Chapter One: A Pawful of Meatball

Boy stared at the tarmac where their plane had just landed at London Heathrow, eyes wide as saucers, the toddler never having been out of the country before and now he was going because there was nobody to take the child in for two months on Uncle Vernon’s business trip.  Normally, Boy would have been made to stay with Mrs. Figg next door but the woman had to go out of town to take care of a relative who was sick.   Uncle Vernon’s company was paying for everything and they had been given a room at the Hotel Vision where Vernon’s company even paid for the breakfast buffet for four people.   Neither Vernon or Petunia were happy about having to bring the boy but they couldn’t leave him in the house alone, though it wasn’t out of concern for the child but rather fear of what he might do and concern about the neighbors saying something.  The planet was set to leave at 6:00 AM with a stopover in Vienna for thirty-five minutes and getting into Budapest at 10:35 AM.  Then it was a thirty minute drive to the hotel.  

“Flight 354 to Budapest is now boarding at Terminal 2 Gate 23 C is now boarding.  All families with small children under five, disabled and elderly can now board,” said the man at the gate over the microphone.   Vernon lumbered to his feet and the Durselys got into line and soon they were walking down the gate to the airplane, Boy struggling to keep up with his aunt’s long steps and not fall behind.  When they got onto the plane, Boy saw the two by two layout of business class, the child shoved into the seat beside Uncle Vernon.  Dudley was already putting up a fuss at needing to be strapped into his seat, kicking and screaming.  A flight attendant came over and told Petunia that she had to control Dudley or they would be asked to disembark the plane.  Flushing in embarrassment or mortification, Boy wasn’t sure which, he saw Aunt Petunia pull out some pretzels and give them to Dudley.  But he wished that Aunt Petunia would at least give him some attention, the woman his only living relative. No matter what Boy did, no matter how good he tried to be, it was never enough.  

Soon, the plane took off and Boy turned his gaze to look out the window, his small hands clutching the armrest in fright though he couldn’t help the fear filling his veins.  Boy didn’t like heights nor did he like the color green for green brought pain.  Green brought the scary laugh that haunted Boy’s dreams. Halfway through the flight, Boy stumbled towards the bathroom, having to squeeze underneath Uncle Vernon’s legs in order to get access to the aisle so he could go to the bathroom.   He took his time in the bathroom when he got there, Boy struggling to get up to reach the sink on his own.  Reluctantly he went back to his seat, wishing that he could avoid his relatives, squeezing past his uncle to resume his seat.  The thrum of the plane soon lulled the child to sleep, curling in on himself on the seat.  

Situated along the river, Boy found there was a nice view even if being up high was frightening.   Being in the presidential suite seemed to please Uncle Vernon as he commented that it was only the best for his family and Boy was sent to unpack their suitcases for their time within the country.  His days were spent wandering the riverside as Aunt Petunia took Dudley to explore or go shopping or left in the hotel room alone which Boy enjoyed as he got to watch television.  He got two meals a day as the Dursleys didn’t want to appear anything but wonderful for taking in their orphaned nephew.  

“Dud stop.  Hurt,” begged Boy as Dudley punched him in his stomach, causing pain to lace up his small abdomen.   But Dudley ignored his cousin, hitting the child again with a meaty hand across his face, a resounding smack echoing across the open and though it wasn’t as powerful as Uncle Vernon’s, it still stung.   Harry looked across to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia but they were busy looking at the information sign of the area they were visiting, the Turquoise Sea of Hungary at Lake Balaton.   It was a beautiful area containing a hill with a church and monastery at the top of the hill and a ferry ride as well as a little village.   Boy enjoyed the walk, the child’s eyes staring around in wonder until Dudley began hitting him, his uncle and aunt ignoring the commotion and Boy’s face fell.

“I’ll find you.”

“He’s coding!”

“We got to stabilize him before we move him.  Oh the poor child.”  

“He’s losing blood fast!”

“Get a crash cart ready at the hospital!”

