Hello, and welcome to my humble imagination. I don't own anything you
recognize form J K Rowlings books. I simply try to console myself with
fan fiction until she publishes her next book. So ENJOY!
Silver Moon Golden Heart
Ch1 Ghosts of the Past
Angi Greystone wrapped her arms around her body as she observed the ancient building. The stone walls were covered with moss, ivy, and mold. The once gracefully kept lawns looked severely neglected, and desperate. Weeds had grown to about waist high, and looked like they hadn't been cut in years. The whole place cried out for attention. Hesitantly she stepped towards the gate to the walkway. Better get this over with.
The gate had almost rusted shut, and gave an awful groan of protest when she forced it open. The place was well on it's way to falling apart. Edging of the roof was rotting away, The shutters, if any, were falling off, and the path from the gate to the front door was so overgrown she couldn't see the white granite stoned path. She knew it was there somewhere. As she got closer she noticed more and more. Over half of the windows were broken, or missing, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know the extent of water damage on the inside. A certifiable nightmare. And she loved it.
Smiling for the first time in over a week she finally reached the door that lead to her once, and now, future home. Angi reached out and tried the handle.
"Damn." It was locked, and there was no way she was going to be able to force the door open. It had been built to stop more force than she was capable of exerting. No human was. She nervously rubbed her heavily ringed right hand against the worn jeans she wore. She didn't really need to where the silver colored rings now, but it was habit. And they, and now this house were the only links to the past.
She knew better than to dwell in the past. Her life was full of what-ifs. Releasing a sigh she pulled out her wand and unlocked the door and pushed. The door was harder to open than the stiff gate had been. Moisture must have warped the door frame. She took a deep breath and threw all her weight against the door. It gave a with a shudder and after knocking it loose it swung in without any resistance. The end result was Angi loosing her balance, and falling face first in the entrance hall. Dust flew all around her.
She paused for a moment, half expecting someone to be laughing at her ridiculous entry. After a moment of complete silence she shook her head. She knew nobody was here. The doors of Wolfe Mansion had been closed for just over ten years. She sat there in the entrance surrounded by dust. Lost. Everyone she knew was gone. The halls that once were filled with life, now echoed with the sound of silence. She was the only one left.
Angi grimaced as she picked herself up off the dust covered floor. Well, just a few more bruises, nothing really damaged except for her pride. She glared at the offending door. Standing in the entrance she got a good look at the interior as sunlight filtered in through the clouds of dust.
"Great. He said it was a little dusty, not filthy. I could plant a garden with all the dirt in here." She gave a snort of disgust.
This was going to take a lot of work. She stood up straight. Well, it would take a lot of sweat, but she was going to restore it to it's former beauty. It would take a lot of money, but she had plenty of that. Thankfully they had knocked the price of the place down over the years. Ten years of neglect to correct. She was going to need a lot of paint.
Abandoning the entrance she wandered through the rest of the first floor. An elegant ball room, library, the huge kitchen, study, dining room, master bedroom, bathroom, and what they had all called the waiting room. She remembered standing there, waiting on the boys to get back from school, or waiting to leave herself. At the end, and beginning of every school year it would be chaos. They would all be milling around there. Looking for lost quills, or pencils, what ever the case may be. And of course there were missing books, lost pets, and a whole host of other confusing going ons.
She wandered up the stairs, more lost in her memories, than in assessing all of the damage. The second floor had three halls. They had always referred to it as a chicken foot, and the halls as 'toes'. At the end of each 'toe' was a huge bathroom. Each 'toe' had twelve fairly large rooms, longer than they were wide. It was possible to fit two beds in to each room, with space to spare. Two of the 'toes' had been for boys, the other for girls.
The third floor was the game, or rec. room. It still had many faded places on the paint where things had once been. The tables for cards, chess, muggle, and wizard. Indentations in the faded carpet where the pool table, pinball, and Ping-Pong table had been. Faded squares and rectangle on the walls marked where posters, and pictures had once hung. Angi stood there for a moment. She had looked through everywhere except one last place.
