Fae felt sorry for herself for about half a day, especially after she forced herself to shut off the music to save her phone battery. Then she got hungry, snuck out to get the plate of food left for her in the fridge, scarfed it all down back in her room, and felt better enough to start thinking about her next move.
But she had to get comfy first and when she was changing from the silk robe into a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt, she noticed all her new injuries in the mirror. Scars and skin imperfection weren't new or particularly important to her. Rollerblading had left twin smudges on the upper edges of her ankles, a nasty fall out of a tree left a slash along her elbow, years of scratching at pimples left some soft craters on her cheeks, and so on.
There were bandages covering the bottom edge of her neck. She must've scratched up her collarbone somehow. There were bandages on her left arm, wrapped beneath her breasts, looped over her wrists. There were plasters quilted over a good chunk of her left thigh and some string for stitches peeking out of a large bandaid on the back of her calf. Hell, there was even a bandage strapped onto one of her feet. The only place that didn't sting when she moved was her back, and she supposed that's because she hadn't been able to reach it.
Ah - just kidding. She lifted her arms to slide on her shirt and flinched at the soreness in her shoulder. There was a nasty black and purple bruise hiding beneath her hair. Must've thrown herself at a wall or three. Overall, it was a pretty gnarly picture and a hysterical part of her wanted to insist to her reflection that the other guy looked worse, promise.
Her body was achy and so tired. It wasn't a good, satisfying tired like laying down after finishing a race. It was an uncomfortable tiredness that wouldn't let her forget it or rest to relieve it. It hurt everywhere in patchwork levels of bluntly sore and keenly burning. She looked half-dead, kind of like Megan Fox from Jennifer's Body when the succubus powers were wearing off, but not still somehow hot. Just like that, she was back to feeling sorry for herself and dove back under the covers. Six angry waves of her wand resulted in the curtains finally sliding shut and casting darkness into the room. Near-darkness anyways, she really needed Fleamont to find or invent some black-out curtains.
How was she going to do this? How did Remus Lupin do this? Forget the social and societal aspects of it, how did he go through this much pain and stress every month? To being in a shitty mood for the week of, tearing your body apart, hoping you don't kill someone and/or dig your own grave, waking up feeling like shit for who knows how long, and then emotionally fucking yourself over with the anxiety of the next fucking full moon coming at you like clockwork.
Was this what life was going to be like from now on? No wonder Remus was such a sad sap. In fact, it was kind of amazing how well-adjusted he was as a professor and all that, now that she thought of it. Remus, as she remembered him, was an intelligent, kind, and relatively well-functioning adult with a decent sense of humor. She wondered what he was like as a 14-year-old at school right now.
Then she remembered that he was also quite the defeatist. He peaced out of his job after Snape snitched on him, he refused to have a relationship with someone he was mutually in love with, he almost skipped out on being a dad, and he always seemed to just be holding himself together, just getting through the day. Fae didn't want that kind of life for herself.
Is that why so many werewolves ended up with Voldemort, she wondered? Is that why they followed Greyback? Because he took pride in being a werewolf and because it was another way out? Because there was some sort of hope? If she recalled correctly, Voldemort promised the werewolves higher quality of living, but never treated them equally and literally used them to scare purebloods into being loyal to him - threatening them with having Greyback bite their children. The werewolves were a threat and a scare tactic that Voldemort used, not a people he considered to be equal or worthy of understanding and fair treatment. And yet, Greyback still followed him and convinced others to follow him because there was probably no better option.
She refused to feel resigned and defeated every day. She didn't want to struggle for happiness, or fear achieving it like Remus Lupin did. Nor did she care to scare people into treating her decently, at least not like that. Behaving like she was less than she was? Been there, done that. When she'd gotten sick of it, she got tough, figured it out, woman'd up, and discovered that she was much stronger and much more than she ever thought possible. And that's what she would do now. She deserved to fight for her happiness and to be happy. And she knew she was strong enough to do it.
So she got back out of bed and took out an empty notebook. It was a good thing they'd gotten carried away at Flourish and Blotts after all, but it was a shame there hadn't been a label maker. At her desk, she set an Incendio on a candle that went fairly well, only flaring up a little too high and kissing the curtains for a few seconds before settling. That would've been bad - Euphemia hadn't technically taught her that one yet. She lit a few other candles and then started darkening in a few lines of her notebook, creating a table that would eventually have the dates for the next two years' worth of full moons, along with the sunset time, sunrise time, and day of the week.
The next page, she listed the date of the full moon just passed at the top and then created a few boxes. Box number one is where she listed the symptoms leading up to the moon. Box number two cataloged the injuries she came out of it with. Box number three was for a list of the damage, how badly the room had been wrecked. Box number four would be for symptoms in the week following the moon. The last 1/3rd of the page she used to recollect anything she could remember about the night, which was basically just the claustrophobia, the restlessness, the pain, and then nothing until she woke up horizontally in her own blood and a homemade bed of splinters.
