Scarred

Soon, as the medicinal paste finished doing its job, Gaude's suspicions were proven right. The wounds had healed, but in their place were horrible-looking scars. It seemed she'd be having a lot of trouble with coming to terms with what had happened to her. Even more so considering she would likely turn the next full moon.

It seemed that he would have to set up a performance quite soon that night. It would be better to let her know sooner rather than later. Gaude didn't want Irma to become a social outcast due to her disfigurement. Gaude had gotten a bit attached to Irma already, actually considering her as a big sister.

"Broge!", Gaude summoned.

The elf apparated near him.

"Remember the Muggle research facility I summoned you and the other team leaders into a while ago?"

"Yes, master."

"I want a few changes to be made. Here's what I'll need: …"

###

The next morning.

Irma woke up with a headache. She opened her eyes and saw a white ceiling with bright lights dotting it. The room seemed to have white walls.

She tried to rise up but discovered that her arms and legs were in restraints that were fastened to a steel-framed bed. There was a woman with graying hair and a kind face standing beside her bed, holding a clipboard that seemed to have a small recording device attached to it.

Seeing her stirring awake, the woman spoke: "Good morning. Please don't panic. You've been restrained to keep you harming yourself and others. As soon as we've determined that you don't pose a danger you will be released."

"Where am I? Who are you? What are you doing to me?" Irma almost shouted. Not only did she wake up in a completely unfamiliar room, but she also couldn't recall how she got there, she couldn't even recall anything past noon the previous day.

"As I said, please calm down. My name is Mistle Tabernacy and I'm a doctor working with the Department of Statistical Inconsistencies. You were attacked by an infected individual. You���re in a safe location. I've been assigned to perform the primary inspection and questioning with you.

Once you've answered a few questions, I will let you out of the restraints. I'm afraid that you'll still have to remain in this facility for observation."

In fact, Mistle was an actual doctor. Well, a retired army doctor. She was a Squib that had applied for a veterinarian position into Gaude's ingredient zoo but had been refused by Gaude due to her Muggle-like constitution that didn't mesh too well with creatures whose play-biting was enough to snap a squishier muggle's arm clean in half but not leave a mark on a stronger wizard's.

Gaude had kept her contact information and called her in as soon as he had turned Major Hall's organization into DOSI. Since she was a Squib, knowledgeable of both Muggle and magical matters, she was a perfect fit for the job.

She was also the first pick when Gaude was considering who he should give Irma's case to. He had figured that since Mistle had been through a few wars, she could handle Irma's mental state better than he could. The woman had been grumpy at first, but once Gaude had mentioned being generous with overtime compensation, she had mellowed out a bit.

Even though Irma's anxiety was lessened by a little bit, she still kept off questions: "What's the department of statistical inconsistencies? Shouldn't you be working on a stack of papers instead? What do you mean by an infected individual? When can I get out of here?"

Irma didn't like it one bit that she was stuck in a bed and she just wanted to get all that over with, to get back to work. She was worried about the children, Adelaide had been out for the past couple of days and there weren't any other caretakers, not after Ella had been fired for her conduct.

"We deal with anything that is outside the normal. I'm afraid that's about everything I can tell you about the Department. We do in fact have an in-house department that runs the numbers. You were attacked by what is colloquially known as a werewolf.

These days, we call them infected, since the condition is transmitted through their bite. I'm afraid you were bitten. The agents arrived on the site after the attack and found you bleeding out with a bitemark on your neck. That is why you've been taken for observation.

We haven't found a living victim so soon after the attack. We've determined that the infected only turn during a full moon, so we'd like to keep you in observation until morning."

Irma felt fear welling up inside of her. What she just heard sounded a lot like she wouldn't be able to go back to the orphanage for a very long time. She was back to shouting. "Are you saying that I've been infected? Is there a cure?"

"From what we know about the disease and considering the fact that you had a high fever when you were brought in, it's more than likely that you've been infected.

We're still working on the cure. We can only offer medication that will help you deal with the most troublesome symptoms, however I strongly recommend that you come in every full moon.

We have rooms designed to handle the infected in their changed state, so that they will not harm anyone else. Of course, having yourself admitted is strictly voluntary."

Mistle refrained from mentioning that the special rooms had been built to contain what was formerly known as 'the mutants', the term that Muggle military personnel had come up for Werewolves.

Irma's incoming panic attack started subsiding at that point – it sounded like she would actually not end up locked up in a room with thick padding and one-way mirrors on the walls.

"How much does the medication cost?"

"The medication is free. The head of the department fancies himself a philanthropist."

"Fine, I'll do it. I don't want to turn into that monster near children."

The old lady opened up the restraints around Irma's arms and legs.

"I'm afraid I have some more bad news for you. While the emergency treatment managed to stop you from bleeding out, the wounds scarred severely. We don't know the exact reason, but it is suspected that the infected carry some sort of a toxin that hinders normal healing."

The old lady then handed Irma a hand mirror. Irma looked at herself. Tears started rolling down from her eyes.

