Orenda (n.) a mystical force present in all people that empowers them to affect the world or to effect changes in their own fate or destiny
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Hermione held her breath, stifling a scream.
The bark of the tree she hid behind dug painfully into her back, scraping her flesh through the tears in her shirt.
She didn't know how long she'd been running. How long it had been chasing her.
She didn't even know what it was.
But she knew she didn't want it to catch her.
So she kept moving. And hiding when couldn't bear to move another inch.
But it was relentless in its pursuit. Never slowing, never losing her trail.
She was equal parts terrified and hopeless. She had no idea where she was, deep as she was within the woods. Everything looked the same, every bush, every tree, every rock and fallen branch…
It went on forever in every direction. An endless maze she would never emerge from. She was all alone with the beast at her back. Even the birds and insects had abandoned her, fleeing high and low to escape the same fate that surely awaited her any moment now.
She swallowed heavily, regaining her breath and closing her eyes, straining to listen for any sign, any indicator of its presence.
But she could hear nothing beyond the deafening thud of her own heartbeat. Each desperate throb another second in the countdown.
She couldn't sit in wait any longer. Stagnation was death.
She ran.
And then she heard it.
Pounding footfalls, racing along the dead leaves and soil.
Heaving breath, wild and malevolent.
Gaining speed, louder and louder, closer and closer-
She lost her footing, falling in slow motion to the forest floor, releasing a blood curdling scream on instinct. The impact knocked the wind from her, her shoulder and hip taking the brunt of her weight. But her adrenaline overrode any pain as she scrambled frantically on her hands and knees to find purchase, to pick herself up.
And from her half upright position she saw it.
Not a beast.
A cottage.
Moss covered and hidden within its surroundings. The front door was a bright beacon of hope that called to her.
She launched to her feet and sprinted.
But the cottage became a mirage, shimmering before her eyes, never getting any closer no matter how hard she ran, now matter how her lungs burned.
And yet the beast was very real, tearing through the shrubs and foliage and ripping along the path, charging her at full speed-
And then it leapt onto her back, a crushing weight that ripped her off her feet and pushed her hard into the packed earth.
She was too terrified to release anything more than a shocked grunt of pain. She braced herself for the blood, the carnage, gnashing teeth and razor claws.
But it was human hands that grasped her hips and flipped her over, that pinned her body in place. The sun broke through the canopy above, turning the stranger above her into nothing but a shadowed silhouette.
But the creature was a man, of that she was certain, and the revelation terrified her even more.
"Hello, little one."
His voice was death, unyielding and absolute, stopping her heart and stealing the breath from her lungs.
His hands skimmed along her sides, pushing her arms over her head and encasing her wrists as he bore down upon her. She gasped, closing her eyes and turning her head away, feeling searing hot breath along her skin and sharp teeth along her throat, tracing along her throbbing pulse, devouring her in a way that was more brutal than if he rendered flesh from bone.
"Soon." He whispered in her ear, a lover's promise, all the more perverse for how intimate his tone.
And just as she felt the weight of his hips press into hers, a blinding light flashed above them, ripping a growl from his throat and relieving her of his weight. The explosion blinded her, left her suspended in a vacuum of white-
And then something small pounced on her chest, tiny claws prickling her flesh.
She opened her eyes.
"Crooks…" she groaned, rolling to her side and tipping the feline to the mattress.
The orange mass of fur mewled, butting his head against her chin and purring loudly. She sighed, rubbing sleep from her eyes before scratching along his scruff and back.
"I'd normally complain about you waking me with your claws, but in this case you pulled me from a rather unpleasant dream."
She yawned into the back of her hand and then stretched her arms over her head and pointed her toes, relishing the pull on her muscles, and then blinked, recalling her prone position in the dream, and quickly sat up.
This was the third time she'd had the nightmare in a week. It disturbed her deeply. She had no idea where such images came from. She'd never been attacked before, in the woods or elsewhere, and if the dream held some hidden meaning she had yet to discern it.
Even more unsettling, it was evolving. The stranger had never spoken to her before.
Her arms broke out in gooseflesh as she recalled his words, his low spoken endearment, as though he knew her…
"Hermione Granger, I do hope you're awake!"
She blinked, glancing out of her window and examining the position of the sun.
"Shite!" she hissed, leaping out of bed so fast she dragged half her sheets with her.
"I'm up!" she called down the stairs, spinning in a circle looking for her shift.
Ten minutes later she was flying down the steps, running her fingers through her hair and twisting it up into a bun, futility trying to smooth the sides.
The woman seated at the breakfast table raised a brow. Hermione bit her lip.