Angi squared her shoulders. "Courage. Your not a Gryffindor for nothing." Her feet knew where to go. Down the stairs to the first floor, then out the kitchen door, and left, to the double doors of the cellar. She took a deep breath and pulled on one of the doors, it very nearly didn't hold together. Ten years had taken it's toll on the wood. Angi counted the stairs out of habit. Funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same. She stopped at the last stair. Twenty-seven. Funny that was her age. Easy now, take a breath, your stalling.
She took the last step and turned left to follow the hallway and almost cried out. There it was. Hell row they called it. They were right. This hallway unlike the rest of the mansion showed no sign of damage. The twenty-four cells stood as sturdy as the day they were installed. And there at the end of the hall was her harp. She walked to the instrument slowly. She had walked this path almost hundreds of times. And each time she had sworn it would be her last. But she always came back.
By the time she reached the harp she realized she was near crying. Every full moon she had come down here. For ten years. She would play for them. All night long she would play, and sometimes sing. And they would howl in pain, fright, anguish. And she, she would cry. It had been unfair. And she had cried for the injustice. And for the cruelty done to them.
Without realizing it she was playing the harp, her head bent, eyes closed, her face a mask of sorrow, and still she played, remembering. The summer that was meant for games, laughter, and relaxation, those hopes were never realized.
She had been seven that summer. The summer Voldemort had started to terrorize the wizarding world. He had started to methodically collect followers, and eliminate all of his competition. Most of it had been quiet in nature. Some strange things happening, concern, but not terror. Then it all started. First had been people having problems. That was the summer that they put the first dark mark over a murdered household. Then all hell broke loose
That was the year of the Death Eater/Werewolf Alliance. The first full moon after this was a living nightmare. Literally hundreds of victims. The lucky ones where killed. The unlucky ones lived. One of the most tragic nights in wizard history.
After that, there were precautions taken, but not on that first full moon. Both muggle and wizard families fell prey. Whole families were caught. But the true horror of the event didn't surface until later. Any boy or girl between the ages of ten to fifteen didn't die. Eleven orphans were made that dark night. All of them new werewolves. Seven more were refused a place to stay by their own families. That made Eighteen new unwanted, and confused, werewolves.
The new orphans didn't have anywhere to go. Nobody knew what to do with them. Supposedly there had even been talk of putting them down. As if they were common dumb creature. Then Linden Walker started this program. He took in all of the new werewolves, and created a home for them. It was somewhere they could find peace from the judgmental world. Here they could at least find solace in the fact that at least one person didn't condone them for what they were. For Linden Walker was one of them.
It was supposed to be a seclusion of sorts, privacy to cope with the changes, both mentally, and physically. But things didn't turn out that way. But only a week after the full moon they had found her in the woods. She remembered how frantic they were to find her parents. But she knew they had long ago disappeared.
It was then they found the truth about the complete madness of the 'Werewolf' pact. When she .refused to tell the ministry about her parents, they had performed a blood revealing spell on her. They then found out that her parents had both been registered werewolves. When the man she later came to know as Dumbledore questioned her about it, she had reviled that people in black capes had made her parents very upset, and then they were gone. Voldemort had killed all of the werewolves who had refused him.
The Ministry was at a complete loss of what to do with her. They couldn't brand her as a werewolf, because she had no physical aversion to silver. So out of desperation they had sent her to Wolfe Mansion. At least she would be in a familiar atmosphere. At least that was their reasoning. They had been so very wrong.
Angi stroked out a few more cords reluctantly re-living the first time she had stepped into this huge house, and ultimately down those stairs.
She had been taken to Wolfe Mansion one week before their first change. She hadn't wanted to go in. The place stank of fear, and self-hatred. Nothing like the fresh herbs her mother had around the cottage, that mixed with love, and happiness.
Angi probably would have shifted into a wolf and run off, even if that meant exposing the one thing that her mother had forbid her to tell anyone, but Linden Walker had smiled nodded his agreement, and asked for her help. She had been seven, and never in her short live had an adult been so anxious for her help. With great reluctance she had let herself be lead in.
