Set before A Window to the Past.

**potential spoiler warning if you haven't read Daughter of the Moon**

"Why are you always so weird?"

Fenrir patiently allowed his pup to climb onto him, sitting still in the grass as she insisted he was a tree. It was mildly annoying to be jostled around by his pup's constant movement, but he played with the pups in his pack. At least he only had to deal with one pup, and she was small for her age.

He had been having the same conversation with her every two weeks since she started talking. Whatever they were giving her at the hovel made her forget everything – almost as if her mind was forced to reset. He always knew when the cycle would start again, even before he could smell her. The girl's eyes would begin to become glassy and glazed over, her brain in a fog that she wasn't entirely aware of. It had caused issues when she was much younger, but there wasn't much Fenrir could do to stop it without throwing the entire plan off.

The girl had been quiet when he started really visiting her. Fenrir gave her time to settle into life at the hovel, but when she turned four, he couldn't wait any longer. For months, Fenrir was sure that she had become mute, no longer willing to speak to anyone. Emma would watch him curiously, never afraid of him, but unsure. She wouldn't even laugh or make any noise that indicated she understood him. Whatever was happening at the hovel, Fenrir didn't like it – a girl her age shouldn't have been so quiet. The plan had clearly changed somewhere along the line, but he couldn't do a thing until he knew what was wrong with her.

Fenrir had been genuinely taken aback when Emma had uttered her first very short and very quiet sentence. Her voice was low and timid, hoarse from disuse. He was fully expecting a Yorkshire accent to come from her, but instead, he heard a faint Welsh lilt. Fenrir had to admit that it was cute, and he was surprised at how articulate she was. He wondered if the only reason she kept her accent was because of him, listening to the familiar accent of Southern Wales where she would have grown up. After encouraging her to keep talking, he found out she spoke to herself at night, trying to recite the stories she heard from memory.

From that moment on, Fenrir almost regretted encouraging her to talk – she never stopped.

"I'm not weird," Fenrir said roughly, taking care to keep the growl out of his voice. He had to remember Emma was only ten. It didn't matter how familiar she was with him, Emma always got nervous when he growled. Sometimes she deserved the growl of warning, but he wouldn't deny her the simplicity of play. All pups needed to play.

"Yes, you are," Emma sing-songed, climbing up his back, her knees planted on his shoulders. She bent herself over the top of his to look at him upside down. "You're very weird."

Fenrir reached up over his head, grabbing Emma's sides so he could flip her over his head, wincing at her squeal of delight. It was one of her favorite things, and he knew exactly how the process would go. He would flip her over his head, very carefully let her drop to the ground on her back, and she would start the cycle anew. Fenrir never understood why she found it amusing.

"Do it again!" Emma shouted as if on cue, already scrambling to her feet.

"I've stayed too long," Fenrir said, grabbing onto Emma's arms to keep her still. If he let her continue, she would only complain more than she usually did. "And you've been out too long. They'll start looking for you if you stay out any longer."

Emma pouted, trying to give him her best puppy dog eyes. "It's not like they care," Emma said, lip quivering. Fenrir would allow the crocodile tears – she could be a good little actress, and he needed to encourage it. He had big plans for her in the future. "They never do," she added with a hint of sadness.

Fenrir frowned. Perhaps she wasn't acting this time. "They're still mean to you?"

"The girls always are," Emma muttered. "And Mr. Ward got mad at me because of what happened at school."

"Did your teacher's hair turn colors again?"

Emma gave a shy nod. "I just thought her hair should turn purple because she made me mad. I blinked, and then it was purple, and Mr. Ward blamed me for it."

Fenrir studied his pup closely. He knew that Emma had listened to him – taking care to avoid the drinks that were in the hovel. It meant more work on his part to keep her well-fed, but at least she didn't stink of potions and looked like herself. Fenrir knew that it wouldn't last much longer if Ward was starting to get aggravated.

His pup's magic was uncontrolled and ran wild like she should. The longer she stayed in the hovel, the more her magic was unpredictable. Fenrir wasn't sure which was better – repressing her magic or letting it come through naturally. It was necessary in her earlier days, but it wouldn't be long until she received her Hogwarts letter. Though he didn't allow for much magic in his packs, it would help have a well-trained witch. She had talent, but only when she was able to act on it.

"Was it my fault?" she asked, eyes wide and innocent when he didn't respond.

But Fenrir knew Emma wasn't innocent at all, and he chuckled. She was a sneaky and clever little thing when she wanted to be. Her small size made her unassuming, and she used that to her advantage. Emma liked to keep herself hidden in the background, taking in whatever information she could for her benefit. At least that was one thing the potions didn't take away from her.

"Did you want her hair to turn purple?" he asked, smirking at the sly little grin that started to cross Emma's face. She was an absolute terror, and if the plan didn't go entirely according to plan, he was just taking her as his own. Emma was perfect, and he could only imagine the things he could teach her to do.

"Yes," Emma admitted after a moment, schooling her expression to look shame-filled as she looked down at her feet.

"Then it wasn't your fault. You wanted her hair purple, and you made her hair purple."

"It wasn't my fault?" she asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes. Fenrir was always impressed at how well she had the innocent look down.

"It wasn't your fault," Fenrir said, releasing his hold on Emma to stand up. "In fact, I'm proud of you. You should do it again."

"But Mr. Ward –"

"I will talk to Ward," he said, grabbing Emma's hand, fully intending to bring her back to the hovel himself. It was still light out, but the sky would be getting dark soon, and he didn't need her walking alone. "In fact, I'll talk to him today."

Fenrir smelled Emma's sudden panic well before she opened her mouth. "But you said if Mr. Ward sees you –"

"I think Ward could stand to use a visit from me," Fenrir said, tugging Emma along the sidewalk. He peered down at Emma, who looked at him dubiously. "Don't worry – it's all part of the plan."