(OOC Note: This snapshot is written from the perspective of Fauna's mother, after the werewolf attack at the Ministry, where Fauna is injured and then sent to St. Mungo's).


The owl had come late that evening, urgently pecking at the window. Catherine had spent a few minutes staring at the letter, and then had written back in a shaky scrawl, telling the Ministry that yes, she wanted someone to take her to her daughter at St. Mungo's right away. Why would they even think otherwise? She'd waited on the porch for the Ministry escort, knowing her own mother was already asleep, and unwilling to wake her. Catherine didn't want to worry her. She could face whatever it was as long as Fauna was alive.

It was the first time she'd apparated, and in her near-panicked state she'd almost thrown up on the Muggle Liason, who had reassured her that the reaction was normal. Catherine didn't care. She just wanted to see her daughter. It was the full moon. Fauna was supposed to be at the Ministry on some ridiculous charge. What had gone wrong?

Her stomach dropped as she hurried through the halls, past the lime-green robes, past one unlucky witch on a stretcher with claw marks on her face that went to the bone. Catherine looked away quickly, breathing hard. Claw marks.

Please, let her be safe and healthy. She repeated the mantra in her head as she reached the door, flung it open, and stepped inside, trying to mentally prepare herself for anything behind the curtain.

Catherine let the door shut and stood there for a moment, frozen. Now that she could finally see her, she was afraid to.

"Hello?"

The voice was raw, almost a whisper, but Fauna's. Catherine rushed forward and swept past the curtain, finding Fauna in bed, face pale, eyes shadowed, hair mussed. They made eye contact. Fauna's eyes widened, her mouth trembled. Catherine stood by the edge of the bed, just looking at her, horrified and yet grateful she was here, intact. Catherine fought the sudden urge to throw back the bed covers and make sure she had all her limbs.

"Mum?" Fauna's voice broke and her face crumpled. She started to half-sit up in bed, reach her arms out. Catherine moved forward and hugged her as gently as she could, while Fauna sobbed in her ear.

"Sweetie, are you hurt? Does it hurt?" Catherine lifted up one of Fauna's arms, inspected for injuries.

"I'm just-" Another sob. "I don't know why I'm crying!"

As she held her, Catherine was grateful that Fauna couldn't see the tears streaming down her own cheeks, though she was sure her voice betrayed some emotion. "Shhh. Cry all you want. Everything is going to be alright. I'm here."

She stroked her hair and let her cry, opening her mouth every once in a while to ask how she'd been hurt and what had happened, then shutting it. She'd find out soon. She could wait a few minutes. It had been so long since Fauna had bawled like this, held out her arms to her. It was both frightening and familiar, reminding Catherine of when Fauna had been younger. Even just a few years ago. How much she had changed since then.

Finally, the sobs quieted, and Catherine slowly pulled back, cradling Fauna's face in her hands and inspecting for injuries there, too. Just tears. Just a red nose. She reached back behind her and successfully plucked a tissue, then started wiping at her face.

"Mum," Fauna protested weakly, taking the tissue out of her hands and dabbing at her eyes. "You need one too," Fauna tilted her head at the tissue box on the table, giving her an amused look through the tears.

"Allergies!" She sniffed, happy to see an upward twitch to Fauna's mouth.

Catherine's face turned serious as she glanced over the lump underneath the covers, a part of her still paranoid that Fauna had lost a leg. "Tell me. What happened? Where are you hurt?"

Fauna hesitated, and then moved slightly so that her back was towards her. Catherine saw bandages underneath the hospital gown.

"It's not bad," Fauna said quickly. "It's... you know, scratches. I'll just sleep on my side for a few days."

The sudden image of the witch out on the stretcher intruded her thoughts and her face paled.

"There's just going to be some scarring," Fauna continued in a voice that trembled slightly. "But it could have--"

"Scarring?" Catherine interrupted. "Didn't they give you stitches? How many do you have?" She wished she could see the damage. "Can I see it?" She asked, tone more impatient than she'd intended.