"I'm hideous! I don't even have to wait to turn into a monster the next full moon, I already am one!"

"I understand your distress. We will organize counseling for you if it should be necessary."

"You don't understand, I can't go back looking like this! The children will be scared of me! Nobody will want to be near me!"

"Your counselor will arrive within a day. Once you've spoken to him, we will continue this conversation. Until then, there's a bookshelf in the other room to keep yourself occupied."

###

After Gaude had finished taking care of Irma, he had the elf taxi return him home, ready to finally go to sleep. However, Amanda was standing on the stairs, blocking his way.

"Where have you been? You smell like a wet dog!", she said, a deep pout back on her face.

"Ah, sorry, sorry, there was an incident and I had to take care of someone important to me, and I ended up getting that smell on me."

"What was so important that you had to leave home in the middle of the night?"

"You know, I didn't always live in this house. When I was born, I ended up in an orphanage, and there were some people that took care of me when I was completely helpless. One of them was attacked by a Werewolf and left to bleed out by the Aurors. I did what I could to help her, and now she's recovering in a facility of mine."

"Go wash that smell off yourself.", Amanda demanded.

Since there was still some blood left on Gaude's clothes and skin, he decided to do just that. Not actively wash, of course. He just soaked for half an hour and then used a scrubbing charm to finish up. Unfortunately, as he wasn't quite good at it yet, his eyes felt as if they had been hit with a cheese grater a few times for a while.

Once he was done recovering the full functionality of his eyes, he went straight to bed. A few moments later, he felt the bed move under someone's weight and jumped onto his feet, his wand pointed in the most likely direction of the intruder, ready for battle.

Gaude ended up getting a good look at a startled Amanda.

"What are you doing here? Why aren't you in your room?", Gaude asked.

"It's too cold there."

"Aren't you vampires indifferent to the cold?"

"Nope. I like it warm. You're warm."

"Eh? Fine. Whatever. Just don't do anything strange."

Gaude was just too tired to deal with her antics. He did, however, close the curtains with a wave of his wand. He didn't want to wake up to a pile of ashes on his bed.

Once morning arrived, Gaude headed back to the Daily Prophet and had the ad include retired Aurors with a background in Magizoology for the security guard position. Even if he was living in the Highlands, he had decided to up the security of the orphanage and naturally the new property on Long Street that he had decided to use for a special purpose.

Gaude threw a few sickles at the newspaper stand – a post with a small table attached on top of it – and a copy of The Daily Prophet appeared. On the front page, there was a big photo of the attack that had happened in the orphanage, with the headline: 'Fenrir Greyback strikes again! This time, the attack took place in a Muggle orphanage and no Wizardkind was harmed.

On other news, multiple businesses, not to say nearly all of them, on Diagon Alley have been bought by a mysterious investor. Among them are Slug&Jiggers, Flourish and Blotts, the Leaky Cauldron and a few others. The former owners claim that they were 'made an offer they simply couldn't refuse'.

The establishments are currently undergoing renovations, including those to the façade. Related to that are concerns from the community that the unified look of the street would be disrupted if major changes are made.

However, we have it on good authority that the end result would be similar yet different to the Mother of Mercy Apothecary that was renamed mere months ago, which in my humble opinion would instead add some character to the street.'

Gaude was still a bit shaken by the previous night's events. He had needed the Calming Draught about as much as Irma did.

Thinking about Irma's now cursed state and the fact that he had a bunch of men on his payroll that were turned into his loyal minions, he decided to put a plan in motion that he had formulated based on a bounty contract he had seen in the Muggle part of the town – he had considered making some extra cash as a bounty hunter, considering his improved body and skills. However, he had gotten a reality check. He sent Laly to try and track down a certain man.

Next in order was finding a counselor that was magically aware. He had to go through half the phone book before he found a Squib counselor. It was a young man going by the name of Elphistone Cracknell. Gaude explained the situation to him, and he promised to arrive within a few hours.

Gaude gave him the address where he'd find the patient and informed the base about his arrival. Irma was still 'under observation'. Mistle was kind enough to work a double shift during the first day to make sure that Irma wouldn't get any stupid ideas, such as self-harm.

The counselor eventually arrived. Gaude kept an eye on the room through a one-way mirror. The meeting seemed to be going reasonably fine. Irma seemed to have calmed down quite a bit. Gaude was just hoping that there was no such thing as an overdose of Calming Draught.

After two hours, the counselor finally left the room.

"How is she?", Gaude, in the guise of Charles Vywin asked.

"She's starting to come to grips with her situation, but I would recommend more sessions and observation. Especially after she has turned for the first time."

���I understand. I got the impression that you handled her rather well."

"To be fair, you've filled her up to the gills with calming draught."

"Guilty as charged. I wouldn't want her harming herself due to a misguided emotional outburst. I assume you would like to be paid in British Pounds?"

"Yes. I left the other world behind when my mother got divorced, I feel no need to get involved in it now. I only took this case because a Muggle was the victim."