Her hand was barely keeping up with her mind and before she could fill in much of the first two pages, she was already speeding into a third page which was labeled questions. Why couldn't she remember anything? Was the werewolf truly another entity? Could she communicate with it? Was it a part of her own subconscious or something completely its own thing? What happened if one had an artificial sun? What happened during solar or lunar eclipses? Did other moon phases affect her in smaller ways? Did the effects she suffered as a werewolf have anything to do with the age, size, strength, magic, or gender of the werewolf who bit her? What other symptoms might she have had but missed? Were they really symptoms or was she seeing things in hindsight that weren't actually there? Were there any benefits to be had, like strength in her physical capabilities or senses?
Before she could even finish that list, she was moving onto another page - this one labeled pros and cons. She wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and promised to herself that before the next moon, her list of pros would be twice as long as her list of cons. Rise and whine, or rise and shine, as her brother had always said. Be a little bitch, or be a boss, as she'd always said.
When a throat cleared itself behind her, Fae jumped so high she nearly fell out of her chair. Accompanying her jump and shriek was the loud bang of several books flinging themselves off the shelf towards Fleamont who had been leaning in the doorframe. He dodged them and she made a mental note to add 'magical imbalance and increased accidental magic' as possible side effects. Probable side effects.
"Woops," she said.
Fleamont sent the books back to the shelves with a flick of his wrist and then came to lean against the desk next to her, eyeing the candles warily. Fae smiled sheepishly and hoped he wouldn't tell Euphemia.
"Feeling better?"
"Sore. A little freaked out. I'm… getting there. It's one thing to know you're a werewolf and another thing to actually be a werewolf, I guess. I'm realizing I don't know much about any of it," she said with a frown, glancing down at all her illegible scrawl spilled out on the pages.
"I can imagine," Fleamont answered solemnly, patting her head. "Well, if there's anything Euphie and I can do to help, just let us know."
Fae thought for a second and then answered. "I need everything on werewolves you can get me. Books, journals, articles, incident reports, anything."
"Are you sure? There aren't many… good things written about werewolves."
"Yeah, I'm sure," Fae said determinedly. "I need to know what danger I'm capable of. I need to know what is possible and what isn't possible for a werewolf to do, good, bad, and everything in between. I need to know the rules, so I can follow them; or bend them, break them, and rewrite them." As she was saying it, she kind of realized the opportunities available for her. It was actually hyping her up a little bit, thinking and planning.
Fleamont's rough hand settled on her head, dug into the greasy strands, and partied a little. When she looked up and smacked his hand away, she found him smiling fondly at her. "That's my girl. Euphie and I will take you to the library tomorrow. I'll write Moody and see who he knows in the Beast Division."
She preened at that. She liked knowing he was proud of her. "Thanks."
"In the meantime - it's getting dark outside and Euphemia thinks we might get some trick-or-treaters all the way out here this year. Want to come help me eat the candy and cheer her up?" he said with a toss of his head towards the door and a carefree grin.
With a bittersweet strum in her gut, Fae realized it was Halloween. It wasn't like any Halloween she'd ever experienced before. She was used to exhilaration and dressing up and throwing parties. But this didn't sound half bad either. That, and chocolate sounded heavenly right now. "Sounds great."
As was Halloween tradition, she ate way too much candy. That night, metaphorically, was also a lot like eating way too much candy. The way Fleamont and Euphemia did their best to not be obvious about fussing over her while fussing over her was really sweet. Seeing them do their best to act like everything was normal, and pulling it off because those two couldn't go a few minutes without bickering and being 100% themselves around each other was really sweet. Having them sit in the living room with her and watching horror movies for hours even though they didn't like them was really, really sweet.
It was uncomfortable in a way, like a sick stomach from too many sweets. It reminded her of rare Christmases with her family where her brothers stuck around after lunch and her mother was asleep and not yelling at everybody and her dad was relaxed and her sister was absorbed in her phone games. They would all sit down together and watch a movie. Those moments were very rare, but they felt so commonplace here. They were her family and not her family and she had just gone through an extremely life-wrenching and traumatizing event and this was Halloween, but also not Halloween. It was dissociation, plain and simple. Instead of letting it carry her away, she focused on the goodness. The horror movie and the calming, quiet volume of the tv. Fleamont's occasional hums and deeper breaths. Euphemia's hand carding through her hair. The warmth and very real scratchiness of the blanket covering her. The full and almost sick feeling in her stomach from all the chocolate. Fae fell asleep hopeful.
In the morning, Fae found her injuries had dulled in pain and healed considerably so she wrote down 'possible increased healing' on her list of pros and then dressed to go for her morning run. Emotionally, she was feeling significantly more stable than yesterday, and she sought to keep it going by getting back to her routine. In terms of actual energy, her magic still felt a little wonky and she wasn't entirely sure she could do her three usual runs today, but she was feeling leagues better than yesterday.
