Closed Olive? More like Odead

[Olive Layton]

Admin Approval #90830​

Continued from here
September 30th 2050

Olive had been looking forward to this day ever since Alistair had sought out her help, and agreed to let her be part of his transformation. The basement where the potioneer would create her work had been cleared and protected as much as could be, and West was looking after Amortentia and Felix for the next few days at his house as he would do frequently, allowing Olive to have her home to herself. She hadn’t told anyone what she was doing, or who was coming over, not wanting to involve anyone that hadn’t needed to know. It was too dangerous for Alistair if word got out, and she knew he trusted her to protect him. Olive had no recollection of ever knowing a “Mrs Woods” and as such, was nothing but excited and hopeful for what was about to happen. The Wolfsbane potion had been brewed carefully, and Olive was completely oblivious to the dark magic that was currently swimming around her mind, and to the fact the potion she’d handed to the youngster contained no Asphodel in it at all.​

“How do you feel?” The red head asked, rummaging around her desk for the notebook she’d purchased especially for her Werewolf research. It was important these things were hard to find, and it had a couple of enchantments to break through in her cupboard before it revealed itself. She pulled it out, taking a pen and making some notes. She didn’t want to sit, she wanted to walk around and analyse what exactly was going on. It was nearly time to begin, and Olive checked her watch to count down the remaining few minutes they had until the moon was due to appear in the sky. ​

 

[Alistair Lancaster]

Despite the heap of blankets wrapped around him, Alistair shivered. Not from the cold, but from the sheer, nauseating dread that accompanied him that night. Part of it was simply par for the course. Poor health was common around the full moon, yet this time, there was a little more to it. He'd never transformed in front of a non-werewolf before, and while he trusted the former potions professor to have no trouble helping him retain his humanity during his transformation, it didn't change how the worry that balled up in the pit of his stomach. She'd said she'd helped other werewolves in the past, but this would be her first time seeing the experience up close and personal, and he couldn't rid himself of the gnawing feeling that it might change how she perceived them - perceived him. He already thought of himself as a monster, on a good day. It wasn't a difficult step to take to think others easily would too, if they saw him as he did.​

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The lycanthrope drank his last potion for the month, and, wrapping the blankets further around his small frame, he waited. Time seemed to pass at an agonizingly slow pace. The sight of the full moon was never a reassuring one, but not being able to view it from the basement somehow made the wait all the more awful to endure. It had been different, in the Howling Cavern. He had been just a blind, but he'd been alone, and he'd grown to feel safe.​

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A chill ran down Alistair's spine. From his spot on the floor, where he'd cleared himself enough space to not bump into any objects, he lifted his head to acknowledge Olive's question. The movement was sluggish. He was tired, and any energy he'd had earlier day had been sapped out of him by now. "I'm alright." He lied. Olive seemed so excited about tonight, and he didn't want to ruin her enthusiasm. Not after how much she'd helped him. He dropped his head back down and exhaled slowly. There had been a point in his life where he'd been genuinely afraid that the heavy thumping in his chest was his wolf trying to burst out from under his skin, rather than the relentless beating of his own heart. Sometimes, on nights like this, he still wondered if it were possible.​

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Time ticked by. Alistair continued to wait until all at once, the hairs on the back of his neck raised, and his skin prickled. The youth had to fight to keep the contents of his stomach forcing their way back up. "It's happening." He managed to gasp out before his entire body locked up. He remained there for some moments, completely rigid and staring into a point of blank space. Then, just as suddenly, his limbs began to shake.​

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[Olive Layton]

The potioneer was watching Ledas friend with intense fascination, although she was doing her best to be subtle about it. Things were a little awkward to begin with, but she hoped that given time they would create a bond between them that closed the tension in the air. She didn’t plan on interfering too much with his transitions at all, nor asking to sit in any future phases, so she had to make the most of this one that Alistair had agreed too. She was fortunate that he’d chosen her too, and even had the opportunity to ask in the first place. The red head planned to leave the boy alone after he took his temporary form, leaving him to sleep away the night once he had settled, but it was the transformation itself that would prove the most useful to her research. Perhaps she would even be able to advise future students on theirs too, not that she wished the curse in anybody. It obviously took a toll on the blonde who frequently seemed exhausted, and she could only imagine the pressures Alistair must have felt knowing he had to keep himself under control at all times.​

