Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1st Year
August 31st

“Hey, can I sit in here with you?”

“Sure... there’s plenty of room.”

When Stiles Stilinski entered the booth and sat across from him, Scott had no idea he would quickly become his best friend. Scott shyly offered him a small smile, then avoided eye contact by staring out the window.

But the other kid would not shut up.

“Ooooh man I’m so nervous! But I’m so excited!! This is insane. This is all craaaazy! But it’s all so real, you know? I can’t exactly deny anything. But at the same time I have no idea if I’m dreaming all of this and I’m just doing some crazy sleepwalking episode again and my dad is going to wonder why I’m making a sandwich in the kitchen at three in the morning.”

Scott chuckled softly as he brought his attention to the kid who decided to sit with him. “You sleepwalk?”

He scoffed. “Yeah. Quite a lot. In fact, that’s partially the reason how I found out I’m a wizard. Apparently I would sometimes make objects move on their own when I sleepwalked. Sleptwalk? Sleepedwalked. Stelptwalked. I don’t know the proper term.”

“You didn’t know you were a wizard?”

The kid across from him stilled like a cat hiding under the bed. “I... I’m... neither of my parents are… m-magical.”

“Oh...” Scott frowned, lowering his eyes a moment before returning them to the boy. He smiled to ease the conversation. “That must be hard. How’d your parents take it?”

He still looked uneasy, but right before the kid was about to answer him, Scott spoke up with concern in his voice.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to- I mean I didn’t want you- you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay. I just...” The boy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes curiously. “Hold on, I don’t even know your name! Sorry I suck at manners. I’m Stiles.” He held out his hand to shake.

“Stiles?” Scott smiled as if to hold back laughter. “Is that short for something?”

Stiles deadpanned so hard Scott was afraid he might have offended him. “It’s a nickname. How about that? My last name’s Stilinski. That’s where it comes from.”

“Oh okay. That makes sense.” Scott nodded as if that validated Stiles’ name as normal, but deep down he still thought it was strange. “I’m Scott. Scott McCall.” He shook his hand and waited for some kind of response from Stiles at the mention of his last name, but then he remembered he was muggle-born.

Stiles smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you, Scott.”

“Sooo... how much do you know about everything?” Scott asked idly as he broke into a chocolate frog.

“How do you mean?”

“About magic. Hogwarts. The wizarding world.”

“Oh, right. That.” Stiles swallowed hard. “Next to nothing? I mean I tried to research as much as I could but there was nothing to research unless I went to Diagon Alley, and I was only able to go there yesterday. I bought a bunch of books to study, but I figured I would be too anxious on the train to focus so I didn’t bring any on my person.”

“Do you know about the houses?”

“Houses? No, not really. I just know what was in the acceptance letter. And... what I observed in Diagon Alley.”

“Well there’s four,” Scott explained. “When we get to the school we’ll be sorted into a house by the Sorting Hat. It determines what house you are based on your personality and stuff. Supposedly the Hat can see your potential, so its sorting is always accurate.”

“What are the different houses?”

“There’s Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. My mom’s a Gryffindor, and my dad... he’s a Ravenclaw.”

“What does it mean? Are there certain traits to each house?”

“Yeah, there’s also animals and colors for each house, and that kind of represents the house too. Gryffindor is a lion, Hufflepuff a badger, Ravenclaw an eagle, and Slytherin a snake.”

Stiles pondered quietly a moment. “What house do you think you fit into?”

Scott shrugged. “I really don’t know. Some wizarding families have everyone in the same house, but with my parents being different houses, I’m not so sure.”

“Can different houses interact with each other?”

“Oh yeah. classes are just by year, so they’ll have students from all houses. But your dormitory will be in your house, and most people usually spend time with those of their own house. But my mom said it’s easy to interact with anyone.”

“Ah. That’s good, I guess.” Stiles wondered if he and Scott would be in the same house or not. Either way, it was reassuring to know he could still see the only person he met so far. “Do they... umm... is there a mailbox at Hogwarts?”

Scott snickered. “Wizards don’t use the post system. We have owls. It’s much faster. But yeah, there are lots of owls at Hogwarts just for students to use.”

“Right. I wasn’t too fond of getting myself an owl, but I need to write my dad so he doesn’t worry about me.”

“Do you have any pets?”

“I have a cat. Her name’s Roscoe.”

“Isn’t that a guy name?”

“Yeah, but it also means handgun. And she’s black.” Stiles shrugged. “I had her before I got my acceptance letter, and it said we could bring a cat. Do you have any pets?”

“No... I thought about getting an owl too, but I have no idea how to care for owls.” The train lurched, and when Scott glanced outside the window, he beamed at Stiles. “It looks like we’re almost there!”

