WHAT MY PARENTS TAUGHT ME
eyes of banshee - used as an ingredient in certain potions and divinations spells. most potent if removed while banshee is alive. use serrated spoon for quick removal in a pinch but if able, a full surgical exenteration of the eye and the other adjacent structures of the eyes is preferable to get the most profit from each socket.
vocal cords of female banshees - dehydrated. can be powered or shredded into string, can be powerful ingredient for potions or used for cursing dark objects. must be removed postmortem. easiest to remove whole larynx first. Dehydrate by leaving in box of salts. carefully carve out the vestibular folds and the vocal folds. Shred or powder as desired.
female banshee hair - used for wand making, wands powerful at curses but usually unable to perform healing magic. exotic core, find a classic wand maker, with a unique clientele. best to gather when banshee is about to scream, use silencing curse. roots are unnecessary.
fangs of vampire - sold as trophies to collectors, can also be used in potions and in the creation of dark objects. If live vampire captured and refuses to let their fangs out, starve them until a bit of blood is enough for the animal to come out, act quickly. If keeping them around is unnecessary, remove head first and surgically open up the gums and remove fangs directly.
vampire blood - when liquid, dangerous. once ingested, if the consumer is killed before the blood leaves their system they may become vampires themselves. can be used in forging dark objects. Blood can be dried and scraped into a power-like texture. loses it's ability to create new vampires but can be used in some potions. vampires do not continuously generate blood if they are not fed, so be prepared if you plan on having them as longer term cattle.
veela hair - used in wand-making. temperamental wands, especially when in the hands of those without any veela blood in them. they can fetch good price but more for those who collect exotic cores than for the witch or wizard in want of a reliable wand. only worth it if full blooded.
veela beak - full blooded veela only. veela must be enraged to transform into it's natural harpie-like state. act quickly. must be removed when veela is living. remove lower mandible first, using sharp carving knife, coming from under the roof of the mouth, push in hard you should hear a crack of breaking jugals, pry knife forward like a crowbar, another crack and the maxilla should start breaking away from the main skull. pieces will break but the larger and more intact the beak, the more it's worth. Sell to artists and collectors. much like ivory to muggles, such are the beaks of veela.
werewolf fangs & claws - both must be removed during transformation on a full moon. fangs are mostly used as novelty items for collectors. necklaces made from slain werewolves are particular popular with younger wizards. the claws can be sold for work in potions.
werewolf saliva - can be collected from a werewolf during anytime, safest to retrieve when the wolf is hiding behind it's human face. be careful not to get any into any open wounds, can cause werewolf tendencies or even allow the disease to take you depending on the amount of contamination. can be weaponized and used as a potions ingredient.
werewolf hide - used in book bindings, creation of magical garments, and potions. very valuable because it's hard to get. werewolf must be fully transformed and subdued. werewolves shift back to their human masks when they die so they must remain alive as long as you can manage as the skinning begins. once again, the more intact the skin, the more valuable.
HOW WE LIVED
My parents were Aamon and Lamia Verde. My mother was kidnapped when she was a child and sold to a vampire who planned on consuming her. She was liberated by my grandfather and her future father-in-law. His name was Samael. He was the head of a group of wizards who survived by going from place to place. They knew how to track and how to hide, they knew how to kill and they knew how to profit from it. Mostly, they knew how to survive. Or that's what they told themselves. That's all they talked about, survival. They were all survivors of this great war that had been simmering since the beginning of time. They raided that vampire's den. They beheaded the vampire and took his fangs and then they took my mother. Instead of returning her home, they decided to keep her. She was adopted by a couple in the group that had lost their infant daughter to disease.
My father and mother began dating when they were in their teenagers. My mother showed so much promise, and still had a scar on her neck from her experience as a child, Samael decided she was acceptable for his star boy and future successor. She was pregnant with my older brother when she was just 16. They got married when they were 18. And by 20, she was pregnant again, this time with me. Grandfather was thrilled. It was hard for them to take care of kids on the go but the group was a bit of a community, we all looked out for each other. After all, we were all family in a way. We were all survivors.
But survivors of what?
That "war" that Grandfather was always going on about was about creatures. It was about werewolves and vampires and banshees, veela and whatever else the world can come up with. If it wasn't 100% human, like wizards, witches and muggles, than it was out to get us. No matter how normal they could seem, no matter how young or innocent they may pretend to be, they were all just monsters, waiting for their chance to exterminate us, or feed from us. They were like walking stick bugs that pretended to be twigs, but instead they pretended to be people. They didn't feel sadness, they simply faked tears hoping to provoke an emotional response in us. They didn't feel kindness, they simply were trying to lull us into complacency. Their physiology prevented them from feeling anything except hunger and the urge to kill.
Grandfather, grew up in Mexico, came to the UK with his two sons, my father being the oldest, after his wife had been turned into a vampire. He tracked her to the UK, hunted her down and killed her. Or "released" her as he would call it. He was doing the merciful thing because his love would have never wanted her body walking around and killing innocent people. I remember once asking him how he was strong enough to kill someone he loved, even if it was the right thing. I think I was five at the time. He laughed and shook his head and said he could hurt anyone he loved but his wife died, what he killed was a blood thirsty rabid animal that tried to trick him into sparring it by stealing her memories and trying to use his compassion to make him weak. He wasn't a man to be easily fooled. That was all.
