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Chapter One
Though my vision blurred, I saw several hazy figures reach my side. Two dropped to their knees, one with flowing silver robes, and the other with wild, auburn hair. Their voices were incomprehensible to me, their words flowing over me like water. they poked and prodded at my torn flesh with the, long instruments, but I couldn't discern what they could be. A set of pale green eyes dropped to my face, so close that an accompanying nose brushed mine; I could barely make out the words escaping his lips as he muttered pleadingly, "Just hold on. You're safe now."
Everything burned. My skin, my bones, my teeth, my mind. Though I knew the only way I could feel the pain was that I was, in fact, alive, I couldn't fathom having survived the assault I had suffered in the forest. There was no way. The wolf-like creature was eating me.
How did one survive something like that?
A scream caught in my throat as I felt something smooth, cold, press against my lips. I turned from it it surprise and a gentle voice scolded softly, "Now, now, don't be like that, Vivian. You need to drink. Come now, open your mouth. There, that's it, yes. Perfect."
I hadn't realized I heeded his words until the sudden onslaught of blessedly cool water entered my mouth and choked me. My body moved without my instruction, a hand cradling my neck and head, holding me upright and keeping me from drowning.
"Bollocks, my fault," he muttered, a soft cloth dabbing at my mouth, "I'm sorry; I didn't think. There; that's better, now isn't it? Can you hear me?"
I managed a short, painful nod.
"Excellent!" he exclaimed, the weight of the platform I found myself on dipping at my side, "wonderful. Can you open your eyes, Vivian? Hmm? I know it's hard, you must be in excruciating pain-"
Brilliant deduction, Mr. Holmes, I grumbled to myself, struggling desperately to follow his instruction. It was far more difficult than I had hoped, but he remained encouraging, realizing that I was doing my best.
Eventually, I managed to crack an eyelid open, grimacing immediately as I was blinded by the brilliant light of day. The weight disappeared and the man's voice faded slightly as he moved away from me.
"Bugger, didn't think about that!" he muttered, the room darkening with a heavy swooshing sound, "thank Merlin you weren't attacked by a vampire!"
Thank… Merlin? Vampires?
Who was this man? Who said such a thing? It was unusual, absurd even. Merlin wasn't real; vampires didn't exist.
Then again, I had no explanation for the creatures I had seen in the woods. They certainly weren't anything I was familiar with; I hadn't seen one, read of one in any book I had come across. I didn't even know if it was a normal creature.
Prying both eyes open, I was grateful for the darkness, licking my chapped lips and surveying the perplexing scene around me in surprise. Almost instantly, I noticed that my own senses seemed different. My vision was sharper, clearer, than I remembered. I could see every last groove, divot, in the stone walls around me. Through a dirty glass window, I spotted a bird high in the sky, every last feather visible at this distance. My nose twitched at the assaulting scents that struck it, confusing and overwhelming.
My heart lodged itself in my throat and I exhaled heavily, focusing on the room around me. It was perhaps the strangest place I had ever seen, filled to the brim with devices that I couldn't even begin to comprehend their uses. Things that spun, blinked, flashed; tapestries with symbols I didn't recognize; pictures that… moved?
Gaping, I leapt as a pair of startlingly green eyes blocked my vision. Accompanying them were more freckles than I could possibly count, thin lips, and wild auburn hair. He smelled of firewood, hay, and a faint hint of sweat. Leaning away from him, I blinked, the very motion aching and difficult.
He mimicked my action, scooting back and nearly falling off of the cushy bed. He righted himself quickly, placing himself beside my feet and watching me silently, eagerly.
He was a lean man in a paisley brown vest and an off-white button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. An untied bow tie hung loosely around his neck and he tugged it away, rubbing his nape sheepishly. His gaze fell to his large hands, watching his fingers wrap and curl around themselves. His eyes met mine once, twice, and then returned to his lap.
"How… how do you feel?"
He rolled his shoulders, his body tensed. Bewildered, I thought - yes, I heard a quick, skipping thud, that sounded strangely like a heartbeat. He chanced a glance at me once more and a small, sheepish smile tugged at his mouth.