“Hang on kid. Can’t be more than one or two.”

Harried voices flitted in and out of hearing as the young child whimpered, trying to keep from screaming.   However, blackness overtook the child once more and he lost all his senses, the ambulance racing to the nearest hospital.  The paramedics managed to stabilize the child and stop his bleeding but not before his heart had stopped and they’d had to revive him.  Once at the hospital, the child was rushed into surgery to treat the bite wounds, the doctor being told there had been a dog attack and one of the dogs had been killed, the other one wounded but they’d wanted to attend to the child and hadn’t pursued the wounded dog.  

“Mrs. Dursley?”

“Yes?”

“Dr. Varga.  We’ve managed to stop the bleeding and tend to his injuries but he has some broken ribs which will take time to heal. However, he’ll have some scarring from the bite on his side and bite on his shoulder.”

“What happened?”

“It seems that two dogs had attacked him. One of them was killed but the other one was lost in the darkness. The question was, why was he alone?”

“The boy tends to wander around the neighborhood and is probably mentally disturbed.  He doesn’t listen at all to what I or my husband have to say and is always kicking and hurting my Dudley.  We thought he was at the hotel.  He was sick and so we left him with a babysitter.  He must have wandered out and got lost.  I really wish he wouldn’t do such a thing, I try to keep him safe.”

“Dudley?”

“My son.  The boy was just dumped on our doorstep the night his parents died.”

“How did they die?”

“A car crash,” said Petunia.

“When did it happen?”

“October 31st 1981,” said Aunt Petunia.  “A friend of the family just dumped him on our doorstep in the freezing cold.  He nearly froze to death when I found him the next morning.  Not even the cour…”

“My condolences.  There’s also some malnutrition problems and low iron count in his blood.”

“Harry.s always been a picky toddler.  No matter how much I cook for dinner, Harry always throws a tantrum and refuses to eat what’s in front of him.  But with another toddler at home and my husband at work, I feel like I’m in over my head.”

“I am not sure of the services in…where are you from?”

“England.  We’re here on a business trip with my husband for work,” said Petunia.  “What can I do to help my nephew? I have no family to help out and my sister-in-law lives too far away to help me.”

“I can give you some iron supplements to give to the child but…do you make separate meals?”

Petunia shook her head.  “No.”

“Good.  Don’t start,” advised Dr. Varga. “Try to switch up the menu a bit, perhaps involve the boy in the kitchen and helping prepare or even shop for food.  Some doctors would say to force the child to eat everything on his plate or deny him food but I personally don’t believe in that.  However, there’s not really a lot of science into why children are picky eaters.  I’m afraid your best bet is to just make sure he has three square meals a deal in correct portion sizes for a child his age, the iron supplements and if you can, take him to a doctor to try to get to the root of the problem.  Now, your nephew is going to need to stay here for a few days so we can make sure an infection hasn’t set in from those dog bites.”

“Dog bites?”

“Yes, it seems he was attacked by a pair of dogs.  One was killed but the other was wounded,” said Dr. Varga.   “I’ll give you a call when you can take the boy home if you’d like to say goodbye for now?”

“I’m sorry but I must be getting home to my son,” said Petunia and left the hospital, leaving a confused doctor.    Frowning, he turned and had a nurse bring Harry some decent food and some iron pills with milk before going to tend to some other patients.  Harry’s time in the hospital was nice and everyone was friendly to the boy. He took his iron supplements without complaint and readily ate everything he could but was still in pain naturally, however the doctors were pleased to see his wounds were healing for the most part except the bite scars and there appeared to be no infection.  When it was time to take Boy home, his relatives were given the pills which Uncle Vernon dumped out as soon as they had stopped for gas and Boy found himself thrown to the floor of the hotel room when they got back, Vernon raging that he had to pay good money for the boy who had gotten hurt on purpose.  

