I pulled into my driveway at a quarter 'til dawn with the sky still dark and star-filled. I left the mustang in the driveway, too tired to mess with the garage. It was May but it felt like April. Spring in Scotland was usually a two-day event between the end of winter and the beginning of summer. One day you were freezing your ass off and the next it'd be eighty plus. But this year it had been spring, a wet gentle spring.

Except for the high number of reports I went through, it had been a typical night. Just the usual evidence of the on-going investigation on the werewolf slaughters. I'd been neck-deep in Aurors and therapists most of the night. If I heard, 'How does that make you feel, Dean, (or, Evelyn, or whatever) one more time tonight, I'd scream.

I was a forensic pathologist. I dealt with the dead, not the living and all their emotional baggage.

The air was cool enough to make me shiver as I walked down the sidewalk to my door. I could hear the phone ringing as I fumbled the key into the lock. I hit the door with my shoulder because no one ever calls just before dawn unless it's important. For me that usually meant the Auror Department, which meant another murder scene. I kicked the door closed and ran for the phone in the kitchen. My answering machine had clicked on. Rosie and my laughing voice died on the machine and Gawain Robard's voice came on. He was the Head Auror and a complete prat, but I respected him nonetheless.

"Hermione, its Gawain. If you're there, pick up." Silence.

I was running full out and skidded on my high heels, grabbing the receiver as I slid into the wall and nearly dropped the phone. I yelled into the receiver as I juggled the phone, "Robard, Robard, it's me! I'm here!"

Gawain was chuckling softly when I could finally hear him.

"Glad I could amuse you. What is it?" I asked.

"There's another murder." He said quietly.

It was my turn for silence. I'd known there would be another murder. It was after all a full moon tonight. Our 'serial killer' always acted according to the phases of the moon. Every fourteen kills was committed thirty days after the last. So why was I so stunned to hear that that theory had come true? Oh, well that was simple. I didn't want to see another dead body reduced to so much meat. But life isn't fair and it looked like I'd be seeing yet another body before I could call it a day.

"Is it as bad as the last one?" I asked, stumbling to the couch as I tried to take off my high heels. If I had to go to a murder site tonight, I was so not going to wear heels.

I heard Gawain take a deep breath and then he said, "It's not as gruesome, but it is worse."

The front door opened. I heard the sound of little feet running down the hallway and had a couple seconds to rearrange my face. It wasn't as hard as it sounded. I have had years of practice schooling my face around Rose.

The little red head ran into the common room at full speed. She jumped onto the couch and wrapped her dainty arms around my neck.

"Hi, mum." Rose said.

I put a hand around her waist, kissing the top of her forehead. "Hi, sweetheart." I fumbled the phone to my other ear. "Mr Robard, I'll see you there."

Gawain gave me the address and we both hung up.

Rose stared up at me with her big brown eyes; that innocent expression that only children have flew across her face. I sat her down on the couch and stood up. Ron would come in any minute. It had been his turn to pick her up from pre-school.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he came strutting down the hallway. He was wearing his ministry uniform, the badge gleaming bright against the black of his cloak. His blue eyes glared at me.

Rose was rustling in her backpack. She'd been rambling on about wanting to show me something. I had heard bits and pieces of what she had said, but all my attentions were turned towards my husband, soon to be ex-husband. That is, if he'd ever sign the papers.

I loved Ron, I really did, but when Rose was born, he had thought I was neglecting him. We had a child, our attentions were supposed to be divided. I couldn't spend twenty-four hours, seven days a week, making sure my husband's needs were met. A child needs those hours; Ron didn't see it that way. So instead of talking through our problems, Ron decided to find that attention elsewhere, as in with some whore from a pub.

"Mum, look at what I made." Rose whined from the couch.

I looked away from Ron and put a smile on my face. Rose was holding up a picture. There was a wolf howling at the full moon and what looked like two stick figures. Rose was an amazing artist but drawing people was never her forte. All her work was hanging up on the refrigerator, covering it from top to bottom.