When the full moon finally did rise she was forbidden to venture out her door. However, as she stared at the full moon through her window she began to want to run so badly, like she would with Mamma, and Papa. So as soon as the house was quiet she made a dash out side. The freedom had only lasted a second. It was then she heard the first screams.
She remembered standing there in confusion. What could be in such pain? The moon was full, and the night smelt so good to her, dark, rich, full of new mysteries. She wanted to run, but her heart tugged her down to the cellar door. There she felt that something was wrong. Some of her kind were being tortured. But when she got to the bottom step what she saw confused her even more.
She couldn't describe the event later, just cry. There, were Eighteen tortured souls, each in a seperat cage. They tore at themselves in frustration, and fear. The whole place stanke of blood and rage. What her parents had made beautiful and natural, they made seem ugly and unclean. It was supposed to be a quick, clean change to the wolf, but this, this was horrible. They were half human, and half wolf. Neither one nor the other, and it was tearing them apart.
So she had done the only thing she could think of, she ran for her harp. Momma said it made her feel better. And when she played they didn't scream so loud. The tortured moans never failed to make her cry when she finally got to bed. Linden Walker had been mad, he said that it was too dangerous for her to be there. But it didn't make much of a difference. Every full moon she went. Afterwards they said it helped, to have something so pretty playing just for them.
As she had gotten older she almost forgot her parents and their beautiful transformation. Everyone but Walker had told her that it wasn't possible. But now she had come back. Come back to prove them all wrong. It could be done without pain. She had seen it. They weren't 'too monstrous' to love. She would prove that too.
She stopped playing the harp, her fingers almost cramping from unpracticed strain. She would prove that he was lovable if it was the last thing she did, and it could well be. By stars, that man was stubborn. A small frown crossed her face. It was his parents fault. Just after her first full moon here, they had sent him to stay at the Mansion. He had been fifteen. And he had been abandoned by his parents.
Angi glared into space remembering the day they dropped him off. They never said goodbye, and they never looked back. Yes, Remus would be the perfect one to help her prove her theory. And while she was at it she could get him over this 'I'm a monster' kick, and find him a nice girl. There were bound to be plenty of nice girls for him in Hogsmeed.
She laughed out loud, the foreign sound echoing oddly off the stone walls. Whether Remus Lupin wanted it or not he was going to find peace at last. She was still grinning when she though of the deed to Wolfe Mansion in her hand. It was in the hands of the kindred again.
They had seized it on her graduation night, just shortly after the death of Linden T. Walker. Just one more reason for her dislike of the Ministry of Magic. It served them right, that nobody would set foot onto the place. In fact, they couldn't for there was old magic at work here. Now it was 'officially' in her name.
She stood up, full of purpose. She had been gone for ten years. Wondering the globe, watching, and learning from the natural wolves, and the werewolves from every imaginable culture. From present day, to ancient finds, and discoveries of the past. She had published several books on the subject of Weres in general, and had made a good bit of money off of them, with more on the way. Most of the money she got from selling her biographies of different Weres' as fiction to muggles.
But this, this was going to change the way the wizarding world looked at Werewolves. And it was going to be her gift to the friends that protected her throughout her youth. All of them those 'nasty brutes'. When the other 'normal' children picked on her for her heritage the orphan gang stood up for her with an ferocity that Voldemort would have found concerning.
Voldermort. She frowned, she had heard stories, and the possibility of him coming back scared her half to death. She would go to see the Headmaster. He would tell her the truth. The ministry had said nothing about it, but she had no great love for them. Yes, Dumbledore would know..
Well, what did you think? I simply love constructive criticism. Flames will be used for marshmallows. If you really don't like it THAT much, I'm sorry. But don't feel obligated to read the next chapter. Which, by the way is already written. I just need to go over it again. It will be up probably at least by Nov, 1st. Later!
P.S. I used a word, I'm not sure everyone will get. Weres. As in Werewolf, Weretigers, Werebears, (not to be confused with Carebears) And so on. Let me know if something else is confusing.