“Finally,” Stiles said with a hint of exasperation as he tapped his fingers nervously on his knee.

“Scott McCall.”

When deputy headmistress Braeden called Scott’s name, Stiles had to nudge him to pull him out of his trance. He looked over at his friend and gave a sad smile before heading up to the stool that would decide his fate.

It didn’t take the Hat very long to announce, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

From what Stiles had gathered, Hufflepuff was the kindest house, and he felt it was fitting for his new friend Scott. The table of golds and blacks welcomed him warmly with applause and cheers. Stiles wondered if he would be welcomed the same.

Several more names were called, and Stiles could feel the dread intensify as he cursed his dad for having a name that was so far down the alphabet. He stole a couple of glances at Scott, and he occasionally found his gaze and offered an encouraging nod.

It felt like such a defining moment. What if he was sorted into a house he didn’t belong? What if he was sorted and everyone there hated him? What if he didn’t fit the characteristics of that house?

Stiles had to remind himself it was magic. The hat was magic, it would magically know what house he belonged to. Everything would have to work out perfectly, because magic was involved.

“Stiles Stilinski.”

Exhaling deeply, Stiles went up to the stool and had the hat placed on his head. He closed his eyes tight as he prepared for the worst and hoped for the best.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Stiles opened his eyes to see the thunderous applause and whooping that came from the table of green and silver. The Slytherins were spirited, that much was certain.

He recalled rumors of Slytherin being the house of dark witches and wizards, but the negative doubt in his mind was cleared instantly when he found himself sitting next to the most beautiful strawberry blonde girl.

Chapter Text

1st year
Mid-September

It was only a couple of weeks into the school year when Stiles learned the painful truth of being a muggle-born sorted into house Slytherin.

“Hey! Stop it!”

Scott’s voice resounded through the hallway, causing the older Slytherins to look at the short first-year Hufflepuff calling them out on their aggression. Scott felt like hiding from their intimidating stares, but he took a few steps forward and held his chin up high.

“If you don’t leave him alone-“

“Oh look it’s a Hufflepuff!” the bulkiest Slytherin called out, cracking his knuckles menacingly. “What are you going to do, huh? Tattle on us? You’d have to be able to outrun us in order to do that.”

“Scott, you don’t have to be here-“ Stiles began but was quickly silenced when one of the Slytherins kicked him in the stomach.

Scott swallowed hard. He glanced down at the crumpled heap on the floor that was Stiles, then returned his eyes to the bullies. “Just leave and I won’t tell anyone. No more people have to get hurt.”

One of the bullies strode over to Scott and picked him up by the neck of his robes. “How about I teach you to keep your little Hufflepuff nose out of other peoples’ business.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Scott muttered with a tremble in his voice.

“Enlighten me as to why I shouldn’t.”

“I’m Scott McCall.”

The Slytherin stilled a moment before releasing Scott with a frown. “You’re the minister’s son?”

“Yeah. And imagine what he would do if he found out some jerks were beating up his son’s best friend.”

The hallway remained silent as time stretched by slowly. Finally, the Slytherin closest to Scott answered, “Fine. Just remember your daddy won’t be able to save you from everything.” With that, the bullies left, and Scott rushed over to Stiles, kneeling on the ground next to him.

“Oh gosh, Stiles, what happened? Why’d they beat you up? Don’t you know not to pick fights with older students?” He knew his friend was full of sarcasm and sass which got him into trouble more often than not.

Stiles slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position, his arms shaking, then leaned up against the wall with a half sigh, half moan of pain. Blood trailed down his face from a cut that traveled along his cheekbone. His voice was raspy when he spoke. “Apparently being a mudblood and a Slytherin isn’t a good mix.”

“Mudblood? What does that even-“

“I’m muggle-born. It’s apparently…” His breaths were shallow as he spoke, “…a derogatory term, mudblood. Because the blood isn’t magical, it’s tainted… and people like me shouldn’t even be here.”

“That’s not true, Stiles.” Scott’s dark eyes were troubled. “Stuff like that doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to a good majority of students, it would seem.” Stiles coughed, then groaned. “I think I broke a rib or two…”

“We should get you to a hospital wing… do you think you can stand?”

“Personally, I just kind of want to lay here and die.”

Scott furrowed his brows, more in concern than frustration. “Well, I won’t allow that.”

“Why do you care?” Stiles’ voice suddenly cut as cold as ice. “You don’t even know me. And why would someone like you possibly want to help someone like me?”

Scott’s mouth gaped as he was dumbstruck by Stiles’ sudden change in demeanor, but his voice came through firm. “Because you cared about me. It’s only fair that I return the favor.”

“What do you…”

“On the train,” Scott explained. “You sat next to me when no one else would.”

Stiles’ warm eyes softened, his mouth faintly curving into a smile. “And your dad is apparently the minister of magic?”