It was an unusually warm day but Boy was feeling ill and not himself.  It still hurt to breathe, his ribs still needing time to heal as it had been only four weeks since he had wound up in the hospital.  As day drifted into night, Boy spent his time on the floor in his corner, a fever beginning to set in.  Clouds shifted in the sky and as the moon began to appear, something unexpected happened, the Dursleys sitting down to dinner and completely ignoring the child in the corner.  “Ant Pet…nee…hot,” gasped Harry.

“Shut up freak,” snapped Petunia.   “You’ve caused enough trouble!”

“Ignore him Pet. Let’s just enjoy our dinner,” said Vernon.

“Of course Vernon,” Petunia said.  “Honestly, I wish I’d never taken the boy.”

Dudley looked over at his cousin, not understanding why they treated him badly.  “Wat wrong Hawwy?”  Dudley might bully his cousin but that was only because he was told to.   Dudley remembered trying to play with Boy and his mother growing upset, dragging him away and throwing his cousin in the cupboard.  He could remember Boy making bubbles float when he had been crying and his father’s rage when he got home, his mother’s horror as she hit Boy over the head with a frying pan.  Dudley was sadly a product of his parents and upbringing.

“Don’t worry about him Dudders.   He should have died with his parents.”

Boy felt a stab of pain in his heart as he heard his aunt’s words. He had tried so hard to get Aunt Tuney and Uncle Vernon to care for him, to be a good boy like Dudley.  But they did the bare minimum for the child and he could see the disdain and hatred on his aunt’s face whenever she looked at him.    “Aunt Tuney…h…” But Boy’s words were cut off as pain suddenly scored through him like white hot knives.   His scream, cut off as it were, suddenly and unexpectedly changed into a garbled mess of human and beast…for a beast is what he became.

 As the Dursleys turned from their meal, Vernon to yell at Boy for disturbing their dinner, for they saw something concerning and frightening.   “Hawwy?”  Boy was withering in pain, tears streaming down his face, a hand desperately reaching out to his aunt for help.  

“Au…Aunt Tuney h…hel…aahhhhhroooowwwww!” Harry screamed, his words cut off as his face began to stretch out, Dudley slipping from the chair and toddling over to Harry to try to help his cousin but Petunia screched and Vernon lunged from his chair to grab his son. 

“Stay away from that freak Dudders!  Is this your fault Petunia?! Your sister had this freakishness too!”

“This is hardly my fault,” hissed Aunt Petunia, her eyes staring at Harry and though there was disgust on the woman’s face, there was no sympathy for her nephew’s plight as he withered and changed before three sets of eyes.     Horrified yet transfixed all the same, the Dursleys were rooted in their chairs, Dudley screaming out of fear of what was happening to his cousin and trying to get down but his father gripped his body in a vice-like grip.    

“Mummy! Daddy. Help Hawwy!”

“No!” Vernon’s shout was so loud and anger filled, yet there was also fear lacing his tone that it startled Dudley and he began crying, his cries drowned by the child’s screams on the floor. Amidst the crying and screaming were the sound of bones beginning to break and Boy was soon convulsing violently upon the floor, his clothes tearing and falling to the floor in shreds as his body changed into a beast.  With skin now bare, Boy's scars from Uncle Vernon's belt could be seen clear as day along with the dog bites, one on his right shoulder and on an arm.  No longer making any human sounds despite his pain, the Dursley family only sat still as Boy's skin began bubbling, as if his blood were boiling his body, skin flushed with fever, his nails and teeth beginning to change and grow so that he began attacking himself and within his organs were changing as well.

Boy was in pain...so much pain...everything hurt.  He turned, trying to crawl towards his family for help, eyes pressed closed from the pain though they could see the tears still leaking out.  Crawling even as his body was breaking and changing before their very eyes, another presence began to form in his mind from what had once been a mere shadow at the back of his mind.  Eyes shot open, so vibrant...so pained, green...then a swirling mass of color, eyes searching desperately for help.  The wolf in him not yet taking control, unable to do so itself, and Harry again reached out for his aunt...hoping she would him but his body jerked and he threw his head back, letting out a horrible pained howl that echoed in the suite and his head dropped.  His backside ached...his spine and tailbone stretching out to form a ragged limp tail and even his hands and feet were changing. There was the sickening crack of knees and elbows turning backwards, more suited for a canine than a human, and Boy began clawing at his skin as it burned...boiled...itched and fur began sprouting along his body, his eyes snapping open to reveal now vibrant orange eyes.