Silver Moon Golden Heart
Ch1 Ghosts of the Past
Angi Greystone wrapped her arms around her body as she observed the ancient building. The stone walls were covered with moss, ivy, and mold. The once gracefully kept lawns looked severely neglected, and desperate. Weeds had grown to about waist high, and looked like they hadn't been cut in years. The whole place cried out for attention. Hesitantly she stepped towards the gate to the walkway. Better get this over with.
The gate had almost rusted shut, and gave an awful groan of protest when she forced it open. The place was well on it's way to falling apart. Edging of the roof was rotting away, The shutters, if any, were falling off, and the path from the gate to the front door was so overgrown she couldn't see the white granite stoned path. She knew it was there somewhere. As she got closer she noticed more and more. Over half of the windows were broken, or missing, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know the extent of water damage on the inside. A certifiable nightmare. And she loved it.
Smiling for the first time in over a week she finally reached the door that lead to her once, and now, future home. Angi reached out and tried the handle.
"Damn." It was locked, and there was no way she was going to be able to force the door open. It had been built to stop more force than she was capable of exerting. No human was. She nervously rubbed her heavily ringed right hand against the worn jeans she wore. She didn't really need to where the silver colored rings now, but it was habit. And they, and now this house were the only links to the past.
She knew better than to dwell in the past. Her life was full of what-ifs. Releasing a sigh she pulled out her wand and unlocked the door and pushed. The door was harder to open than the stiff gate had been. Moisture must have warped the door frame. She took a deep breath and threw all her weight against the door. It gave a with a shudder and after knocking it loose it swung in without any resistance. The end result was Angi loosing her balance, and falling face first in the entrance hall. Dust flew all around her.
She paused for a moment, half expecting someone to be laughing at her ridiculous entry. After a moment of complete silence she shook her head. She knew nobody was here. The doors of Wolfe Mansion had been closed for just over ten years. She sat there in the entrance surrounded by dust. Lost. Everyone she knew was gone. The halls that once were filled with life, now echoed with the sound of silence. She was the only one left.
Angi grimaced as she picked herself up off the dust covered floor. Well, just a few more bruises, nothing really damaged except for her pride. She glared at the offending door. Standing in the entrance she got a good look at the interior as sunlight filtered in through the clouds of dust.
"Great. He said it was a little dusty, not filthy. I could plant a garden with all the dirt in here." She gave a snort of disgust.
This was going to take a lot of work. She stood up straight. Well, it would take a lot of sweat, but she was going to restore it to it's former beauty. It would take a lot of money, but she had plenty of that. Thankfully they had knocked the price of the place down over the years. Ten years of neglect to correct. She was going to need a lot of paint.
Abandoning the entrance she wandered through the rest of the first floor. An elegant ball room, library, the huge kitchen, study, dining room, master bedroom, bathroom, and what they had all called the waiting room. She remembered standing there, waiting on the boys to get back from school, or waiting to leave herself. At the end, and beginning of every school year it would be chaos. They would all be milling around there. Looking for lost quills, or pencils, what ever the case may be. And of course there were missing books, lost pets, and a whole host of other confusing going ons.
She wandered up the stairs, more lost in her memories, than in assessing all of the damage. The second floor had three halls. They had always referred to it as a chicken foot, and the halls as 'toes'. At the end of each 'toe' was a huge bathroom. Each 'toe' had twelve fairly large rooms, longer than they were wide. It was possible to fit two beds in to each room, with space to spare. Two of the 'toes' had been for boys, the other for girls.
The third floor was the game, or rec. room. It still had many faded places on the paint where things had once been. The tables for cards, chess, muggle, and wizard. Indentations in the faded carpet where the pool table, pinball, and Ping-Pong table had been. Faded squares and rectangle on the walls marked where posters, and pictures had once hung. Angi stood there for a moment. She had looked through everywhere except one last place.