Her morning run was abysmal. Her pacing was slow, her hip twinged when she pushed off her right leg, and she actually had to stop once or twice to catch her breath. It was a bit disheartening, but the data here was more interesting - there was a huge drop in athletic ability post-moon. Some of it, she was sure, could be attributed to her soreness and from laying in bed all day yesterday. However, she hadn't been this crappy on a run in months, far before she ended up in this world.
Oh, what she would give for her Fitbit to be working. Even with power, it wouldn't record or transmit any data without cell towers and wifi, so it was useless in this time. That really sucked. Early on when she'd just started running seriously to lose weight, having the data had given her small goals as often as big goals and it had kept her going. It was things like wanting to beat her time for five laps between this day and the next. Wanting to have an average heart rate of so and so during this kind of workout. Seeing how different workouts, like swimming vs. biking vs. running, held up to each other.
Right now, her Fitbit would be supremely helpful in tracking so much on her morning runs, before and after the moon. However, the idea of figuring out alternatives, mind already racing, was perking up her attitude considerably. She could tie ribbons on trees to mark a trail, measure the distance roughly with strides, see if Fleamont could get her a stopwatch or an egg timer or something. She could, and would, make this work.
By the time she was back, she didn't even stop at the front door and instead raced down the hall to her room to write all her new ideas and plans down. It was almost hard to pull away, but she desperately needed a shower, a thorough one. That and food. Thinking of breakfast only made her more excited - Fleamont said he was going to show her the library. Oh lordy, libraries were such places of comfort and productivity for her. And there her mind went again - she'd wear her sweatpants and her sweater and her jacket so she didn't get cold, and she'd bring this notebook and that one and hopefully, a water bottle, and she'd need a decent backpack because she'd probably be bringing books home. At the breakfast table, she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even register the quietness between Fleamont and Euphemia.
"Fleamont said you wanted to learn about werewolves?" Euphemia eventually said.
Fae perked up at that and nodded vigorously. "Yes, anything and everything that's out there. I want to know what I am."
Euphemia frowned. "Well we have a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. We can start there," she eventually said. It occurred to Fae that Euphemia wasn't tackling this chance to learn with her usual enthusiasm. Was something wrong?
They all jumped when Fleamont's fork clattered to his plate rather loudly and intentionally. He inhaled deeply and then turned to his wife with a frown. "That's not what Fae is asking for. There's only basic information in that book, and it's all stuff Fae already knows by now having just gone through it. She needs real information."
"That is real information! And we have more than just that book. We- we- we have-"
"We have these," Fleamont said coldly, setting three books down on the table. The titles were Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live, The Revised Werewolf Code of Conduct (1966), and The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.
Oh. Oh. Right. Werewolves being considered 'dark creatures' was a thing she knew, but hadn't really thought about in all of this. And her adoptive parents were great and supportive, but they were also definitely light wizards, fighting against Voldemort. And quite possibly, until Remus, there would be no other werewolves in the Order of the Phoenix.
Euphemia huffed angrily and crossed her arms. "Well these are just awful and full of untrue things and just- just prejudiced against werewolves! They aren't worth a read."
"They are. Awful as they are, almost everything she finds on werewolves is going to be like this, Euphie. Hiding it from her won't be doing her any favors. She wants to know and I think she can handle it," Fleamont argued back. Fae seriously wanted to hug him right now. Just full-on, launch herself across the table, and tackle him to the ground. Instead she collected the books up in her arms as if they might disappear, which with the look on Euphemia's face, they may just.
"No, these are great. I know better than to believe everything I read and only by having as much information as possible can I forge my own opinion. This is a great start, really," Fae said, trying to diffuse the tension. It worked to some degree. Euphemia let out another anguished huff before abruptly leaving the room. Suddenly, Fae felt very cold. Was the reality of Fae being a werewolf too much for Euphemia? Things had been going so well, but maybe this was just too much for her.
"Come on. Let's get to the library and give her some time to cool off," Fleamont said, heading toward the workshop. Still excited to see the library, Fae called for him to wait just a second while she ran off to gather all her things. When she was ready to go, she joined Fleamont in the living room, where he was standing by the door to his workshop. She looked at it quizzically, and then he opened the door and revealed the room was now a garage on the same level as the living room rather than stairs.
Fae followed Fleamont into the garage and gasped at the sight of him ripping a tarp off a gorgeous blue car with bright silver trimmings, smooth long lines, and all the bells and whistles. The small silver script on the side and the silver insignia on the front of the car reminded her what it really was beyond the vague recognition - Fleamont Potter owned and drove a Ford Thunderbird. And damn, what a beauty. God, she missed cars and driving. Awe was written all over her face and coming out of her tracing, wandering fingers for the first five minutes of the ride. However, eventually the excitement of being in a car again died down and she spoke up.
"Is Euphemia…. mad that I'm a werewolf? Does it really bother her that I want to know about them? Because I could-" She could do a lot of things, like not talk about it, or go somewhere else for transformation. She just really didn't want Euphemia to kick her out because that would suck and she was really irrationally nervous now because her mind was a damn traitor. Thankfully, Fleamont cut her off before she could go on a nasty, spiraling rant.