“Daddy l’go.  Help Hawwy!” Dudley screamed, kicking and thrashing in his father’s grip and was successful, the boy falling and toddling towards his cousin as fast as his legs could go, Boy now lying still with head bowed and panting, tongue lolling out of his mouth as his body seemed to have finished changing, soft fur covering the child’s…or rather pup’s…body.  “Hawwy?” Dudley reached out, not knowing any better and now there was knocking on the door.  

“Hello? Sir? Ma’am? Is everyth…” The door opened, the Dursleys too stunned to object and in came management and that was when Boy panicked, the pup lunging towards Dudley…

The pup huddled in the back of a cage, ears pinned against his head, and stared out at the blanket covering the cage which blocked out all light.  A frightened whimper, the Dursleys having been arrested for having a wolf pup in their possession while Dudley had been taken and placed in an orphanage until a Majorie Dursley could come to Budapest to retrieve her nephew.  Nobody had believed their babbling that the wolf pup was really their nephew and he had freakishness in him as had Petunia’s sister and her good-for-nothing husband.   Yet there was a half-blood witch who believed what they had to say and immediately wrote to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic about the situation, sending it with her owl though she had no idea who these people were. Memories flashed in the pup’s mind…scents…screams. A woman screaming and kicking him…a child’s scream and the taste of copper on his tongue…a kick that had sent the pup into the wall with a thud…hands reaching to grab him and his own growling…hands roughly grabbing him…and then being thrown into a bag that confined and confused the frightened pup.  A child’s scream, feet toddling after him before darkness had enclosed his eyes.

Whining as he slid forward into the side of his cage after a long car ride, orange eyes peered out as he cautiously lifted his head from his paws, the stench of urine evident as a car door opened and sunlight filtered in.   Warily he watched as a key was fished out and the lock undone, the door swinging open and a hand reached in, grabbing the pup by his scruff and carrying him into a building where he found himself thrown into a cage, the pup landing with a yelp on the floor and he scrabbled at the floor as the door shut.    Boy tried to shift, as he had tried so long ago, but without his sire’s guidance and the trauma of his shift as well as his age, he was trapped…a beast of the night.  Help!  Help please! He screamed these words in his head but there was none to hear him..and nobody ever would.  Not for a long time.

How long did he sit there before someone came and carried the young pup, a newborn by the looks of it though this was unknowingly due to the child’s malnutrition that made him appear smaller than he was, before carrying him into another room and briefly checked over, the pup trying to move but unable to as someone came with a knife and grabbed the pup’s ear, pinning it to the table and cutting a notch in the pup’s ear, the pup screamed in pain as blood ran down the side his head from the piece cut off to mark the pup.  He was then grabbed roughly, the knife set aside, and carried out of the building.  They traveled past small exhibits until they got to the wolf exhibit and the pup was thrown into the exhibit…into a pack of wolves.   At first there was nothing…no movement from the canines but then Boy found himself being approached by a pair of wolves, the female bending down to sniff at the pup and Boy whined in response, shrinking back from the other’s muzzle, the pup’s eyes closed, blood staining his pelt.   He then found himself being picked up and carried back to the rest of the pack, his instincts as he was set down leading him to seek out a teat where he immediately began suckling from the mother wolf, feeling other small bodies around him. But it was warm in between the other smaller bodies and the mother wolf who would serve as a surrogate to Boy and his adoptive wolf siblings.   

