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Neenie the cat lay between lupine paws with her tail over her nose, listened to a soft crooning song, and pondered.

Why am I not afraid?

The question was more than academic, given her night to this point. It needed an answer, and a good one.

I was afraid in the yard. When Draco touched me, and I saw all the boys, I was terribly afraid. I know that they’re my friends and they’d never hurt me, but it didn’t matter. I was still afraid of them. Because of... Her mind shuddered and skipped over exact words in favor of generalities. What happened to me. Earlier tonight.

Neenie looked up at Moony and mewed. Why? she was asking, cat-fashion. Why am I not afraid of you?

The question seemed to have no good answer.

With a heavy sigh, Moony lowered his head to hers and began to wash behind her ears. Neenie shivered at the contact but felt no fear, only the same shaken sorrow which had racked her all night. Forlornly, she purred a little, and felt Moony match the rhythm of his strokes to her purr.

Why am I not afraid?

It made no sense. Tonight, a man had violated her, a father had betrayed her, and a werewolf had attacked her. The person caressing her now was all of the three in one. By all rights, she should be screaming and clawing and fighting to get away. Instead she lay between his paws quietly purring, comforted more every second by his touch. As he washed her fur, he was also cleaning her soul, wiping away the marks of unclean hands and saving her from the worst of the pain and the horror.

Why am I not afraid?

And the answer came to her.

I am not afraid because my true father has come, and I know he will keep me safe.

Moony moved on to her back, his movements still in perfect time with Neenie’s purr. Beside the window, Danger sat howling her quiet song to the moon. For this night, for this moment, there was nothing more to fear.

Neenie closed her eyes, allowing the gentle tugs on her fur and the music of her sister-mother’s voice to soothe her into sleep. She knew what she wanted to dream about, and that meant she would. Dreams were wonderful like that.

She slept, and did not feel the tears which fell from the werewolf’s eyes onto her side.

xXxXx

"Tell me a story?" Neenie begged, squirming in Moony’s arms.

They were at the London Den, sitting in the big orange chair that had always been in the cubs’ room there. Neenie thought she was probably about four. Her size was right for four, and the cub-pile in the bed at the other end of the room had blond hair along with the two different shades of black. But that didn’t matter now, no more than this night never really having happened. What mattered was that she was dreaming the dream she needed, and Moony was there with her, holding her safe.

"What kind of story do you want?" Moony asked, quietly so as not to wake the others.

"Tell me a scary story," Neenie said after thinking a bit. A scary story would make scary things only in stories, not real anymore. "But make it sad too." That would do the same thing for sadness. "And about werewolves!" She bounced, very proud of herself.

Moony laughed. "You don’t want much, do you? But as it happens, I know the perfect one. It’s the story of how werewolves were first made. It’s scary and sad and very, very old. Do you want to hear it?"

Neenie nodded and snuggled close to Moony, closing her eyes so she could make the pictures in her mind come to life as he told the story. She was good at that.

xXxXx

Long, long ago, before there was a city called Rome, there lived a princess of the kingdom of Alba Longa, whose name was Rhea Silvia. She grew from a girl to a woman in the palace of her father, King Numitor, and was happy there, until one day her father’s wicked brother Amulius came with his soldiers and seized the palace to try to make himself king. Numitor fled into safety, but Rhea Silvia was captured by her uncle’s soldiers and brought to him.

Amulius did not want to kill his niece, but he could not let her have children who might someday try to take Alba Longa away from him. So he sent her to the temple of the goddess Vesta, whose priestesses were called the Vestal Virgins. They must not come near a man for thirty years, and by that time, thought Amulius, Rhea Silvia would be too old to have children and the throne of Alba Longa would be safely his.

But the gods were watching over Alba Longa, and Mars, the god of war, took matters into his own hands. He met Rhea Silvia as she walked in the forest one day, and some say one thing and some say another about their meeting, but what is sure is that nine months after that day, Rhea Silvia gave birth to twin boys, whom she named Romulus and Remus.