"No! No, of course not darling." He paused, and then grimaced slightly. "Okay, well a little. We've never known a werewolf before and have only ever seen them through one lens. This is a new perception for us, is all. Like getting a new pair of glasses with a stronger prescription. Or removing glasses altogether," he said while also whipping off his glasses and swerving ridiculously on the road. Fae shrieked, laughed, and then shoved his glasses back on.
She sighed in relief and he continued. "Euphie adores the heck out of you. It's just hard for her to see a child have to confront this kind of… darkness, you see?"
"Yeah, I can get that. But I have to. If I mess up because I didn't know better, then it's not 'oops, my mistake', it's 'someone may be dead'," she said. "I don't want to live in fear."
"I know," Fleamont answered. It was quiet for a moment and then, "You're going to change the world."
"I already am." Fae grinned and stuck her head out the window with glee.
Fae hadn't really had the chance to run very far into town or look around, but she was happy to find that the library wasn't too deeply in and she could probably walk there in half an hour or so. The library was huge, with stone arches and intricate windows. Inside, it looked twice as massive as it was outside. Turns out, it was twice as massive inside. Their town, Baywood, was integrated with plenty of both magic and non-magic beings. Inside the library, there was a huge open area filled with desks and study corrals and the occasionally closed study room. The bookshelves on the walls were ceiling-high and bisected by a second story. Fleamont had cut straight through the center of the room, down a long hall of bookshelves, and up to the back wall. He strolled up to a regular bookshelf, took a looksie around, beckoned Fae close to his side, and then pulled a series of three books back. The bookcase and the floor beneath them spun around and spat them out in what looked very similar to the library - but with the moving carvings on the pillars, the floating candles, the self-sliding ladders. With magic.
"Ohhh."
"Indeed. Now let's introduce you to Mr. Hammy, the librarian. He'll get you a library card and start you off."
And so they met Mr. Hammy who was, as the name suggested, a portly man. He had greying brown hair, bushy eyebrows, and the best handlebar mustache she'd ever seen. He was also very nice, soft-spoken, gentle, and helpful. It was only a matter of a few minutes after getting her card that she and Fleamont found themselves deep in a section of the library, up on the second floor and surrounded by several bookshelves full of information about creatures. Fleamont thanked Mr. Hammy, and the librarian returned to his post while she and the inventor surveyed the books.
It was like Christmas come early. There was a lot more than she thought - and a lot more than Fleamont thought if the look on his face was anything to go by. There were at least three shelves full which was how much she'd expected for the fiction section, not nonfiction. Amazing, this was a treasure trove. Fae yanked out her notebook and started feverishly writing down titles, starting with the ones that seemed the most promising. Werewolves and What You Need to Know, Surviving the Full Moon, Night Howler: Signs You're Neighbor Isn't What He Appears, The Full Guide to Werewolves; Silver Edition. And so on, and on.
Fleamont had skipped straight ahead to yanking books off the shelves and skimming the blurbs and first few pages. They both ended up with large piles straining their arms as they trudged off to the nearest table. They spread everything out and started reading. Werewolves changed with the full moon, no matter what. Werewolves were venomous and bites would either kill someone or change them into werewolves. The body composition changed drastically during transformation such that the nails became tough like claws and were capable of inflicting lighter forms of lycanthropy on victims. Werewolves had accelerated healing and tough hides. The skin of a werewolf could withstand several curses with minimal effects or affliction, depending on the destructive power of the curse.
Before she knew it, hours must have passed with her and Fleamont sharing whispered secrets back and forth. She had flipped to the back of her notebook to list the book titles, summaries of interesting ones, and the new tidbits she'd managed to learn and wanted to either cross-reference or test. It had been a while since the last whisper when Fleamont stretched with a groan and then stood up.
"How about we call it a day for now?"
Truthfully, Fae was not near ready to call it good. But, she could see the stiffness in his shoulders and the tiredness behind his glasses. Plus, they'd been gone for hours and he must've been missing Euphemia and vice versa. She could come back anytime now that she knew where it was, and she could definitely take a few of these home today to read tonight. Fae insisted on floating the books back to their places and cheered for herself when she only dropped two.
They waved at Mr. Hammy as they left and outside the doors, Fae was pleasantly surprised by the smell of coffee. Her stomach rumbled loudly in response and she turned to her adoptive dad with a grin.
"I think there's a cafe over there. Maybe we should bring Euphemia a peace offering?"
He chuckled and agreed. The Lucky Star Cafe was everything Fae had been wishing for, even if she hadn't known it. A cozy size, warm fabric-covered booths, gold lights hanging in exotic fixtures from the ceiling, bright colors and framed oddities covering the walls. The pastry case was mostly empty, no surprise at this point in the day, but Fae was able to select an orange-strawberry-banana tart for Euphemia and a slice of tiramisu with a cup of coffee for herself. It was heaven and she knew she'd find herself reading and studying in here quite a bit.
"Can I drive?"
Fleamont laughed. "No."