"Um..." Fauna shifted and faced her again. "It's not that bad," she repeated. "I just need to keep the bandages on. There's going to be scarring because it's... werewolf claws do... a lot of damage. Like it doesn't heal well. But-"

"Did they give you stitches or not?"

"No, Mum-"

"What!"

"They don't-- it's different! They don't do stitches. They do other things that are like stitches!" Fauna was getting visibly flustered now, and Catherine took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

"I'll take you to a muggle hospital," she told her slowly, in her 'I know best' voice. Fauna wasn't getting proper medical care. Anger began to rise up, anger at seeing her like this, suffering when she should be safe.

"No!" Fauna burst out, then winced. "It doesn't-- it's not going to be any better! They don't know how to handle a werewolf attack, Mum! It's-- just trust me! It's better if I stay here. The Healers know what they're doing. You don't."

Catherine was unable to mask her affronted expression, and shook her head, sitting in the chair at Fauna's bedside. Guilt flickered across Fauna's face.

"I don't mean... can you please, just... leave it be?"

Catherine remained silent and rested her head in one hand. She wanted to take Fauna away and put her in a safe bubble somewhere. It felt absolutely degrading and frustrating that she didn't know what to do to help her, didn't understand how these Healers worked.

"Mum. Mum?"

She held up a hand to quiet her, and let out a deep sigh. Catherine was about to say something, anything to break the silence, when a Healer popped her head in the door and said she needed to check up on Fauna. Catherine remained quiet as the Healer moved around the room, watching her adjust the bandages, give Fauna something to drink from a vial, and reassure her that she would be fine. Before the Healer left, Catherine pulled her aside for a moment, asking her to explain what the scratches meant and what they were doing to heal them. Though she used some terms that Catherine didn't understand, she felt just a little bit better after the conversation, and was able to look at Fauna's injuries with less panic and fear.

She sank in the chair again when the Healer left the room, and she and Fauna looked at each other for a few minutes in silence.

"Is there anything I can do?" Catherine sounded pleading.

"Just... being here. You being here, is good."

Catherine nodded, wishing she could scoop her up and heal her with a kiss on the cheek. She wasn't here for her enough.

"Can you tell me what happened? How this happened?" Catherine asked after a moment.

Fauna swallowed and nodded. "Well, today was when I was supposed to be at the Ministry so they could make sure I wasn't a werewolf, you know?"

Catherine nodded, remembering.

"And so, I took the wolfsbane potion, and we all got into our cells, and they all started to transform. But I didn't, of course. 'Cause, well... and then Bagnold came down to let me out because I didn't transform. But--"

Fauna put her hand over her mouth and shook her head.

"A werewolf got out." She told her, eyes wide, filling with tears again. "I don't know how it happened, but right after Bagnold let me out of the cell, the werewolf came at us."

Bitter anger welled up in Catherine again. How inept were they, that they hadn't secured the place? And her daughter had paid for it.

"Mum," her voice broke. Catherine's face softened and she moved forward to hold her hand. "It was... Greyfriar. The werewolf was Greyfriar." Fauna started crying again. "I don't know if he's okay now. Where he is. I don't know. But why'd it have to be him?"

Even as she comforted her, the name caught on her memory and pulled. "Greyfriar. Your former Headmaster?"

"Yeah."

"Why--" her face turned stony, and she was unable to finish that sentence.

Fauna looked up. "It's not, well... he didn't mean to."

She sucked in a breath, "I don't care if he meant to. You got hurt. You could have died."

"But--"

"I know. You've told me what werewolves are like when they transform. I still don't like it. I'm still angry, Fauna. Not at you," she reassured her, patting her hand. "Them. They should have protected you. None of this should have happened. This Bagnold, and Greyfriar, they need to face consequences--"

"Mum!" Fauna protested.

"I can't just brush this off," Catherine warned her. "They didn't protect you. They didn't do their jobs. I couldn't be there for you then. I let this all... escalate."

She sighed, looking weary. "At the very least I can raise a fuss, and I will. I understand that you feel embarrassed, that you wish I'd just leave it alone."