"I overslept."
"I can see that. And on your first day of work. How unbecoming."
Hermione swallowed lightly. "I can make it on time if I take a shortcut-"
"No." Her voice brokered no argument. Hermione sighed. "You are not to set foot in the woods. Do you understand? Not until they catch whatever beast is running wild."
Her godmother's words inspired flashes of the dream to return to her in stunning clarity, making her stomach clench.
"Alright. I promise."
The woman nodded, spine ramrod straight. "Very good. Enjoy your first day, my dear. And be on the lookout at all times, the creature has yet to breach the village walls, but hunger will make it desperate."
Hermione released a slow breath. "I'll be careful. Thank you, Ma'am."
She slipped out the of the cottage and took off at a sprint down the path that led to town, skirts billowing around her in a flurry of movement.
"Good morning, Hermione!"
"Good morning, Gin!" Hermione called over her shoulder, seeing only a flash of long red hair and a brimming basket as she spun around the corner, too harried to linger in a conversation.
By the time she made it into the town square she was panting, her hair had fallen loose and trailed behind her in a river of brown curls.
"Oi! Who's chasin' you, Granger?" a familiar voice laughed.
She spared Seamus a small smile, too fatigued to respond as she darted past his game wagon.
She charged into the Apothecary and promptly doubled over to catch her breath.
"My goodness, Ms. Granger. Are you alright, child?"
Hermione nodded, swallowing thickly as she drew to her full height. "Yes. I apologize for being tardy, Madam Pomfrey, I-"
"No need to apologize, dear. I've only just arrived myself. With last night's town hall running late I barely got any sleep."
Hermione nodded. The meeting had been called in light of the two deaths that occured over as many days in the last week.
"I'm sorry to have missed it. I heard it ran long. Was there much to discuss?"
Pomfrey sighed, arranging small bottles along the shelf. "There was much to argue about. Kingsley informed everyone he reached out to the Church. They're sending someone to investigate the matter."
Hermione swallowed. "Investigate? Weren't Rodolphus and Fleur attacked by an animal?"
"Apparently there are details we weren't made to privy to originally. The bodies were badly maimed, but they weren't eaten."
Hermione blinked, drawing back. "I thought they were torn apart."
"They were. And all the pieces were left behind."
She felt the blood drain from her face. "But… that makes no sense. What kind of animal kills for a reason other than food?"
Pomfrey glanced up, gaze steady. "Only one comes to mind."
Hermione was rendered silent by the revelation.
Kingsley thought Rodolphus and Fleur were murdered.
It wasn't possible. Perhaps if they had been found stabbed or strangled, but what kind of person tore another person apart limb from limb? How was that even possible? Fleur was a slight thing, but Rodolphus was a large man, well muscled and broad. Certainly he would have put up a mighty struggle.
"As you can imagine, everyone went a bit crazy after the announcement. Malfoy insisted we investigate the matter internally. Surprisingly many agreed with him, even those who aren't his biggest fans. No one seemed too keen on an outsider coming in."
Hermione's hands clenched at her sides, fear blossoming within her. "A member of the Church? Like a priest?"
Pomfrey shrugged. "I don't know. The Church didn't tell us much, just that they were sending someone who could help shed light on the matter."
Hermione's heart beat wildly in her chest. The Church had controlling interest over all the seaside villages, Hogsmeade included, though their community was situated the farthest away and therefore operated under the least amount of oversight. They hadn't had a member of the Church pay a visit in many, many years.
"When will they be arriving?"
"I don't know, dear. All the yelling gave me a terrible headache and I was forced to retire before I heard all the details." Pomfrey blinked, tilting her head. "Are you alright, Hermione? You look white as a sheet."
Hermione wet her lips, nodding weakly. "Yes. I'm fine. I just overexerted myself a bit on the way over."
Pomfrey nodded. "Well take a seat and catch your breath if you must, I don't want you passing out. I haven't swept the floors yet."
Hermione attempted a small smile, making her way across the room to lean against the front counter, trying to regain her bearings in light of this new information.
The Church was sending someone to investigate.
This wasn't good. What if they found out about-
"Oh my, what's going on out there?"
Hermione was pulled from her anxious reverie by the sight of several villagers running past the shoppe. She stepped towards the window, squinting into the distance. "It looks like they're gathering around the nursery."
Pomfrey brought a hand to her mouth. "Oh dear. I do hope Miss Sprout is okay."
Hermione drew back. "I'll be right back."