I sat on the edge of the couch and she kneeled beside me, bouncing with excitement.

"This one is you," She pointed to the taller figure, "This one is me," Her dainty finger brushed across the shorter figure, "and this one is our new pet." Her fingers landed on the wolf.

I laughed. "Oh, honey, it's beautiful, but I don't think we can have a wolf as our pet."

Rose pouted and shook her head. "Yes, we can. He told me we could keep him."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She gave an exasperated sigh and pointed at the wolf. "He did. He said once he found us, he'd come home with us."

I glanced up at Ron. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. From the look on his face, he didn't know what she meant either. It's been five years since Rose was born, I'd thought I would have some insight into how her mind worked by now. I guess I was wrong.

"How did he tell you this, sweetheart?"

"He told me in my head." She put the picture back in her backpack. "I really wanted a puppy but if we do get a pet, he'll be just fine."

I shook my head. "Go get your overnight bag from your bedroom, we have to leave soon."

Her eyes went wide. "I'm staying at Aunt Ginny's tonight?"

I nodded.

A grin spread across her face and she ran down the hall saying something about telling James about her new pet. She'd wanted a pet for over a year now. All kids did.

Ginny had caved when James asked for one and bought him a golden retriever. He'd named it Remus. For about a month he loved that dog, and then he got tired of him and asked for something else. Now Ginny was completely responsible for him. It was easier for her seeing as she was a stay-at-home mom, but I had a job and I couldn't take care of a pet. It was hard enough taking care of a five year old.

I walked down the hall to my bedroom. Ron followed me silently like I knew he would. He wouldn't leave until I made him.

"You knew about the murder, didn't you?" I asked him as I went to my dresser. I started digging through to find a different pair of trousers. I was wearing my black pin-striped trousers with its matching suit jacket and a pale lavender silk blouse underneath. The trousers were new. I didn't want them to get dirty if I could help it.

"Yeah, I did." Ron said behind me.

I turned to glare at him. "Why didn't you take Rose to Ginny's house then?"

He shrugged and ran a hand through his red hair like it didn't matter. "I didn't think you would go."

My shoulders were beginning to tighten. It doesn't usually take much to piss me off, he was working at it. The tightness in my shoulders spilled up my neck and came out my mouth. "Seeing as it is my job, I am obligated to go. If that's all you wanted, you can leave."

He shot me a dark look.

I ignored that dark look, and tried my best to pretend he wasn't there. I actually turned my back on him. It worked for a while, and then I felt him behind me. I turned in time to keep his outstretched hand from touching me.

"'Mione." He said.

"Ron, don't."

"Don't what?" He asked.

I closed my eyes so I couldn't see him. That always made it easier to turn away. "Don't try to talk to me right now. Don't try to make me understand why you did what you did. Neither of us has time for it. It's over, so just go."

"How can you say that?" He said, and his voice was closer. He moved so close that I could feel the heat of his breath on my face. "You know I love you."

I stepped away from him, eyes still closed, and nearly tripped. He grabbed for me and pulled me closer to his body.

I looked up at him, and he was so close, too close. He bent in to close that distance and kiss me. I put my hands on his chest and pushed him away from me. I walked over and opened the door, leaning against the doorknob, my legs slightly shaky.

"Get out." I said, looking anywhere but his face.

He hesitated, and then walked past me without another word. I listened to his footsteps fade, the tears that had been burning behind my eyes slid down my cheeks. The front door opened and slammed shut.

The main piece of the body lay on the ground, on its back in the middle of a smooth grassy field. In the morning sun everything looked grey, but there were scuffed and paler places around the field; I think we were standing in the middle of a softball field. The "we" was Harry Potter, Senior Auror, and me.

There were other Aurors over talking to the muggle police, but it was just Harry and I standing in the middle of the scattered body parts. Gawain had been right. This scene was worse, not because of the about of body parts scattering the field, but because it was a child. This was the first minor murdered in this case.