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Olive nodded, opening up her notebook. She was curious to know how long the transformation actually took, and while had been warned it was a gradual process, was keen to keep count. The mother moved across the room to open a small drawer and pull out a pocket watch she’d once accidentally permanently borrowed from Monty, another glance over her shoulder when the former Slytherin told her it was time to begin. ”You’ve got this Alistair,” she wrote down the time, adrenaline running through her veins as she waited anxiously to see what happened next and for how long he would be able to understand her for.​

 

[Alistair Lancaster]

The change was always painful. Unbearably so. Alistair had to grit his teeth as his face contorted, mouth elongating into a more canine snout, while fur sprouted from every pore in his skin. The youth was only dimly aware that Olive stood nearby, scribbling away at her notebook. Any concern over her presence had been washed away by his transformation, and all he could focus on was getting through it. Though something was wrong. He could feel himself slipping away, as if struggling to keep afloat in a lake of infinite darkness. His hands had balled into fists, bunching up the blanket around him for some small means of support, only for the fabric to tear apart as his nails became claws. He threw his head back and screamed, the blanket falling to tatters around him. As he lowered his head once more, any trace of his human self had gone, save for the blue of his eyes, or the blonde of his fur. The wolf gradually, and almost unsteadily, rose to its feet, sniffing at the air. When its attention snapped to the human in the room, there was no trace of recognition in its eyes, only that of an insatiable hunger. A low growl rumbled through the back of the wolf's throat. With one deliberate paw after the other, it approached the redhead, drool pooling at the bottom of its jaw.​

 

[Olive Layton]

Olive watched in mere fascination as the transformation overtook anything and everything Alistair could do to stop it. It was clear why werewolves needed their space, not just for safety, but the sheer volume that came from the boy as he turned was immense and the red head had no doubt that most people would probably be shocked at the screams. Her basement had been a good choice, and Olive made no motion beside her eyes as it was taking place. She’d seen transformations of other objects before of course, but it was very different when it was human. The blonde wolf began to stand to his full height, and the potioneer was admiring him up and down, debating whether to see if he had any sense of himself left. “Alistair?” She asked quietly. Part of her didn’t think it would work, and the wolf would turn away to settle for the night, but the experimentalist inside her wouldn’t have been satisfied if she didn’t try. She took a single slow step forward with one hand slowly reaching out through the air, nothing in her mind but curiosity and disbelief. It was certainly one of the more extreme versions of magic she’d ever had the pleasure to witness, and with her book forgotten and left on the desk behind her, her full attention was taking by experiencing as much as she could first hand.​

Like a wave that suddenly poured over her, washing away any sort of mask that had been protecting her emotionally from the monster in front of her, Olive’s eyes widened and heart rate quickened, realising what exactly was standing over her. The red head didn’t have a flash of her life before her eyes, nor did the fear have more than a second to kick in, but as her face turned as white as ghost at the situation she’d gotten herself in, the bright blue of the creatures eyes glaring down at her with intensity and animalistic instincts, was the last thing Olive Layton ever saw.​

 

[Alistair Lancaster]

