Hannah only heard about half the explanation Madam Pomfrey was giving her, but she could blame no one as she looked around the Hospital Wing. What happened? Why am I here? Looking down at herself, she was clearly not dead, but from how deeply she had slept, she had been close, though there were no apparent injuries.
"-the nice wizard I mentioned earlier will be here in about five minutes to explain your condition." A hasty movement of her hands revealed she was wearing a cloth gown, probably enchanted to keep her cool, as the summer was approaching outside. Well, that or it could be enchanted to keep me from getting out of bed. Finding her wand on the end table, she grabbed it for the immediate feeling of security. "Don't try transfiguring what you're wearing; he's a good gentleman and the first attempt never goes well. Your clothes are in the trunk." the Healer said with her back turned as she tended to another patient, a Slytherin witch she might have seen before. Tempted to use the color change charm on her own face to keep it from going red, she groaned as she waved the curtains closed and used the repair charm on the tatters of her uniform. She found that the fabrics fused together imprecisely. No wonder so many magical people go for stitches.
Sure that there was a housekeeping spell she just never learned that would immediately solve the issue, she dug through the trunk for the shirt and the shorts she had not been wearing at the time of the attack. Looks like I get to go robe shopping with Susan again.
As she finished changing she waved away the curtains again, finding the witch in the adjacent bed was asleep. She's Tracey Davis unless I'm imagining things again. Walking over to the foot of her bed, a cursory look over the parchment confirmed her suspicions and informed her the girl only had a fragment of her soul destroyed by a dementor, stirring an odd sense of pity for the avowed blood purist. Lucky bitch- a proper Hufflepuff wouldn't be feeling bad for her, she'd be switching out her potions for something nasty.
"Miss Abbott?" She turned, setting the parchment back down.
"Oh, sorry, sir, I was just reading something. She's a good friend of mine, and I was concerned, see-" The wizard in simple brown robes smiled softly at her before taking a seat.
"You're not a good liar, Miss Abbott. You had no reason to be ashamed until you made one up." he said, almost like he was trying to teach her something. "It would have been better to say nothing, but in the future, try to imagine what the other person already knows. Use that information rather than new things."
"I think I can do that."
"That's good. You're going to have a lot of lying to do in the future." Her brow furrowed gently. "Miss Abbot, you were attacked by a werewolf while you were unconscious."
She stopped breathing, curling up into a ball with numb limbs. It was vaguely like the feeling of hearing glass being dropped on the kitchen floor.
"How-" she started. There was no response. "How do you know?" she asked, deciding he could not answer the question until she finished it. There could still be some kind of mistake.
"Your friend, Miss Granger, was fortunate enough to escape being attacked herself when teachers arrived. I am told they learned the Supreme Undersecretary was chasing you, and they decided that if they did not stop her, it was likely there would be deaths, and no amount of political pressure the Minister could put on the school would be worth suffering the death of a student. Miss Granger told them what happened as the werewolf was bound to a tree."
"Why didn't they kill it?!" she asked angrily, raising herself from the heap by her arms alone. If they were- if they were trying to keep it alive rather than save me faster-
"What, Miss Abbot, would that have accomplished?" the wizard asked quietly. "I imagine there were those who wanted to execute him on the spot, but fortunately for the creature, there was at least one person with the compassion to advise otherwise. The werewolf was simply a creature killing an invader in his territory, perceiving it as a threat to his life or prey, much like a lone wolf."
"Because then it wouldn't be able to attack anyone else! Did they let it go?" she asked, rising. Where is it now? If it's still in the Forest- The kindly man waved his wand and she sat down again.
"Hannah, would you prefer to die than live?" As the words left his lips she thought of Neville.
"I can't." she said at great length.
"Why is that? If the other werewolf, with no control of his actions, should die, why not you?"
"I can't give up on living." I still have friends.
"I admire your resolve. Suppose the other werewolf does not want to die."
"That's fine- I'll kill it. What I cannot do is take the easy way out. Are there any ways to keep myself from harming people? Do I have to put myself in silver chains?"
"Professor Snape will be able to brew a potion that allows you full control over your actions while a werewolf. This is the most effective method I know to prevent harm to others. I used it myself for years. I ask you, what if the other lycanthrope were willing to do the same?"
"Why start now? He was content to run about in the Forest before." Hannah asked, mulling over the fact that the man before her shared her curse. That's why they sent him to talk to me. He knows what it's like.
"There are many dangerous creatures in the Forbidden Forest, Miss Abbot. Wise children stay away from hags and werewolves alike."
"Well, there was a hag chasing me into the da-" She paused. "We wouldn't have gone in there if Umbridge hadn't been chasing us."
