A/N: konichiwa everyone! I don't know if this story would strike your fancy, but here it is! If you see any errors kindly point it out, cause I only have two eyes and limited man-hours to proof-read it.
Back in the early days, hidden behind the end of the third mountains so that they were able to hide their art, snugly hidden away from the roads built by the Romans, lie a little village who were quite content on their own. It was a village who learned the art of magic. They did not even call it magic yet at that time. They just recently learned that a certain old and ancient oak, when they took the branches and waved it, could move rocks, and water.
If your feet ever wander that way into those mountains, you will find yourself bewildered. Going through the thickets of that forest would have been fun, but , the forest itself plays its own prank to hide itself from any intruder. For the people living in that village did not want to be discovered. Nor disturbed. It was the a small village. And the people there called it Byramoth.
So it was that the village lived in peace, With no kings and crusaders to bother them (or prying politicians holding out paper for taxes ). And just as so because this village was peculiar.
When they needed to lift something they would not use their hands. No. Not in the manner that we usually do. They waved a straight wooden wood usually crafted from an old enchanted tree. With strings on the core more enchanted than its bark. And with it, they can do great things. They can heal all manner of wounds. They can turn wood into stone. They can do Mighty things. Terrible things.
In that village, there was a girl who was more peculiar than usual. Everybody called her peculiar and mothers covered their children's eyes when passing by. I must have been natural for humans to loath what they do not understand. For it is better to hate a thing than admit to its superiority over us. But deep in the crevice of their hearts it was only natural that they were jealous. Because this girl had a gift. Just like the Nymphs in the heart of the forest, who laughed and skipped about in the shadows, she could turn into anything or anyone. She was a shapeshifter. And people were afraid of it. Just like people outside were afraid of the villagers. But she was a precious little thing, and a precious little gift she were. She was called Nymphadora.
That Nymphadora should go to explore the forest was absolutely necessary. Nothing would deter her, be it that of the horrifying legends or the fact that the usual people would not. After all, she said to herself, she was not usual, so she need not follow the usual ways-
And so she went further in. She snapped at twigs and stepped on crunchy leaves until she went further until the sun no longer reached the floor and the twigs and leaves were no longer crunchy.
Then there was a lot of thickets. Twigs that prick your skin. So wide and thick that it had no mercy. When Nymphadora went forward there was no ending to its troubles, no matter how she cut it with her wooden oak branch. She was cut and pricked by her going, but she toiled forward.
But after much toil, she finally reached a clearing. In her gaze she found a house. It was old and there were ivy creeping up everywhere. A tall tower and a locked room.
Of course she was a curious little soul. For what was the point, she says, of going inside the forest for adventures if one don't have enough courage to discover something new. That, she argued, was the whole point of going inside the forest in the first place.
So she went near the house, slowly, among the shadows of the trees whatever shade left they have to offer, until she was creeping on its walls, trying to find the door. There was no door. There was only a window. So high above her head that she could not climb it. But she would not let a house defeat her. So she waived her wand and made the vines stouter. Enough to bear her size. But the vines shrunk and withered instead. She was not a usual human. So she gathered up her the wind with her two arms to swish it big. And all the twigs and fallen branches moved to make a ladder. But as soon as the twigs touched the wall it also withered.
"It's no use, you see," a voice said.
Nymphadora looked up to see a little boy on the top of the window. That he was lonely was obvious.
She put her hands to her hips as a sign of challenge. "Why ever not?"
"See those vines?" he pointed at her failed attempts. "Everything I touch dies."
"It is not you. It is just the tower," said Nymphadora.
He smiled at her weakly.
"Well, see here, You look like a fine boy," Nymphadora addressed him again. "How would it be if you come play with me?"
He looked hopeful for a moment, then his face fell. "You will never be able to reach it up here. This is a tall tower and my room is locked."
"I surely can. If you let me."
Unconsciously, he took a closer step towards the window. "Why would I let you?"
"Because we are friends."
"But you do not even know my name."
"Tell it to me quickly, then!" she demanded.
He fell silent for a couple of minutes. Nymphadora ever impatient already tapped her foot to the ground. But she did not leave.