Angi squared her shoulders. "Courage. Your not a Gryffindor for nothing." Her feet knew where to go. Down the stairs to the first floor, then out the kitchen door, and left, to the double doors of the cellar. She took a deep breath and pulled on one of the doors, it very nearly didn't hold together. Ten years had taken it's toll on the wood. Angi counted the stairs out of habit. Funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same. She stopped at the last stair. Twenty-seven. Funny that was her age. Easy now, take a breath, your stalling.
She took the last step and turned left to follow the hallway and almost cried out. There it was. Hell row they called it. They were right. This hallway unlike the rest of the mansion showed no sign of damage. The twenty-four cells stood as sturdy as the day they were installed. And there at the end of the hall was her harp. She walked to the instrument slowly. She had walked this path almost hundreds of times. And each time she had sworn it would be her last. But she always came back.
By the time she reached the harp she realized she was near crying. Every full moon she had come down here. For ten years. She would play for them. All night long she would play, and sometimes sing. And they would howl in pain, fright, anguish. And she, she would cry. It had been unfair. And she had cried for the injustice. And for the cruelty done to them.
Without realizing it she was playing the harp, her head bent, eyes closed, her face a mask of sorrow, and still she played, remembering. The summer that was meant for games, laughter, and relaxation, those hopes were never realized.
She had been seven that summer. The summer Voldemort had started to terrorize the wizarding world. He had started to methodically collect followers, and eliminate all of his competition. Most of it had been quiet in nature. Some strange things happening, concern, but not terror. Then it all started. First had been people having problems. That was the summer that they put the first dark mark over a murdered household. Then all hell broke loose
That was the year of the Death Eater/Werewolf Alliance. The first full moon after this was a living nightmare. Literally hundreds of victims. The lucky ones where killed. The unlucky ones lived. One of the most tragic nights in wizard history.
After that, there were precautions taken, but not on that first full moon. Both muggle and wizard families fell prey. Whole families were caught. But the true horror of the event didn't surface until later. Any boy or girl between the ages of ten to fifteen didn't die. Eleven orphans were made that dark night. All of them new werewolves. Seven more were refused a place to stay by their own families. That made Eighteen new unwanted, and confused, werewolves.
The new orphans didn't have anywhere to go. Nobody knew what to do with them. Supposedly there had even been talk of putting them down. As if they were common dumb creature. Then Linden Walker started this program. He took in all of the new werewolves, and created a home for them. It was somewhere they could find peace from the judgmental world. Here they could at least find solace in the fact that at least one person didn't condone them for what they were. For Linden Walker was one of them.
It was supposed to be a seclusion of sorts, privacy to cope with the changes, both mentally, and physically. But things didn't turn out that way. But only a week after the full moon they had found her in the woods. She remembered how frantic they were to find her parents. But she knew they had long ago disappeared.
It was then they found the truth about the complete madness of the 'Werewolf' pact. When she .refused to tell the ministry about her parents, they had performed a blood revealing spell on her. They then found out that her parents had both been registered werewolves. When the man she later came to know as Dumbledore questioned her about it, she had reviled that people in black capes had made her parents very upset, and then they were gone. Voldemort had killed all of the werewolves who had refused him.
The Ministry was at a complete loss of what to do with her. They couldn't brand her as a werewolf, because she had no physical aversion to silver. So out of desperation they had sent her to Wolfe Mansion. At least she would be in a familiar atmosphere. At least that was their reasoning. They had been so very wrong.
Angi stroked out a few more cords reluctantly re-living the first time she had stepped into this huge house, and ultimately down those stairs.
She had been taken to Wolfe Mansion one week before their first change. She hadn't wanted to go in. The place stank of fear, and self-hatred. Nothing like the fresh herbs her mother had around the cottage, that mixed with love, and happiness.
Angi probably would have shifted into a wolf and run off, even if that meant exposing the one thing that her mother had forbid her to tell anyone, but Linden Walker had smiled nodded his agreement, and asked for her help. She had been seven, and never in her short live had an adult been so anxious for her help. With great reluctance she had let herself be lead in.