Fauna opened her mouth, and shut it again.

"But I have to do something." She gave Fauna's hand a gentle squeeze.

Her daughter was quiet for a long moment. "I can take care of it myself, Mum," she gave her a glare that was weakened by the brightness of her eyes. Catherine's heart broke to hear that.

"I can handle it. You don't think I can, that I'm still a baby, but I'm not. You're just going to make it worse. You can't, you know, just fight my battles for me. I'm going to have to get used to this, and you are too, because--"

"What do you mean I'm going to have to get used to this?" Catherine butt in sharply, drawing back from the bed a little.

"I... just," Fauna put a hand to her forehead. "I'm going to graduate soon! I'm an adult! I have to... this is just how it's going to be," Fauna said so firmly, so resolutely, that Catherine let go of her hand and stared at her.

"Who put these barmy ideas into your head! You are eighteen years old, Fauna. Eighteen! You may be of age, but that doesn't mean you are prepared to handle getting attacked like this. You talk like you..." she threw up her hands. "Expect it to happen!"

Fauna glanced away, silent.

"No. I won't accept it." Catherine finally told her, crossing her arms.

"Fine!" Fauna wouldn't look at her, but Catherine could hear the hitch in her voice. "Have fun not accepting it, Mum! Thanks for being so supportive!"

Catherine needed to get out of this room. Just for a few minutes. She didn't want to upset Fauna, especially while she was in pain, and they both felt so emotional.

"I'm going to get us some tea," she muttered, heading for the door. "I'll be back in a few."

Her hand touched the doorknob.

"Mum."

She looked back.

"You forgot the... the, you know. Wizarding money." Fauna's face turned red, and so did Catherine's at the reminder. She stood by the door, blinking at her. Fauna mumbled something about it being in her bookbag.

Agonizing seconds ticked by, both of them feeling mortified and upset by something that seemed so inconsequential in comparison to the attack that had happened earlier. It took Catherine a few moments to find the coin pouch that Fauna was talking about, and she left the room feeling low, like she was taking money from her own daughter. It was just another example of what she couldn't do for her.

Everything she knew about this world, she got from Fauna, or from the Prophet, the newspaper she barely understood. Their unique vocabulary, the people and faces, the events and procedures, rarely made sense to her. Fauna had told her once in a fit of anger that it was a "hassle" to sit down and try to explain the Wizarding World. That Catherine just needed to trust her to tell her the important bits. It was a hassle for the Wizarding World, the people assigned to muggles, to explain these things too. They tried to cover what was most important, like Fauna getting her letter, how school worked, how someone could get murdered on the school grounds. Catherine's mother (Fauna's grandmother) even made an amusing little game out of it, picking unfamiliar words in the day's paper and sending them in to the Muggle Relations Department of the Ministry, just to see how they defined what 'flushing yourself' meant or how a Wizard's Chess tournament played out. One Ministry worker always regularly wrote back. But understanding the vocabulary wasn't enough for Catherine. She wanted to be there for Fauna.

She shook the disappointment away as she reached the small cafeteria and paid for two teas at the counter. She had to trust that the clerk took the right amount of sickles and other coins. She had to trust that the Healers knew what they were doing. Catherine had no other choice. Yet she'd trusted the Ministry and Hogwarts to look after her daughter, and they had failed. They'd let her get attacked, ripped to shreds.

When Catherine returned to Fauna's hospital room, her anger, sadness, and frustration hadn't abated. She merely held out the cup to her, taking care to make sure Fauna could hold it herself before moving away. Catherine paced the room, sipping tea.

She, the mother, was the one who was supposed to offer guidance. The professors, the Healer from the hospital hut, and the other adults Fauna talked about so frequently were supposed to be important, but not paramount. Catherine felt like Fauna had matured into a young woman without any of Catherine's input or say-so. A lovely young woman, to be sure. But barely recognizable at times. Fauna was acting like it was her responsibility to push on from the werewolf attack without complaint, with a disturbing sort of acceptance. The way Fauna talked scared her so badly.