What is also sure is that Amulius was enraged. Had he not ordered that Rhea Silvia be kept away from all men? How had this happened? He rampaged up and down the palace, he beat slaves and broke vases, and the end of it was that Rhea Silvia was to be buried alive (for such was the punishment for a Vestal Virgin who lay with a man) and the twins to be drowned in the river Tiber.

But Rhea Silvia, unknown to anyone, called out to the god Mars, the father of her children, and begged that she not die this hideous death but that she be allowed to care for her sons. For the sake of his children, of whom he knew great things would come, Mars granted her wish, and Rhea Silvia was changed into a she-wolf and transported by the power of the gods safely away from the temple where she had lived. At the same time, the servant Amulius had sent to drown Romulus and Remus found it in his mind that he should place them in a basket and lay it softly in the river, allowing them perhaps to live if they were found in time.

And so it was. The basket washed ashore near the place where Rhea Silvia had found herself in her new form, and she went down to it and dragged it to the cave she had made her home, and gently tipped it onto its side to spill out a pair of rather damp and unhappy babies. She could not hold them in her arms or speak their names out loud, but she could croon a lullaby to them and feed them sweet milk, and this was enough for both her and them.

When the boys grew old enough to walk, Rhea Silvia led them to the home of a shepherd who lived nearby and there left them, though she remained always close to watch them as they grew. She saw them become young men and restore their grandfather Numitor to the throne of Alba Longa; she followed them as they set out for a country where they could found their own city; and she worried when they began to quarrel over which of them should be king there. And then her worst fears came to pass.

The son of Rhea Silvia whom men called Remus, angry at his brother Romulus for beginning to build a city on a spot of his own choosing, ridiculed the beginnings of Romulus’ city wall by leaping over it with ease. This was the worst of omens for the building of a new city, for it meant that the city’s enemies would conquer the walls with equal ease. Romulus, enraged, took up the shovel with which he had been digging the ditch for the wall’s foundation, and with it, he struck Remus dead.

Rhea Silvia, watching this, went mad with grief, and who could blame her? One of the reasons she had lived was murdered, and the other was his murderer. She vented her feelings by tearing at her own flesh and howling great cries to the uncaring sky, and at last, on the night when the full moon rose, she pointed her nose to it and called out again to Mars, the father of her sons.

"Grant me one more favor, great Mars," she cried. "Let me bedevil mankind until they learn more kindness. Let me sow a sickness among them that shall remind them of the beast that lurks within. Let my bite and the bite of those I shall infect curse them to change from their present shape into the one I now wear, once every month, under this same full moon. Let them be, while in this transformed shape, as bestial and cruel as my son was to his brother, and let them be outcast by all, as my son should be by all the world. And for the only mercy I will show them, I ask that their loins be barren from the day I shall bite them until the day that they die, that they never know this grief which is upon me now. So I ask."

And Mars, sorrowing for the loss of his son Remus, granted once more the prayer of Rhea Silvia. She received her new power, and well she guarded it, waiting until Romulus’ great city of Rome was established and his people safe. Then, on a certain day which Mars had made known to her, she lay in wait near a great field in that city. At a moment of sudden storm and darkness, when the people around Romulus had fled in fear, she rushed forth and fastened her teeth into her son’s leg, and Mars caused him to know what this bite would do to him once every month from this day until the end of his life.

In terror and shame, Romulus fled, so that when his people returned, they found him not there. The Roman Senators, to keep the people from suspecting them of killing Romulus, began the story that he had been lifted up to heaven as a god, and this story the people of Rome tell to this day. The man-wolf who haunted the city from that day forward was never connected with the great king and founder of Rome, and for this small mercy he was grateful. Instead he was known to them as Lycanthrope, from the story told by their neighbors the Greeks of a man named Lycaon who was turned into a wolf by the god Zeus. The word became a general one as the numbers of creatures like him grew, and from that we take our word lycanthropy.