Scott groaned. “Why would you choose to bring that up now?”

“Just an observation.” Stiles sighed. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“What do you mean?”

Stiles stared up at the ceiling as his eyes began to water, his voice fractured. “This. All of this. I don’t belong in this house, I don’t belong in this school, I don’t even belong in this- this world of magic! I’m just a- a glitch in the system, I’m an abomination. I’m not meant to be here.”

Scott silently watched Stiles close his eyes, letting the tears fall as he winced in agony. “Stiles… you told me on the train that you were moving objects with your mind when you sleepwalked… sleptwalked..." He shook his head. "Anyway, you may not know this, but that is not common. Certainly, all magical children show some signs of using magic before they turn eleven, but it’s usually accidental and because of fear or anger, but you were using intentional wandless magic, and while unconscious at that!”

Stiles looked over at Scott with bloodshot eyes, his brows lowered and mouth gaping in awe. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you have crazy potential.” Scott laughed. “And it means that people like you… you definitely belong here, no matter what kind of blood you have.”

Stiles stared at him as he let that sink in, his eyes slowly becoming hopeful. “Thanks.”

“Hold on, let’s get you healed.” Scott whipped out his wand, and was about to speak but Stiles cut him off.

“Waaaait wait wait wait – do you even know any healing spells?”

“My mom’s a nurse at St. Mungo’s. She taught me a few tricks.”

Stiles side-eyed him for a moment, glancing down at the wand suspiciously.

“It’ll be fine! Trust me. I don’t think your ribs are broken either, but possibly fractured.”

“How can you tell?”

“I had the best teacher.” Scott smiled. “Now hold still.” He waved his wand intricately. “Episkey.”

With a strangled yelp from Stiles and a cracking sound from his ribs, he doubled over then looked at Scott in wonder. He poked his side as if it weren’t his own flesh. “Maaan that is so weird. It’s like you gave me new ribs.”

“Magic is kind of cool sometimes,” Scott said with a grin.

“You mean magic is kind of cool always!” Stiles laughed, the movement no longer hurting. “Thanks Scott… for… for everything.”

“It’s nothing, Stiles. I’m glad to help my friends.”

At the mention of friends, Stiles slowly formed a warm smile upon his lips. “Me too.”

Chapter Text

5th year
Late September

“Get up, you badger,” Stiles whispered angrily as he violently poked Scott’s shoulder.

“Whhaa... Ugh.” Scott moaned as he awoke to his senses. “Stiles? What are you - how the hell did you get into Hufflepuff dormitory?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “It’s not that hard to figure out a rhythm of tapping barrels. I’ve known for years now. Honestly, Hufflepuffs are too trusting of others.”

“And Slytherins are too conniving.” 

“Granted. Now hurry up and get your ass outta bed.”

“What exactly are we doing at this hour?”

Scott could see Stiles grin mischievously even in the darkness. “We’re going to find a body.” 

“A dead body?!”

“No, a body of water. YES a dead body, dumbass!” 

When the two boys made it out into the main hallways, Scott whispered with a concerned undertone as he strode next to Stiles, “Why are we looking for a dead body?”

“Half of a body was found in Hogsmeade, and they’re still looking for the other half.”

“Wait, half a body?! If there’s only half, then maybe we shouldn’t get involved!”

“C’monnnn Scott! Nothing exciting happens around here."

"Says the muggle-born?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. Besides, I know enough secret passages around the school that we’ll be completely fine. I already have seven escape routes planned in case of emergency.”

“It’s no wonder you kept surprising me last year. You were using secret passages, weren’t you?”

“Possibly.” Stiles waved a hand dismissively. “That doesn’t matter. Let’s make it into Hogsmeade first.”

When Scott and Stiles took the secret passage, they peeked around corners and snuck past when the coast was clear. They eventually made their way towards The Three Broomsticks, peering from the safety of an alleyway to observe the scene before them.

“Those are auorors!!” Scott whispered.

“And Headmaster Argent and Professor Deaton,” Stiles mused. “I wonder if a creature did it.”

“What kind of creature could sever a body in half though?”

Stiles shrugged. “One that only wanted to eat half a person.”

Deaton began to turn around, but Scott and Stiles plastered themselves back against the wall out of sight. Scott side glanced his friend. “This is the part where we head back to our dorms, right?”

Stiles blew a raspberry. “Nah. This is when we sneak around the back of Honeydukes and follow the blood trail that leads into those woods.” He jerked his head in the direction of the trees that bordered Hogsmeade but transitioned into the Forbidden Forest. 

“Alright... so long as we don’t go into the Forbidden Forest,” Scott said.

“Fine. We won’t break any rules.”

“Currently we are breaking rules.”