From the warmth and care in his tone before I had opened my eyes, I hadn't expected the man to be so uncomfortable in my presence. Maybe now that I was awake and aware of what had happened, he was nervous?
Or was it my appearance?
I had to be a mangled mess and I tried to lift a hand, suddenly self-conscious. My arm protested the action and I winced, my face flushing. How bad was the damage? My skin was probably shredded and discolored. My eyes fell to a thick bandage against the column of my throat and my skin began to itch terribly.
"D-do you remember what happened, Vivian?"
"I-," my tone was hoarse, rough, and I cleared my scratchy throat, "who are you?"
"Forgive me!" he exclaimed, eyes fluttering rapidly, lifting an inch off the bed before settling himself back down, "my name's Newt. Newt Scamander. Pleasure to meet you."
Newt.
It was a strange name, but a quick glance about the room and I realized it suited him well.
"Newt," I tested the name on my tongue and he offered me a fleeting smile, "what-where am I?"
"Well, you're currently in the, eh, well, maybe it's best if he explained it," the young man was on his feet in an instant, darting from the room without another word.
I stared after him in confusion, wondering who he was, let alone Newt. He certainly didn't look like the type to be roaming the woods in the middle of the night, let alone fend off those beasts that had killed-
A heavy lump rose in my throat and my eyes stung. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes and I swallowed thickly, willing the crimson-soaked memories from my mind. But once I recalled them, they wouldn't cease. Limbs and screams filled the air, blood and bits of men and women who didn't deserve to meet such a violent end scattered about in the darkness.
A tremor ran through me and I was grateful for the footfalls returning to the room. Exhaling shakily, I focused my attention on Newt and another man, equally as tall with a short auburn beard adorning his face and half-moon spectacles covering his brilliant blue eyes.
Newt frowned, immediately hastening to my side and perching himself on the bed once more. He reached for me, his fingers curling around the empty air in front of him, before he retracted his hand. He swallowed, a sympathetic smile flashing my way, before he produced a tissue seemingly out of nowhere and offered it to me.
I tried once more to lift a hand, but when he realized it wasn't going to happen, he gingerly, hesitantly brushed beneath my eyes. His voice was no more than a whisper as he muttered stutteringly, "P-please don't cry, Vivian. It's… alright now."
"Yes, my child," the other man approached, his tone strong and warm, his smile comforting. He was far more affectionate than Newt, resting a heavy palm on my shoulder and squeezing gently.
Wincing, I faltered under his touch and he removed his hand quickly, dipping his head, "I'm quite sorry, my dear. Newton, lad, do you think you could fetch Ms. Baxter another blood replenishing potion and something for the pain, perhaps? I should have something in my private stock."
Newton hopped up and ducked his head, dashing from sight without another word.
The other man drew a leg up and settled himself on my other side. He folded his hands atop his lap and watched me silently for a moment. He exhaled heavily and removed his glasses, "I'm sure you have many a question, my dear."
"Who are you?" I queried gruffly.
"Ah yes, that would help things, wouldn't it?" he chuckled softly, "I am Albus Dumbledore. I teach Transfiguration here at Hogwarts."
"I- none of that made sense," I stared, confused, wild eyes falling on Newt as he returned to the room and uncorked a small, red vial.
"What doesn't make sense?" he queried, approaching the bed and handing me the glass, glancing between this Professor Dumbledore fellow and I.
"Any of this," I replied, rolling the vial between my fingers, skeptical of the strange-smelling liquid, "this- I'm not in a hospital. Shouldn't I be in a hospital? After… what happened…"
"Do you remember what happened?" Newt queried, brows high on his forehead, an almost excited edge to his voice. He reached for a sheet of parchment and a quill, hastily jotting down a few words.