"My name is Remus," he finally said. "Alright," said Remus. "The only thing you can climb into in order to reach up is my hair. I will grow it long so you can climb up."
And so Nymphadora climbed up.
What is your name? asks Remus.
Nymphadora puffed her chest and raised her chin. For father and mother always do that when they introduced her. Her name is Nymphadora, she hears them say. And they puff out their chests and raise their chin. So she did the same. My name, loud and clear she says, is Tonks. I am the daughter of Tonks from the other side of the village. Where am I? she asks him.
"This is Estronia. You have reached the tower of Estronia. It was built for me," to house a dangerous beast. He slouched and kept his head down and was timid. But when he looked up, he noticed more things from his companion. What are you wearing?, he asks.
It is very obvious. I'm wearing a red cape. There's this festival in the village. This night they sell roasted apples with syrup. There's a big campfire where people dance around and get warm. If you could but just see the festival. What happiness it would be!
And suddenly, Remus had the desire to see something warm and blazing.
You could come!
I'm sorry Tonks, I can't go, says the boy.
What? Why?
"I… I can't tell you," for Remus knew that if his new friend knew his secret, she would never come back again.
She looked around her. Well then, she says stubbornly. She stomped her feet and slumped in a corner. I'll stay here too.
Go back to the Village. You are going to miss the festival, pleaded Remus.
"What's wrong with being here?"
He gestured to his room. "There's nothing here worth feasting your eyes upon."
Nymphadora looked at the whole room that was bare, but she looked at Remus, then she could not wipe the smile off her face. "You are not telling the truth."
I am telling the truth, he says.
Well then, says Nymphadora, pushing her chest out and her head up. Tell the truth now. Do you want me to stay here or not?"
And Remus' face was pained because he did not know what he wanted. But after a while, he spoke. "I have decided what I want. I want you to see the festival. I want you to see the warm and blazing fire and I want you to dance. I want you to eat the apples and the pears, that you say so much about."
But I want you to see the lights too, says Nymphadora. Come with me, she holds out her hands to him. I'll make you believe it. Risk you the night? It is still young.
.oOo.
"But mu-um! You've buggered up the story! This is not the usual story of 'The Witch and the Big Bad Wolf, Tell her dad, tell her," said Teddy.
His father merely, 'hmm'd and went back to his reading.
Nymphadora raised her eyebrows. "Would you rather I tell you the original one? You just complained a little bit earlier that you're bored with the usual tales."
"No. I like this much better."
"What an inconsistent kid," muttered Nymphadora.
But by now, Teddy was much too taken in by the story to bother a retort to her mother's statement.
Nymphadora's voice continued to drown along with the rain that was falling heavily from their glass window. But inside the house, Teddy was tucked snugly in a mountain of pillows while a glass of milk sat empty on the table near the bed.
.oOo.
They sneaked back into the village, and Nymphadora showed him the dragon-wagons. He had a large cap so his face was not seen. They ate plums and apples and cheese, and Remus thought that it was good.
When Remus finally saw the campfire, It was already blazing stoutly brightening up the people who danced around it. Everyone was circling around it in an elaborate dance. Hold hands, Step-run to the left, move forward. The ladies glide to the right, find different partners. Clap-clap twirl. Remus took the little pleasure of watching them with his eyes. It was such a wonderful thing to behold.
"Come on!" said Nymphadora, grabbing his hand. Then he found himself in the middle of it. Nymphadora glided, and he followed suit. Then he found himself being brave and firm in accepting her movements. In the confines of his home, he never knew such pleasure existed. Every bit of movement was etched into his being. She, so radiant, so full of life, so overpowering.
.oOo.
There was a man who kept a garden. It was a beautiful garden with blue and white flowers sprouting tall and proud. Then the boys saw it. And the old man was not a usual. Because he doesn't go out of his shanty. And his shanty was ugly, and so therefore his flowers. So they snapped and snatched and grabbed.
But Nymphadora saw it, so she raised herself tall and proud and drove the boys out of the garden. And Remus followed behind when the boys were gone. Would I could help you, he said. And she replied, alright, you will not always be around. I must learn to defend myself or they would grab me.
The boy knelt down and saw the flowers, and did he weep to see its glory destroyed. For it was beautiful and it was destroyed and stolen. And lo, where his tears had fallen to the battered flowers, did it grew and grew until it was taller and prouder and more beautiful.