It was obvious that for one reason or another, the Squib had some dark past with the Wizarding world. With him being a Squib, it was to be expected as they were aware of magic yet shunned upon by Wizardkind and disowned by any self-important wizarding bastard.

Gaude counted out 2000 pounds. "Here. It includes advance payments. You're hired for as long as she needs counseling.

If you're interested, you can become a permanent hire. I have a feeling that your services will be required here more than once."

"Thank you. Just don't make me return to that world."

"Well, it depends on your preferences. It is most likely that you'll be counseling Muggles that have had an unpleasant encounter with that world, if that's fine by you."

Gaude, still wearing the looks of Charles Vywin, entered the room Irma was cooped up in.

"Hello, Irma. I came as soon as I heard what happened. How are you feeling?", Gaude asked, his grandfatherly voice in full effect. It helped that he was genuinely worried for the girl's well-being.

"I don't know what to feel. I still can't believe monsters are real."

"I didn't want to believe at first, either. That passed soon enough, and here I still am."

"How do you deal with it? Knowing that a monster might jump out from the dark of the night?"

"I've had a lot of training in self-defense, and I always carry this." Gaude pulled out a combat knife. "If I can't neutralize a monster with this, at the very least I can make them back off."

Irma's eyes stopped on the knife, then turned back at 'Charles'' face, finally she asked: "Wait, how did you even know where to come looking?"

With a wink and a clever smirk, 'Charles' said: "What can I say, even an old man like myself has his secrets."

"So you're involved with this department of statistical inconsistencies? What about your grandson, do you carry that knife near him too?"

"You could say I'm somewhat involved with them. As for my grandson, he's been picking up a few tricks of his own. There's always the risk that the security will be a step too far, since they also have to be unnoticeable. In the end, the only one that can really keep you safe is yourself."

Hearing Charles' reasoning, Irma felt that he had a point. She asked: "Where can I learn to keep myself safe?"

"We have a training program for new recruits. If you want to learn to fight, you'll have to sign a contract with the department. After three months of training in basics you can start working undercover if you want to, you can even rejoin your previous place of employment while going through the advanced training. Of course, the downside is, you'll have to work for us at least ten years after signing up."

Puzzled, Irma asked: "Why do you want me to work for you?"

'Charles' explained: "The infected are a very special kind of people. While they do turn into beasts during a full moon, after they change for the first time, their senses are heightened to the level of wild animals. Very useful for tracking down suspects. We would like to make use of these talents if you're willing."

"As long as you help me track down the bastard that did this to me, I'm ok with some extra work."

"Good. Of course, any time you spend working for the Department will be well compensated. That includes the time you spend in training."

"When do I start?"

"Next thing tomorrow morning. For now, you'll have to sign the non-disclosure agreement."

"Why does it say that I will agree to have my memory erased of anything discussed within these walls or any missions I undertake in the event that I become compromised?"

"Our organization has access to a few special technologies which allow us to take information security to a whole new level."

That sounded extremely suspicious to Irma, like something you'd hear in a mediocre spy movie. She asked: "So, you'll what, implant a device in my head that will erase my memories?"

"No, it's simpler than that. We won't have to do anything. The moment you become compromised you'll simply forget everything that you mustn't remember according to the contract. Once the contract is broken, your copy will be automatically destroyed."

Suddenly, Charles' words sounded more like some second-rate science fiction movie, but still an improvement. At the very least, it got her curious. She asked: "What are you really, some kind of super spies?"

"Our mission does occasionally involve intelligence gathering. Our primary objective is to keep the country, and eventually the world safe from the shadows."

"You're not doing very good job of it, apparently.", she said with an angry growl, pointing at her own face.

"Unfortunately, some hostiles are much better at staying a step ahead than most. That is exactly why we need someone like you in our ranks."

"How would I be helpful, show the monster my face and scare it into submission?"

"No. We will train you into a fighter. You will learn to track by scent. Once we catch on to his trail again, you'll be ready to take that monster down for good. Don't think you're the only one with scars either."

'Charles' then rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, revealing four white streaks that were jagged most of the way, a sign of being stitched together. It had been a special request he had made to Laly regarding that illusion.

Irma seemed to cool down a bit, realizing that her fate wasn't all that unique.

"Are you infected, too?", she asked.

"No, I got lucky, or unlucky, depending on your point of view. I only got sliced by the claws, took me two months with daily blood transfusions to heal and half a year of physical therapy to get my arm back to working condition. Back then, there wasn't anything that could counter the anti-coagulation effects. The cuts stopped re-opening only after the research team worked out a counter to whatever keeps the wounds from properly healing."

Certainly, there wasn't a real need to come up with a sad story like that, but Gaude figured that maybe it would be good for Irma to know that she wasn't alone, even if that was a lie. If Gaude ended up going to hell for it, he'd have to make sure there was a lot of good booze and a huge party waiting for him in there, meaning he'd have to make a lot of effort from that point onward.

Irma signed the contract.

"Rest for today. There's a break room, third door to your right. It should have everything you might need."