It was late in the morning by the time Alistair finally awoke. He squinted at the bleary world around him, one hand pressed to his painfully throbbing temples as he waited for the haze that had settled over his mind to clear. Where was he? What had happened? His memory was a scramble, gradually attempting to reorient itself in brief, nonsensical flashes. The morning after a transformation was usually disorienting, but something felt wrong. An unfamiliar metallic taste clung to the inside of his mouth, and bile threatened to force its way up his throat. He coughed and slowly struggled to his hands and knees, blinking back tears that stung the back of his eyes from the sheer nausea alone. The world around him gradually began to return to focus, and he stared in confusion at his scarlet stained hands. His brows knitted together, and his gaze left them to trail across the floor and take more of his surroundings in, noticing the spattering of dark stains that weren't there the night before. He stopped, just short of the woman resting on the cold concrete nearby, unstirring. "O-Olive?" He weakly called to the potioneer. Why was she - oh. No. Memories of the night before came crashing down like a ton of bricks. He could remember...no, he didn't want to. Didn't want to believe the images flashing through his mind. That wasn't him. He couldn't have. He'd taken wolfsbane, he should have been sane, so how could this have happened?

"This isn't real." Alistair breathed. "No, no, no. Please don't be real. It can't be real. Please just wake up." The youth crawled closer to the woman, though his eyes remained glued to the floor beneath him. He couldn't bring himself to look, to believe that what his eyes saw wasn't merely an illusion. He reached a hand out, his fingertips brushing against her cheek, only to immediately recoil. Cold. It felt so unnatural, yet there was no denying it was real. His whole body shuddered, and any energy left in him seeped out. He collapsed into a ball, fresh tears streaming down his face. In a single night, his whole world had fallen apart. His life was over. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, Olive. I'm sorry."​

 

[Eustacia Lancaster]

It had been a long night. As the full moon rose, Eustacia and her followers erected their enchantments around the Layton house to prevent any prying eyes and ears from listening in, or any wild beasts from breaking free. The woman's eyes turned to the sky, shining wickedly against the moonlight that bathed the quiet town. The moment the time was right, she tilted the staff in her hand, and released the imperious curse placed upon the redheaded potioneer below. She'd outlived her usefulness, and Eustacia wholly intended for her last few desperate moments to be her own. Perhaps it would be enough time for her to reflect on the mistake of helping those who didn't deserve to be helped.

By the time the sun had risen, and the wolf had returned to its human form, Eustacia's people had scoured the home of evidence. There would be more than enough to suggest it had been yet another werewolf attack, though any evidence pointing toward who the culprit was, was Eustacia's to hold onto for future leverage. The necromancer herself descended the stairs into the basement, a tuft of blonde fur delicately twisting between her fingertips. Her eyes landed on her grandson's whimpering form, finally awake it seemed, and she scoffed. He jumped, startled, but didn't appear to have the energy left to do much more. "Oh, do get over it. You barely knew the woman." She remarked. A month was hardly long enough to get so attached.

The heels of the woman's shoes clicked with each slow, deliberate step around the room, coming to a halt beside a table containing a textbook, with little more than the date written onto its page. "Quite the mess you've made for yourself, isn't it, Alistair? Here I thought you were old enough to be more responsible in handling your condition. Tsk. Such a pity. Are you aware of how many years in Azkaban they'd lock you away for after this? It would be a wonder if you were ever given the chance to see another full moon again. Could you imagine, transforming each and every month inside a cramped, miserable cell? Perhaps they'd even put you next to your brothers. Not quite a life worth living though, is it?" Eustacia stopped and came to a crouch beside Alistair, her nails piercing the sides of his jaw to wrench his gaze from the floor and meet hers. "Don't fret. I've already gone ahead and taken care of everything for you. After all, family comes first, hm? All you need to do is what I ask of you, and you'll never see the inside of a cell for as long as you live. That doesn't sound too hard, does it?" With her grip on his chin, she shook his head from side to side, a smile lighting up her features as he seemed to lack the energy or will to resist. "No, it doesn't. Otherwise, people might start to find out exactly who it was who killed this poor, innocent woman. Whether it's the aurors or vigilante werewolf hunters who find you first would be anyones guess. It makes you wonder - which is preferable?" She released his chin and gave him a pat on the cheek, before rising back to her full height and turning toward the stairs. They were done here, and she was certain the werewolf had gotten the message loud and clear. He was hers now, and she did so look forward to putting his curse to good use. "Come along now. There's much to be done."​