At home, Euphemia was waiting for them in the living room with freshly brewed tea and a cool facade. Fleamont sweetly kissed her on the cheek and presented her the tart before settling into his armchair. Fae calmly took her spot on the couch and glanced at Euphemia with a small, hopeful smile.
"Well? Find anything good?" Euphemia eventually asked with a smile of her own. Fae grinned and pulled out the books she'd brought home. She couldn't stop talking if she tried, so excited about everything she found and everything she would find.
"You were right, a lot of it is 'werewolves suck' and 'how to avoid werewolves' and 'how to hunt werewolves', but there's a lot of good information hidden in the mud. Did you know werewolves have an increased sense of smell and vision near the full moon? Like, I could potentially see in the dark at night! How cool would that be?"
To her credit, Euphemia didn't flinch a bit or show any of the worry and hesitation she'd displayed that morning. She listened patiently and asked appropriate questions, even as Fae practically followed her into the kitchen when it was time to start on dinner. It was only Fleamont reminding her that prompted her to go get her evening run in.
She went to bed that night, excited for the future.
Her newly created routine had to be adjusted after that, no surprise. She still got up for her early morning run, came back by the bell for breakfast, and cleaned up in her nice skirts and dresses for homeschooling. Euphemia looked after the afternoon class at the nursery, so she usually instructed and lectured Fae until 11 before leaving her with homework. At 2, Fae changed into James' old clothes, or her new workout clothes, strapped on her backpack, and ran to the library. Thank God for Fleamont who charmed some extra straps on the backpack to secure it so it wouldn't bounce and break her spine while she ran. The extra weight of the books was a welcome bonus.
At the library, she selected her books for the day and then either stayed at the desks there, or went over to the cafe if the traffic was on the slower side. The corner booth closest to the pastry case and with a grand window view of the street was her designated spot. She got caramel lattes on most days paired with banana bread or carrot cake or tiramisu. She also met the owner, Lucrecia, who was usually the only one behind the counter. She was a nice and eccentric lady, possibly in her 30s, possibly in her 60s. She had long flowing hair in a braid with black and pepper strands framing her youthful face of simmering mischief and bright blue eyes. She wore a bright lipstick that always matched whatever long skirt she wore that day. Her white apron was mysteriously always clean, bright, and white.
She'd hang around the cafe or library until 6, run home, and eat dinner. After dinner, she'd settle down in the living room or the workshop with her notebooks, going over the day and reflecting or planning her next day. It was a busy life, but it was satisfying.
"You seem awfully interested in werewolves, young lady. A school project?" Mr. Hammy asked one day.
Fae shrugged and lied. "A bet. My brother bet me I couldn't name ten facts about werewolves that his friend who's uncle's cousin's bridesmaid's sister is a werewolf knows."
Unfortunately, after she really dug deep into the initial books on werewolves that she'd found in the nonfiction section, she discovered that they were mostly bullshit. Some said werewolves were deathly allergic to silver and by wearing silver jewelry, you could guarantee your safety. Some said werewolves were attuned to nature and could talk to wolves. And a vast majority of them just said werewolves were dangerous, avoid or kill on sight. She felt like Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon, figuring out Toothless. It was tough, but if Hiccup could figure it out and rewrite history on dragons, then she could do that for werewolves.
When she got sick of reading about how werewolves were dangerous without specifying how, because the devil was in the details really, she switched gears and returned to the normal library. There, she hunted down books on wolves in general. She figured, there was a reason that werewolves were called werewolves and not some sort of other monster altogether. Learning about wolves was a much more common topic and much more likely to yield attributes she might be able to work with other than the vague 'dangerous and dark'.
A few weeks passed quickly like that, with her head buried in magic in the morning, her head buried in werewolves in the afternoon, and blissfully throwing herself into mindless running every time else. Fleamont didn't continue going to the library with her all that often, only when he was researching something for a new project of his. He did, however, help her mark a trail and set up a clock by the back door so she could start timing herself on a route. The flags were charmed with extensive sticking charms and waterproof charms to last through the rapidly declining weather of winter. The clock by the back door was big and gaudy, and it was annoying at first to have to calculate her times based on when she started and finished, but it worked. Running never failed to clear her head and she was very pleased to see that within a few days of the full moon, she was back to running a 5K at the time she was used to running prior to arriving here.
It was a week before the next full moon on November 29th when she got her next big breakthrough. Up to then, she'd had tons of random facts on wolves, a comprehensive knowledge on avoiding or killing werewolves, and lots of fitness data. She hadn't yet formed a plan when Fleamont informed her that Moody would be coming in a few days to speak with her. Fae was excited - this was her chance to talk to someone who had first-hand accounts of werewolves. A skilled Auror who'd taken werewolves down and fought the strongest of them. This could be her break. She prepared pages of questions to ask him and wore her best dress to appear as non-threatening as she could.
She was severely let down when he was stiff, rude, and unfortunately seemed only to know how to hunt them. He seemed cagey on the subject and uncomfortable being around her. There was only so much of it she could take before dropping the sweet, innocent girl mask and calling him out.
