A/N: Hello, people!

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Will was groggy and his head was spinning in more directions than he'd ever like it to. He groaned, shifting onto his side where he felt his back pop. It felt good in a strange way, and he stretched his legs out in order to work out the kinks that had formed due to sleeping for so long.

"Are you awake yet?"

Will let out a frustrated, 'meh' because he was so warm and comfortable, he didn't want to grace the world with his fine presence just yet. He snuggled a little deeper into his pillow, intent on going back to sleep.

"Please stop," the voice continued. "If your antlers ruin the bed covers, I will be most displeased."

Right. Wouldn't want his antlers to ruin the bed covers. It'd be rude.

…

…

…

HIS WHAT?!

Will shot up, eyes wide as he looked around, his head feeling unnaturally heavy.

"Ah, I thought that would do it!" Harry said, smiling.

His father held up a large mirror and Will was confronted with darkness.

"Oh darling, you need all the makeovers!" the mirror gasped.

Will wasn't really paying attention to it, because what was looking back at him, wasn't his face. It was black. The skin was as black as pitch, with eyes like rubies. Two large fangs protruded from either side of the mouth, hanging past the lips. Jutting out from either side of it's skull were large, black antlers that were crimson at the tips. The being in the mirror looked hellish. Deadly.

"I've heard of extreme makeover, but this is ridiculous!" Harry laughed.

Will's head turned sharply and he had to struggle to keep himself upright when the extra weight on his head attempted to pull him back down to the bedcovers.

"Yes," winced Harry. "That is going to be a bit of a problem, isn't it?"

Steadying himself, Will asked the very obvious question. "What happened?"

Harry was seated beside the bed, legs folded calmly as if his adopted son wasn't looking like some deformed demon from hell, and just as terrifying. "You and Abigail visited Stonehenge. The magic practically saturating the stones forced you into a change. You are now a Wendigo."

Flickers of his experience came to him. Pain. There had been a lot of pain involved. Searing through his veins sort of pain. He wondered if that was what becoming a Werewolf felt like.

If he became a Wendigo simply because he was exposed to natural magic, then Harry and Tom had to know about his change in diet. There was only one other way for it to happen after all.

"Tom was nearly apoplectic with rage," Harry explained. "His opinion of your Hannibal seems to be lowering as the time goes by."

Damn.

"However, you are our son and Tom has promised to help you and Abigail in your new lives."

He sighed in relief. Tom was going to help he and…

"Abigail too?!" he screeched. He hadn't thought anything would happen to her as she'd eaten much less than he had.

Harry flinched, averting his gaze. That wasn't good. If Harry couldn't even made eye contact then whatever happened had to be bad.

"Just lay it on me," groaned the newly changed Wendigo, breath coming out like frost.

"You infected Abigail by cutting her hand."

Will wasn't even allowed to begin hating himself because Harry cuffed him upside the head with a book, hardcover for good measure.

"Don't go getting depressed! You both knew what you were getting into by going there in the first place. Abigail awoke yesterday and she's taken this much better than you. Probably because she has magic now, but who am I to explain that?"

"Wait, why did she wake before I did?"

"According to Tom, bites and injuries caused by a Wendigo, transform the human faster. Also, she had no magic of her own for the infection to contend with. Your magic battled against the infection the entire time you were unconscious. Tom said your magic had to change and alter itself in order for your body accept the changes.

Cases likes yours are rare apparently."

That did not make Will feel any better.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter - or as his current alias was known as, Dr. Roman Fell - couldn't keep the look of displeasure off his face. Bedelia was playing a very dangerous game if she thought she could manipulate him into doing what she wanted.

He was certain the Mrs. Fell might have to have an accident in order to learn her lesson.

He fumed silently though, not bothering to move. Bedelia was aware of his displeasure and letting her stew in the knowledge for however long he wished, would make the scent of her fear all the more enjoyable.