That is how werewolves began, and why they are with us always, until we as a people learn more kindness to our brothers and to strangers, until the curse and the sickness that Rhea Silvia laid upon her son and upon all mankind is lifted. That is my story, and now it is over, and if you want another one you can tell it to me.

xXxXx

Neenie shivered deliciously. "Is it true, Moony?" she asked. "Is it true that Rhea Silvia started werewolves?"

"I don’t know." Moony bent and kissed her forehead. "What I do know is that it is time for little cubs to sleep. Do you want to go in with your brothers and your sister tonight, or would you like to come in the bed with Danger and me?"

"Danger and you, please." Neenie clung to her father as he stood up. "Your name is the same as one of the boys in the story. The one who died."

"Yes, that’s right, but I certainly hope it doesn’t mean my brother will kill me." Moony chuckled. "I never had a blood brother, so the only person it could be is Padfoot, and I don’t think he wants to kill me."

"’Cept when you take the last sausage before he can," Neenie said, giggling. "Or when you prank him and he’s not expecting it. Or—"

"Thank you, Hermione, I think I understand," Moony said in a quelling adult tone, but he was laughing underneath it.

Neenie giggled one more time and cuddled down into Moony’s arms. For tonight, she could sleep safely. Scary werewolves and bad hurts and running away from people who loved you were just things in stories, and nothing could hurt her as long as Moony and Danger were there.

Somewhere very deep down, she knew that wasn’t true, but she didn’t care. She needed the illusion for just one more night. Tomorrow, she would face the truth, but for tonight, she needed to be safe.

Her eyes closed, and she slept once more.

xXxXx

Maya Pritchard jerked awake as someone dropped a bottle in the hallway outside the ward where she lay. The tiny smashing sound wouldn’t have disturbed her the night before, or any other night of her life.

Maybe it won’t again after I get used to this. But for right now, I hear better than I think I should. And see better, too, and smells—there are so many of them, and they’re all so confusing, how will I ever keep them straight?

A shift beside her was echoed with a fresh wave of a scent she’d already known. She looked down and smiled. Lee lay asleep beside her, his dreadlocks lying over his face at odd angles. She had only half-expected him to come at all, much less to charge into the room and seize her in a desperate hug, only loosening it to let her get enough breath to assure him that she hadn’t been hurt apart from a few scratches and the one bite on her arm, and the Healers said she’d get most of the mobility back there, and it wasn’t her wand arm anyway...

She let her mind play back the scene for her. It seemed like a good possibility to use for generating a Patronus, when she got back to Hogwarts and rejoined the DA for meetings.

xXxXx

"Lee."

"Hmm?" He looked up from her hand, which he was tracing designs on the back of.

"Thank you for coming, but... you don’t have to stay."

"Do you want me to go?" Lee challenged, looking her straight in the eye.

"No, no, I want you to stay—but Lee, I’m not the same person I was yesterday." Maya thought of the stories she knew and swallowed against a dry throat, looking away. "I don’t want you to have to be with me, the way I’ll be now. It’s too much to ask."

"The way you’ll be? What’s that supposed to mean? Oh no you don’t. Look at me now." Lee’s fingers tapped her cheek, bringing her head back around until their eyes met. "What are you talking about?"

"Being... bitten..." Maya rubbed her bandaged arm and winced at the little stab of pain it sent through her arm. "It changes a person. They’re never the same. They get angry. Possessive. Suspicious. Cruel. They’re not who they used to be."

"Dragon dung," Lee said bluntly. "You’re exactly who you were yesterday. You just have something extra now. Something other girls don’t have." He grinned at her. "I always wanted to date a monster. Here’s my chance."

"Lee, don’t!" Maya wanted to cry. How could she make him see what was so clear to her? "What if I bit you, one night while I was transformed? Then you’d be..." She couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought was too painful.