The kindly wizard waved away the notion.
"You should realize I am not blaming you, Miss Abbot. The werewolf's location prevented him from harming students for many years."
"Years?"
"He cursed his eyes, or someone else did it for him. Only when he was bound and calmed could the curse be removed."
Hannah did not ask why the werewolf had desired to remain as such; it seemed obvious. As a wild beast, the creature had no responsibility, no accountability; no one could fault it for anything. Instead she asked about something bubbling to the surface.
"So you're a werewolf?"
"I have been since I was a child. In those days I just had to isolate myself, though I never had the urge to harm anyone not human. From what little I can remember of being a beast, at some level the animals never seemed like a threat. Perhaps some fear of men has perpetuated itself in the bite of a werewolf, or perhaps the beast knows enough to avoid wands and silver bullets." He looked around a moment. "If I could talk with my bestial side, how it evaluates danger would not be the first question I would ask."
"Who bit you?"
"It was a very bad wizard by the name of Fenrir Greyback. He's an ally of the Death Eaters and I know for a fact that he places himself near innocent people on the night of the full moon."
"Do you wish he would die?"
"I wish all evil people would die or go to prison, but it seems one of those is no longer an option. Azkaban is in ruins."
"What happened?" she asked. "Will the werewolf die, then?"
"No, the werewolf will atone for his sins." The wizard sighed. "Miss Abbott, about a decade ago I lost everyone I had in the world. My parents were killed by Lord Voldemort, as were the last of my friends, or so I believed. It brings me shame to tell you this, but despair had me between suicide and wandering as a beast, lost in a wood where I knew no sane human being would ever venture."
It doesn't really make a difference.
It doesn't really matter who the werewolf was.
"They sent you here because-"
"I came here because I heard that I injured someone, and there was a strong possibility I bit you. Others will maintain I am not responsible for my beast form, but I know better. I could have restrained myself in the bottom of a well, or the inside of an impossible space. I would have died, eventually, but I would not have complained about that, nor would anyone else."
Hannah stared at the floor by the bed for a moment.
"That would have been the responsible thing, but Hermione and I would have died. No one could have predicted she would chase us in there, but once she caught us, we would have been killed- or worse." She paused. "Only a creature of the Forest could have saved us. Some of them would have killed all three of us." At least Hermione came out of it okay.
For a moment nothing was said between the pair of them, but she looked up.
"What are you going to do, sir?"
"I offered to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, but the truth is I would be woefully unprepared. Professor Snape will be taking on that duty when not making decisions as Headmaster, and I have volunteered myself for the more mundane and time-consuming tasks associated with the post. I shall be available to help you with anything you need, Miss Abbott, and please understand that there is a life that remains for you to live."
The wizard who turned her into a werewolf walked out of the room without further note.
Hermione wouldn't want him to come to any harm.
She rose from bed, finding her injuries had mostly healed, wondering who all knew about her 'condition'. It was well enough that the teachers knew, since she was going to have to get a potion from Snape, of all people. That bastard had better not poison me. At least the werewolf will know who did it if he does.
"Excuse me, Madam Pomfrey, I'm leaving."
"That's quite alright, dear girl, there are seven other students in need of attention- first the dementors and now fights are breaking out everywhere. Can't anyone in this whole bloody school stay fixed up for five minutes? Is there a faction dedicated to that?"
Hannah walked out without answering the question. She did not particularly enjoy being guilt tripped about being injured and cursed, and only because other students were taking up the rest of the beds, but she doubted the Healer's heart was in it. From the looks of it it's mostly first and second-years. I would think it's because they're the worst at defending themselves, but they're also the least likely to understand the factions and how to survive them.
Something caught her attention as she looked up in the mirror in the girls' toilet, but she had a fair idea of why her eyes had changed to a pale yellow, and there was no reason to look long. My eyes are cursed now. When I see the full moon, I transform.
Neville found her reading in the library. He was accompanied by one of the Slytherins, Crabbe, if memory served.
"Are you alright, Hannah?"
"I'm healing." she said quietly.
"I heard about what happened to you."
"I just want to catch up on work. It's fine, you don't have to say anything to me." Like you don't have to apologize to me, least of all for the way you made me feel.
"You don't want me to look for a way to set you right again? I mean, I don't know if there's anything out there, but Sil- Malfoy might know."
Hannah had to remember to breathe. It's not that special. It's not that special. He's just saying-
"Are you really alright?"
"I'm alright. I mean, it's really considerate of you to go out of your way like that, and even if you don't find anything, I would really like to know if you do. I'm not looking forward to being a werewolf." she explained, if haltingly. Crabbe already knows, or at least Malfoy already knows. Neville would never have brought it up otherwise.