Flipping open his iPad, Hannibal decided that he needed some entertainment and who was the best at embellishing the most bland stories and making them interesting? Freddie Lounds.

Hannibal had much to catch up on. Several months of Ms. Lounds' exploitative journalism all ready for him to peruse.

He started with the very first, which had to do with Abigail.

CANNIBAL'S DAUGHTER ALIVE!

Abigail Hobbs had formerly been assumed dead over the past four months. Her suspected killer, none other than her adopted father, Will Graham(formerly an assistant profiler of the FBI). Lo' and behold the young teen was found alive on the floor of Hannibal Lecter's(a.k.a. Chesapeake Ripper, Copycat Killer, Hannibal the Cannibal) kitchen, slowly bleeding out beside Will Graham, her other adoptive father nowhere in sight.

Graham and Hobbs were given fatal wounds each and had both flatlined at least once on the way to the hospital. Lecter is the suspected attacker.

This reporter was in on the plan to oust Lecter, ever since Graham was released from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Graham had been right all along about Lecter being a killer and only this reporter believed him thoroughly. While Frederick Chilton fit most of the profile of the Ripper, he was not a perfect candidate. The only person around who fit the profile exactly was Dr. Hannibal Lecter, formerly of Baltimore Maryland.

Lecter had been more intelligent than assumed, knowing of Graham's plot to capture him and instead, punished Graham and their surrogate daughter, for Graham's actions. Hobbs has admitted that Lecter kept her safe as a seaside abode over the past few months. She'd didn't have much to comment on other than the fact that she was given several illegal drugs and was watched constantly by a young woman whose name she never learned.

Both Hobbs and Graham are in the hospital at the moment, and only Hobbs has awoken from her coma.

More to come soon, dear readers,

As always, Freddie Lounds.

Hannibal frowned at most of the article. He was confused and annoyed.

Confused because Abigail had somehow survived a fatal wound. He didn't hold back or anything, he simply took her into his arms and slit her throat all the way across.

But the photograph available of Abigail lying in a hospital bed, showed that the gauze on her throat, only stretched partially. It did not fully cover the area where he'd slashed her. But… there was no wound on the other half of her throat. He'd cut the whole way. There should have been a mark or a scar or something.

It was just… confusing.

Abigail was alive. That had not been his intent, but he felt… relieved. He had not wanted to kill her. He hadn't wanted to make her suffer simply because he and Will couldn't communicate without convoluted metaphors.

Still though, her convalescence seemed to be going well judging from the photo. Her skin didn't look too pale. She would have been up and running not long after the photo had been taken.

The photo of Will however, was much worse and definitely had more to see. Freddie Lounds had gotten into Will's room and had taken all of his clothes and bedding off his body, placing only a large box over his genitalia to save him some form of privacy, before she took photos of him.

The bottom half of his torso was wrapped in white bandages and gauze. His skin was of a deathly pale shade. He looked terrible.

Hannibal didn't like the results of this. His actions hadn't been with intent of killing Will, just teaching him a lesson. Will would have lived had he remained in place, stemming the blood flow. Something had caused him to lose more blood than necessary, which was why he had flatlined. But what was it?

Abigail shouldn't have lived. Will shouldn't have flatlined. Something was going on there and he knew Will was the reason, he just didn't know how.

He moved past some more headlines that basically repeated themselves, just written differently. Barely any of the normal populace would have noticed that she was simply coming at the same story from different angles, but at least she had imagination.

He learned that Jack had died and Bella not long after. He learned that Alana had permanent hip damage and was barely moving.

What caught his eyes, was about two weeks after his leaving, Freddie had more news on the development.

TWO UNKNOWN MEN LINGERING AROUND WILL GRAHAM'S AND ABIGAIL HOBBS' ROOMS!

None of the staff at the hospital have been forthcoming about the two new arrivals. In fact, they seem reluctant or incapable of giving any information about them at all. This reporter has tried numerous times to get a statement from either man only to be shot down cruelly.