"Then I’d be a werewolf," Lee finished for her. "There are worse things to be. It wouldn’t be fun, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world either. It wasn’t for Su Li’s brother, or Professor Lupin." His expression turned speculative. "And there’s a way I could make sure you never turned me. Become an Animagus, the way Professor Granger-Lupin is. Then I could stay with you even on full moons, help you through the transforming. If you bit me, it wouldn’t matter, because werewolf bites only affect humans."

"How could you become an Animagus? That takes years—"

"Harry did it," Lee pointed out. "Ron and Ginny too, and Hermione and Draco and the rest of them. They’re all Animagi—they’ve showed us in DA, the day we practiced fending off different kinds of animal attacks, remember?"

Maya nodded hesitantly. "But it still takes a long time, and it’s hard work..."

"Fred and George have been talking about it," Lee said. "Don’t want to let their little brother or their sister show them up. Plus, they think they can improve on a couple of the steps. I’ll just hop on their carpet, same as I always do. Speaking of which, when’re you seventeen?"

"25 March." Was she blushing? She hoped she wasn’t blushing. The light was bad in here. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. "Why?"

"Well, the twins are hoping to get their joke shop going sooner rather than later, and they’ll need a couple extra pair of hands to set up and help out. Fred might be able to get that Ravenclaw he’s been walking to class to come help out, but I think George has his eye on a Muggle, and she’d be no help yet, we’d have to explain too much. You and I would fit the scroll pretty nicely, don’t you think?"

Maya swallowed again, trying to hide her disappointment. She had hoped... but it was stupid. He never would, not now. "Yes, I think so."

"Plus there’s a couple little flats over the storefront they’re looking to rent," Lee added, his tone studiously calm. "Not very big. Just enough room for two."

Maya jerked her head up to stare at him. He can’t mean—

"The twins want one of them. I thought maybe..." Lee sighed, shaking his head. "You don’t want to. Never mind. I understand."

"No!" Maya felt her heart starting to pound. "I’m listening. Really. Tell me."

"Well, it’s stupid, we should neither of us be old enough for this, but..." Lee snorted, an ironic smile coming to his face. "I don’t suppose ‘you make me feel old’ is a terribly romantic thing to say, is it?"

"Not... terribly." Maya forced herself to stop trembling. This couldn’t be, it couldn’t be what she wanted it to be. She was wrong, misunderstanding somehow, she had to be.

"You make me feel grown-up, then. Like a man, not a kid anymore." Lee returned to his doodling on the back of her hand with a finger, but his eyes were on hers. "I want to take care of you, Maya. I want to protect you, and make sure nothing like this ever happens to you again. I don’t want to lose you, not to anything. So I guess what I’m actually asking is..." He slid off the side of the bed and went to one knee, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. "Will you marry me?"

xXxXx

Maya savored the warmth that rose in her chest at the memory. Definitely Patronus material. Even if I don’t remember much from the next few minutes except a lot of squealing and crying, and Fred looking in from the hall with that big stupid grin on his face...

As if thinking of him had summoned him, Fred’s voice echoed down the corridor, distance and quiet making it almost inaudible. Maya concentrated, focusing her mind on the words. She wanted to be able to understand what she could hear now.

A moment later, she did understand, and her heart shrank within her.

I should have known it was too good to be true.

I should have known it would have to end before it began.

Lee stirred beside her, as though he could sense her fear. "Maya?" he mumbled. "Whassgoin’ on?"

"My parents," Maya whispered, starting to tremble again. "They’re here. They’ve come for me."

"Come for—" Lee sat up, his eyes hardening to chips of petrified wood. "Over my dead body."

Fred stuck his head in the door. "Trade," he mouthed to Lee, whisking a finger rapidly back and forth. "She wants you out there."

"She?" Maya repeated numbly, her mind still vibrating to the pulse of fear. The proper pureblood response to a child who’d been turned by a werewolf was swift and permanent. She’d heard the stories all her life, but never thought they’d come true for anyone she knew, much less for her.