Our serial killer was changing it up a bit. Everyone needs variety.

I fought the urge to huddle in my cloak. It was fifty degrees out here. The light softened around us and I could see the body parts better. It didn't make me like them any better.

"Is the body lying on its back or its buttocks?" I asked.

"You mean because it's bisected at mid-chest and the parts are about ten feet away?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Does it matter?" Harry asked. He ran his hand through his messy ebony hair.

"I guess not." In my head I thought, Problems like that are what you think about when you stare down at a dismembered body, because otherwise you want to run screaming, or throw up. I hadn't thrown up on a body since my first crime scene.

"They can't find the heart," he said, voice as tired as his face. The light was strong enough that I could see that he had bags under his eyes. Neither of us wanted to be here, he just had more going for him in this area than I did.

"Hermione," he said and he moved so I couldn't see the body. "Talk to me."

I blinked at him. "They won't find the heart. I'm just surprised he didn't take any other organs. The last couple of kills he butchered the bodies and cut out all the organs. It's like a cannibal except more barbaric."

"I need you here, working this case, not lost in your head."

"I'm here," I frowned at him.

He shook his head. "I've seen you look at worse than this and be better about it."

"It's a kid, Harry."

He nodded. "Doesn't change the fact that we have to find our killer and send him to Azkaban."

I sighed. "Maybe I'm tired of looking at stuff like this. Aren't you?"

"You don't mean just the case," he said.

I shook my head.

He came up to me and put his arm around my shoulder. "Take it a step at a time, Hermione. You need to stop beating yourself up for things that you can't change. I know that sounds hypocritical coming from 'The Chosen One,' but you know I give good advice, sometimes I even take it." He grinned down at me.

I smiled back in spite of myself, in spite of the body parts that surrounded us.

"You're face just went all serious." Harry said.

Before I could even open my mouth to reply, Head Auror, Gawain Robard, strutted over to us. If someone that big could strut. I'm not saying he's fat- even though he had the start of a beer gut showing under his spiffy black cloak- it was more muscle than anything else. If he wore clothing that complimented his physique, he wouldn't look fat, but when do men rarely care about clothing? If it fit, then it was good enough to buy.

Harry's face broke out into his professional smile almost instantly. I was pretty good at my professional face, but no one I knew could school their face as well as Harry.

"How's it going over here?" Gawain grumbled.

I took in a deep breath and wished I hadn't. There was a faint bitter smell because we were all standing near the end of the body. Death isn't pretty, or neat, or clean; it's all outhouse smells as your body does everything it can do all at once, one last time.

"Fine," I said, and I squatted beside the body on the balls of my feet. I made myself look at the body, really look at it. "The body is different. Not just in age but with efficiency. The last kills, he took his time to slice the right places so there wouldn't be as many cuts. This one was done in a hurry like he didn't have time to enjoy it."

Both men stood over me, looming just because they were both taller than me. It's not that big of a feat, seeing as I'm 5'4".

"You have any idea what's killing these civilians?" Gawain asked.

I shook my head.

"Why are they being killed?"

"Why does any serial killer choose his victim?"

"So you know it is a he?"

I sighed. "Statically speaking, over ninety percent of all serial killers are male. Using he as the pronoun is probably accurate, but, you're right, I don't know that it's a he. Though female serial killers are more likely to use poison. Whoever is killing these victims is sure of his skills, and that he has the strength to get the job done. That level of physical confidence is usually male, rather than female."

Gawain studied my face for a minute. "That's true."

I smiled at him.

"See anything that'll help us?" Someone called behind us.

We all turned around to find a girl with a Ministry official badge pinned to her cloak. She was at least five-ten in her sensible and ugly black lace-up shoes. If she'd been dressed better I might have thought she was a professional model, but she had dieted too much for her bone structure, so she looked starved, and she'd dieted away all her curves so she was built like a man. Her straight black hair was back in a loose ponytail. I never understood why women tried to fit in with the men. In the end they were still seen as a threat or as a sexual object in this line of business.