Stiles paused. “You know what I mean. Breaking obvious rules.”

Sure enough, Stiles was right and there was a blood trail. Scott wondered sometimes how his friend knew about certain things, and wondered if he were secretly a legilimens, but he hadn’t bothered to inquire. He knew Stiles’ dad was a sheriff in the muggle world, and therefore Stiles was naturally curious and shoved his nose where it didn’t belong. Scott, on the other hand, never really bothered asking people about their business. He figured if people wanted to tell him their secrets, they would, otherwise he just helped support those he cared about.

Scott stopped in his tracks, waiting a moment for Stiles to notice and turn around. “I think we should head back. It’s dark and cold. We’re going to get sick. Or lost. Or eaten.”

Stiles waved his lit wand dramatically. “We have wandlight.”

Scott looked at his own wand and rolled his eyes. “Okay, it’s not dark, exactly. But it’s still cold, and we’re still going to get sick. Or eaten.”

“Relax, we’re nowhere near the Forbidden Forest. Come on, we gotta be close. The blood trail is heavier here.” Stiles turned around and continued deeper into the trees.

Scott sighed, pulling on his hood and wrapping his robes around him to provide more warmth. He began to follow after Stiles when a voice alerted him.

“Hey! What are you doing out here?!”

Scott slid behind a tree, muttered “Nox” to turn off his wand, then peeked around the bark to see two aurors down the ravine who spotted Stiles.

“Uhhh, just, you know. Going for a midnight stroll. Get some fresh air,” Stiles offered casually, cracking his knuckles.

The two aurors looked at each other before one of them said, “Nab him.”

Stiles awkwardly flailed and ran, sprinting off in another direction as an auror chased after him. Scott cursed Stiles for getting caught – it was something he was usually skilled at avoiding. The other auror seemed preoccupied with something on the ground instead of looking for Scott, and when he shined wandlight over the object, Scott saw the auror was looking at the severed body of a wolf.

Scott’s mouth gaped, silver tendrils of his breath swirling through the cold night air. He retreated back behind the tree as he calculated his next move. He was at the murder scene, and that usually meant the murderer was nearby. He considered pulling a white flag and going to the auror for direction and protection, but he didn’t want to distract the wizard from his job. It was bad enough they were preoccupied chasing Stiles.

Scott decided to try making his way back. He was fairly certain he knew the direction, but if nothing else, he knew the grounds were northwest from his current position. He walked slowly away from the crime scene so as not to be noticed, then broke into a sprint. After several minutes, Scott felt he wasn’t getting closer to anything familiar. 

Then he heard a low growl cut through the darkness.

Stiles was stuck in The Three Broomsticks with the door locked and an auror standing watch outside. Most of the adults left with haste, as if in a panic, which Stiles knew could mean nothing but bad news. He had no idea if Scott was alright, or if the murderer already found him, and it was driving Stiles to the brink of a meltdown.

Then he heard a wolf howl.

“Please sir, you need to let me out!” Stiles begged the auror outside.

“Don’t worry kid, if there’s a werewolf in the area, we’ll make sure it doesn’t get to you.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Stiles muttered under his breath. “But I’m not worried about me.” With the realization that Scott could be in mortal danger, there was only one option left. Stiles couldn’t break open the door because the auror would know far more advanced spells, and he couldn’t break out of the building without being heard. There was only one way for his escape to go unnoticed.

“Destination, determination, deliberation. Destination, determination, deliberation. Destination, determination, deliberation!”

Pain, darkness, confusion.

Scott grasped at anything and everything he could, the panic drawing to a peak as his heart accelerated and his breaths transformed into shallow gasps. His veins were on fire, his blood a boiling rage of destruction. His body was tearing himself apart, it was slowly ravishing his flesh to nothing.

He heard a voice that sounded familiar, it was distressed, the sounds falling fast and ringing. Scott continued to bleed out his agony as the pain intensified, a pressure colliding with his broken body from all sides till he thought death was sucking him into a void of obliteration.

“Scott! Scott -- SCOTT!”

“Stiles?”

It was the first coherent word Scott uttered in the past hour, and Stiles thought he was going to start crying at the pleasure of hearing such a sound.  “Scott, can you hear me? Can you understand me?”

“Yeah…” Scott said groggily, slowly trying to sit up but ultimately deciding against it as he collapsed back down. “I…. what… what happened, exactly? Why… where are we? Are you okay?”

Stiles barked out a dry laugh. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair a mess, and what parts of him weren’t covered in blood were covered in dark grease stains and what appeared to be various potions. “Am- am I okay? Here you are, lying on your deathbed and you’re asking if I’m okay.”

“I’m…just worried is all. Why are you- AHHHnnngh…” Scott moaned as he clutched his right side with a wince. “What… what happened to me?”