"Have I done something to offend you?" she asked rather abruptly midway through his choppy and clearly heavily-edited recollection of a werewolf he'd encountered recently. Investigate by day, stalk by night, be ready to send off at least 7 stunning spells in quick succession, aconite laced chains, and dittany and silver on hand just in case, all things she'd read before.
"No."
"Okay."
There was a few minutes of awkward silence and searching eye contact before she set her cup of coffee down roughly. "Okay, you're full of shit. You still suspect me of being a spy or something?"
He narrowed his eye at that and frowned. "It's just suspicious is all, your sudden interest in dark creatures."
Fae's eyebrows went sky high. The fucking nerve. "Sudden? Dude, I'm a werewolf," she said with a spirited gesture to her body and a sharp glare. "A recently turned werewolf! I am a dark creature, and I refuse to go into it blindly. I'm not a spy or whatever you think, but I could be a weapon if we play this right. If you actually help me, instead of feeding me these useless bits of fluff that I've already read before."
Then she crossed her arms and snarled. "And mind you, acting like I'm poisonous, excuse me, venomous, or some kind of wild animal with no morals is exactly the kind of behavior that causes shitty people like Voldemort and Greyback to get followers, you dumb asshat. You think werewolves would choose a life of subservience and being used as a threat to keep Voldemort's pets in line if they had a better option? I don't think so."
It was one of those times when she didn't think before she opened her mouth and it was probably really stupid to offer herself as a 'weapon' when she wasn't even sure if she was going to participate in the war yet. That being said, she really needed his help.
"You seem to have a lot of opinions on this," he eventually said.
"Everybody has opinions on werewolves. I'm just trying to listen, learn, and make something worthwhile out of it all," she said. And then directly demanded what she wanted, nice and polite be damned. "Now what can you tell me about Greyback?"
"Greyback?"
"Yes. Fenrir Greyback. Been sending Aurors in circles for years. Bites children. Voldemort's trusty pet werewolf. Greyback. Tell me everything about him."
"Why?"
She gave him the blankest, most are-you-serious stare she'd ever given and fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose and dramatically sigh. "Have you been listening at all? Honestly. Greyback is the most well-known, most documented, and most powerful werewolf in existence that we know of. He's stronger than your average human, can do wandless magic, is damn tricky to pin down let alone securely capture, and can control his transformations enough to target specific victims. I need to know how he does what he does and I need to do it better than he can. And I don't think it has anything to do with going to the gym or practicing magic theory."
Whether it was her righteous anger or her theories, Moody was a lot more talkative after that. Still gruff, but she figured that was probably just his general demeanor and unique charm. She had been right - he had a fountain of knowledge and didn't tiptoe around the gruesome details. She learned more about the actual behavior of werewolves in half an hour than she had in the past few days.
When he left, he settled a firm hand on her shoulder. "This is a dangerous and dark path you are walking."
She shrugged, grinned, and quoted her favorite video game. "No matter how deep the darkness, a light shines within. Don't worry, I've got this."
That seemed to be enough for him. He told her it was okay to write him if she had more questions and she watched him disappear in the floo, wondering how much she would learn from him over the years. Following the visit, she wrote down her thoughts in her notebook and then left for a nice, long jog. She could feel restlessness already setting into her bones and the crisp air was refreshing. Instead of heading toward town, she spent a few hours in the forest, thoughts racing until she'd settled them all out from a messy yarn ball into definitive lines. When she heard the bell ring, she was all too happy to get home and report in to Euphemia and Fleamont. It had been hard for them to leave her with Moody while they talked, but she had insisted and it had paid off.
"Firstly, there is no record of confirmed increased or decreased abilities or attributes for werewolves surrounding the time of the full moon. It's been implied, but nothing has ever been formally tested, analyzed, and published. For me, that means I'll continue monitoring my physical capabilities and likely begin adding in more physical testing. I can find basic workout regimens like push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, and apply them to my daily life," Fae said.
"I'd like to test my magical capability as well so I'll probably set up some routines for that, such as casting a set of particular spells and analyzing the effectiveness of each spell, magical exhaustion, and etc. If you have any ideas on better measuring my magical capabilities, please let me know."
Euphemia and Fleamont nodded with twin smiles and lighted eyes. She could see the gears turning in their heads as they genuinely listened to and considered her information. It made her feel very good to be taken seriously. To be listened to like an adult again.
"I'll be testing other things further down the line - like sense of smell, hearing, night vision, and healing. For now, I think these are enough to get me started."
"Secondly, Fenrir Greyback is the most documented and well-known werewolf of this time. He has done terrible things, yes. However, he has not only shown definitive signs of tapping into increased physical and magical capabilities, he has been able to gain awareness of his transformations enough to target victims rather precisely. It's going to be ugly, but he is a prime example of what a werewolf could be capable of and a lot of those capabilities could be just as easily used in a positive capacity. Moody has given me access to a good deal of Auror records at the library as well as a list of resources that are more detailed records of encountering werewolves - actual, specific danger signs to look out for and abilities that real werewolves have shown. So that means more research for me."
