"Um, excuse me? Sorry," I said, holding my hands close to my body in a tentatively as I approached the woman with a hopeful smile. "Do you know where there's a toilet nearby?"
I was taken aback by expression on the stranger's face. She was younger than me, I think, but Christ she was beautiful. There was not a pin out of place in her perfectly coiffed hair, which was artfully styled with curls in a classic, sophisticated style. I knew nothing about wealth, or more specifically how to spot it, but if this woman was middle-class then she knew how to fake it, because she just screamed 'heiress'. Holy cow- who did their makeup that perfectly just to go for a walk? She didn't have any shopping with her, just a tiny, shiny bag that could barely hold a lipstick, and her hair didn't ruffle as the wind passed. That was a lot of hairspray.
It was immediately apparent to me that I'd made a mistake in trying to talk to her. The woman looked as though she wouldn't be out of place with a bodyguard, but there was more to my trepidation. She turned her head, just her neck as though she couldnt be bothered with her whole body just to me, and at once I could feel her disgust. I recoiled, my face going from inquisitive to blandly polite. It was my retail face. I waited for an answer- I was not going to receive one. She turned her head very specifically away, and I saw her cherubic lips form the words "Beskidte mudder blod*." Yeah, forget this. That was definitely not English, but any assumptions I might have made about her not understanding were annihilated by her tone.
"Okay, never mind," I mumbled, turning away to go search for a bathroom on my own. I could have kept asking, but I was bizarrely hurt by the tone that the woman had spoken to me in. The old saying 'I wouldnt give them the time of day' sprung to mind, and with a look I had been brought low. She'd ruined my confidence in speaking to others, at least for the moment. I was probably going to tell my mother about the incident so we could harrumph over the rudeness of strangers, but this brief encounter was going to stay with me, all for a look that I didn't deserve.
It wasnt far from my house in Papanui to get to the mountains that ringed Christchurch, but you still had to drive unless you were a masochist. It was the first time I had experienced snow in Winter, and it was magnificent, but everyone insisted it would get old very fast. How could it, when I had been dreaming of a white birthday since I was a kid? Either way, it was only May and there was nothing but frost, so my husband and I had headed up into the rocky terrain to have a holiday and catch our death. Charlie noped right out of the hike very quickly, which was strange. I feel like we had reversed roles for a day. I hate walking. I think he was coming down with something, so I left him snuggled up in the hotel room and went for walkies.
The hotel backed right into scrubby hinterland and then into forest, which I was also unfamiliar with. Australian forest did not count, at least around where I used to live. I was wearing sneakers, jeans, and a big woolly coat, because I am a complete scrub and I never hike. It was bitterly cold, and snow started to crunch underfoot as I made my way further up the dark, pine-carpeted hillside.
So far this holiday had had a lot less to do with shopping, arcades and beachside than our usual holidays did, but I think this is what we both preferred. That was why we had moved to New Zealand, after all; the NZ plebs still complained when it got up to twenty-seven degrees Celsius, and we laughed and laughed and put our jackets on because a top of twenty-seven was a nice Autumn in Brisbane.
I have a lot of fluffy hair, so I didnt reckon Id need a hat or earmuffs, but it was very windy through the densely packed trees, which is very weird and very twilight-zone, to me. My hands went into my jacket pockets and I shivered with delight at the chill even while contemplating going back. Checked my phone; 14pm. Eh, might as well keep going. My sneakers were wet. Im an idiot, I thought mildly, sitting down on a fallen tree to rub my toes. A lion went past.
Hold up a second.
I was chilled right to my very core, and it had nothing to do with the weather. Mirages in the desert were all well and good, but why a lion in tropical/tundra New Zealand? Couldnt my brain have picked something at least remotely believable? But there it was, watching me as it paused on its lumbering journey, icy blue eyes keeping me immobile. It was less than five meters away and partially obscured by a pine tree, but it was a white lion, and it was colossal.