“Of course you don’t remember.” Stiles almost scoffed, but it was directed more to himself than his friend. “You umm… how do I put this gently.” He paced back and forth several times, muttering incoherent thoughts, then stopped, stared at Scott, and bit his lower lip.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?”

“Oh don’t be so melodramatic, you’re not dying." He paused. "You’re turning into a werewolf!!” Stiles burst out the words but then closed his eyes as he mentally facepalmed, then literally buried his face into his hands.

“I’m turning… into a w-werewolf?!” Scott’s eyes widened, his brows lowered in confusion.

“Yeah.” Stiles sighed. “Yeah, apparently the murderer was a werewolf. How did I not even notice it was the night of a full moon? My superstitious ass failed us. And he bit you.” He wiggled a finger at the bandaging on Scott’s side. “And don’t mess with it, I spent a good forty minutes on the dressing to save your life.”

“How… how? How did you do all of this? And… why can’t I remember anything?”

“It’s probably retrograde amnesia. It’ll come to you later. Maybe.” Stiles ran a hand through his hair and exhaled deeply. “The auror caught me. Obviously. They didn’t want to deal with me since a murderer was runnin’ around, so they basically locked me up and had an auror keep watch on me. But then I heard a wolf howl, and I knew you were still out there and I had to go and find you.”

“How did you find me?”

Stiles put on an expression that looked slightly horrified. “I… so I think I apparated.”

“You apparated?! How?”

“Destination, determination, deliberation,” Stiles breathed. “I… I’ve read about it, and like Einstein says, imagination is more important than knowledge.”

Scott frowned. “Who’s Einstein?”

“Oh right. You grew up with magic. He’s a famous muggle. Anyway,” Stiles cleared his throat, “I actually didn’t know where… where I needed to go. To appear, that is. But I figured that if I had enough determination to be deliberate in my destination no matter how vague, I would end up where I imagined myself to be, and that was next to you, where ever you were.”

“And it worked?”

“Yeah. I guess. I’ve still got all my limbs.” Stiles looked down at himself as if he would suddenly discover a missing leg. “And I did it a second time. Because there was no way I could move you all the way back to the castle by myself when you were screaming and thrashing in pain. I brought us here.”

“It was that bad? And where is here, exactly?” Scott looked around the room skeptically.

“First floor girls’ lavatory.”

“We’re in the girls’ bathroom?”

“It’s haunted! No one goes in here!” Stiles flailed. “If someone heard you screaming they would assume it were the ghosts that live in here! I couldn’t- I couldn’t get help from anyone.” He bit his lip again, his expression troubled. “No one can know about this, but I couldn’t let you die! I couldn’t ask Deaton for help, or Argent, I couldn’t ask Lydia without getting more people involved, and Ravenclaw Tower’s password this week I can’t figure out so I couldn’t ask Danny for help.”

“What do you mean no one can know?” Scott narrowed his eyes in fatigued confusion.

“You’re a werewolf, Scott!” Stiles yelled in desperation, his eyes starting to water. “You got bit by a werewolf! That means you’re going to turn into a bloodthirsty monster every full moon and no one can know about it! If anyone finds out, you’ll be kicked out of the school, you’ll have parents chasing after you wanting to lynch you, you’ll never be accepted into society and both your parents will probably lose their jobs! If you thought me being a mudblood in Slytherin was bad, being a werewolf? Is a hundred times worse!”

Stiles collapsed onto the ground next to Scott, his meltdown fully manifesting as he sobbed, grasping Scott’s hand and arm as if his life depended on it. Scott stared at Stiles’ hands that held onto him, his eyes starting to water as the realization slowly dawned with greater clarity.

“I’m sorry Stiles…” Scott’s voice was so quiet Stiles barely heard him.

Stiles looked down at him, his eyes completely bloodshot. “Why the hell… are you apologizing! I’m the one who convinced you to go looking for a dead body with me – this – all of this, it’s all my fault! Your life is ruined and it’s my fault!”

“It’s not your fault Stiles.” Scott’s gaze was unwavering despite the breaking of his tears. “It happened… and it was beyond either of our control… I’m sorry you had to go through all that effort for me…”

“I’m sorry…” Stiles buried his face as he continued to fall apart. “I’m so sorry…”

“Stiles, where have you been?” Scott asked as he sat down with a wince at the study table in the library, where Stiles had a plethora of books spread out about him. Some that were floating in the air collapsed onto the table when Stiles jumped in surprise, his eyes wide in disbelief at the sight of his friend.

“Why the hell aren’t you resting in your dorm?? You’re supposed to be sick!”

“I am sick, but I’m feeling better.” Scott shrugged. He looked at all the books with an arched brow. “What are you doing?”

