"Are you alright, Fred?" Ginny cocked her head, looking down at her seated brother. He had been strange today. She wasn't quite sure what it was. He was no different than usual, albeit a bit tired, perhaps, but there was something else there. Repeatedly, she caught him staring into the distance with a glazed look in his eyes; like only half of him was present.
Speaking of other half's, George had been strange too. What were they up to? What had they done?
"Just tired," Fred replied with a rueful smile, legs crossed and seated on a rug before the fire. They were alone in the living room and snow fell softly outside. The fire cast a warm glow over their faces. Everyone else was in bed, and Ginny had been nearly asleep herself when she decided to come downstairs and see who's shadow was being cast up the stairs.
Honestly, Ginny did not know how to really talk to Fred and George. Ron was easier to understand, all bravado and pride. Her older brother Bill was easy to talk to as well. He was kind and gentle and used to pick her up upside down when she was little. Charlie was okay as well, although he could be a bit intimidating.
But Fred and George...
Ginny did not understand them at all. She could never quite decide whether they were joking or not. Usually, it was the former but every so often she figured they had to be being serious. The trouble was knowing when. Most of their conversations included her shouting at them for tricking her and them running away snickering.
So to see Fred alone, sitting in the living room without the barest hint of mischief in his eyes was disconcerting to say the least. Even more disturbing was that he had answered her question without any particular emotion at all.
He was not just tired.
She hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to him on the ground. Her blanket billowed up, and she patted it down. Fred glanced at her, surprised, and then, without a word, he looked away, seeming to accept her presence. They stared into the flames until the light was imprinted on their retinas.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
Ginny shrugged. "What about you, yeah? Aren't you usually upstairs scheming with George about now?"
He shifted and offered a shrug as well. His eyes remained focused dully on the fire. "I just... needed a bit."
Frowning, Ginny scooched so she was facing him. She studied his face until he finally rolled his eyes and looked at her.
"What, Ginny?"
Ginny pursed her lips. "You've done something bad, haven't you?"
Fred said nothing. He seemed to debate within himself before sighing. "It's... it's not really something I did. Just something that happened, you know?"
Ginny considered this. She nodded.
After a moment, he smirked and the brother she was accustomed to returned. "But, that's nothing you need to worry your ickle little brain about."
Rolling her eyes, Ginny punched him lightly and then pulled back when he flinched. Her eyes widened. "You're hurt?"
This time there was no mistaking the guarded wall that rose up around him. He shifted away from her. "I'm fine," he replied quickly. With an exaggerated yawn, he stood and offered a hand down to pull her up. Ginny took it and soon they were both standing. Ginny's blanket pooled on the floor at their feet. Squinting suspiciously at him, Ginny put her hands on her hips. "Whatever you and George have gotten up to, I won't tell Mom."
A short laugh and then, "It's not like that, Gin. Really, there's nothing to worry about." With that he yanked a loose ring of her hair gently, almost playfully, and left the room.
Pursing her lips worriedly, Ginny watched him go. "Liar."
Deep in a dark place full of creatures the rest of the world preferred to live in ignorance of, a pack of wolves lay in a cave lining the cliff face. Embers crackled within and kept them warm. The stone entrance was illuminated by half a moon, and the only sound were the occasional snarl or scrape of claws against stone as the wolves dreamed. They were asleep, and the rest of the forest relaxed for a moment.
But not all the wolves were asleep.
A smallish, black wolf's red eyes scanned the darkness dully as he rested his chin on his paws. His name was Fabian and once upon a time he was a young wizard.
Fabian was rather certain that biting the boy had been a mistake. Not that it was wrong, per say. He hadn't killed him, had he? Something many of his companions would not have hesitated to do. No, just a mistake. None of the others in the pack had questioned him, and, in the moment, he had been far too filled with blood lust to stop himself even if he had wanted to.
But he still felt…
Growling, Fabian curled tighter in on himself and shut his eyes. They were supposed to be sleeping like the Alpha said.
But he wasn't sleeping. He was worrying incessantly about some stupid student that he was certain was not supposed to be a werewolf.
Fabian had not joined the Lupus Magnus by choice. He had been claimed. Alpha bit him, knowing that he was strong enough to survive the process. Not the usual process but the other one. The one that now made it far more difficult for Fabian to maintain a human form than it did a wolf's. Ironically, the full moon was easiest time to return to their original form. Reversed. Turned inside out. And whatever Alpha had done to him, it had felt just like that. Being pulled inside out. His skin on the inside and the wolf in the air. His bones. His skeleton.
It terrified him.
But at least they were not mindless. Most of them still had their morals.
A few.
The young.
It had only been seven months since he'd been ripped from his life. It was forever and yet just a short time.
How long before he became like the older ones? They ripped and growled and glared and hunted. Woe to anyone who got in their way. Human or not.
Those red haired boys had been unbelievably lucky that it was he who'd gotten close first. He could have tried to climb the tree after them. He could have ripped the boy's foot off. Fabians stomach turned at the thought.
But the point was, Fabian hadn't. He'd let go the moment the other boy's irritating hex hit him and landed on top of the other, bloodthirsty wolves because he'd had just the slightest bit of himself within him at the time to hesitate. It was enough time for them to scramble up and enough excitement to sate his wolf. He hadn't killed the red haired boy. He'd just ruined his life.
You despicable creature. Alpha could preach all he liked about the superiority of their pack; about the strength and freedom that came with the wolf. It did not change anything.
We're monsters.
Not because they were wolves, but because they didn't care.
That was what made them monsters.
But Fabian wanted to keep fighting back. What did that make him, then?
Careful to keep his tongue back from his teeth, Fabian moaned quietly into the dirt and stone. The air shifted, and he sensed someone standing above him. On reflex, his eyes shot open and he stood, stretching.
"Alpha," he murmured into the night in a language he was only newly familiar with. Alpha towered over him even when he stood at his full height. Grey and black like a storm cloud, the wolf eyed him heavily.
"Feuren," Alpha responded in a deep baritone. Fabian was his former name, technically. The wolves all called him Feuren now. With a terrifying sort of grace that came with great strength, Alpha sat. "The boy you bit. What was his name?"
Fabian's heart went cold. He knew the boy's name. Just like he knew that the boy loved candy and was always in trouble and was terrified of being without his brother. He knew that the boy could take a prank just a bit too far and that the boy knew this. Fabian knew all about him. It had all poured into his mind the moment he'd recovered his wits after the biting. And Alpha knew this. It was quite normal, apparently.
He couldn't lie. The older wolf would know. "Fred Weasley." Guilt twisted painfully in his gut. "His name is Fred Weasley."
Alpha nodded. "He was a strong boy?"
Fabian gave the semblance of a shrug. "Not particularly. And we are weeks away from the school by now."
A low growl. "Honesty, Fueren."
God, forgive him. "He was strong."
Alpha nodded sharply and stood. "Thank you." With that, the wolf melted into the night and lay back down to sleep.
Fabian's heart thumped painfully fast. Why did he always need more wolves?
He did not need to ask why Alpha wanted to know about Fred. He already knew exactly what the wolf was planning. Shaking with indecision, Fabian crept backwards into the shadows. This was his fault. He had done this. Fred Weasley was a werewolf because of him.
But the boy wasn't a Lupus. Not yet. As quietly as he could manage, Fabian stepped farther into the woods. If he had a say in it, not ever. With a deep breath, the wolf ran.
AN: The plot thickens! This one is a bit short but, hey, it's on time for like the first time in history. Anyway, please leave a review! I was blown away by your response to the last chapter and I'm so glad people are still reading this!