"Healer Freeman-Black." Fred stepped into the room as Lee hurried out. "Don’t worry, Maya. She’s not about to let them get through. Trust me. I’ve seen the lady at work, and she is impressive." He sat down on the bed and grinned at her, the famous freckle-faced Weasley grin, and Maya felt her spirits rise a little in relucant response. "Your so-called parents won’t know what hit them."

"I hope so," Maya breathed, staring at the door and sharpening her ears. "I truly, truly hope so..."

xXxXx

"My name is Magnus Pritchard, and I demand to see my daughter at once!" the tall, thin, dark-haired wizard said imperiously. His gold-skinned wife in her tightly wrapped blue robes nodded twice in affirmation.

Aletha crossed her arms and looked down her nose at the wizard, despite his height advantage. Her years of practice with Sirius helped, as did the supporting presence of Lee Jordan (whom she suspected was forcing himself not to harm the witch and wizard in front of him) at her elbow. "I am Healer Aletha Freeman-Black," she responded in her calmest tone, "and I must ask you to lower your voice, Mr. Pritchard. This is a hospital, and it is very late. You’re disturbing the patients."

"I will lower my voice when you tell me where my daughter is!" Pritchard snapped back.

"She’s in the ward at the end of this hall," Aletha said. "The Ward for Serious Bites. It’s how we classify cases such as hers."

"Ha!" Pritchard spat out the exclamation. "So she was bitten, then?"

"Yes, she was bitten once on the upper left arm. She also had several scratches to her arms and legs, but thankfully none to her face, and they’re all responding well to treatment..."

Pritchard waved this aside. "You have the authority for discharges, I take it, Healer?" The tone made Aletha’s title half an insult.

"I have that authority, yes, but I’m not inclined to use it at the moment." Aletha made a quick hand motion towards Lee before remembering that he wasn’t Pack and wouldn’t understand, but he stopped grinding his teeth in any case. Perhaps Harry had introduced a few of the hand signs to the DA, or perhaps Lee was simply quick on the uptake. "Maya needs at least two days strict bed rest, and then two or three weeks without much stress, to keep her first transformation from being more of a shock than it must. Counseling with a werewolf who’s adjusted well to his or her new lifestyle can also help—we have a file of volunteer counselors if you’d care to look..."

"We won’t need any of that," said Mrs. Pritchard, speaking for the first time. Her voice was shrill and grating. "Just discharge... her into our care and we’ll be on our way."

"It is my responsibility as a Healer to be sure my patients receive the best possible care," Aletha said, still using the tones she employed to keep the cubs from each other’s throats on rainy summer days even as her instincts shrieked at her to chase these predators away from a member of her foals’ chosen herd. "If you wouldn’t mind telling me how you plan to help Maya through this transition, which is often very difficult..."

"We would mind, as it happens," said Pritchard, staring at her with his nose wrinkled. "Maya is our responsibility, Healer Freeman... Black." The second half of her name was sneered, to the point where there was no longer any doubt it was an insult. "Not yours."

"I beg to differ, Mr. Pritchard. Maya is my patient; therefore, she is my reponsibility as long as she remains on hospital grounds."

"So we’ll take it off your hands, off hospital grounds!" Mrs. Pritchard said impatiently. "Free you up for more important cases—I’m sure you have many!"

Aletha stopped herself from taking a step back. She can’t actually have said... I’m sure it was just a slip of the tongue...

"I’m sorry, Mrs. Pritchard, but I think I must have heard you wrong," she said after a moment. "Did you refer to your daughter as it?"

Mrs. Pritchard emitted a breathy sigh and threw up her hands. "You deal with her!" she snapped at her husband. "I’m going up to the tearoom—if it’s even open at this Merlin-forsaken hour!"

Aletha took advantage of the moment Mr. Pritchard was occupied with his wife to pull Lee aside. "Go back to the ward," she told him. "Send Fred out here."