Stiles huffed in frustration. “Trying to read up anything and everything I can about lycanthropy. Wait, how on earth are you feeling better? Everything I’ve read says the bite delivers deliberately excruciating pain…”

“Yeah and those are probably all outdated sources of information, back when they killed people who were bit to prevent any more werewolves,” Scott explained. “My mom works at St. Mungo’s, she’s dealt with bit patients before. They’re usually only there for a few days.”

“So wait, you’re already healing-healing? Like – werewolf-healing? That quickly?”

“Whatever you did to dress my wounds must have worked.”

“Oh.” Stiles blinked several times, taken aback. “I did a really shitty job saving you. I’m not exactly that… good at potions, let alone medical stuff.”

“Well whatever you did, you were paying attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“It was a mixture of powdered silver and Murtlap. I started by making a potion for poison, but apparently, mistletoe is poisonous to werewolves, and that made you scream louder. Sorry about that.” Stiles offered an apologetic expression. “So I eventually stole some Murtlap essence since I have no idea how to make it. That helped with the pain. But then I finally figured out the powdered silver, and shortly after that you started talking.”

“My wounds are mostly healed – they’ve already started to scab over,” Scott said with a hint of enthusiasm. “So it’s not so much that it hurts because I’m bleeding out, it’s more that it hurts like a bruise or a dull ache.”

Stiles’ face was perplexed and slightly disturbed. “You’ve already healed that much? I know werewolves have faster healing than humans, but I didn’t think it would be that instantaneous…”

“The healing ability being triggered or the healing of the wounds?”

“Both.”

They were quiet a moment as Stiles picked up another book and started flipping pages, Scott watching him blankly. “How long have you been awake?”

It took Stiles a moment to realize Scott was asking him a question. He perked up with arched eyebrows. “Huh?”

“How long have you been up? Did you sleep at all?”

“No I’ve been awake….” He counted on his fingers. “I think thirty-six hours now? Something along those lines.”

“Stiles! You need to stop and go to bed. I’ll research stuff.”

“No!” Stiles said it louder than he should have, so he lowered his voice to a whisper. “This is my responsibility, to figure out a way to reverse all of this.”

“Your responsibility? No Stiles, your responsibility right now is to get some sleep. Otherwise, you’re going to pass out while flying a broomstick or something and die.”

“I’m not going to die. We only have a month to figure out what to do with you when the full moon comes.”

“And that’s a whole month to figure it out! Please, go and get some rest. For me.”

Stiles growled in frustration. “I hate it when you do the puppy dog face. Fine! Fine. I’ll go take a quick nap, and then I’ll be back here to finish what I started.” He started to stack his books when Scott stopped him.

“Leave them. I think I’ll brush up on my knowledge as well,” Scott said in a serious tone. “I need to know what I’m up against.”

Stiles stood up and nearly fell over. “Fair enough. I’ll…” He made a hand motion as he tried to think of the right words. “Sleep. I’m going to sleep.”

Chapter Text

5th year

Early-October

“What… is up with you two?” Lydia Martin pointed an orange painted nail at Scott and Stiles during lunch in the great hall.

“Yeah it’s as if you two have some dark mischievous secret.” Allison smirked, keeping her eyes on her textbook.

“I-I we’re- we are not hiding anything,” Stiles said with a frown and raised eyebrows. He tried to casually eat a bite of an apple but juice spilled all over his chin as he tried licking it off with his tongue.

“It’s… it’s not anything important,” Scott said innocently. Stiles threw back his head and sighed.

“A likely story,” Lydia remarked. “I’ll be the judge of how important it is.”

“What if…” Stiles began, “we were planning an awesome surprise birthday party for you. Hmm?”

“My birthday isn’t till March.” Lydia offered a smug expression.

“All the more reason for it being a surprise.”

“Lydia, they probably just broke some school rules,” Allison said absent-mindedly. “And they’re nervous around me since my dad’s the headmaster.”

“Hmm. I don’t think so,” Lydia said.

“Hey, Allison,” Malia greeted as she joined the table, setting her bookbag on the table with a slam. “Did you still have time to help me study history later tonight?”

“Malia.” Lydia got the attention of the Gryffindor. She pointed at Scott and Stiles. “Do they seem… off to you?”

Malia looked over at the boys, who both offered her nervous smiles. She narrowed her eyes and puckered her lips slightly. “I’d say they’re sleep deprived.” She looked at Lydia and frowned. “And they both seem to be studying a lot more than usual.”

“See?” Lydia exclaimed as if that proved them guilty of murder. “Why would you two be so interested in studying all of the sudden, especially on magical creatures?”

Scott uttered an exasperated groan that sounded like a wheeze. Stiles started hitting his back as if he were choking, to which Scott faked a few coughs. “We’re not doing so well in Care of Magical Creatures,” Stiles offered.