"Granger, Potter, this is Cassandra Cuffe. She's hot off training." Gawain said.

Harry shook her hand and then I shook it. She had a nice firm grip, but wasn't too intimidating. Most women, hell most men, try to test the strength of newcomers. It wasn't just to see if we could deal with them, but if they were up to the job that we all worked.

"Cuffe, as in Barnabas Cuffe?" I asked her.

She grinned and nodded. "Yup, that's my dad."

"So you must be up to date with the last crime scenes, am I correct?" Harry asked.

She looked at Harry, glanced back at me, and then turned her attention back to him, like she didn't know who was in charge of this case. I wasn't in charge of anything. I was just called in for my opinion. Maybe she didn't know that.

"Yes, I've seen the reports. I haven't talk to any of the witnesses though." She said.

"Isn't that meant for the Auror in charge? To talk to the witnesses?" I asked.

Gawain and Harry exchanged glances. I suddenly had a feeling that I was missing something or at least they weren't telling me something.

"Miss Cuffe will be taking over the case." Gawain said softly.

I glanced at the three of them and laughed at their serious expressions. They had to be joking. The rookie couldn't take over this case. Gawain and I had been working this case for over a year now. We'd both seen the worst of it, both been covered head to toe in dirt and blood. This was our case.

I looked at Gawain. "You can't be serious."

He hung his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Cuffe give us some privacy."

Cuffe gave a little nod and walked back to the group of Aurors and local police. Harry had his hands in his pocket, staring out at the rising sun. Gawain stared at me.

"You can't quit now. We almost have him, Robard." I said desperately.

He shook his head. "I'm too old for this shit, Granger. I've got grandchildren that I've barely spent a day with. It's time to get on with life instead of dwelling in all this death."

I was shaking my head over and over. I looked into his face and tried to read something in it but he had on his cop face. Blank, pleasant, and completely unreadable.

"Did you know about this Harry?" I asked without looking at him.

"Yeah, I'll be promoted next month."

I glanced sideways at him. I had a horrible urge to cry. "This is bullshit."

He nodded. "I know." There was a look in his eyes of a shared knowledge, of knowing that everything was changing too quickly for either of us to comprehend.

I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders. "Our killer did this in a hurry. He left too many pieces behind. He'll be back." Always business. If I could concentrate on business, I wouldn't have to think about everyone who's betrayed me one way or another.

Both men seemed to understand my change of subject. We all got down and dirty, letting the EMTs go back to the hospital with their body bag empty. I did my best to ignore Cuffe. It's not that I didn't like her, she seemed like a good kid, but that was it. She was a kid and she was taking over Gawain's job. It just didn't seem right. And anyway, a job this brutal could get a rookie killed. I haven't seen her in the field yet, but I had a feeling our new recruit was all books and no experience.

We'd decided to stake out the place. Just in case our killer made his way back to the site. Harry had gone home for an hour to help Ginny with James. He was at the age where he hated going to school. Maybe that was all children but my Rosie loved pre-school. She was a really intelligent kid, if not a little odd at times, but she was mine and Ron's child, she had to have some odd genetics in her.

All that was left was Cuffe and I. We both sat in my mustang, staring out into the field as the sun rose over the trees that edged the field. Even from here you could see the dew glistening on the recently mowed grass. The only thing that ruined the image of morning bliss was the black pools of blood scattered sporadically by the trees. If you didn't know what it really was, it would look like puddles of mud except for that fact that pale body parts were lying in the middle of the pools, glistening red and raw like pieces of butchered meat. It really wasn't an inviting sight this early in the morning on absolutely no sleep.

I huddled in my cloak, nursing the warm cup of coffee in my hands.

Cuffe turned toward me in her seat, making the leather squeak. We both flinched. She'd been sitting with her back ridged straight with her mouth shut. The silence had been awkward but I was feeling whatever she was about to say was going to make the awkward silence seem like paradise.