Boy’s family was just one of the animals at the zoo, there also being giraffes, a tiger, turtles, ostriches and kangaroos, a bighorn sheep, a lioness, flamingos and other creatures all placed in wired exhibits with stone troughs of water.  The turtles and kangaroos lived in one exhibit together with the ostriches next to them.  Buildings lining the cages allowed them to get in out of the elements and there were stone pathways around the exhibits as well for visitors. This was Milan’s Zoo, opened in 1932 but was doomed to be shut down in 1992, located in Northern Italy but in the year 1983 this was something that was not known.  It was here that Boy had found himself, his notched ear stinging but the female wolf that took him in licked at the wound until it stopped bleeding.  

It was a cold, damp winter that fell over Milan due to its moderately continental climate yet as January bled into the first week of February, there was no sight of snow until the fifth of the month. Inside the building, a small litter of pups huddled together for warmth and were gathered close to their dam’s side as outside the morning temperature was a cold -5 Celsisus.  Some of the other animals did not fare well, those suited to more warmer climates, but the cold did not stop people from visiting the zoo to look at the animals, comfortably bundled up in layers.   His pelt made him different, the newly acquired wolf pup driven nearly nine hours from Budapest, Hungary and the wolf pack accepted the newborn as their own.    There wasn’t much difference, the new acquisition being on the small side and slightly malnourished but the milk it was getting from its adoptive dam was fattening it up, even if it had to nurse more than its siblings who were a week older.   A pretty thing it was, with its black, red and beige coloring though the owner of the zoo knew not what type of wolf it was but was already considering it for a breeding program if it grew to adulthood.

As time passed, the ear nick healed nicely and the pups’ eyes opened, varying shades of blue. At three weeks old they began to leave the den and play with each other though the new acquisition needed a bit longer to emerge from the den.  There were no names given to the various animals at Milan’s zoo, barring the important ones,  for they existed only as entertainment and being located five minutes from a shopping mall, it was a nice place to visit with families.  As Boy grew into his body, still ever small but otherwise healthy when the city council had demanded an inspection of all the animals at the zoo, forcing the owner to close while the animals were checked out by a veterinarian, he began to catch up to his siblings and gradually his time as a human was forgotten.  Though the moon called to her young child, the trapped and traumatized werewolf was unable to turn back, unaware that his living sire was searching for the cub it had unintentionally sired.   

Winter passed into spring yet did not come easily to the denizens of the zoo in which, in the near future, would be referred to as prisoners.  Spring was an initially unstable season but as the pups grew into their own, they were more active and at night, sometimes the tricolored wolf pup would sit and stare at the stars, becoming lethargic on the new moon, spending his days sleeping outside and not eating. No longer did his dam care for him or his siblings, the pups being made to find their own way within the pack and as the smallest of the pack and his siblings, that meant he was the most submissive.  Despite the bullying from the adults and his siblings, the bitten werewolf pup appeared a cheerful youngster, oblivious to the fact that he was part of some prophecy or that his disappearance would cause a stir in the United Kingdom.   Gradually though, spring settled down though the days alternated between cold and warm in mid-April but gradually the season settled though April brought with it lots of rain from the Atlantic depressions in the first half of the month.   

Restless and uneasy, the tricolored pup would often pace his small cage, withdrawing further away from the pack as his siblings grew bolder in their attacks on him.   May brought with it thunderstorms and the pup spent his time curled up in a corner though could not explain or understand why it was feeling restless.   Life was not great within the small cage as the pack grew with the pups’ growing yet still not as lean and gangly as they would be upon turning a year old.   The twenty-eighth of May started out like any other with a temperature of 15.4 Celsius yet it was also the full moon of the month. Perhaps that was why the pup felt restless, the pup being pushed away from the meat that was thrown into the wolf exhibit by the rest of his family with their parents eating first.  Afternoon brought with it a thunderstorm this full moon night and despite these four months, the pup was still a runt compared to its siblings though there was no rain with a light breeze of 3 km/h and a visibility of 6.3 km which was enough for the pup to see.   At night, the pup, being snapped at and driven away from the den by his older siblings, found himself curled up in the corner, listening to the animals settle down for the night. 