"But—"

"Go back to the ward." Aletha left no space for argument, and after a moment spent reading her eyes, Lee turned and hurried down the hall.

Aletha returned her attention to Magnus Pritchard, who had stepped closer to her while she wasn’t looking. "Healer Freeman-Black," he said in a more conversational tone. "I know that you are... that you were not raised in a magical household. You may, therefore, be unaware of some of the less pleasant facts about the wizarding world. I could wish I were not the one to tell you this, but so it must be."

"Please do enlighten me, Mr. Pritchard." Aletha heard and felt Fred arrive behind her, maintaining the effective blockage of the hall.

Pritchard sighed. "There’s no doubt at all that the bite took effect?"

"I’m afraid not. However, with proper treatment and help..."

"You see, this is what I mean." Pritchard shook his head. "Talking about treatment, and help... Healer, there is no effective treatment for lycanthropy. And even if someone was willing to help a werewolf, he’d be more likely to lose a hand or an arm than to do any good!" He looked down, his eyes starting to glisten. "As much as it grieves me to say this, Healer, my daughter died the moment she was bitten. What’s left in that ward may look and act like her, but it is a vicious beast just waiting for the proper moment to strike. For the good of everyone, please, let me take it home and put it down humanely. It’s the only thing to do in these cases."

Fred choked twice, then got himself under control. "I think I need a drink of water," he said unsteadily. Aletha nodded and waved him down the hall behind her, most of her attention being devoted to Magnus Pritchard.

No, he doesn’t believe what he’s saying, she decided. He’s too intelligent, too well-educated to truly believe werewolves lose all humanity the instant they’re bitten. But then why...

The answer came to her suddenly. She needed no acting skills to widen her eyes in horror, though her words were pure fiction. "In these cases—do you mean all lycanthropes, Mr. Pritchard? All werewolves?"

"I’m afraid so, Healer," Pritchard said solemnly. "It’s an inevitable effect of the infection. They’re very clever beasts, and they retain the memories of their former selves for a time, so they can mimic human behavior for weeks, even months at a time. But sooner or later, they lose control while they’re in the human shape in the same way they do as the wolf, and after that..." He looked away again. "I saw the aftermath of an incident once," he said. "A ten-year-old boy who’d been bitten three months previously. He’d managed to keep himself under control for the intervening time, his parents had such hopes... and then one day he simply snapped. By the time the Werewolf Responders got there, he’d killed both parents, his younger sister, and himself. I’ll spare you the gory details."

Because obviously a Healer, who works with blood and death on a regular basis, can’t handle them. Or perhaps because you’ve made this all up on the spur of the moment and don’t want to contradict yourself later. "Thank you," Aletha murmured. "That’s good of you."

"Not at all." Pritchard looked at her quizzically. "No offense intended, but I would have thought your husband..."

"He has his own viewpoint on the issue," Aletha said. Which happens to be the same as mine, but I won’t tell you that. Especially not if you’re playing the game I think you are. But the question is, how can I get you to admit it out loud, and in front of witnesses?

"Ah, I see." Pritchard nodded briskly. "Well, Healer Freeman-Black, I don’t want to take up too much more of your valuable time, so now that you understand the situation, if my wife and I might just collect Maya and be on our way..."

"I only wish it were that easy," Aletha said regretfully. Because if it were, I’d have had her out of here and back at Headquarters hours ago. "Unfortunately, before we can let any patient go, we have to finish the basic diagnostic tests to be sure the patient won’t die in the process of leaving hospital. We tend to frown on that." She smiled self-deprecatingly, inviting Pritchard to share the joke, and he obligingly chuckled.

Excellent. He doesn’t know how we really work. Now, to stall for the time I’ll need...

"I’ll try to get the process expedited," Aletha went on glibly. "In the meantime, though I’m afraid the tearoom upstairs is closed, may I offer you and your wife the hospitality of the staff lounge? I don’t think you’ll have more than a half hour’s wait, and I’ll be sure to tell you if it will be significantly longer or shorter than that."