"Perhaps you should stay here-"
Hermione was already out the door and hurrying across the dirt road before Pomfrey completed her word of caution. Hermione was used to being warned away from any and everything that posed a potential risk. It was exhausting. If only they knew how capable she really was.
She slowed her approach as she neared the edge of the crowd, voices low and hushed beneath the shouting of Kingsley.
"Everyone get back to your homes immediately!"
"What? Not until you tell us what's happened!" Amelia shouted, arm wrapped around her daughter.
"For everyone's safety I need you to-"
"Is she dead?" A man shouted, too far back for Hermione to distinguish his voice. A chorus of shouts ran out as Kingsley lost control of the group.
And then a hand closed around her shoulder, causing her to jolt with a gasp.
"Sorry, Mione," a familiar voice said, stepping close. "Didn't mean to startle you, what's going on here?"
Hermione swallowed, heart still stuttering. "I don't know, I've just arrived myself."
The newcomer raked a hand through his hair, making it stand even more on end. Hermione tilted her head, examining his face.
"You scar looks irritated."
"Hm?"
She reached up a hand to gingerly touch the skin beside it. He reared back, blinking rapidly.
"Oh, yeah, it's just a little sore is all."
"That's not normal, Harry. It healed weeks ago, it should be on the mend, not getting worse."
"It's not-"
"It could be infected. You need to come by the shoppe and let Pomfrey take a look at it."
He stepped back, crossing his arms and facing forward. "Leave it, Mione. I'm telling you it's fine."
She sighed, shaking her head.
"Your stubbornness if going to get you hurt one of these days, Harry."
He glanced down at her. "Don't be silly. My recklessness is what'll get me hurt."
She rolled her eyes, and as she faced forward she caught sight of something that gave her pause.
A shock of white blonde hair, standing at the far edge of the spectators.
Draco looked tense, fists clenched at his sides. His face was blank but the dark circles beneath his eyes paired with his pale skin gave him a haunted quality that held her focus.
And then his mercurial gaze flickered, eyes locking with hers.
She started to flush at being caught staring, but the intensity of his gaze scattered her thoughts, left her frozen in place.
His eyes burned and instantly transported her back to the woods...
But not the dream.
No. A very real occurrence that she couldn't purge from her memory no matter how hard she tried.
Something flashed in his gaze, expression turning lethal as though he could read her mind and knew the direction of her thoughts.
She swallowed, his unyielding focus causing a buzzing in her ears, washing away all other sound. The scenery around him became hazy, and for just a moment, she saw red coating his hands and forearms-
And then he glanced away, back into the gathered crowd, and Hermione's senses came flooding back to her. She blinked and the chilling image was no more.
"Mione, I think you should head back home."
Hermione spun around. "What? Why?"
"I have a bad feeling about this."
She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not skipping work because you have a bad feeling."
"Right, and I'm the stubborn one."
She rose on her tiptoes, trying to see over the sea of spectators.
"If something's happened you need to head home as well," she said.
"I'll be called to council."
She blinked, glancing at him sharply. A member of each founding family was appointed a leadership role, as was tradition, and as the last remaining Potter that responsibility fell to her best friend.
"So you knew the Church was sending someone?"
He shook his head, jaw ticking. "No. Kingsley went and made that decision without notifying any of us. He's in a lot of hot water with the senior members."
She bit her lip. "You're not in favor of outside help?"
"I'm not in favor of the Church bringing their archaic values to our way of life. I want the killings stopped, not encouraged."
She furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"
His emerald gaze hardened. "If this really is the work of a person the residents are going to start getting very paranoid. The Church's involvement will only worsen that. I don't want to see people pointing fingers at neighbors and turning on eachother."
Hearing Harry speak so sagely was a strange thing to behold, his two years on the council had certainly influenced his way of thinking. She was about to ask another question when a scream tore through the air, drawing the focus of everyone.
The frightened noise came from Katie, standing at the end of the nursery gate, eyes wide in horror as she gazed down into a tomato bush.
"Stay here," Harry said, rushing past her towards the commotion. A few other men surged forward as well, the whispers intensifying tenfold.
Hermione held her breath, slowing stepping closer, following the movements of the crowd.
And then a familiar head of deep red hair appeared. Charlie Weasley stepped forward with a handkerchief in his hand, reaching down and extracting the foreign item from the soil.
Everyone gasped, Katie spun around and gagged, Hermione blinked in numb terror.
He held a severed hand, pale and lifeless and brutally torn.
She closed her eyes, backing away rapidly, needing to distance herself from the crowd, to seek solitude.
Before she left she glanced to where Draco last stood, needing to see his reaction.
But he was nowhere in sight.