– Chapter 3 –
"Jeez, what was that all about?" Stiles threw the doors of his Jeep open and started the engine.
"I don't know. But who's going to teach me now?" Scott said, while he desperately put his head on the dashboard.
Stiles jumped in his chair. "I got it!" He hit the gas pedal.
"Where are we going exactly?" Isaac asked. He was clenched to the back seat, just like the others. Stiles' driving manners weren't quite good at the moment, but he didn't seem to care at all.
"You'll see." He grinned and pulled the steering wheel brutally to the left. Everyone was tossed into Isaac's lap, who happened to be sitting in the right seat (no pun intended).
Stiles parked the Jeep next to the animal clinic. "So I was thinking," He opened the car door and his passengers looked like they were about to throw up. "Why would your teacher have to be like you?"
"Deaton!" Scott said, getting out of the car. "That's very clever."
"Thanks! I thought it was pretty sm–" But everyone was already making their way to the clinic.
"You coming?" Allison shouted. He sighed and ran after them.
"Scott, what can I do for you?" Deaton opened the gate that allowed them to enter the clinic. Scott pricked up his ears; no sound at all, except for the animals in the clinic. They were alone.
"I need some help, and I'm not sure you'll be able to grant it." He followed the others inside and closed the gate behind him, it creaked a bit.
"What do you need my help for?" Deaton asked, as he led them into the treatment room.
"Would you be able to teach a new born werewolf how to control its abilities?" Scott asked.
"I am afraid that wouldn't be possible," Deaton frowned. "Who is this new born we are speaking of?"
"I think you know." Scott answered. His eyes glowed red for a second and he smiled.
"Congratulations, Scott. Very well." He scratched his goatee. "I think I might know the perfect teacher for you. Follow me."
He walked up to the wall. There was nothing to see there, but he just stood in front of it. Then he said, "Defodio." And they all waited.
"So.." Stiles scratched his head, while they all stared at the wall.
Then they heard a terrible crack. The wall was being cut open and revealed an empty room. The only thing that was in there was a painting with a girl in it.
"Scott, meet your new teacher." Stiles waved sarcastically at the painting. He immediately shut up, though, because the girl started giggling.
"What the hell is that?!" Lydia shouted. "I want to go. This is not real." She was clenched to Allison now. This all reminded her a little bit too much of her crazy ass hallucinations which had been caused by Peter.
"You know what to do." Deaton said to the girl, as if it was the most normal thing to do. She went away.
"We're all mad." Stiles said, staring at the painting which was now empty. "Lydia, did you poison us with Wolfsbane again?" He grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Shut up!" She yelled. She clearly couldn't handle a reference to her disaster of a birthday party. Stiles stopped as he saw tears welling up in her eyes.
"I'm sorry." He stuttered, trying to put his arm around her.
"I should explain a couple things," Deaton leaned into the wall, calm as usual.
"Probably," Scott said. Great, he thought, most likely another problem to worry about. He couldn't understand how Deaton managed to stay this calm in every single situation they'd ever been in.
"I'm not the person you think I am." Deaton looked at the teenagers surrounding him. "I must assure you, it is not bad. It might just come as a shock to some of you." He glanced at Lydia and Stiles, who were both kind of freaking out. The silence was unbearable, as they were all dying of curiosity.
Then, Scott heard a loud screech. He cowered, because since he focussed his hearing, the noise was awfully loud. Then he heard voices. The painting on the wall swung open.
"Well, 'ello there!" A ginger boy with a British accent stepped out of the hole that'd been left. He almost fell on his face, but someone grabbed him from behind.
"Thank, mate." He grinned into the hole.
His rescuer, a boy, and a girl followed. The boy was fairly skinny and had jet-black hair. He wore round-rimmed glasses and the thing that caught the eye was the colour of his own, startlingly green. On his forehead was a scar, shaped like a lightning bold. The girl had bushy brown hair and looked kind of bossy.