When the full moon finally did rise she was forbidden to venture out her door. However, as she stared at the full moon through her window she began to want to run so badly, like she would with Mamma, and Papa. So as soon as the house was quiet she made a dash out side. The freedom had only lasted a second. It was then she heard the first screams.
She remembered standing there in confusion. What could be in such pain? The moon was full, and the night smelt so good to her, dark, rich, full of new mysteries. She wanted to run, but her heart tugged her down to the cellar door. There she felt that something was wrong. Some of her kind were being tortured. But when she got to the bottom step what she saw confused her even more.
She couldn't describe the event later, just cry. There, were Eighteen tortured souls, each in a seperat cage. They tore at themselves in frustration, and fear. The whole place stanke of blood and rage. What her parents had made beautiful and natural, they made seem ugly and unclean. It was supposed to be a quick, clean change to the wolf, but this, this was horrible. They were half human, and half wolf. Neither one nor the other, and it was tearing them apart.
So she had done the only thing she could think of, she ran for her harp. Momma said it made her feel better. And when she played they didn't scream so loud. The tortured moans never failed to make her cry when she finally got to bed. Linden Walker had been mad, he said that it was too dangerous for her to be there. But it didn't make much of a difference. Every full moon she went. Afterwards they said it helped, to have something so pretty playing just for them.
As she had gotten older she almost forgot her parents and their beautiful transformation. Everyone but Walker had told her that it wasn't possible. But now she had come back. Come back to prove them all wrong. It could be done without pain. She had seen it. They weren't 'too monstrous' to love. She would prove that too.
She stopped playing the harp, her fingers almost cramping from unpracticed strain. She would prove that he was lovable if it was the last thing she did, and it could well be. By stars, that man was stubborn. A small frown crossed her face. It was his parents fault. Just after her first full moon here, they had sent him to stay at the Mansion. He had been fifteen. And he had been abandoned by his parents.
Angi glared into space remembering the day they dropped him off. They never said goodbye, and they never looked back. Yes, Remus would be the perfect one to help her prove her theory. And while she was at it she could get him over this 'I'm a monster' kick, and find him a nice girl. There were bound to be plenty of nice girls for him in Hogsmeed.
She laughed out loud, the foreign sound echoing oddly off the stone walls. Whether Remus Lupin wanted it or not he was going to find peace at last. She was still grinning when she though of the deed to Wolfe Mansion in her hand. It was in the hands of the kindred again.
They had seized it on her graduation night, just shortly after the death of Linden T. Walker. Just one more reason for her dislike of the Ministry of Magic. It served them right, that nobody would set foot onto the place. In fact, they couldn't for there was old magic at work here. Now it was 'officially' in her name.
She stood up, full of purpose. She had been gone for ten years. Wondering the globe, watching, and learning from the natural wolves, and the werewolves from every imaginable culture. From present day, to ancient finds, and discoveries of the past. She had published several books on the subject of Weres in general, and had made a good bit of money off of them, with more on the way. Most of the money she got from selling her biographies of different Weres' as fiction to muggles.
But this, this was going to change the way the wizarding world looked at Werewolves. And it was going to be her gift to the friends that protected her throughout her youth. All of them those 'nasty brutes'. When the other 'normal' children picked on her for her heritage the orphan gang stood up for her with an ferocity that Voldemort would have found concerning.
Voldermort. She frowned, she had heard stories, and the possibility of him coming back scared her half to death. She would go to see the Headmaster. He would tell her the truth. The ministry had said nothing about it, but she had no great love for them. Yes, Dumbledore would know..
Well, what did you think? I simply love constructive criticism. Flames will be used for marshmallows. If you really don't like it THAT much, I'm sorry. But don't feel obligated to read the next chapter. Which, by the way is already written. I just need to go over it again. It will be up probably at least by Nov, 1st. Later!
P.S. I used a word, I'm not sure everyone will get. Weres. As in Werewolf, Weretigers, Werebears, (not to be confused with Carebears) And so on. Let me know if something else is confusing.