Of course, Id seen lions in the zoo before, quite close in fact, but even I knew that this apparition was bigger than most. I was subconsciously cataloguing my own hallucination into the uncanny valley because it was so real, and yet just unreal enough to be uncomfortable. If, perhaps, I was indeed looking at a zoo lion that had somehow escaped and made its way up to this cold mountainside, the chances of it being a rare white lion that was note an albino (those eyes) were slim to none. I knew of a white lion this big, but for Gods sake, it was in Slovakia.
I may not have believed my eyes, but my body had gone into complete prey mode, and I was silent and still, every hair on my body standing on end. I think I stopped breathing. No chance that the lion hadnt seen me- it was still looking- and I knew enough about big cats to know that if it decided it was hungry, or even just wanted to say hi, I was ******. Even if I could make a run for it or climb a tree, it was faster than me over short distances and it climbed better than I could. Maybe ten years ago I could have made a go at climbing before it ate me, but I was so squishy now.
I must have let out a noise so high it was sub-audible to me, because it took something as a trigger (I swear I hadnt moved) and padded over to smell me. The enormous feline puts its nose into my neck and went whuff, whuff, whuff, and I whimper-sobbed. The lion backed away. I may or may not have let loose my bladder, because it wrinkled its nose and became a person.
This was still terrifying, but it seemed to have triggered fight or flight mode, because I scrambled backwards off of the fallen log and sobbed Jesus Christ, why?!
Im so sorry! said the man, holding up his hands placatingly as he knelt in the snow.
I burst into tears, and the man approached me, which made me cry harder.
No please, its alright, Im sorry, he said in a rush. I was just passing through, no need to worry, but I thought you were sitting because you were sick or lost, and I figured I could smell sickness better if I was- Oh Merlin, Im so stupid.
Yes, you are! I sobbed. Who even turns into a lion?
I- He paused. Well, I actually turned into a man, from where you were standing, I only turned into a lion earlier- Oh please dont cry, thats not relevant, Im sorry.
I was hyperventilating and struggling to regain control of myself, fishing tissues out of my pockets (I always have tissues) to dab away the tears that kept on coming.
Im sorry, Im sorry, I cried, blowing my nose with a honk, You really, really scared me,
I know! half wailed the not-lion dude, But why arent you asking me how I was a lion?
Ill get to that, I replied wetly. Hoooonk.
While I rubbed my eyes, I took a long, dubious look at the man who had been a lion, and to be honest, Id thought that a shapeshifter would look a lot more like their animal form. He looked very small, getting his knees wet in the light snow, and had a lot of curly brown hair. Maybe that was lion-like in its own way, but he looked more like he needed a haircut than anything else. He was nut-brown and very well built, in a skinny sort of way, and considering that hed made me use up stock of my limited underwear supply on holiday, he could just lump it. He certainly looked very sorry, wringing his hands as he was and squishing his bushy eyebrows together. It actually made me want to apologise to him, which was just such crap, I cant even.
Are you okay now? asked Not-Lion tentatively.
No, I sniffed back, shoving soggy tissues into my pocket. Are you a shapeshifter? Or a Werelion?
The man blinked at me. No, my name is Greg.
Youre serious.
Yes?
Are you an animagus?
Greg looked torn, wringing his hands again, and seriously, were wizards actually a thing? Cause if they were, they were really sh!t, and abused their ability to Obliviate way too much. Oh God, thats why he was so upset- he was going to Obliviate me.
My face crumpled, and Greg fussed mightily in a very obvious I-want-to-approach-to-offer-comfort-but-I-might-get-tasered kind of way.
Why? I said brokenly, and Greg-not-lion made a wounded noise.
Im sorry! Its the law. And Im not even a registered animagus so I really, really need to Obliviate you, but itll just be for like, five minutes of time and then youll be a-okay.
I cried a bit longer and allowed him to hand me a handkerchief, which I abused simply because who owns handkerchiefs anymore? Jesus, it even had G.Y. embroidered onto it. I got it nice and snotty and handed it back, and Not-Lion didnt even flinch when putting it back into his pocket.