She took a deep breath, readying herself. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I really want you to like me. Not only because we'll be working together but because female Aurors are becoming rare and girls have to stick together, right?"

I think it was a rhetorical question but I answered anyway. "Yeah, we do."

The smile that lit up her face was almost worth being stuck here for hours with her. Almost but not quite. Was it wrong to instantly dislike someone just because they ruin the image your life has become? Probably.

"Let's just start over." She said.

I took another sip of coffee and found it empty. "Alright."

We went back into silence.

"Can I say something without you taking it wrong? She asked, and sat on the edge of the seat.

I stopped staring out into the field and looked at her sideways. "Probably not, but say it anyway."

She frowned, putting that little pucker between her eyes. If she didn't stop frowning she'd have lines there before too many years. "I really don't want you to hate me."

I sighed. "What I mean, Cuffe, is anytime someone asks me, 'Can I say something without you taking it wrong,' it usually means it will be something insulting. So say it, but I can't guarantee how I'll take it."

She thought about that for a minute, serious as a small child on the first day of school. "Okay, I guess that was a stupid thing to say, but I want to know the answer enough to be stupid."

"Then ask," I said.

"We had some of the other Aurors that were in WWII come and give lectures. One of them said you'd have been one of the best if you hadn't gotten involved with your husband. He says that women shouldn't be part of the law enforcement because they end up not taking the law as a priority and instead making their home life their priority."

"It was Cormac Mclaggen wasn't it?" I said.

"How did you know?"

"Mclaggen thinks I'm a bitch because I wouldn't date him in sixth year at Hogwarts. He's pulling at broken strings. Whatever he said was a crock of shit because most women become workaholics or quit their job altogether."

"Wasn't he supposed to be on this case?"

I nodded.

"Why didn't he get called in then?"

I shrugged. "Mclaggen is all talk and no walk."

She gave a nervous laugh beside me, which made me glance at her.

"Cuffe, this is a bad case. It's not a hunt for a first-timer."

"I know it's bad one, I've seen the pictures." She said.

"No you don't, not yet." I turned in my seat and faced her. "I want you to sign the case over to Harry, please."

She was angry and didn't try to hide it. "I cant. I'm the girl, and if I back down on this the other Aurors will never trust me again."

"It's not about being a girl, Cuffe, it's about being new and inexperienced."

"I'll have your back, Granger."

"I'm not worried that you'll get me killed."

She frowned again. "Then what are you worried about?"

I looked into that earnest face and said, "I'm worried you'll get yourself killed."

There was no more talk. We stared out into the field with tension rising like fire in the car. We sat there for thirty minutes before she started to fidget in her seat. Stake outs asked for patience. If you didn't have it, you weren't up for it.

She sighed exasperatedly beside me. "I'm going to the gas station down the road. You want anything?"

I glanced at her. "Yeah, can you get some more coffee?"

She stared at me for a moment with a strange expression on her face, then nodded. "Sure."

I watched her walk down the road in her ugly laced-up shoes with a slight satisfaction of being left alone for a little while.

The wind that came from the open window blew my hair out of the ponytail I had wrestled it into. It slapped against my face, going into my mouth and blocking my vision. As I tried to push it back into the ponytail, my phone rang.

"Hello?" I spluttered.

Rose's voice rang out. "Mum where are you? I thought you were taking me to pre-school."

I sighed, letting my unruly hair fall. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, something came up at work. I promise I'll pick you up after you're let out and we'll go get ice cream."

"There's not enough time."

I rubbed my sore neck. "Rosebud, I know I've been working a lot, I'm sorry."

"Not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"I saw you die."

My breath stopped. "What are you talking about?"

"Aunt Ginny wants to talk to you."

Ginny's voice came on, strict and scolding. "Don't you dare start apologizing for having to work. I know what it was like. I'll take care of her, don't you worry."

