Disclaimer: If you recognise it's not mine.
Authors Note – I am a rotten foreshadower. If you notice something which gives you a hint about who our OC is then let me know! I feel I've been super obvious in this chapter but one woman's obvious is another persons 'Huh?' *_*.
The house had once belonged to an elderly Muggle woman but since her death it had remained vacant, standing alone in the emptiness of the surrounding moorland. Her son had long since moved to the big city leaving behind the house which he had called home. The garden which had once been lush and cultivated was now overgrown with aggressive weeds and thick, heavily armoured brambles. A family of foxes had made their home within the cover of the thorny and twisted barricade but tonight they stayed hidden in their underground den; nestled close together and laying as flat to the earth as possible. Even the birds remained silent in the trees, it was as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for an inevitability to come to pass. The house had a sadness to it, it longed to be loved and to love in return. It seemed to scream out for a family to take notice of it, to invest their time and money to return it to its former glory – to become a place where memories were made once again and laughter filled the halls.
However, despite the outwardly desolate and ramshackle appearance Foxglove Cottage's interior still held a sliver of the warmth which once filled its heart. The walls of the living room desperately clung to the cheery pastel pink rose pattern wallpaper, it had slowly begun to peel away in some places and there was a long torn shred hanging just below the picture which dominated the fireplace. The previous owner had clearly had an artistic flair as numerous painting adorned the walls of the cottage depicting various Cornish scenes – a sunset here, a flock of sheep grazing peacefully there but the largest and most detailed painting was hung in pride of place on that pink wall. Exquisite teal, blue, and green brushstrokes had given the painted sea an almost dreamlike quality but clearly, the most time had been spent on the seal. It's large, rich brown eyes staring out from the canvas were almost too realistic.
The scratching of a quill stilled as the young man rubbed the long, white feather underneath his chin. The softness gently tickled the sensitive skin causing a faint rasping noise as it rubbed the stubble which was just starting to grow but he didn't notice. His mind was far away, lost in the memories which overwhelmed his senses... Pumpkins floating in the air, traditionally macabre faces crudely carved into their orange flesh, the fatness of the pumpkins offset by the tall, ivory candles which floated next to them. The burning flame flickering to the dance of a breeze which wasn't there. A cloudless, inky black sky glittering above the heads of chatting children, tiny silvery pinprick stars sparkled like thousands of glittering eyes and above it all the curve of a quarter moon...
A sudden crash brought the young man back from the trip down the twisting streets of memory lane. He looked up from the parchment where he had been scribbling, gripping something in the pocket of the long knitted brown cardigan. It was far too big for his thin, lanky frame and it hung loosely from the shoulders but it had been a present from his mother after a particularly fruitful foray into the world of knitting. He hadn't the heart to tell her at the time that there was no way in this lifetime nor the next that it was going to fit. Deep chocolate brown eyes flicked from side to side as he listened carefully to the rustling noises coming from the kitchen. Standing he shifted around the wooden table where he had been sat, careful not to make a sound as he slowly crept towards the kitchen. The hand which had been buried in the pocket was now extended revealing a long wand that he held aloft, peering around the corner, the sight which lay before him caused his heart to momentarily skip a beat. The kitchen door was swinging on its hinges as the howling wind and rain rushed into the cottage's small kitchen. A large canine shape could be vaguely made out in the gloom.
'Lumos' he whispered. Curiosity finally getting the of the young werewolf. A beam of silvery white light streamed from the wand, illuminating the kitchen and revealing what lay out there in the dark.
The dog lifted its head from the bin which it had tipped over, the animal was huge and black and for a brief moment he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. It turned its humongous body around and came trotting over to where the young, brown-haired man stood. Bumping his empty hand with its nose and wagging its long, thick black tail. He sighed and ruffled the dog's wet ears affectionately causing a tag to clink against the collar. Reaching down he took the cold tag in his hand, 'Faye' was engraved in thick black writing.
'Well Faye looks like you're staying here for the night' he mumbled. Walking around the huge animal to shut the kitchen door.