Keep It Secret
Disclaimer: Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall belong to JK Rowling. Hogwarts and its premises are also her lawful property. I only borrow them for this fic. Kyra and Moira Boyds and some professors and nurse are OCs.
Chapter 1
The barn owl swooped and soared with an even more reckless grace than the wolf had ever before seen in any birds of the night, a flitting shadow against the grey-blue night sky. The wolf watched it hurtling through the branches in a glad, rather self-satisfied show of strength and agility, the sound of its wings flapping carried far even in the windless night. The wolf watched.
He was not looking for prey, that bird. He seemed to be flying for the sheer joy of being aloft. The wolf was slightly perplexed. It was against all that he knew of birds—creatures of efficiency and speed—that this particular barn owl should reveled in such seemingly senseless flight. Something was not right.
But the bird seemed tired now. With careful, measured movements he began to lower himself, a flap of wings at a time, onto a rotting log by the forest floor. The wolf watched entranced behind a clump of holly bush, lowering his own frame onto the ground, his whole body taut and ready.
***
He could forget. When his wings were spread out to the wind, and the world opened below him, he could forget anything. He could forget that he did not belong, not even in his own House. He could forget that he was an outcast. He could forget that nobody wanted, needed, loved him. He could forget the shame, the disappointment, the fear. He could forget the names they called him. Snivelly. Nose. Fish-belly. He could forget.
Stars above him, shadows beneath. The lake a silver stretch of silk under the full moon, the forest an expanse of rippling darkness. So much to see with his sharp eyes, so much to hear with his keen hearing. Rats scurrying to avoid him. The faint gallop of the centaurs in the forest. He could fly forever. He could soar and maybe reach the brilliant orb in the pale night sky. Maybe he could run, maybe he could escape. He could fly away and leave every pain behind him.
But he was exhausted. His shoulders ached from the frenzied motions needed to propel him to the dizzying flight speed that he preferred. His back, where his wings jointed, throbbed. He still tended to forget that birds have lower body mass, lower level of energy. He should rest, or maybe Unchange. The weariness should help him to sleep a deep, dreamless slumber.
Down… Down… Down he flew, concentrating his exhausted mind on reaching the ground.
Maybe he was too tired, or maybe the sound of his fluttering wing muffled all noises. But the pain on his back came so suddenly, unexpectedly, and his shriek—wild and shrill—rang out in the chill air.
***
The wolf sprang from behind the bush with a growl and his sharp claws dug deeply into the warm flesh of the owl, tearing white-speckled brown feathers. He loved it when the owl writhed frantically in his grip. The bird struggled to take to the air, but the wolf slammed him hard to the ground. Blood spattered hot and thick onto the wolf's grey muzzle, driving the animal into blind, hungered rage. He bent to tear at the bird's neck…
…but was shoved away from his prey by a blur of bristling black on white. The wolf whirled around in fury and found himself face-to-face with a snarling Siberian husky, clearly not full-grown yet, and thus smaller, though stouter, than the wolf. His heart racing and his blood heating with wrath, the wolf leapt and charged at the dog. The husky nimbly evaded the attack, and rounded the narrow clearing to stand next to the wounded bird. The wolf let out another deep, threatening growl, but the husky only barked at him, undaunted. The wolf lunged at the husky again; both canines now on their hind legs, swatting powerful claws at each other. The wolf managed to swipe his paws at the husky's neck, tearing white fur and leaving a trail of blood on equally snowy bib. The husky fell on all four with a pained yelp, and the wolf dove for another attack…
…but before he could sink his teeth into the husky now crouching on the ground, the wolf felt a powerful slap on his side that sent him nearly flying to the other end of the clearing. He looked back to find a brown bear plodding steadily his way. Panicked, the wolf snarled at the opponent, but the bear did not seem to heed the raw menace in the wolf's voice. The bear roared and swatted a huge hairy paw at the wolf. Howling in pain, the wolf grabbed in vain at the bear's neck, thwarted by thick, matted fur there, but managed a deep scratch on its shoulder instead. The bear growled and lunged for another attack, but this time the wolf retreated, tail tucked between his hind legs, his belly close to the ground. The bear made a half-hearted attempt to chase him, but the wolf was a swifter runner and soon he was engulfed by the shadows of the forest.