The two men, as shown below, have been coming to the hospital daily. The shorter man is sitting beside Graham's bedside constantly while the taller man has been seen escorting Hobbs about the premises, purchasing lunch for her and speaking in hushed tones with her.

Hobbs seems more lively now and eagerly sits by Graham's bed well into the hours of the evening, waiting for him to open his eyes. She and the two unknown men seem to have formed a smooth camaraderie.

This reporter intends to learn more soon,

Freddie Lounds.

Below the story, were several photographs of two different men and some with Abigail thrown in.

The first man was about Abigail's height, judging by how close they stood together. He was perhaps an inch taller. His black hair was classically messy - much like Will's - and he wore a pair of sleek, black, angular frames. Another photo which was a close up on his face, showed that he possessed unnatural green eyes and a strange scar on his brow. His pale skin was an unearthly white shade.

Aesthetically he was very pleasing to look upon. His appearance made Hannibal feel protective. As if he had to keep the young man safe at all costs.

The other man however, while also aesthetically pleasing, inspired something more in Hannibal. Just looking at one of the photos of him from afar, made Hannibal feel defensive instead. The man held himself in such a way that screamed that he was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

His hair was more of a dark brown shade than black, and it had a natural wave to it. It was the same shade as Will's actually. His jaw was strong and his face angular.

Both men were attractive, just in different ways.

This one was much taller than the other and Abigail. His body long, but his shoulders rather broad. His suit - much like the other man's - was Aramani and had been tailored specifically for his body.

A close up showed his eyes were borderline burgundy and were as sharp as a blade. He was regarding the photographer - most likely Ms. Lounds - with obvious distaste that spoke volumes of what he was capable of.

Hannibal was not a fool. The man was a killer. Everything about him was a beacon meant to warn off others who were cut from similar cloth. Normal folk wouldn't notice anything behind his dangerous beauty. They'd be too enamoured by him to see anything else. But Hannibal was used to looking deeper and he found himself never wanting to meet that man.

Hannibal had a strong suspicion that if he went up against that man, he wouldn't not live long. While not scared of dying per se, Hannibal didn't want to die just yet. He had so much to live for.

He needed to see Will and Abigail again after all. There were things that he needed to know.

The next big entry, was enough to shock him to his core.

GRAHAM AND HOBBS LEAVE THE U.S.A.!

Graham awoke three days ago and with a little assistance from the two unknown men, he and Abigail Hobbs were able to leave the hospital this morning.

It has been revealed that Graham had put his house on the market a little after waking up and sold it to the first couple for a low price of $65,000! Graham doesn't plan to stay around for very long.

The two men have hired countless moving trucks and such and have already packed and moved everything from Graham's old home. If this reporter had to guess, I'd say they are moving to England if their posh accents are anything to go by.

Neither Graham or Hobbs were willing to part with information on their plans for the future, so the best we can do is assume for the moment.

I intend to learn more, however.

Yours faithfully,

Freddie Lounds.

The photos revealed the For Sale sign in front of Will's old home. There was a large SUV parked in front of the house as Abigail and Will led seven dogs inside it. The men stood on the porch, calmly assessing everything.

Another photo was of everyone in the vehicle and the vehicle pulling out of the driveway. The shorter man was driving.

For several photos, it seemed that Freddie had managed to follow them quite a ways, before losing sight of them in the rush hour traffic.

Hannibal was completely blown away. Will and Abigail were alive and had left America. Nearly five months ago. They'd been gone for nearly five months and no one had attempted to get into contact with him.

He'd hoped that Will couldn't help but be drawn to him eventually. That was why he was murdering people in such a flashy manner. He'd been waiting for Will to take notice, but it seemed that neither Will nor Abigail wanted anything to do with him.

He didn't know how to handle that thought.

He did know that he was very angry and had a perfectly naughty 'wife' in need of a lesson.