"Why, thank you, Healer!" Pritchard smiled for the first time since Aletha’d seen him. "On my own behalf, and likely Reshmi’s as well, I accept—could you direct me there, and have someone leave word for her when she returns? It won’t be long, I’m sure."

"Of course. If you’ll follow me." Aletha allowed her feet to trace the well-known path to the staff lounge and her mouth to engage in meaningless small talk. Her mind was racing, tracking down exactly what she’d have to do.

Confirm one of my hunches first. If I’m right, let the appropriate amount of time pass with the correct influences. Then, if Maya’s amenable, try out my other suspicion, but be sure to have plenty of strong and well-armed witnesses on my side...

Pritchard safely delivered and a message passed via portrait to his wife, Aletha set off back to the ward, ready to test out her hypothesis.

If it is true, wouldn’t it revolutionize the way lycanthropy is treated?

Then she snorted at her optimism. It would, if anyone could be bothered to care. Werewolves have such a bad name that most people would think speeding their journey into darkness is a good thing. They’re doomed anyway, so get it over with quickly, don’t prolong the agony...

Something small and speedy zoomed past her, then screeched to a halt several meters away and raced back, revealing itself to be a black-haired girl of about five or six. "Are you Meghan Black’s mum?" she demanded, looking up at Aletha.

"Yes, I am." Aletha held out her hand, which was gravely shaken. "My name is Healer Freeman-Black. What’s yours?"

"Bernadette, but everybody calls me Bernie. My brother knows Meghan."

"And what might your brother’s name be?"

"Bernie?" called a boy’s voice from around the corner. "Where are—oh, there you are," he finished as he came into view.

"Hello, Graham," Aletha said, smiling with real pleasure. She’d met her daughter’s Slytherin friend once or twice at King’s Cross, and knew him well through Meghan’s rambling letters and stories, as well as Harry’s over the latter part of this term just past. "Come to see Maya?"

"Yes. How is she?" Graham shook Aletha’s hand as well. "Was she really..." He made a biting motion with his free hand.

"I’m afraid so," Aletha said with a sigh. "But she wasn’t hurt badly otherwise, and I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you." A small, wicked thought occurred to her, and she immediately acted on it. "Are your parents here, by chance?"

"They’re coming." Graham pointed to the way he’d arrived. "What about Uncle Magnus and Aunt Reshmi? Are they here?"

"Maya’s parents? Yes, they’re here."

"I don’t like them," Bernie announced.

"Bernie!" Graham hissed at his sister. "Manners!"

"Well, I don’t." Bernie pouted. "They don’t like Mummy and they make fun of Daddy and they’re not nice to Maya. Why can’t Maya come and stay with us?"

Graham gave Aletha a significant look Slytherins twice his age might have been proud of.

"Why don’t you ask your mum and dad that, after I get a chance to talk with them?" Aletha suggested, starting to smile. "I think you might like the answer. But right now, your cousin’s waiting for you. It’s late, so we need to stay quiet. Follow me, please."

Graham and Bernie fell in line behind her obediently. Aletha suppressed a laugh. If only the cubs were half so good... no, to be fair to them, when it mattered they were good, but at other times they had this habit of creatively reinterpreting instructions...

She led the Pritchards to the door of the ward, asked them to wait outside for their parents to arrive, and let herself in. Lee, Maya, and Fred looked up as she entered. "Are they here?" Maya asked, glancing at the door with a mixture of apprehension, hope, and panic.

"Since there are several ‘they’s involved here, you’ll have to define your terms further." Aletha shooed Fred out of the way and sat down on the edge of the bed where he’d been. "And I need to run a quick check on you. Right hand, please?"

Maya sighed but extended it. Aletha took it in her own and ran her wand along Maya’s little finger. Commonstro salubritas animum, she thought clearly.

