produced here.

Warnings: cursing, violence, parental abuse.

December, 1995

The wind blew steadily over the frozen heath, the landscape before his searching eyes a barren wasteland of gray and white, broken here and there by frosted patches of reddish-brown or olive where the snow had not entirely buried the dead grass. The man shivered and pulled the patched closer around his shoulders.

"See anything worth seeing?"

He glanced over his shoulder; his mirror image approached with a wry grin. "Nope. Bloody starving, though."

"Hn. John just went to check the traps. Here's hoping for some fresh rabbit, eh, brother?"

Mavis MacMorris smirked at his elder brother and nodded. A stiff breeze crossed the open moors; both shivered, and Mavis lifted his hands to his face, rubbing and blowing on them. "Calfacio," he whispered, and let out a soft sigh of relief as a bloom of heat warmed his stiff fingers.

Maverick gave him a sharp look. "You know Alpha hates magic."

"Fuck Alpha. Put me out here on day shift, didn't he? Why couldn't Brushtail do it?"

"You know the Ferals always get the perks. What're you complaining for?"

Mavis muttered something about "blasted wind," and Maverick snorted. "Why are you out here for, anyway?" the younger brother questioned, looking over at him curiously.

Maverick shrugged. "You look half-frozen, kid. Thought you could use a break?"

The younger blinked. "You mean it?"

"Sure. Go inside, get your blood flowing. Look like a corpse, you do." Mavis grinned, thanked his brother and left the crest of the hill, tramping down through the drifted snow and wincing as his nearly numb toes were forced to move again.

Near the bottom of the hill was a small, abandoned stone farmhouse; made all of crumbling stone, the thatched roof had long since collapsed, but thankfully the ceiling of the lower floor, made of rotting wooden beams, was still intact. Mavis blew on his chapped hands again as he pushed the door inside, careful to step lightly for fear of waking the others.

And there were many others. Nearly a dozen adults and three children were curled up on the floor, fast asleep, pressing close to one another to conserve their collective heat like a pack of dogs. A fire had been lit in the hearth and had now burnt low, casting red, flickering shadows in the artificial darkness where the thin beams of daylight didn't pierce through the boards over the windows. At a rickety table in the corner, the alpha was speaking in low tones with his primary scouts, two men whom Mavis knew only by the names of Brushtail and Howler. Mavis went to the hearth and stacked another fresh log onto the dying coals, ears perked for anything he could catch as he warmed his hands.

"–We need to move," Brushtail was saying, his voice a low growl in the darkness. "We're too close to the human villages here; if a hunter comes across us–"

"Humans only hunt in the fall," Alpha broke in, with a tone of authority. "We can stay at least another month."

"We ought to move east, further into Eryri," Howler countered. "The game will be better there, anyhow; we can't keep surviving on rabbits forever."

"Always thinking about your gullet, Howler," the Alpha sneered. "This is a warm den, with space. We need supplies, anyhow; the man-houses around here are owned by muggles. Full moon is in three days; we can attack without any trouble."

"Alpha…" Brushtail's voice drifted off, low and nervous. "…We can't wait for her forever…"

Immediately, Mavis knew he had gone too far; Greyback seized the man by the ears and slammed him hard against the table, breaking the latter in two. Brushtail yowled and hit the floor with a moan, clutching at his broken nose as the air filled with the scent of blood. Several of the pack woke and looked up dazedly, interest; several more simply rolled over and went back to sleep. "In case you've forgotten, this is my pack," Alpha snarled, baring his fangs. "I decide when we go and when we stay. Is that clear?"

Brushtail let out a wolfish whimper and nodded. Greyback sneered. "Pathetic. Get out of my sight; go take the watch from– eh! Bounder!"

Mavis stiffened at the sound of his pack-name and turned. The alpha was scowling at him, a very terrifying look indeed. "Aren't you supposed to be on guard? What are you doing in here?"

Mavis ducked his head, dropping to a knee in a sign of submission. "Just warming up, Alpha. Loper took over."

"Hn." He nodded to Brushtail. "Go relieve Loper then." The scout, sensing that this was not the time to complain about being double-shifted, quickly hurried for the door, trying to stifle the blood dripping from his nose. He had just barely touched the handle, however, when the door suddenly burst open, causing him to sidestep in surprise.

Maverick strode in, his expression grim yet pleased. "Alpha," he said, dropping to a knee, "There's someone here to see you."

Anyone who was not still asleep at this point immediately sat up in interest, shaking the others awake. Maverick didn't dare break eye contact with his alpha, but the meaning was clear to everyone in the room. Fenrir Greyback's face had turned to one of shock, and he stood, pacing to the door without a word. Everyone else followed hesitantly, Maverick and Mavis just behind the scouts, to where Alpha had stopped in the doorway, motionless. Speechless.

On the other side of the doorway stood a young woman– thin, scarred, dressed in ragged muggle clothing but with a ratty cloak slung over her shoulders. With her eyes downcast, she fell to all fours, kneeling in the snow. No one dared to speak.

