Author's Note: Well, after a very unsuccessful attempt at a first story, I present to you a new and hopefully much improved second one. If you want to look at my horribly failed first piece of fiction, too bad! You can't because I have taken it away! How sad. Please let me know what you think; I don't even care if you hurt my feelings...
Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own anything or anyone from the Harry Potter series. I do not own anything from Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them, either.
The following is an excerpt from Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander:
The werewolf is found worldwide, though it is believed to have
originated in northern Europe. Humans turn into werewolves only when
bitten. There is no known cure, though recent developments in potion-
making have to a great extent alleviated the worst symptoms. Once a
month, at the full moon, the otherwise sane and normal wizard or
Muggle afflicted transforms into a murderous beast. Almost uniquely
among fantastic creatures, the werewolf actively seeks humans in
preference to any other kind of prey.
There you have it. That's me. A werewolf, also known as a "murderous beast". In case you haven't read Fantastic Beasts, which is used as a textbook in almost every wizarding school, I will warn you that the all- knowing Ministry of Magic (M.O.M.) classifies werewolves as XXXXX creatures. Anything in that category is a "known wizard killer / impossible to train or domesticate". However, Mr. Scamander, expert in Magizoology, kindly added an easy-to-miss footnote after his definition of myself and others like me, stating that when not suffering from the maniacal effects of lycanthropy, werewolves are generally harmless. Thanks. Big help. Unfortunately, that does nothing to help my reputation as a crazed killer.
I suppose you're wondering just how, when, where, and why I got to be a werewolf. Well, that's easy enough to explain. I was bitten when I was seven, in the woods, and only because I happened to be spotted by a blood- thirsty beast.
I had been walking slowly through the woods behind my house on an unusually foggy night (don't ask why, I just have these urges to do strange things sometimes). As I said before, I was seven years old. My parents had been sound asleep when I skillfully climbed out of my bedroom window. When my older brother was home from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry he often accompanied me on these little escapades of mine, but he wasn't home, so I decided to go by myself.
Once among the tall trees, I decided to look for fairies. Fairies, not the most intelligent of creatures, are usually rather docile and can make quite interesting pets.
I began to look among the bushes and other foliage layering the ground for any hint of the tiny shimmering beings. My search led me further and further into the gathering fog of the forest. Unfortunately, the entire fairy population must have been asleep, either that or they could sense the coming danger that I could not.
I wandered around for a little longer before I decided that I should go back home. But as I turned, something moved overhead, causing chills to run through my arms. I remember thinking, wishing, that it was only the night breeze blowing through the leaves above. I knew it wasn't true. There was no breeze.
I heard the rustling again, and decided to ignore it. Maybe it would go away. However, walking as quickly as I could, I could tell something was following me.
Panic took hold of me. I ran like I never had before. The fog was lifting, but it was still hard to see. Light from the full moon cascaded through the mass of branches and briefly illuminated the ground in front of me. I stopped.
Whatever had been tracking me was crouching a few feet away. The moonlight fell across its face. A werewolf.
Author's Note: Did you like it? I know it wasn't much, but at least it's a start. If you really did enjoy it (somewhat), I will be very glad to continue.