Catherine looked over at her and froze. Fauna was crying silently, holding up the teacup to hide most of her face. Catherine went towards her and sat on the very edge of the bed, gently taking the cup from her hands.

"You know I'm proud of you," Catherine told her softly, realizing it had been too long since she had said it out loud. "I'm so proud of you. Bravely fighting for werewolf rights. Surviving two werewolf attacks," the slightest trace of bitter laughter tinged her voice.

Fauna looked down at her hands, had gone very quiet and still.

"I just want to protect you. It kills me to see you hurting. You're my baby girl," she sniffled. "I'll always see you as my youngest. You'll understand that, someday."

She set down her own teacup next to Fauna's and looked at Fauna's hands, but didn't reach out for her yet. "I know you want to be grown up. That you've grown so much already. And your new confidence, well, it makes you want to prove something. To keep that up. To show how strong you are."

Catherine paused.

"But you will always be strong. No matter what happens. No matter what you do. You'll be strong and brave in whatever you decide to do in this life, and compassionate and kind. That's in you. It's a part of who you are." She rested her hands lightly on her shoulders. "That will never go away."

Catherine's eyes filled with tears again as she bent to kiss her forehead. "I love you, and I believe in you, and that will never change either. No matter what happens, no matter what you do."

Fauna looked up at her, sniffled, and rested her head on her arm.

"Just let me help you sometimes. It's okay to let me help you," her voice broke at the last word, and Fauna wrapped her arms around her gingerly. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other, like they had when Catherine had first arrived.

Her daughter rested her head on her shoulder, sniffling every once in a while, but no longer outright sobbing. Catherine was more worried about herself breaking down and blubbering. The feeling was foreign. It was like she was comforting Fauna's older sister Moira, who she'd always treated as the mature, responsible daughter, the one who was supposed to be helpful and calm.

"It wasn't just me who got attacked today," Fauna said suddenly. Catherine pulled back and looked at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, well..." Fauna hesitated. "There was this... outbreak. It was really weird. Werewolves started attacking people during the daytime. We don't know why. But that's why... I mean, I think that's why things were a little hectic at the Ministry and why they weren't as well staffed. It's just... they were dealing with an emergency the whole day. So I wasn't the only one. I'm not the only one who got caught up in it."

Catherine was quiet. "Is this... attached to SAWS? Would someone have done this to--"

"No," Fauna said firmly, shock widening her eyes. "Not over some silly student group. They don't take us seriously enough for that."

"Well, they took things seriously enough to get you mixed up in false charges, damaging rumors," Catherine muttered dryly.

"That was students just.... being dumb." Fauna looked embarrassed.

Catherine's mouth thinned, but she said nothing. SAWS. The group she viewed with equal amounts of suspicion and pride. Ollie was the person who had convinced her, just by being herself, that werewolves were worth fighting for. Yet Catherine was beginning to learn that not all werewolves were like gentle Ollie, and no cause was worth her daughter getting mauled, nearly killed, over. She'd never once told Fauna 'no, don't try this', or discouraged her from something she cared about, but Catherine didn't want to lose her. She planned on telling her as much. Later, when she could speak without crying.

Painting was safe. Music was safe. Why couldn't Fauna do something with that? Catherine feared that these adults and professors Fauna spoke of so positively were putting ideas in her head with no regard as to what would happen if Fauna failed, or lost her life to them.

On a night like tonight, Catherine could only focus on the bad, on the flashes of sadness, the feeling of losing her, the doubts that crept up whenever she let herself relax and sit still. All these worries came rushing to the forefront of her mind, took root there, consumed her thoughts.

She glanced at her daughter, studying her tired face.

"Fauna?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to stay here tonight," Catherine told her, expecting and dreading Fauna to argue with her. She'd slept in uncomfortable hospital chairs before. It was a small thing, but she could do that much.

Fauna paused. "Okay." Seconds ticked by. "Thanks."

Relief flooded her. "I'm your mother, remember. It's what I'm supposed to do," she gave her a small, sad smile, and kissed her on the cheek.