"Oh, yeah, Crabbe, I forgot to mention that Hannah's a werewolf now."
"I remember and I believe Goyle told me."
The Longbottom heir responded with a slow, uncertain nod.
He probably doesn't know I spoke with Malfoy to see what he was up to, especially valuable if he told me a different story from the one he told Neville. Unfortunately it seemed her plan had failed in the sense that nothing that the Slytherin said to her stuck out as being different from what her friend remembered. If he were lying, he was a clever liar, which fit his general description. Even Crabbe and Goyle know how not to give away secrets. They mostly accomplish this by not talking, but it works.
"Who all was expelled for helping Umbridge?" she asked, deciding Neville's bodyguard would probably know more about that than he did. Of course, he could also be here to follow him around until he's in a secluded area...
"They weren't expelled for helping her, but I think it was Warrington, Flint, Farley, Bole, Urquhart, and Carrow." I don't know all of those names, but they sound familiar.
"Wicked- Slytherin's going to be out of a team next year." the Hufflepuff wizard commented, probably referring to Quidditch.
"Why didn't she get any from our House?" the blonde witch asked.
"She was a purist and she was stupid." Crabbe started. "It helped her in the Wizengamot, but it meant the Hufflepuffs were only going to use her. Might be there are pure bloods in there, I don't know, but I think they have to prove they're not purists all the time. Doesn't work 'cause they'll be under suspicion 'till they're cold in the grave." He offered a mirthless laugh. I'm guessing he heard that from Draco. He might even have picked up the idea that it was funny from him.
The conversation ended without further fanfare, as Hannah wondered what Dumbledore could possibly do to fix the situation. Apart from personally dueling Voldemort and ordering him to stand down, it seemed likely they would continue to have Death Eaters, and as little as she liked it, she had to admit the conspiracy in her own House and the Ministry overreach was really a reaction to them. If the blood purists and Dark Lord loyalists went away overnight, she doubted those in power would give up their positions, but the magical public would no longer have a quasi-terrorist threat looming over it. Well, 'quasi' is being generous. They've already reduced a prison to rubble- and yet they say the only reason they exist is because the Ministry is sabotaging wizards and their chances of survival.
She had it out of Malfoy, if indirectly at times, the aims and rationales of the Death Eaters, or at least the blood purists, anyway. Perhaps he had an ounce of hope that he could recruit her, probably having heard of her dissatisfaction with the rest of her House, up until learning she would rather stick with Ron, Hermione, and Terry, as they were friends of hers.
"What?" he had asked, visibly confused. "Perhaps I should ask- who? Team Fence-Sitters? Team Neither? Granger and Weasley have no plan- and I haven't even heard of the other one. Very well, suppose they attempt to remove the overreaching Ministry or just be a thorn in their side- they can never succeed in that without allies, and they would rather fight us than help us."
"You have to kill Hermione. If I'm not mistaken, Ron's even higher up on the list." she remembered saying.
"We have to kill them because of the side they will inevitably take. There are only two sides, and former traitors and mudsnakes like Creevey are welcome on ours- something will have to be done about his parents, but he realizes this. We have extended the offer, but there is quite literally no way they will take it."
"You think I'm different?"
"You might be. You know what the conspirators are like." Something in the young wizard's voice belied an understanding of their exact nature. He had seem the 'mad Hufflepuffs' for himself, and decided he did not care for them. "Left to your own devices, what would you choose?"
She did not remember how she had answered, but it probably only cemented her as a bystander without whom the wizarding world would be better off, or an enemy, an actress contrary to the aims of blood purism. Malfoy can say that Hermione's not going to die- or if she does it will only be because she refused to join the purists, but he's literally one out of thousands of them, and a boy without much influence at that.
Presently, she found herself walking to the mysterious room, hoping to run into her friends when she found Zacharias on the stairs. Crabbe and Neville remained in the library, for reasons unknown to her.
"Hi, Hannah."
"Hi. Don't tell me you're staying now."
"I wish the Ministry the best of luck in subjugating the Death Eater rebellion. All the same, I shall not take part."
"Why don't you just get yourself expelled? Then they won't be looking for you. No one cares about you except as a student."
"I'm not one of the five idiots who would help Umbridge."Five? "There are better ways to get out of the castle, like waiting for the term to expire. When I rejoin my confederates in the mangroves, I'll be the best practiced at most spells out of all of us. You're welcome to come if you like."
"Stick a mangrove up your arse, Smith." she muttered as she waked past him. I need to find my real friends.
All the same, a thought would not leave her alone.
Where have I heard that word before?