Neither of her parents looked too pleased with that one and she knew they wouldn't. Nobody in their right mind would want their child to have anything to do with Fenrir Greyback in any capacity, but she knew it was sure to be helpful in the end. Fae kept right on talking, hoping to keep them from worrying too much.
"Lastly, Moody's interactions with werewolves confirmed for me that although I lose awareness, the werewolf part of me is not actually a separate part of me. The werewolves that Moody has encountered never refer to it as a separate entity or a separate state of existence. It is my conscious and perhaps, a lack of inhibitions and increased sense of primal instincts. Like I said earlier, Greyback has managed to gain at least some form of awareness, so I know it's not impossible. What this means for me is that I will be spending this week also looking into meditative or self-searching techniques to try and recognize signs, emotions, and self-awareness specific to my transformations. I'll begin putting meditation at least into practice this week. Basically, I'm hoping to be able to gain awareness during the full moon. Maybe even one day be able to control my actions."
And to be fair, she knew it was possible with the Wolfsbane potion, but that was going to be invented forever from now. She needed, craved, control much sooner than that. If Fenrir Greyback could do it, so could she. And maybe she'd do a little experimenting with Wolfsbane on her own. Technically, it wasn't poisonous to werewolves. It was a treatment for werewolf-related injuries, but not actually bad for werewolves. So maybe a tea brew? A combined effort of ingesting it and sense of self through meditation? She didn't know, but she would try it all.
At the end of her little speech, Euphemia and Fleamont looked pretty flabbergasted, but also impressed, and a little horrified but in a good way. Fae grinned toothily. It was one of her favorite expressions she liked to put on peoples' faces.
Her week was very busy. She kept running and taking meticulous records. Her hunch seemed to be right - as the week wore on, she felt like running farther and longer and faster. It was a little frustrating, but she restrained herself to keep doing laps of the 5K route she and Fleamont had set so she could get the data. Her times were getting faster. Normally she got one in per morning, but she was eagerly going for a second loop as the week went on. Not only that, but her average mile time dropped from about 10:15 down to 9:20 which was by far the fastest she'd ever gone.
She attempted meditation in the shower before breakfast, spent good chunks of her homeschooling casting Lumos and Wingardium Leviosa repeatedly, recording the strength and effectiveness of each spell, as well as how many she could cast in a row before feeling tired. She tried to meditate for 30 minutes at lunch, but the restlessness was maddening and she found herself running to the library earlier and earlier in the day, making it there in record time with more and more books in her backpack every day. They felt like feathers.
The more she read about Fenrir Greyback, the more it reminded her of the cinematic montage where several people talked about Regina George and her awesomeness in Mean Girls. Some of the things she read were completely incredible and downright unbelievable, but she was willing to chase every lead. It was startling to realize that nobody knew what a werewolf was capable of outside of its capacity to cause damage, and even that wasn't documented nearly well enough. It was fascinating.
She spent less time at the cafe that week, having started pacing up and down the deserted stacks in the back of the library while reading. Of course, she still went after her reading binges, if only just to eat a snack. Lucrecia made some good money off her that week, she was easily drinking two or three cups of coffee and eating five pastries. It was still strange as hell to receive an allowance from Euphemia and Fleamont, or from anyone for that matter. Typically she liked to try and save some every week for future use, but this week, she had to dig into her savings a bit. Every bite of chocolate cake made it seem completely worth it.
Fae ran another loop or three of the 5K and barely made it to the dinner table on time, only to eat second and third helpings. Euphemia wisely didn't comment on her weight this time. Evening found her scribbling away on the carpet in the living room or in her favorite chair in the workshop, bent over several books, incident reports, and her own notebooks. By ten, she could barely keep her eyes open, although she did her best to stay awake and meditate for a while. Ugh, she hated meditating. So boring, and so far, she'd felt nothing. The oddest and most interesting part, however, was that she found herself sleeping heavily, but waking up randomly in the middle of the night, once again restless. A ten minute jog did the trick at first, but by the full moon she was running yet another 5K in the dead of night again.
November 29th dawned and she followed her routine for the morning, but skipped the afternoon library visit in lieu of more running and more attempts at meditating. This was her fastest average mile yet - 8:52. She couldn't quite believe it when she wrote it down at first, but no. All her 5Ks that day were clocking in around 27 minutes. That, and there was the fact that she was running almost 25K a day with ease. On the upside, she'd kept herself so busy that she hadn't snapped at Euphemia or Fleamont nearly as much this time around. Keeping her mind and brain busy had kept her temper from flaring too much, aside from that one time with the teddy bear which just refused to levitate for more than a few seconds and subsequently ended up in messy puffs of cotton all over the floor of her makeshift home classroom.
Moody came over again, this time closer to the moon rise. Fae was happy to see him and followed him as he set up the wards, chattering away about her plans and all the things she'd found this week. He grunted and nodded, but didn't tell her to blatantly fuck off so she counted it as a win.