Aghast, I gaped at the young man in silence until he slowly lifted his eyes and lowered his quill. He shrunk beneath my stare and muttered, "I-I'm sorry. I- it's just that I-"
"Mr. Scamander here is perhaps the best person who could ever be of service to you, Ms. Baxter," the professor noted calmly, "he may be a bit overzealous, I admit, but I assure you, you are in the most capable hands. You see, Mr. Scamander is a magizoologist."
"What… is a magizoologist?"
"I study magical creatures," Newt replied hastily, apologetically, setting aside his notes with some reluctance.
"Magi-"
"Yes, my dear, magical creatures," Dumbledore responded, settling his glasses back on his face and offering me a warm smile, "you see, Hogwarts is a magical school, Newton and I are wizards, and you are, now, a magical being yourself."
"Is this an asylum?" I queried shakily, panic rising through me as I struggled to escape the bed. My fear only increased as Newt rose to his feet and pressed his hands firmly to my shoulders, preventing any chance of fleeing. "Please, let me go! I just- I don't-"
Newt pressed a vial to my lips, upending the liquid and forcing me to swallow. Though I resisted him, I was far too weak and found myself melting against the mattress once more.
"S-sorry," he flinched, "it was a calming draught."
Calming draught, indeed. Instantly, all terror fled and my limbs felt leaden once more. My heart slowed and my mind cleared and, though I pinned Newt with a frustrated frown, I had to admit I was more willing to hear him out.
"What's going on?" I inquired brokenly, "I don't understand."
"No, I don't suppose you would," Dumbledore sighed, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "let me begin by assuring you that you are not in an asylum. This is a school for young witches and wizards to learn to control and excel in their magical abilities."
Magic.
Feeling faint, I watched in awe as he produced a thin, white piece of wood from his robes. With a quick flick of the wrist, he conjured a carnation out of thin air and rested it on my lap with a small smile.
"I am a wizard, as is young Mr. Scamander, here," the older man - wizard - nodded toward his fellow redhead. Newt nodded fervently, and, though he didn't perform any brilliant shows of magic, he too retrieved a stick from the stand beside my bed and showed it off. "I was his professor at one point in time and, if fortune favors me, I will continue to teach brilliant students like him for many years to come."
"Where are we?" I queried softly, confusedly, "where is this school?"
"Scotland," Newt supplied eagerly, "actually quite close to where we found you."
"Are those things still around?" I queried, alarmed, though strangely enough, the draught kept me from lashing out once more.
"They are still alive, but they cannot - and will not - get to you again, Ms. Baxter," Dumbledore informed me, "you made the unfortunate mistake of wandering into what we call the Forbidden Forest. Those things are werewolves; there is a pack of them living deep in the heart of the forest."
"The others-"
"I'm sorry, Ms. Baxter, but you were the only survivor."
Looking away from the professor, I swallowed another round of tears and focused on the more confusing part of his statement.
"Werewolves. In Scotland?"
"They are in other locales, as well," Newt blurted, reining in any excitement he may have been feeling, "Romania, Canada, Bulgaria… Those are known packs. There are certainly more than that, I would think. They tend to keep themselves hidden, if they can. Werewolves are-"
"I believe we can discuss that at another time, Mr. Scamander," Dumbledore interrupted kindly, a twinkle in his eye at the passion in Newt's tone.
I, on the other hand, found my nerves returning. Worriedly, I queried, "But- I've heard stories. About werewolves. They- if they bite you… did- do I- am I-"
"That brings us to my comment that you are now a magical being, Ms. Baxter," the professor sighed heavily, disappointment coloring his tone, "I am most regretful for having to inform you that you are now, in fact, a werewolf."
"But I- how do you know?" my hands trembled and my head throbbed, bile rising to my throat, "are you sure… what am I supposed to do now?"
"Rest, for the moment, my dear," Albus rose to his feet, resting a gentle hand to my forehead. Almost instantly, my eyelids drooped, exhaustion settling over me. "You need to heal, to regain your strength. We shall talk more when you wake."
Newt offered me a fleeting smile before he rose from my bedside. I was asleep before the pair of them left the room.
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Blackcat711: thank you! I know, I wish there were more! Glad you like it :)
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