***
The bear lumbered back to the rotten log under the tall fir trees that bordered the forest. The husky was nowhere to be seen and in its place was a girl, wearing the black cloak of Hogwarts student, a Ravenclaw badge on his breast. The bulky shadow of the bear swayed strangely on the mossy ground before turning into a more slender, straighter one, the shadow of a girl, standing and running to her friend.
"Kyra! Are you all right?" she asked as she grabbed the other girl's arm. "Oh. Your neck…"
"It's not as bad as it looks," said the girl called Kyra. "I've…I've licked the wound."
Her friend made a face but looked carefully at the ghastly scratch wound on Kyra's neck. "Well, the bleeding's stopped."
"What about you?" said Kyra, looking over her friend. "Moira! You're hurt too!"
Moira followed the line of Kyra's finger and stared disbelievingly at the bloody tear on her shoulder. She winced. "I didn't feel that," she said. "Oh, we're in serious trouble, Ky. How are we going to explain these wounds to Madam Quinine?"
"Oh, we'll think of something, Mo," said Kyra impatiently. "But look!" She pointed at the blood-mottled earth and the unconscious figure on the ground. The barn owl had disappeared. On the ground there now sprawled a boy, his dark, lank hair falling in an unruly mass over his pale face.
"A Slytherin," whispered Moira, kneeling beside the boy. "Do you know him, Ky?"
Kyra reached out and touched the damp, darker spot on the boy's shoulder. "He's a seventh year," she said absentmindedly. "Snape something or other. Assistant to Professor Wolfram. I've seen him once or twice in Potions class. Mo, I think that wolf's hurt him pretty badly."
"What do we do now?" whispered Moira. "We couldn't just leave him here."
"Of course not, you, silly. We have to take him to the hospital wing."
"Now you're being silly," shot Moira. "How are to explain why we're still out this late at night to Madam Quinine?"
Kyra bit her lip thoughtfully. "You're right. Maybe we could just leave him outside and let Madam Quinine find him."
"Well," muttered Moira dubiously. "Better that than leave him here out cold like this, I guess. That wolf might return anytime soon. Your wand or mine?"
"Me first," said Kyra. "I'll tell you when I get tired."
Kyra took out her wand and pointed it at the unconscious boy. "Mobilicorpus!" she said with a flick of her wrist. A shot of bluish white light flew from the wand and soon the boy was slowly lifted into the air, his robe hanging limp under him, his hair falling back, his hands dangling…
"No, no, no!" yelled Moira. "Put him down!"
"What?" said Kyra, but she lowered her wand and the boy landed gently on the ground.
"He might've broken his arm or his shoulder might be dislocated. Things will only get worse if we try to move him without doing something to his arm first."
Moira knelt beside the boy once more and took out her own wand. She tapped it gently on the boy's arm and whispered "Ferula!" As bandages snaked around the boy's arm and shoulder, tightly and securely wrapping it into a splint, she looked back at Kyra, who nodded and grinned her approval.
"Good thinking, Mo," she said with a wink. "Ready now?"
Moira nodded as she straightened up. Once again Kyra flicked her wand and the boy was elevated into the air. With another sweep of her wand, Kyra sent him slowly cruising in the direction of Hogwarts, looming dark against the pale, moonwashed sky.
***
"That was not just an ordinary wolf, Ky," said Moira as they walked to the castle in the shadows of the trees. "Do you remember third year DADA class? With Professor Cage?"
"Who wouldn't," grumbled Kyra, moving her wand slightly so the boy in her charge would not bump into a low branch. "He threatened to turn the whole class into toads if we so much as forget the color of chimaera in mating season. He had us memorize the entire book! I'll never forget the headache."
"And you're a Ravenclaw," commented Moira rather bitterly. "He was nastier with us Hufflepuffs Lots of detentions and lost of House points… But, anyway, do you still remember how to tell a werewolf from a true wolf?"
Kyra shook her head. "I forgot. Something about the snout, the fang…" She looked up at Moira. "Besides, I didn't get a good look at the wolf. Did you?"
"Well," muttered Moira doubtfully. "I did. And… I might be wrong… But I think it was really a werewolf we saw tonight."
"A werewolf?" cried Kyra. "A werewolf in Hogwarts! Mo, do you understand what that means! We could all be in danger! We could all be turned into werewolves!"
"Watch out!" yelled Moira.
*tbc*