"…Get up," Alpha said at last, in a very odd tone– low, but not quite a growl, and with uncertain emotion. Slowly, the woman got to her feet, still not daring to meet his eyes. She was shivering. The alpha glanced over her once, and then stepped back, leaving the doorway open.

Murmurs sprang up among the members of the pack. The woman herself looked stunned; clearly she hadn't been expecting such sympathy. Cyclops, one of the betas, murmured: "Alpha, if I may be so bold…"

"You may not," Greyback snarled, rounding on him. The man stepped back respectfully, lowering his gaze. "Am I not free to deal with own cub as I wish?" Nobody dared to reply. "Get out. All of you, now."

Within moments, the farmhouse was cleared; Mavis was the last to go, casting the young woman a worried look as he closed the door behind them. Then the room fell dark.

There was a long silence. The woman still hadn't dare to meet her alpha's eyes. The man stared down at her, face inscrutable, like stone.

Crack!

The sound of the backhand echoed against the stone as the woman stumbled sideways, clutching at her face. Still, she neither raised her eyes, nor uttered a sound.

Then, she felt strong arms close around her, and she let out a tearful gasp, embracing her father in return. "You foolish girl," Greyback muttered, holding his daughter tightly. "Why did you come back here?"

"I had to, Father," she whispered, voice choked. "You were right about them. You were right about everything." She drew back, tears in her great golden eyes. "Is- is there any way I could–"

"Bright Eyes, you know the punishment for abandoning the pack," the alpha said heavily, shaking his head. "If you weren't my cub I would have killed you already; as it is, the best I can do is banish you."

"Then you may as well kill me now," she choked out. "Father, that's why I came back. You were right about the humans. They were cruel, and heartless– none of them, none of them would help me! And not just me– so many of their own, they passed by on the streets, starving, begging, and no one helped them, no one…"

"That is how humans are, Bright Eyes," he growled, but his anger was not towards her. "They have no loyalty, not even to their own kind. I have told you this always. Why, why would you disobey me like this?"

She looked down again, obviously ashamed. The man sighed, shook his head. "I ought to have known this would happen," he muttered gruffly. "Your mother's blood is still strong in you." She winced, as if this were the worst insult he could deliver. "Bright Eyes, I am the alpha of this pack, the oldest pack in the history of our kind… if I allow my own cub to escape the punishment for disloyalty, how will I be able to lead the others? No. You… you will have to leave."

No one who saw him would have known it, but it destroyed him to say it.

But the woman had one last plea. "What if… what if I proved my loyalty?" she said hesitantly, glancing up. "Would that appease the others?"

Her father regarded her shrewdly. "You mean by turning Feral."

"Yes. I…" She hesitated, and then continued. "You know I have always refused, Father, because of my mother's blood… but now I know better. You were right, Father, right about them and about her." She stiffened her shoulders. "I would turn Feral to prove my loyalty, and then you could refuse to let me run again. Wouldn't that be punishment enough?"

Greyback frowned, considering it. There was, as a general rule, no greater punishment an alpha could give his Ferals than to refuse to let them run wild on the full moon, to bar them from the hunt, save for exile or death. And his daughter's refusal to turn had always been a matter of some embarrassment to him before the eyes of the pack. If she did so now, it would reaffirm her obedience to him and prove that he had authority. "…My clever cub," he said at last, a small smile twitching his mouth and showing the edge of his fang. "Perhaps you will make a fine alpha yet."

The young woman realized what he meant, and broke into a smile with a gasp, throwing her arms around him. "Oh, Father, thank you!" she exclaimed, tears filling her eyes once more. "I promise, I won't let you down… not again…"

He let out several low, gruff chuckles and embraced her again, unutterably grateful. His cub was home, where she belonged. And he would never let her go again.

When at last the pair broke apart, he settled a hand on her shoulder. "But now you know why I have kept you far from the humans, Bright Eyes," he said bitterly. "They are weak, selfish creatures, fit only to be consumed."

"And wizards the worst among them," she agreed, her golden eyes growing dark with a glare to match his own. "To think, to think I would have grown up like them, weak and cowardly… I was so foolish…"

"It is a lesson we have all learned through foolishness," he countered, "And you were not half so foolish as I was, to have trusted your mother…" His voice faded off in a low snarl; there were some insults that could never be repaid. "But tell me, what happened? What convinced you to come back?"

And so she told him the whole story, from the first moment she left the pack to when, after having been thrown to the ground by a particularly disgusted man, she realized she could never belong among them. Her father's face went stony; no heir of Melion should ever condescend to beg from humans, but to be treated such? His blood burned. No, he would not stand it. "This human," he growled, eyes blazing, "Who was he? What was his name?"

"I can't be sure, but he dropped this as he left." From within the holed pockets of her cloak, she withdrew a small envelope and handed it to him. The alpha opened it and withdrew a piece of folded parchment paper; it seemed to be some sort of notice, regarding the taxes owed on a property in Gwennyd– not far from where they were, it seemed. He searched for a name, and found it just above the address:

Mr. Theron Lowell

A/N: So that's the prologue! I know it's short, but I got it up a week earlier than I intended; what do you all think? Please review!