"Remus, you have lied to me. Your touch does not bring withered frost, it brings life!"
For he was beginning to understand, that his touch does not bring death. And the flowers did not wither. He was not brought for death, but for joy. And the boy, for the first time that Nymphadora saw it, smiled that reached his eyes.
"I haven't seen him before," said one kid behind them. They saw a boy with a big hat behind Nymphadora.
He is not a son of anybody in the village, so therefore he must be bad. Let's go and follow them.
And so they went and asked Nymphadora about the strange boy. Because he was not a usual.
"Remus does not exist," replied Nymphadora. Then she transformed into the boy. "It was myself pretending to be somebody else so I could have a friend."
Then the people laughed. "Silly Nymphadora, now has gone mad! It's all because of the Nymphs enchantment!" then they left her feeling satisfied with themselves.
When they were gone, Remus came out and said to her, "You need not do that."
"Do you remember? We're friends," she held out her hand.
They went back to Remus' house. Unaware to both of them was that a boy had followed them from behind.
.oOo.
She was on her way back to the village when A rustle of leaves behind her was enough to inform her that something was amiss.
"Who's there!" said Nymphadora suddenly, taking her wooden stick out of its sheath.
"One who has watched you from afar for long."
"Spirit or apparition, state weather you are a friend or a foe."
"I am your friend. Why should we not be good to one another?" Nymphadora looked from left to right, yet the voice seemed to be moving and coming from different directions.
Nymphadora breathed. "Well then, show yourself."
The voice sighed. "I cannot. For my beauty is not for the mortal's eyes. We must hide ourselves so as to keep peace."
"Why is it," said the frustrated Nymphadora, "does everyone not want to be seen?"
"You are a clever girl. I think you already know why that is," said the Water-Nymph. "Or do you not know the enchantment made by your people in order to keep you safe from others who are trying to kill you?"
"Why did you seek occasion to speak with me? Is there something amiss?"
"Nothing is amiss. Only that I have looked upon your beauty for so long and I desire to have it."
Nymphadora gripped her wand tighter. "Do you plan to kill me whence you're finished?"
"No, child. I am your friend, and I know what you have is something precious. Yet, know this, if you ever want something badly, You can exchange that gift of yours, and I shall do anything in my power to grant that wish."
"And how do I know how to trust you?"
"I will make the unbreakable vow. That I will not take that gift until I have fulfilled its worth whatever it is you desire."
"What could a girl desire more but good health and beauty?", said Nymphadora. "I am not completely ignorant on how precious this gift is."
The Nymph smiled. "I see in you a different face. There are things that you want you deem more precious than that. Only remember: ride east and look for the water marshes."
The voice disappeared, and Nymphadora found herself alone once more.
.oOo.
The next day, they couldn't find Peter. The villagers began talking.
Where is Peter? I saw him yesterday. He was following Nymphadora through the thickets at the back of the Village.
And the Villagers sought, and sought but there was no Peter to be found. So they knocked at Nymphadora's door. And Nymphadora said she did not know. And the Villagers did not believe her. For they think that Nymphadora was peculiar. Because her hair was different in color. And people with different color are bad people.
Only Peter's clothes were found in the forest. It was covered in blood.
"'Tis a beast in our midst! A scion of the devil!" The Villagers began to whisper among themselves.
Nymphadora was troubled. She went across the forest to see the boy with the kind face.
She told him what happened. The boy paled, and said, you think it was me who took Peter?
And Nymphadora replied, no, and if you wanted to eat somebody, you could have eaten me a long time ago. And the boy smiled even though he knew no one else believed it.
But Remus knew who took Peter. He told Nymphadora about Greyback. And how he takes children to feed on them, so that sometimes, fathers would lose their son and mothers their babies. And how he was once a perfect rosy child as well, cradled in his mother's arms, when Greyback went to steal, kill, and destroy. Remus went to go out of the house at once. He must stop Greyback from entering the village at all cost.
And Remus said she should run back to the Village before it gets dark, to warn the people about the coming of Greyback.
If I tell them about a werewolf attack, they will put up their shields and fight. Yes, says Remus, that is what the villagers should do.