The moon, like she always did, appeared through the clouds and shone her pale light upon the earth. Strangely, though the moon’s light brought pain, it also brought warmth and comfort to the pup as he lay curled in a ball, his tail over his nose though the temperature was not cold.  Though he appeared small, despite being four months old, the pup’s fur had changed as he grew, feathering appearing on his legs, tail and belly, his ears resembling a fox’s rather than a wolf’s.  His mane had yet to start growing in but his claws…horrible things they were yet retractable like a cat’s so he could easily move and it was this Hungarian heritage that the pup took advantage of this night as he waited for the zoo to go silent.   Eyes no longer blue but that same vibrant orange as when he had his first transformation years ago, the pup slowly got to his paws and extended his claws before beginning to dig a hole within a corner where the earth was soft, his claws soon meeting cement and he didn’t stop digging, continuing to dig and tearing through the cement as easily as if it were mere soil before digging underneath the cage and upwards.  Coughing, the pup retracted his claws upon getting out and shook out his pelt.   

Glowing eyes glanced around him, the scent of a bear hitting his nose.   Lowering his belly to the ground, the pup slunk along the paths, his ears twitching as he heard the snores of the other animals and occasionally glimpsed glowing eyes in the darkness from the elderly lioness who watched him silently as he passed, the pup having enough sense to stay away from her.  It took some time to make it out of the zoo but gradually he found a gate smelling of humans and slipped out into the parking lot before scampering into the brush alongside it and disappearing into the night.  The next few weeks were spent scavenging out of garbage cans and avoiding people who tried to pet or grab the wolf as well as running from bigger dogs that didn’t like him on their territory.    Yet the pup often didn’t get food, not knowing how to hunt as lessons wouldn’t have started for him and his siblings with being reliant upon man and he drank water out of puddles or fountains, the pup slowly venturing outside into the outskirts.  

Summer was hot and muggy with little or no wind as the pup discovered and food rotted quickly yet out of desperation, he would tear into bags of trash and eat the rotting contents within.  The pup didn’t realize that he had, by chance, found a country that was friendly to dogs though there was a lot of stray pups being born on the streets due to Milan’s stray dog problem as well as stray cats and he discovered cats were a good source of a meal, if he could deal with their sharp claws and teeth.  He also hunted rats when he could as well as birds though the flying rats were a bit difficult to catch and he didn’t always have a successful hunt which meant going without a meal.    Yet it was out of desperation that the pup would find himself seeking shelter in an unlikely place, injured in a fight with a dog and starving, scurrying through a mess of lorries or semi-trucks as they were known in the United States, the pup hopping up into a lorry and squeezing himself as far back as he could amidst the pallets that were to be delivered.  

“Ciao.   Sei una cosa rognosa,” came a voice that pricked at the pup’s ears which meant “Hello. You’re a mangy thing,” and the pup’s eyes flew open to come face to face with an elderly gentleman crouched down in front of him. The pup whimpered, shrinking back, then showed his teeth in a snarl but the man never moved towards him, nor away.  “Facile lì. Non ti farò del male.  Come sei arrivato qui?”   This simply meant “Easy there.  I’m not going to hurt you.  How did you get in here?”  

Getting to his feet as another voice was heard outside, the pup’s ears twitched, the elderly man looked at the pup and then walked along the length of the lorry before hopping out and walking back to the cab so the forklift could enter to remove the pallets from the lorry.  The pup watched as the pallet was driven into the lorry and pallets began being removed.  As it drew closer with each pass, the pup was terrified and bolted at the next opening and fell out of the back of the lorry, causing a surprise shout from the driver of the forklift and the pup ran, scared and confused about where he was until hands grabbed him, the pup yelping and finding itself being held.  “Facile.  Facile,” came a soothing voice that bespoke wisdom and age.  Though he still struggled in the air, he was held tight to the man’s chest and the pup heard the human’s heart beating in his chest.  The next thing he knew, a door opened and the man, still holding him, climbed into the cab before setting the pup down in the passenger seat.   