After his kill, he sold her fangs to a trader and realized that there was good money in this. A number of his men had come with him. More joined, especially as the ministry seemed to wise up and tighten restrictions. The Ministry may be getting smarter but they were still behind. The ministry saw them as highly dangerous and unstable people... they weren't.
Wolves had more heart than and werewolf and bats were more natural than vampires.
Creatures were monsters that did had nothing in them except their instincts which were to kill and eat. But they weren't worthless, they were magical creatures and there was a way to do a little good and make money off of it. The government called it poaching. We called it hunting.
My grandfather stepped down when I was nine, retiring at the age of 60. My father took over.
For his first act as leader of the group, they had heard of a group of banshees hiding in the Black forest. The grown ups left. Grandpa babysat me but my older brother wanted to go with. I hung out with some of the other littler kids and when they got back, my dad gave me a stuffed mooncalf toy. I loved it. They also back a lot of body parts. I helped them.
Growing up, I was taught basic magic. Lumos, for light, Aguamenti for water, Alohomora to unlock doors, Herbivicus to grow plants to maturty, Alarte Ascendare to throw a target into the air, Periculum if ever separated from the group, etc. I was probably average at everything I was taught but there was a lot they left out or were too ignorant themselves to teach us. Our history of magic was exceptionally biased. Our muggle studies only consisted of teaching us what might be useful when it came to tracking and fighting, and how guns worked. I would be lost at potions but could probably kick someone's ass in Defense against the dark arts. I hadn't even heard of Ancient runes until last year.
I was also taught a lot of things others would not have been. How to dehydrate and prepare the vocal folds of banshees. How to clean werewolf hide. How polish vampire fangs. Where the weak points of a body are. How much surgically remove things while keeping victims alive, not that I was taught to think of them as victims.... fact was, I never killed for them, but... I helped my family. I helped them hurt, torture, set traps, I might as well have been killing them.
Anyways, I grew up speaking Spanish and English, and learned some very rudimentary french but I would have a hard time reading in any language. My family's teaching did not focus around reading or writing skills. I'm pretty sure that was on purpose though. Kept me from educating myself, or perhaps it would not have taken being turned by a werewolf for me to learn better.
HOW I TURNED ((trigger warning for abuse and violence))
I bought into everything that was brainwashed into me. All of it. I wish I could look back and say I fought against it. I wish I could go back and try to stop them from murdering and flat out torturing some of us... but I can't. Not only did I not stop them, not only did I think they were right, I actually helped them, all in the name of family. According to my parents, and pretty much everyone in that group, family and loyalty was everything. If your parents hit you, it was because they were being responsible and trying to teach you. If they yelled, it was because they loved you. If your child acts out or runs away, it's only because they need guidance and if they did something stupid or made a mistake, you have to clean it up. They're family. There was only one exception. The only time you could turn your back on blood.
I was fourteen. We trapped a werewolf. He was maybe 16 years old. I think of it now and it's so different from when I was experiencing it. When it was happening, I saw a monster lashing out at as as we subdued him and now I think back and all I can see was this terrified kid fighting for his life as we strapped him down, full wolf formation, preparing to literally skin him alive. In the struggle, his head got loose and he gave me a deep bite into my hand. My father immediately rushed me out as my older brother, mother and some cousins continued to restrain the werewolf. He took me to the nearest sink and washed it out. I remember feeling dizzy as he and some other adults spoke about cutting my hand off, hoping that would stop it but they all knew it was too late. I was going to be a werewolf.
They locked me in a cell, a big cold cement room with a metal door with exactly 96 bolts in it. They kept my ankles chained. They kept me in there until the next month and my first transformation. It was excruciating. I was severely injured the next morning. No wolfsbane meant I had spent the night, angry and hungry with nothing but myself to abuse. I hated myself. I was a monster. But immediately I realized we had been wrong about one thing. I felt like a monster only when the full moon rose and I lost control. The rest of the time, it was just me. Me with a better sense of smell, and better ability to heal. I begged them to listen to me but they all thought it was a trick, a ploy to get free and I hardly blamed them. I would have thought the same. The isolation was driving me mad. Some would come see me through the bars on the door's window. One even asked if I was alright and gave me updates. My brother.
He told me they were trying to figure out what to do. He told me he hated me, because I was a constant reminder that his sister was dead. His sister who he loved, but that he came anyways because it was nice to see her face. I begged him to understand it was me, just cursed but he would call me a worthless liar, nothing but a talking dog, and leave.