…And they would find and kill any werewolf they could find, says Nymphadora. Can you hide?
Remus shook his head. I can hide only so much. They are the villagers with tough wooden sticks that tames the water and the rocks. By the by, they will find me.
And if I don't tell them about the werewolf?
Then Greyback will attack them unaware and there will be blood and tears.
What if I tell them about you, that you are not a Greyback? Says Nymphadora.
Remus shook his head again. All werewolves look the same. All werewolves are bad.
Nymphadora wanted to dispute, but Remus pointed out the window. They did not have time. So she must run, and run as fast as she can to tell the villagers that a werewolf was about to come. Fie it was for the sun to set upon their little land.
"Ride you to the Village, and tell them to be at arms before the sun sets."
As for him, he went down, wand in hand ready to defend the place where thing precious to him abided still. The leaves crunched beneath his foot. Every step was heavy with foreboding. Back to the place where his nightmare lie, he gripped his wand harder, ready to face death.
.oOo.
"What?" interrupted Teddy, his milk and biscuits already finished in a corner. "Apparition and broomsticks still wasn't invented at that time?"
"Apparently," said Nymphadora. "Back during the early civilization, not all magic were discovered yet."
"Good luck discovering and learning Apparition on your own," muttered Teddy.
.oOo.
As Nymphadora ran back to the village, Remus ran to the opposite direction towards the glade. He knew too that he had to wait in the glade before the full moon went up on the night sky, where he knew someone would appear. Surely, before the moon rose, he saw a man, his skin covered in animal fur, his eyes were tough and strong, for they have seen things.
"You cannot go any further," he stretched his arms wide on both sides protecting the village as far as his hands could reach.
"The Village you are trying to protect is the Village that wants to kill you. There's not one person inside that Village who are decent. All of them, every mother's son is a liar and a cheat. They will only kill you when they get the chance! The villagers threw stones at you! The old man drove you away with a stick! There is no one there," said Greyback spitting the words out of his mouth.
But Remus remembered the apples, and Remus remembered the blue and the white flowers, and Remus remembered Nymphadora, so he said to Greyback, "It's not true." And he did not move.
"Do you really think you can do something against me? Move, boy, and live. I do not want to see you whimpering like that little boy."
"What have you done to Peter?" said Remus, the grip on his wand tightening.
"Peter? Peter was a nice kid. I agreed to not eat him on one condition."
"And what might that be?"
"That he lead the Villagers to you."
.oOo.
With dread and relief Nymphadora reached the outskirts of the village, then she immediately cried about the streets. Hark people of Byramoth. There's a werewolf in our midst, he's hiding just outside our village in the forest so he could easily eat us. It is full moon tonight. Let us go thither and kill the beast before he transforms and slaughters us all!
But please, please, not all werewolves are bad. Being a werewolf does not mean a person is bad. There is one who is pure and lovely and he does not deserve death, says Nymphadora.
But the Villagers were afraid. And when people are afraid, sometimes they do foolish things. For Remus was right. The sword falls upon the wicked and the righteous alike.
So they stomped and romped and made for the cottage of the little boy's house. As for the direction, there was one boy who knew. Ad his name was Peter Petrigrew. Though how he was dressed nobody knew.
Nymphadora saw the villagers all pile out towards the forest, blood-lust on their veins. She will be able to do nothing. Unless…
Unless…
"There is one more thing that I can do."
"Hyaah!" her horse took off, leaving behind big dust on its wake, it galloped towards the east.
She leaned forward for the swift gallop. Every once in a while she looked up to the sky to see it getting darker. Time. They were always the slave of time. Forever bowing in its power, under its chains. But this day, she was determined to overcome it. Eternity may yet be conquered on that single journey.
.oOo.
Greyback could already see the torches from far off. All the hatred all clumped into the flames. He smiled. "Now, I will tell you a secret."
Remus lowered his wand for an inch in spite of himself.
"I did not come here to strike the village. I came here to strike you."
If Remus was surprised, he did not show it. He looked instead at his enemy with unyielding eyes full of quaint firmness.