The pup immediately scrambled back against the passenger door, trembling and pressing himself against it, the man staring at him with a mixture of concern and sadness in his hazel eyes, light brown skin which tended to tan into a more copper shade during the summer.  “E’ meglio, no?” This meant “That’s better, no?”  The man made no other move towards touching the scared pup but the radio came on and the man turned his attention to the radio, listening to it before responding.   “Sembri un essere logoro...sanguini anche se il tuo colorito è unico. Scommetto che hai fame. Probabilmente anche io ho sete, ma temo di non avere né cibo per cani né una ciotola per l'acqua.”  These words meant “You look like a ratty thing...bleeding too though your coloring is unique. I bet you're hungry. Thirsty too probably but I'm afraid I don't have any dog food nor a bowl for water.”    He got up and went into the back of the cab where his sleeping quarters lay, fetching some bandages, a bit of alcohol and gauze before coming back with the supplies. 

“Facile,” said the elderly man as he reached forward, the pup again showing its teeth.  The man withdrew his hand and considered the pup before him.   “Immagino che tu non abbia una casa. Ma il tuo rosso e nero ti fa sembrare una polpetta. Polpette...sembra andare bene.”  The pup tilted his head at the name that was repeated, a tentative whine coming from it. Again he was saying “I guess you don't have a home. But your red and black makes you look like a meatball.  Meatball...seems to fit,” and the pup whined, not understanding how his life would change.  A yip caused the man to laugh.   

“Oh, ti piace quel nome, vero? Beh... non avevo intenzione di prendere un cane, ma sarebbe carino avere un po' di protezione a casa e in viaggio. Immagino che anche tu potresti avere bisogno di una bella casa. Ti senti piuttosto solo, sai? No, certo che no. Beh, ti chiamerò comunque polpetta.”  Warily watching the man, the pup’s ears twitched at his words but again there was no move towards him.  The trucker seemed to be waiting for the pup to allow him to touch it.  As for his words, they meant “Oh you like that name do you? Well...I wasn't planning on getting a dog but it might be nice to have some protection at home and on the road.  You could do with a good home as well I imagine.Gets rather lonely you know? No, of course you don't. Well, I'll name you meatball anyway.”  It was only when Boy or Polpetta as he now would be, tentatively crept forward and licked the man’s hand that surprise filled the trucker’s eyes and he reached out to pet the pup’s head, Polpetta whining, though not out of fear this time.   The man then reached forward and began cleaning the pup’s wound with the alcohol, a yelp coming from the pup at the burning sensation.  “Facile,” said the man, stopping to rub the pup’s head to soothe it.  Only when he had calmed did the bandaging continue and as he finished a voice on the radio come on again.  

Leaving Polpetta in the cab, the trucker got out and went to close the lorry doors, locking them in place and then began hooking up the brakes and electric lines again, put the lorry back up and secured the trailer to the cab once more.  Once his lorry was secured and ready for driving again, the old man got back into the cab and started it only to see it curled up on the passenger seat.  “Andiamo a casa, Polpetta,” which meant “Let’s go home, Meatball.”   Fastening his seatbelt, he turned on the engine, looking to see Polpetta’s reaction and unsure how the pup would react to the engine starting but though the pup lifted his head, it didn’t otherwise make a ruckus or freak out.  Then, the lorry pulled out of the parking lot and drove through the gate to the warehouse before turning onto the highway.   