Hannibal abandoned the iPad in favor of meticulous planning.

The days following his awakening as a Wendigo had been stressful. Once the initial shock had worn off, he found himself starving and what had smelled so succulent and delicious that he could probably eat all of it? Harry.

Upon realization that he might attack his father, Will demanded to be locked in the dungeons until he could learn to control himself.

Tom had already situated Abigail in her own cell, with a few things Transfigured in hopes of making the imprisonment more comfortable.

The dungeons were much colder than normal. Abigail was situated in the cell across from his, her skin was as black as his own, her body almost emaciated in appearance, every rib poking out and the vertebrae on her spine showed too much. Atop her head was a large rack of antlers that faced outward. Just as black as Will's with the tips a light shade of red.

Her hair had grown incredibly long, brushing against the floor of the cell as she walked. Will's own hair had grown as well, much scruffier than he normally grew it. Tuffs of hair had grown on their bodies. Around the ankles and wrists. From their collarbones. Their bones jutted out in deadly looking angles and points.

Their breath came out in large, white puffs that froze the bars of their cells when they got too close to breath on them. A small mist floated along the floor of the dungeons as a result.

They were the causes of the sudden drop in temperature. Since Wendigos were so rare, they weren't really taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts. No British wizards or witches really wanted to eat human flesh. The thought disgusted practically anyone. Therefore, the last Wendigo to roam the British Isles was over two hundred years ago. No one felt the need to warn against them since times were changing and no one would even consider eating another human.

The thought of a Pureblood having to subsist on a Muggleborn's flesh was kind of funny in a morbid sort of way.

Now he really wished he knew more about them besides the cannibalism and the changing.

Wendigo's had masterful control over the cold and while it was obviously cold, Will couldn't feel anything on his skin. His body was at the perfect temperature and Abigail hadn't once complained.

The poor House Elves could barely handle it and popped in and out of the dungeons quickly, only leaving entire bears - yes, they were eating bears because Harry didn't want them to eat deer - for the two Wendigos to devour.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor and both he and Abigail sat up straighter at the delicious scent wafting toward them. While the scent was welcome, the person it belonged to was not.

"Well, anything you both want to tell me?"

Tom was never going to let them live this down.

"I just don't understand how either of you could do it."

Abigail frowned, "My real dad… he was a serial killer. They called him the Minnesota Shrike. I… I helped him find the girls. They all looked like me, you see. I knew that I'd eventually be like them, but I had hoped I could stall until I went away to college. He said we honored them and left nothing to go to waste."

She sniffed, remembering her terror at finding hair in her favorite pillow.

"He used their bones for weapons, their hair for stuffing, their organs for food. Nothing went bad. We honored them.

And then Hannibal, when I found out who he really was, I promised not to tell and he kept me hidden and safe. We were going to surprise Will. I… I don't really mind the cannibalism. I still don't."

Tom's piercing crimson orbs trailed from her to Will. The older Wendigo stiffened only the slightest. "I hadn't known who he fully was until I was in prison. I played the game knowing full well what I was getting into and while the idea of eating people was disgusting, he is a chef. And now that I get them, his cannibal puns are funny."

Abigail couldn't withhold a snort and looked away when Tom's anger focused on her again.

The Slytherin Lord sighed, "While I'm disappointed in you both, I'm really not one to be judging anyone, as my darling husband has so graciously reminded me. Therefore, I will accept your words as they are and will help you fit back into society. I will also…" he seemed to struggle with the words, "-reserve judgment of Hannibal Lecter until I meet him personally."

Both Will and Abigail slumped in relief. Tom was being generous.

Which was short lived when one of Tom's prisoners was dumped in front of their cells, the succulent scent coming from him. In fact, they couldn't smell Tom at all. But all their attention was on the cowering man.

"Lesson One: Control," grinned Tom, looking too eager for the upcoming lesson.

Will whimpered.

A/N: Another is done!

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CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.