"Tonight, you die," Greyback hunched and put his chest proudly, then he howled, long, deep and foreboding. He howled so that the Villagers heard him, and the torches went to their direction. Big blaring torches, you could see from afar.
Greyback turned his heel, and fled, just before the shadows of the first flames reached the glade.
"There it is! It's the vermin! Kill it!"
.oOo.
Laid before her was the vast swamp. Nobody went through this part of the forest. You might think, that the usual thing to do is to turn back. But Nymphadora was not a usual. We already established that. And though being a not usual means more dangerous, she was okay with it. So she fashions herself a boat by her wand and art, and chanted a few precautions. For Nymphadora might be brave, but she was not stupid. A crocodile or a snake is bound to live in these waters, she says to herself.
And so in this fashion, she went forward. But mosses lay on surface almost coating everything, making her progress slow. The tree roots were also so big, she could easily pass below it. But there were so many of them that occasionally she got stuck and was obliged to pick up her wand to take care of it. The oaks that it belonged to were terrible and great.
Finally, her boat thudded on dry ground. It could not continue any longer. She was finally in the middle of the marches' island. It was not an island really. It was a sort of ground that would have been part of the great vast march were it not shallow enough for her feet to wade in and set foot on. Soon when she went forward, her feet was not anymore treading on shallow water, but more like land that was wet. The sort of thing you go through when you go to a glade just after the rain. At one glance it may seem like a lovely place to set your foot into. Only if you do, your feet immediately sink to the bottom and you find out it was all water. The place was dark and damp. But before her, she could still see patches here and there of land and water. This island was not small. It stretched across as far as her eyes could make out.
"I know what it is you seek. But you will never find it here." Voices. Voices moving about from tree to tree. Shadows of fast movements swept past her, that she had to look from left to right, then to her back in attempts to follow it. She has found the Nymph lair. "You should have known by now, that all good things come at a price. Even the Great One had to pay it with blood."
"I did not come here to beg, or to ask," she half-shouted to one direction. "I came here to bargain."
"The witches may grant humans some wishes. But some things the witches cannot also do. So the Nymphs shall grant." The Nymphs laughed. "What can you give me that could possibly of value?"
"I am Nymphadora daughter of Tonks, and what I give you is far more of value than what I ask, yet I freely give it," she took out the cape she had been wearing, then transformed herself to that of the Nymphs' image. The Nymph let out a gasp. For every detail of her stature from the willowy wave of her hair, down to her light feet were of her own likeness, "See and behold what I can do. If you think I do not see you among the shadows, you are mistaken."
"I see it," said the Nymph. "Stretch out your hand!"
.oOo.
"I know the ending of this! They killed the poor child and his ghost haunted the forest," exclaimed Teddy.
Teddy's mother was trying to wrap the blankets around him again and again, checking if he was snug and no part of him was cold. All the same, he felt his toes curl in coldness when the heroine dipped her own on the cold cold lake marshes. When his mother told him it was cold as ice, he couldn't help but warm his freezing toes he suspected was cold from the pouring rain outside. Just outside the window, past the fury and the downpour, he could still clearly see the trees that were the edge of the forest. And he couldn't help well wondering if there were also Nymphs in there. Or how it would feel like if he stepped just inside the clearing.
.oOo.
The Water-Nymph emerged from the shadows of the trees to hold up her hand. Nymphadora also aligned her hand to hers, so that both their hands were like into a prayer. White snake-like light from the Water-Nymph trailed to Nymphadora's arms. They were ready to perform the deep magic. For a brief second, both beings looked at each other and beheld each other's beauty. The Water-Nymph was jealous, for she beheld Nymphadora with her skin as smooth as a porcelain, her hair as fine as silk. Better than her own. Except her eyes. It was eyes fierce and firm with fire.
"Human, I ask you one more time. Are you certain about this? This is not worth your precious gift, of whom the gods themselves would still envy be they sat upon their thrones of glory."
"Yes."
"You could have been great. You could have the earth and the sky and every stick and stone that lays beneath it. You could be a goddess. The greatest of kings would have given you all the jewels in the world, you need only ask."
"Sticks and stone hold not my interest."
"Yet what would you do, when you are in need of something great, you could have got it with your jewels and your power."
"That is what I am doing right now. I am using what I have to get what I want."