“Scott is Deaton’s best student,” Lydia said with a skeptical frown.

“I’M not doing so well in Care of Magical Creatures. And Scott is helping me study. CLEARLY.”

Scott burst out laughing at that statement, then after a moment when he composed himself, he cleared his throat and added simply, “It’s true.”

“I’d take Scott’s word,” Allison said. “Stiles, not so much.”

“Ouch,” Stiles said with furrowed brows.

“It still seems questionable though.” She sighed. "I don't think they're going to spill, Lydia. So we might as well leave them be to whatever mischief they're trying to manage."

"For a headmaster's daughter, you are very…" Lydia tapped a finger on her lips as she thought of the appropriate adjective. "…ingenuous."

"Just trying to pass Charms is all."

It didn't take long for Lydia to fit together the pieces of the puzzle.

When Stiles rounded a corner towards the Slytherin common room there she was, startling him enough that he dropped his textbooks. Lydia had nonchalantly stepped aside to avoid any of the tomes crashing upon her feet, her stance and expression expectant yet triumphant like a teacher knowing they were catching a student breaking the rules.

"L-Lydia!" Stiles croaked. "You can't lurk around corners like a… like a… lurker. You practically took ten years off my life!"

"What are you planning, Stiles?"

"Nothing. I am planning nothing. There's nothing to plan."

"Are you sure you don't have any plans for the night of the full moon?" She took a step closer to him, her face only a foot from his own. "You are aware it's coming up in three weeks, right?"

He could already feel his heart beating faster. "What, like going skinny dipping out in the lake at night? I already did that last year." When she gave him a look he quickly added, "Okay I didn't actually do that-"

Lydia pulled on his emerald tie so he was down on her level, her voice barely above a whisper. "Then what are you planning to do for Scott?"

Stiles swallowed hard. "Ask him on a date?"

The strawberry blonde deadpanned, releasing his tie and whipping out her wand to cast a spell that provided a listening barrier around them, blocking out all sound as if they were now encompassed within glass. "Will you finally talk with me now that no one can hear us?"

"Talk about wha-"

"I know Scott's a werewolf."

"Okaaaay you do not cut corners." Stiles sighed. A part of him knew he couldn't play dumb with Lydia but he still felt uneasy having her know the truth, even if she figured it out for herself without any confirmation. "Yeah, Scott got bit. I kept him from dying… but I couldn't save him."

Lydia's demeanor changed. Her eyes, once hard and determined to know the truth, softened and glistened in the firelight. "No one can be saved from lycanthropy, Stiles… you did everything you could. And there's still more we can do."

"How do you mean?"

It was dangerous and would be near impossible. The Slytherin had an ambitious plan, but she couldn't possibly pull it off on her own. She needed at least one more kin of the cunning mind, but she reckoned she would need the help of all her friends to truly save Scott McCall.

"I have an idea. A crazy, dangerous idea that could possibly get us all killed, or worse, expelled." She looked up at him, her green eyes serious. "Are you game?"

"I think you may have your priorities mixed up, but… yeah." He offered her a nod. "I'm down. What, exactly, are you proposing?"

"We can't save Scott. He's cursed to always be a wolf on the night of the full moons. But instead of trying in vain to make him human, perhaps we are the ones that need to become animals as well."

The wheels began to turn in the boy's mind as he clicked the solution into place. "Are you suggesting we…"

"Become Animagi?" Lydia paused, the corner of her mouth turning into a smirk. "Yes, yes I am."

Chapter Text

“Animagi?!” Allison sputtered a mouthful of juice, her eyes wide. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It was Stiles’ idea,” Lydia interjected, slamming a couple of thick tomes upon the table before sitting next to him.

Scott gave Stiles a pensive look. “Isn’t that near impossible? And even if it isn’t, I can’t ask that of you guys-”

“Scott, listen.” Stiles held up his hands, lowering his voice so others wouldn’t overhear. “If we can figure out how to transform ourselves into animals, then we can be with you on the nights of the full moon. We can make this easier for you.”

“A werewolf’s bite does not affect an animagus while in animal form,” Lydia elaborated. “And we would be able to understand each other as well.”

“That’s illegal though,” Allison breathed. “You can’t legally register as an animagus until you’re at least eighteen.”

“Who ever said anything about registering?” Stiles arched a brow.

Scott’s mouth gaped. “You can’t be serious.”

“You’re suggesting going through a painstakingly long process of trial and error, with error that could be catastrophic, and a process we have little to no access to proper information on, all while trying to not to get caught?” Allison asked.

Stiles and Lydia paused, looked at each other, then returned their attention to Allison and answered simultaneously in a serious tone, “Yes.”

“Aaaaand,” Stiles cleared his throat, pointing to the books Lydia set down, “being Slytherin has some perks. We’re not being completely stupid about this idea.”

