Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the Harry Potter series.
Prologue
He signalled to her with a slight wave of his free hand, the other gripping his wand tightly. She looked around at his gesture from her vantage point on the other side of the closed door, one eyebrow raised in what was clearly a questioning glance.
He was just about to show up three fingers as a count-down when a low moan issued from the other side of the door, followed by the unmistakeable sound of someone scrambling on the floor. He looked back sharply at the door, heart thudding in his chest while a mixture of fear, worry, anger and recklessness coursed through him. A quick glance to his right told him that she was just as worried as he was – her eyes were wide with apprehension, and her arm holding her wand was shaking ever so slightly.
And then it happened.
'Crucio!'
Terrible screams of pain issued from inside the room, along with what sounded horribly like someone…laughing. He scrunched up his eyes and tried to block out the agonizing shrieks of his friend; he chanced another glance at his current companion, desperate to come up with some semblance of a plan to get in and get out.
He could barely recognize the person standing across him.
Gone was the apprehensive and fearful gaze that had filled her eyes for the last five minutes – the brown had now become almost black with rage…her wand hand, which was only moments ago slightly quivering with dread, was now steady as a rock; her other hand was clenched into a fist, her long nails digging into her palm so forcefully it was a wonder he couldn't see blood trickling out of it. Her shoulders were set with fierce determination, her stance as though she was readying herself to charge into a duel…
And somehow, he knew that this would end badly if she did charge into a duel.
'Wait – no!'
But before he could say anything else, she took a few steps forward, kicked the door open with such force that it was almost blasted off its hinges, and ran inside the room, wand at the ready.
He swore. Loudly.
It was said that the Shrieking Shack was the most haunted dwelling in all of wizarding Britain.
But as he stepped over the threshold, past the broken door that was barely holding onto to its anchors of support, and looked up into the eyes of Fenrir Greyback, he could only hope that the evening wouldn't be as haunted as the building he was in.