Stopping at a pet store in Milan before heading home, the trucker whose name was Sarbello Mezzatesta, purchased some dog supplies and then filled the new water bowl with water before slipping the collar around Polpetta’s neck and fastening it, it being a simple emerald green color.  Attaching the leash to the d-ring, he then let Polpetta out and watched as his new puppy went straight for the water.   Sarbello was not a mere muggle, he was a squib who had been cast out by his pureblood parents, taken in instead by an uncle and aunt yet his uncle was a part of the Italian Mafia through marriage to one of the Capo’s children.  The branch that his uncle was part of, Sarbello technically being part of it himself, had creatures, squibs and wizards alike with muggles belonging to the Muggle Italian Mafia. Letting te pup drink as much as it wanted, Sarbello then dumped out what remained and walked Polpetta around the parking lot and they got back into the truck and headed towards the company base where the lorry was dropped off and he grabbed the bag of pet supplies and Polpetta’s leash as well as his paperwork.  Heading towards the office, he handed in his paperwork to his employer and then made his way to his truck which he got in, gesturing for Polpetta to get in.  The pup did so and they began their journey back to Sarbello’s home in Montepulciano, Italy, a four hour drive to the Tuscany region of Italy. 

The ride was quiet as they made their way home, Sarbello turning on the air conditioner in his truck to keep cool.  It was a beautiful drive as they gradually left Milan behind and headed towards the wine region of Tuscany, their destination a medieval and renaissance town on top of a hill surrounded by vineyards in the southern area of the Tuscany region with the countryside also made up of rolling hills.   In Florence, they stopped at a veterinarian to get Polpetta checked out and the pup was given the necessary shots, estimated to be seven weeks of age but aside from the malnutrition, the ear nick in his right ear and the bite wounds on shoulder and foreleg, Polpetta was otherwise pronounced healthy.  His nails, ears, teeth and eyes were checked and Sarbello then had his nails trimmed. Most importantly the pup got his leg stitched up and rebandaged so that turned a four drive into a five hour drive as some wounds had to be tended on the pup’s body from being picked on by his littermates, the pup given dissolving sutures and a cone to prevent him from picking at the wounds while they healed which would take between ten to fourteen days.  

“Polpetta,” came Sarbello’s voice which roused the sleeping pup in the passenger seat, the vehicle now at a stop.  Polpetta lifted his head and let out a yawn before following his master out of the truck and the door shut behind him, master already holding the bag of supplies.   “Venire,” said Sarbello, which meant ‘come’ and tugged on the leash to lead the way into the Mediterranean styled home from the left garage, claws and shoes tapping across the cement flooring where they emerged into the mudroom.   “Bentornate a casa Polpette,” said Sarbello which meant “Welcome home Polpetta.”  The pup wagged his tail and barked as Sarbello took off his shoes and then unhooked Polpetta’s leash, placing the shoes to the side and hanging the leash on a hook by the door before opening the door leading into the house.   Four bedrooms and four baths, with the master suite having a sitting room and two walk-in closets. There was a covered lanai and pool with outdoor kitchen out back and an outside shower and fountain behind the right garage while iron gates closed off the long drive and property.  A study was located near the master bedroom while there was also a wet bar and separate dinette with the family room and kitchen being an open concept, the walls painted cream, the floors a mix of stone and tile flooring with the courtyard between the two garages being of brick.     

Located in the kitchen was a pantry and the living room was down a couple steps leading from the dinette area yet there was also a proper dining room as well.   A pool bath lay outside near the fourth bedroom while the second and third bedrooms were at the end of the short hallway leading to the living room past the mudroom and there was a morning bar near the master bedroom.  The floors of the study and bedrooms were all hardwood and there were even couches, a fireplace and television outside underneath the covered lanai near the outdoor kitchen with a spa on one end of the pool.  Polpetta was allowed to go explore his new home as Sarbello began putting the dog supplies away, putting one of Polpetta’s beds in the master bedroom, another outside underneath the covered lanai and the third in the living room near the window so Polpetta could sun himself if he so wished.   Sarbello came back as Polpetta was looking outside at the covered lanai and headed to the mudroom to get Polpetta some food and water from the sink in the mudroom, neither knowing that in Hungary, a cream and silver wolf  with silver eyes emerged from under a den dug beneath a tree, eyes glittering as it stared into the night.

“I’ll find you.”