Bees stung at her gut in the hours leading up to the moon and she paced the house and the backyard like a caged madman. Meditation seemed completely impossible at the time, but twenty minutes to the moon, she smiled comfortingly at her parents, shut herself in the attic, settled down on the floor, and did her best. Unfortunately, it backfired. Instead of releasing her nervous energy, she just started fixating on the pain. Fae had really been trying not to think about it and had been refusing to acknowledge her anxiety towards it all week. How badly this was going to hurt.
She wasn't wrong. Her meditation failed epically and when she woke up in bloody strips on the floor in the morning with the attic even more wrecked than last time, she decided that maybe meditation just wasn't for her. Or at least, not in this form.
The morning after the transformation was much the same as last time. Euphemia and Fleamont did their best to patch her up and then left her alone in her room to rest. Fae listened to sad music and cried and felt sorry for herself for a while. Eventually, she ate some food and praised her own genius for deciding to do so whilst taking a long, hot bath.
She thought for a while, considering her failures and that the full moon was actually way worse this time. She had a whole bunch of new injuries and after the last moon, she knew they would not be fading out of existence, but rather hanging around like new tattoos. When her thoughts started taking a dark turn again, Fae decided that analyzing her experiences, subjectively or objectively, was not happening today. Fleamont and Euphemia were in the living room again, waiting with chocolate and movies, although they were Christmas movies this time. It was so strange, how all the restlessness just evaporated from her form and left her dazed, but still wide awake and aware.
The next morning, Fae was ready to go again. She wouldn't bother with meditation for this round, and would only go back to it if nothing else worked. Fae threw herself into implementing further barrages of physical tests. Fleamont helped her attach a bar between two trees about 6 feet off the ground so she could do pull-ups. He also helped her mark a new trail for a 10K in the forest which nearly went around the entire thing itself. He thought she was a bit crazy for continuing to exercise outside when the temperature was dropping rapidly, but Fae insisted she needed the fresh air, which was true. It drove Euphemia nuts when Fae slept with the windows open and it caused all the heating charms in the house to go wonky.
Still, Euphemia continued her faithful support and contributed to Fae's efforts by skewing her homeschooling to be more lecture and theory-based at the beginning of the moon cycle, and more practical lessons closer to the full moon. She even created a biweekly magic test for Fae focusing on three spells and testing consistency, effectiveness, and precision. From the previous week's findings, they had begun to suspect that Fae's magical core was stronger closer to the moon, but harder to control, hence the accidental magic and inconsistent casting.
The first spell, a favorite, was Locomotor and her objective was to float a series of objects from one bin, through a few winding hoops hanging on the ceiling, and to the other bin which was on the opposite side of the room. The second spell was Orchideous, a spell that produced flowers. She had to produce one red rose, then two white lilies, followed by three purple hydrangeas, four pink hibiscus, and five baby pink orchids. The final spell for testing was Alohamora, used simply to unlock a series of six increasingly complex locks under a minute each. If she failed during any stage of each test, she had to start again from the beginning.
Locomotor was probably her favorite spell being that it was super helpful and would be amazing to do wandlessly. It was also the trickiest as it required quite a bit of concentration to move the objects through the makeshift obstacle course. The Orchideous was a little more fun, but getting the precise colors was the tricky part, and Euphemia was thorough. She had paint swatches ready for comparison. Alohamora wasn't too bad, but four out of five times, she ran out of time on the last two locks and would have to start again. The first time she ran through the gauntlet, it took her nearly an hour to complete and left her so tired she actually had to walk for a bit on her way to the library after. When she went for it again later in the week, she took three minutes off her time. Euphemia was very happy with having bouquets of flowers always available for the kitchen table.
Studying and snacking at the library and cafe continued dutifully. Fae kept researching Greyback in particular and figured that once she had a pretty complete list of possible abilities, she'd start searching for signs of the most interesting ones existing in reports and records of other werewolves before testing them herself.
All of her progress and activity kept her in exceedingly high spirits, especially as the Christmas season creeped in. Fae found herself studying at the cafe more often, watching all the shoppers and the decorations coming out. It made her feel warm. A little sad too, but she ignored and compartmentalized her feelings of her past life. Instead, she focused on what she could get Euphemia and Fleamont for Christmas. They were both so wonderful to her and she owed them a lot. Not only that, but they were genuinely excellent people and deserved something amazing. She had been at the cafe, nibbling on chocolate cake and happily writing a list of possible gift ideas when an overheard conversation between two ladies made her freeze.
"When is your's coming home?"
"In a week. I'm so excited - four months away at school is way too long."
"Well fuck me," Fae said, causing the two women to startle, look at her strangely, and then shuffle away.
It occurred to Fae that Fleamont and Euphemia had another kid - and he was apparently coming home in a week.
A/N: As two wise women in a movie once said, fundamentals are the building blocks of fun. Happy Thursday Ya'll. Here is another installment of the slowest slow burn. Enjoy