Then it was my uncles turn to visit. He was about twenty-eight at the time. He came into the room. I was still chained. He told me it was uncanny how much I looked like his niece for being a demon on earth. I tried to talk back but he struck me, hard. I was tired and malnourished, they were feeding me but not much. I was dizzy from heat. He watched me, amused. I tried to sit back up but he kicked me again. He began to undo his belt. Whipped me with it a few times. Said I deserved it for stealing his beautiful niece. "she was so young, soft. the kind of girl you knew would turn into the kind of woman every man wanted a piece of." I looked at him confused. He laughed and hit me again before he climbed on top of me. He put his hand over my mouth and told me if I bit or screamed, he'd kill me with ease and no guilt. He started to remove the clothing I had on and I started to panic. He hit my head against the floor, hard enough to make me freeze up and focus on the fog in my mind, but I still remember the sound in his voice as he said he had always wanted to fuck me, but would have never hurt his family, and now that I was a monster, it didn't matter. I still looked like her.
He could pretend.
After that night, I grew silent. I stopped engaging with anyone who came into the room or to the door. My uncle returned two more times before he was done. I didn't fight it. After my third transformation, my father entered this room. I was still chained around the ankles. He brought me a cheeseburger and I nearly tackled him with love because I was hungry and hadn't had more than trash they dumped into the cell. He told me that they had finally figured it out. They were going to kill me but out of respect for his daughter's body that I had stolen from her, they would not sell my parts. They were going to kill me and bury me just outside the cemetery his parents were at.
I thought I would beg. I thought I would plead. But instead, I accepted the decision but not because I agreed. At that point, between my brother, father, mother, uncle, everyone. I understood the reality. Three months I had been kept, chained like an animal. I had been beaten and isolated, gone through horrendous pains of transformation without any sort of care but I was still feeling things. I still felt human. I was human. I was a werewolf, but I was still human. Which meant they all were. And if we were wrong about them, vampires? Giants? Banshees? We weren't saving or protecting people. We were torturing and killing them and I had helped. I deserved this end, but not because I was a werewolf, but because of what I had helped them do and what I had done.
HOW I ESCAPED
They came in later that week to drag me out of the room. My ankles bloody and bruised from the chains. My body weak from late of proper nutrition and exercise. I didn't fight them at all. They brought me to a wooden post and chained me to it. The group circled around me, all dressed in black, mourning their lost sister... me. My father walked up, he was going to do the honors. They were going to burn me. I looked at my father's eyes. They looked angry and sad, but for the first time in my life, when I looked at him, I felt nothing but hate. Hatred for him raising me to be a monster. It had nothing to do with being bitten or turned and everything to do with what he had asked children to be a part of. He asked if I had anything to say. With the only pride I had left, I lifted my head and I spat in his face.
"Bitch" he called me before he pointed his wand to me, ready for the kill when part of the encampment exploded. The were screams and even a few howls. I'm not sure who or how but some group of creatures were attacking. In the mess of everything, someone undid my chains. I don't know who. I was too lost. I turned around but whoever it was, was gone. I looked at the mess and I looked out towards the woods. I took a deep breath and mustered every ounce of strength I had left and I ran. I ran and I kept running. Bare foot, bruised, bloody, I ran. The last thing I remember was running.
When I woke up, however, I was surrounded by unfamiliar faces. They were a part of a pro-creature rebellion. They asked who I was. I lied at first, scared they would kill me when if they knew. I told them I was a werewolf they had kidnapped. One thought how evil of them for taking such a young kid, and how made they were that the leaders had gotten away. So my parents are alive, was all I thought. They asked where my family was, I told a partial truth and told them they had abandoned me after I turned. I had run away so I didn't have to go to purgatory. They understood. They helped me heal. After about a month with them, they saw that I had some skill fighting but they didn't want me doing too much. They got me wolfsbane which not only helped me stay sane in wolf form but actually helped a bit with the pain of the transformation. After two months, I felt I owed them to tell them the truth.
A couple of the leaders laughed. They knew. They knew before they found me. I was why they were there that night. They had heard rumors that these poacher's own daughter had been turned and tortured. They figured they would check me out because they figured someone who knows them well would be valuable but they needed to know I hadn't just accepted myself as a monster and would go along with their torture. They had to see I had fight in me and when I spat in my father's face, that had made up their minds. I asked if one of them had undone my chains. They said not they knew of but they were glad someone had. I asked why they didn't just tell me that and one of the men smiled and told me, "We needed to know we could trust you, yes, but you also needed to know you could trust us." and he left me with that.
HOW I AM
I stayed with them after that. I did what they asked. I met and got to know all sorts of creatures. Not as targets but as people, as fighters. Not to overplay the werewolf puns, but I don't do well without a pack and they became my new one. A few years ago Kai, a member with quite the history returned from america. We became pretty close. She has a better, wiser, and slightly older head on her shoulders and really she's not that wise and not much better and not much older but still, I sort of looked at her as an older sister. Not that I'm sure she sees me much the same.
From what I know, my parents and family are still out there. Doing what they do but I haven't heard much of them lately which is good, hopefully they're slowing down. I am pretty sure they think I'm dead and good. I don't want to see them. I don't want to hear from them. I hope they die, alone, miserable and in pain. I want them to understand what they've done, profiting from murder and I want them to die knowing that guilt they had forced her to experience. My hatred of them grew.
Distance doesn't make the heart grow fonder, just stronger and more vengeful.
And that's it. That's HOW BECOMING A WEREWOLF MADE ME HUMAN