Then, an adult stepped out of the hole. He had light brown hair that was turning into grey. He looked kind of tired while he smiled at them. A little moustache was growing on his upper lip.
He set foot on the floor and brushed some dust of his jacket. "I heard you needed us, Aberforth?" He shook Deaton's hand.
"Not me, them." Deaton jerked his thumb backwards to indicate the speechless teenagers standing behind him. "Scott, Stiles, Allison, Isaac and Lydia."
The adult nodded with a smile. "A pleasure." He too had a British accent.
"Could anyone tell me what the hell is going on here?" It was Lydia, still staring at the hole where their new visitors had just come out of. Her eyes were filled with terror.
"Blimey, Aberforth, tell your friends to calm down a bit!" The ginger boy cast an annoyed look at Lydia.
"Everyone, follow me." Deaton led them back into the treatment room again.
"What did he just call him?" Lydia whispered into Allison's ear. She shrugged. "Something like Forth?"
"I'm sorry there's nothing comfortable in here. Just take a seat on the table, please." Deaton sat down while the others followed.
"Hermione, since you are good with words, I'll let you explain." He gave the girl an encouraging nod.
"Well, you see," She stared at her feet, nervously, "We are wizards. Just like your friend Aberforth, and-" She got interrupted by Stiles.
"I'm sorry but what drugs are you on? Not to be rude or anything but well, you know. Ouch!" Scott kicked his leg from the side.
"What! It's pretty obvious.." Stiles rubbed his sore leg, looking insulted.
"Wait.." Scott narrowed his eyes and got up. "If your name is Hermione," He pointed at the girl, "Then you're Ron! And you are Harry Potter. And I bet your name is Remus, the werewolf." He excitedly pointed at the adult now.
"This is crazy," Stiles got up to look his best friend in the eye. "This. Is. Cra. Zy. It's mad, you're mad, I don't know what this is, but it's bullshit!"
"Mr. Stilinsky," Deaton put a hand on Stiles shoulder. "You need to relax. And you, Scott, excellent thinking. I see you've been reading quite a lot. Now, the question is.."
"Who you are.." Scott whispered. "You're Dumbledore's brother! I heard Remus call you Aberforth." He still couldn't believe what was happening. Books weren't supposed to come to life all of a sudden.
Deaton nodded. "I had to keep this a secret from you, I hope you understand."
"Well, I don't," Stiles yelled, "Not at all, do you?" He waved at the rest of the group. They were still seated on the steel table, inarticulate.
"Eh, Stilinsky, was it?" Hermione reached into her purse.
"You can call me.." He looked up and forgot about the stress for a second. And for the first time since forever he saw a girl with not so strawberry blonde hair of which he thought she was absolutely beautiful. "Stiles." He finished the sentence.
"Accio relaxation potion." She said, her hand still in the tiny little bag. A little bottle flew out of it, and she caught it without a hitch.
"Um, Stiles, maybe you should drink this. It will help you soothe a bit." She handed over the bottle.
He pulled off the cork and gulped it down. It tasted very sweet and in a split second he felt peachy.
"Thank you, darling," Even though his attempt at impersonating her British accent failed miserably, he could still spot the red colour on her cheeks.
The ginger boy named Ron gave him an angry look. Then he looked at Hermione and smiled again. "Bloody good idea to bring that with you."
"Don't mention it. I just thought someone might freak out a little when they heard about Aberforth's real identity." She smiled at Stiles again, who absent-mindedly grinned back. Ron looked pissed off again, and whispered something into Harry's ears.
"Let's just get back to the reason we're here." Remus snapped back to reality. "I've been told you needed a teacher?" He looked at Scott.
"That's right, sir," He answered.
"You've found the right werewolf!" He grinned like a Chesire cat. His fangs looked dangerous, claws looked sharp. But his eyes were the darkest eyes Scott had ever seen.