Colors winked into being around Maya. Her overall aura was a golden orange, with angry red slashes where the werewolf’s claws had scored her and a grey web spreading outwards from the bite on her upper arm. Most of her body was already covered by the strands of grey, but some strands were thicker than others, and very few of them were wide enough to touch other strands between their intersection points.

Now to see if I’m right.

"Your parents are here, Maya," Aletha said, holding her wand steady in the observation position. "Your father seems to feel you should be discharged to his care."

"No," Maya blurted instantly, trying to pull her hand away. "No, please, no, he’ll hurt me, he’ll kill me, don’t let him—"

"I don’t plan to let anyone hurt you," said Aletha absently, holding Maya’s hand firmly. The spell was showing her the growth of the grey web—the ‘curse’ portion of lycanthropy, if what Luna had told her before she’d left for St. Mungo’s was correct—and as she’d suspected, the strands which had grown during Maya’s momentary panic were thicker and darker than the ones they had sprouted from.

Now for the opposite effect. "Your cousins are also here, and your aunt and uncle should have arrived by now. Lee, would you mind letting them in?"

Maya perked up instantly, craning her neck towards the door as Lee hurried over and opened it. Bernie flung herself inside, followed closely by Graham, a thin and worried-looking witch, a wizard only slightly taller than his wife, and George Weasley, who grinned and winked at his twin. Aletha chuckled to herself—Marauding in a good cause, but don’t worry, gentlemen, I won’t tell anyone—and turned back to Maya.

The strands of web were still growing, but this new section was made of spider-thin lines, almost invisible. Much more of the orange-gold showed through this web than in the previous section.

And wait—no—yes. Yes, they are.

The original, thicker lines were beginning to shrink.

Aletha released Maya’s hand. Sometimes you get lucky. Luckier than you deserve.

Now, depending on the answer to one simple question, I think I know how I can bring this off.

A moment of maneuvering got her into a corner with the two adult Pritchards. Introductions were made—Graham’s father, Parvus, went by Par, and his wife Favonia was always Voni—then Aletha asked her one simple question.

"What are your intentions regarding Maya?"

Par and Voni looked at each other. "Well, her parents would never allow what we’d like to do," Voni began hesitantly.

"For the purposes of the question, her parents are not an issue." Possibly in real life, her parents are not an issue. But let that go for the moment. "Your teenage niece is now a werewolf. What will you do?"

"Give her a home and a family," Par said, meeting Aletha’s eyes steadily. "Get her the Wolfsbane Potion for full moons if possible, or a safe place to transform and medical care afterwards if not."

"Remind her that lycanthropy is not all there is to her," Voni added. "Encourage her to make friends and keep the ones she has. Keep her in school if we possibly could, or train her at home if that became necessary..."

Aletha held up a hand to slow the tide of words. "And she knows that you would do this for her, doesn’t she?"

"She does," said Par, nodding. "We’ve told her for years that if she ever needed a safe place to go, she could come to us. But while her parents have been strict, they’ve never been insane." He scowled, looking at Maya, who had Bernie on her lap and was playing a clapping game with her. "Until now."

"Par, don’t say that," Voni reproved. "We have no evidence, nothing..."

"To suggest what?" asked Aletha quickly.

Par sighed. "Maya is a strong-willed young lady," he said. "Her parents wanted a milk-and-water maiden who would do as she was told and marry where she was bid, for the good of our sacred pureblood race." His last few words were a sneer. "I have no doubt she was chosen to be an example of the price of disobedience. As Graham was, not so long ago." He regarded his son for a long moment, then looked back at Aletha. "I gave in to blackmail once. I will never do it again."

"I think we’ll get along well together," said Aletha, allowing herself the sort of smile that generally frightened Sirius into apologizing even when he didn’t know what he’d done wrong yet. "Now, this is what I have in mind..."

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Author Notes:

And what is "this"? Well, feed the author with lovely reviews and she shall attempt to keep up her current rate of updates so that you can find out quickly!