“What are those?” Scott asked.

Lydia ran her hand over the cover of one of the books as if it were precious to her. “My dad is kind of into knowing everything about anything, even forbidden and dark magic. That’s… probably one of the reasons my parents divorced.” She frowned. “But anyway, when I visited him a week ago, I may have... borrowed some books from his library.”

“Are those books about animagi?” Allison asked.

“Not only about," Stiles beamed, "but also a thorough instruction on how to become one.”

“It’s a complex process, like you said,” Lydia said with a small sigh. “And it’s going to take many tries, lots of trial and error. Apparently, animagi have to physically transform themselves several times before it becomes a fluid muscle memory. It’s not like polyjuice potion or a transfiguration spell, it’s an acquired magical skill. And skill takes many attempts to perfect.”

“You guys don’t have to go through that for me,” Scott protested softly. "I don't want you guys to suffer, or more importantly get caught."

“Wow, you need to sort your priorities, dude," Stiles gawked. "But the truth of it is, we want to do this.” He gave Scott a hard look before glancing at Allison and Lydia for support. “Right?”

“Personally,” Lydia said, “I’ve always been interested in becoming an animangus. It’s a fascinating subset of magic. But I would also love to support my friends. And you’ve helped me so much as it is, Scott, so it’s only fair that I do what I can to return the favor.”

Allison looked at Lydia and Stiles before staring at Scott for a moment, her jaw slack in hesitation. “I... I know it’s dangerous... but I know if the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t even give it a second thought. So I’ll do it.” She looked at Lydia, her shoulders pressed back. “I’m in.”

Scott looked like he was about to protest further, but his eyes softened and a faint smile appeared on his lips. “I... I don’t know what to say...”

“Just say thank you,” Stiles said. “And contribute by helping our asses as we figure this madness out.”

“What do you mean I can’t pick what animal I turn into?” Stiles asked indignantly.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “That’s not how it works. The shape you take reflects the person you are.”

The four of them found a relatively secluded spot at an outdoor water fountain surrounded by chairs and tables where they could discuss and study their current project. Autumn was starting to set in, the trees changing colors and the air brisk but not too cold. It would only be a matter of weeks before it began to snow so they tried to enjoy as much time outdoors as possible. All of them were pouring over books spread out upon the surface of the table, no different than any other group of students studying outside.

“It sounds like an animagus turns into an animal that 'best reflects their personality and demeanor,'” Allison quoted from one of the texts. 

“But what if I want to turn into a dragon?” Stiles whined.

Lydia gave him a deadpan look. “You’re not a dragon, Stiles.”

“I could be!!”

“Wait,” Scott said, “That means that when the time comes for you guys to attempt transforming into your animal form, you won’t even know what it is you’re trying to turn into?”

“Naturally,” Lydia said.

“That’s awful! How can you visualize turning into a - a dog if you’re really supposed to be trying to turn into a bird?”

“Like I said: trial and error.”

“What are some of the negative side effects of this?” Stiles asked as he flipped through the pages of a textbook as if he’d find the answer in a graphic illustration. “I mean what’s the absolute, most painful, agonizing, terrible thing that could possibly happen?”

“Partial transformation, permanent transformation, bodily disfigurement, paralysis, muscle tears, broken bones, internal organ rupture, blindness, and temporary or permanent change in behavior,” Allison read aloud. She looked up at Stiles with a frown and offered him a nonchalant shrug. “Doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad?? What are you, a masochist?”

"Gryffindor," she answered dryly before glancing back at the page. “It doesn’t mention death, though. That’s an advantage, right?”

“The only other negative side effect,” Lydia said, “is if we encounter one of those serious problems, we’ll probably have to go to St. Mungo’s and they’ll know we were breaking the law.”

“So if things go terribly horribly wrong, we have to suck it up otherwise we’ll get arrested,” Stiles concluded. “No problem. If you have a broken femur, walk it off. If you have cat ears coming out of your head, wear a hat.”

“Those are worst-case scenarios it sounds like,” Scott said. “I don’t think you’ll run into problems that bad, at least not bad enough where we have to practically turn ourselves in.”

“Oh... umm...” Allison pursed her lips into a thin line. “Apparently it says further down that most of these are common occurrences among those attempting to become animagi.”

“Common?!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Great.” Lydia sighed. “We’ll just have to be extra tentative and thorough with everything we do in regards to this. I’m on good terms with most professors, so I could always ask them for more information on the subject. As a curious student trying to widen her expanse of knowledge, of course.”

“Yes... yes please get as much information as you can. I don’t want to suffer unnecessarily.” 

"But you'll suffer if it's necessary?" Scott asked with a playful grin.

Stiles huffed. "You know what I mean."