Well, I said into the brief silence as I rubbed my eyes, Can we talk first?
Greg-not-lion lit up into a smile, and my stomach dropped for a different reason. Id been too busy crying my eyes out to notice that he also happened to be painfully handsome.
Of course we can! he said, and how did he manage to sound both enthusiastic and gentle at the same time? I know youre going to forget this conversation, but Id feel much better if we left one another on an up note.
I laughed despite myself, and Greg looked delighted with himself, and shuffled forward with kind encouragement. What do you want to talk about?
Well So wizards are real, right?
Greg nodded.
Wow, J.K. Rowlings a *****.
The short man was startled into hearty laughter, and it made me shiver. Back to uncanny valley, again. He was quite softly spoken and almost melodic with his speech, but his laughter had the hint of a lions roar in it that was too unpleasant to have been spliced together by a foley artist. I shivered. Jeepers creepers, no thank you.
It kind of works, actually, because its a book so no one believes its real. She went through this whoooole thing with petitioning the Ministry to publish, then trying to get a muggle publishing company to take it seriously, and then eventually the Ministry just said Screw it, well Obliviate who we need to, but turns out it wasnt that many people.
I feel so ripped off, I said sadly, and Greg reached out and patted my hand like I was five years old. His hands were very warm. There was another pause before Greg looked stricken again, and we both said Im sorry! at the same time. I laughed, but the animagus didnt. I was now convinced that never had a sadder face graced this world before. I patted his hand back, and Greg gave me a wobbly smile.
Really, I am very sorry. My family is used to it, and I dont go out for runs too often anymore because my husband has lots of property, so I just lost all muggle protocol for a second. Reminded unpleasantly of the need for my Obliviation, I turned my head away and Greg patted my hand a little more frantically.
Its okay- Really, it is. It doesnt hurt, and its a very small amount of time to remove. Im very good with Charms, said Greg encouragingly.
How do you know it doesnt hurt? I accused. If it did, you wouldnt remember, would you?
Greg opened his mouth, shut it again, then gave a little pout. Well Ill stun you- gently- first, how about that? Thatll give us an alibi later when you wake up.
This guy was so naïve it was making me slightly nauseous. I could tell he was serious, but he clearly didnt spend a lot of time interacting with people because that was creepy af and I wanted no part in it- but I suppose I didnt have a choice. Shy and frightened, I turned my head away and decided not to look when he brought his wand out. If I hadnt been so scared I might have watched in fascination, but I reasoned that it wouldnt matter in a minute, anyway. Greg squeezed my hand and petted my hair, but actually made me feel a little better before the whisper of Stupefy echoed through the trees. The hairs on my arms stood up again, and then-
I withdrew my hand from the strangers, dizzy and blinking with disorientation.
Who are you? I asked, worried about the odd hand-holding man.
Are you alright? he asked. I think youd fallen because you were slumped against this log, Gosh, that was freaky. Does your head hurt?
No, I replied, now worried about myself. Im a bit hungry, though, maybe it was low blood sugar
Do you need help getting back? asked the man kindly, and I carefully tested my weight and stood. He moved nearer just in case I fell again, I suppose, but apart from concern over my apparent fall, I felt fine.
Actually, Im okay, I reassured him. You sure? Yes, I smiled, making a patting movement with my hands. Thank you for coming over. Im in a hotel down the mountainside, my husbands there. Got my phone on me, Ill be okay.
The man smiled back and my belly flip-flopped at his adorable smile, and he turned back up the mountainside and waved genially. I waved back thankfully, and puzzled over my fall on the way back to the hotel. Charlie was sure to be worried, but later that evening I was struck by the fact that the man was in jeans and a t-shirt, though apparently hiking up a snowy mountain. I hoped he was okay.
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14pm. Eh, might as well keep going. My sneakers were wet. Im an idiot, I thought mildly, sitting down on a fallen tree to rub my toes. A lion went past.