"Very well," said the Nymph, not without regret in her voice. "I shall have your powers, and you shall have what you seek."
A great gust of wind swept. Bringing with it some leaves and water and mud from their surroundings. It seemed to be coming from the Nymph's power. The mighty winds and waters circled Nymphadora's whole body: so great was the force that she had to shield herself with both her hands. She felt as if all the strength was being sucked from her, until she sunk to her knees. And the winds and waters were no more.
The Water-Nymph exhaled deeply and closed her eyes. Feeling the new power and vigour underneath her skin.
"It is done."
.oOo.
The moon rose and its first light touched Remus' skin. Immediately, he felt the familiar pull down inside the crevice of his being.
An old lady screamed in horror and pointed at Remus' form.
The curse was coming. He felt his body rip itself up to pieces, like a thousand knives piercing through his heart.
"Quickly! Before the beast become a hideous monster and make the meals out of us!"
There was a sweep of the wand, then he was felled to the ground.
He prepared himself for the inevitable. He looked up to the sky and saw the full moon.
When Tonks emerged from the shadows, her hair was lank and brown. Her eyes were dark and plain. But they were still fierce.
"Wait!" she ran towards them. Before the first spear could leave the hands of any of the villagers, Nymphadora threw herself between them and Remus. "He is not the werewolf! He is just a boy!"
But the spear left the hand of one man, and it pierced her sides.
Remus went to knees and knelt beside her frailing body, He took out the spear and frantically started to cure the big wound. "This is too big of a wound. You are losing too much blood,"
The villagers began to leave. Saying to themselves, she be the shape-shifter, there are no weapon that could pierce her body that she cannot cure in a heartbeat. Niether one of them knew or suffer themselves to notice that the wound was not closing as it should be, like the way it did during those oft times in the village grounds.
He looked around him, and cried for mercy, but the Villagers were oft gone. No help came.
"Why are you not healing? You are supposed to be young and whole."
Nymphadora looked at the moon then smiled. Remus finally looked up to remember what he ought to have remembered hours ago. He looked at his hands, and it was the hands of a boy still.
The parts that were ripped from the coming transformation was closing, as if in a casted spell. When light would be about the wound until it closed and restored his flesh back to its old whole condition, thereby the light would be as if it had staid inside the flesh. They were human.
"Impossible! No magic works on a cursed wound such as mine." Then started as if a man who woke from a dream. "This is your doing. What have you done to yourself?" he said, almost angry.
"Water-Nymphs. I-" she gasps a little bit, "I exchanged my shape-shifting, so you need not shift during the full moon…"
"No, no, It cannot be. The spear was mine! It is not meant for your precious skin."
Nymphadora laughed, which quickly turned to coughs and sputters. "Neither are yours!"
He neither knew why or how, but he was out of his desperation and need, he stood up and shouted, "Water-nymph! I beg for your mercy! Give her back what once was hers!"
Then suddenly, a most extraordinary thing happened. For out of the depths of his heart, there was a white wolf. It bowed itself once to him, then bounded off to run in the air. Carrying his voice to the one person his heart desired to speak to.
Before his knees could slump to the ground, the water-Nymph was before him, in all her glory and splendour.
"Please. I do not care what becomes of me, only, Nymphadora must live whole."
"I cannot give out my magic without compromising my own."
"I know how the world works. I know that the dead cannot rise and grief and sorrow is great. And I know that there is no such thing as free. But take whatever I have left so she can live."
"I can give back her mhyyr power, but to what cost? You will have to give a thousands of your breath. Do you not feel the relief and joy of breathing the air as a free man?"
"Nymphadora must not die," said Remus quietly.
The Water-Nymph was silent for a few minutes. But she finally said, "I am not a diety who could lavish her gifts with no price. But I can give her back her mhyyr whilst I have to take yours."
Very well. This magic, she needs more than I do, yet I would loathe to give it away. Run you into the forest away from her lest you cut her to pieces whilst your hands are not velveted as that of a beast."
"Run."
And with one last sweeping look on Nymphadora, who was still full of blood, he ran. Before the hands in front of him could tear anything more precious.
So there you go everyone! Recycled Beauty and the Beast, Rapunzel, and Goldilocks.