I laughed, pushing my daughter's odd behaviour to the back of my mind and stared up into the sky. I had more pressing problems to deal with right now. "You know me so well."

"You're just predictable. Hold on a second," She said then yelled, "JAMES SIRIUS POTTER GET YOUR LAZY ARSE DOWN HERE!" I could hear him yelling back at her but didn't understand what he'd said. "I'm sorry. He's such a devil child, I swear."

I chuckled again. "All kids hit that stage sooner or later. I hope Rose doesn't. I'm praying she doesn't."

"She will, she just won't be as bad as James." I think she meant that to be comforting. "So how's it going out there?"

I sighed. "It's…going."

"That bad?"

"Not really, just the company isn't very comforting."

"Oh. Harry told me about Cuffe. She a bitch or something?"

I shook my head, then remembered she couldn't see me. "No, she's just," I paused, searching for the right word and finding none. "I don't know, something seems off about her. Maybe it's because she's a newbie I don't know."

"Hey, I'm sorry to leave you like this but James hasn't even gotten out of bed and we have to leave." She screamed for James again.

"It's okay, I understand. Make sure Rose has her homework. I'll feel like such a failure if I forgot to put it in her bag."

"Mmm…huh. You be careful out there." She said, her voice strict. It sounded so much like her mothers.

"As careful as a virgin on her wedding night."

She laughed. "That wasn't comforting, 'Mione."

"I know."

We both said our goodbyes and she hung up.

I shut my window and turned the heater up high. I would have called someone in to take over my shift but I knew the person who would take it over would be Ron and I really didn't want him to throw it in my face later on.

I scanned the field and trees. The shadows were thick in them. It was maybe an hour before the sun shone through. I closed my eyes and pulled my cloak closer around me.

Next thing I knew the sun was shining bright in my face. I blinked the sleep from my eyes and sat up straighter, groaning as my back cracked. The time on the radio said I'd slept for over an hour.

My phone had one message on it. I checked it and it was Harry. He was coming to take over my shift. Great.

I scanned the field and trees before I opened my door. It was starting to become a habit. The morning air blew across my face like a slap in the face. It helped fight the sleep from my limbs.

I felt more than saw something large and dark leap through the air behind me. I swivelled around, putting my left arm out to take whatever blow was to come. My left arm went numb like it had been hit with a baseball bat. I didn't have time to go for my wand in my pocket. It wouldn't work in this kind of close combat anyway.

I threw myself to the ground and kicked at my attacker's knee. Their knee popped and they went down screaming.

There was more movement behind me but I didn't have time to see what it was, because whoever had tried to attack me from behind was limping toward me.

Their face was covered with a leather mask, their body cloaked from head to toe. The only thing that scared me was the razor sharp claws sticking out of their knuckles.

I crawled backward, my pulse in my throat.

There was a flash behind me then pain. All there was, was pain. Undeniable, fire blazing pain. I gritted my teeth, my body spasming. If I started screaming, I'd never stop.

"Don't move so much, it'll hurt less. Feel like a pinch." A man whispered into my ear.

I flung my head back and banged him in the forehead.

He growled behind me and the pain twisted through my body like flames licking things that should never be touched.

"That hurt, you bitch."

I bit my tongue, trying to keep any sound from coming out of my mouth. My three main goals were to not scream, throw up, or die. I took a shallow breath and winced. My body was starting to sweat. I could feel the warm blood soaking the back of my shirt.

If I didn't do something soon, he was going to bleed me to death.

The person in front of me kneeled on the balls of their feet. They cocked their head and cackled. The sound chilled the marrows in my bones. Their voice came out as more of a growl than as a voice, "Kill her."

"Do you know who I am, Granger?" The man behind me asked, ignoring their companion.

I bit my lip, afraid if I opened my mouth I'd throw up the breakfast I hadn't eaten. The pain intensified and copper filled my mouth as I bit my lip harder.

"Answer the question, or I'll start cutting pieces off of you." He said cheerfully.

The person in front of me cackled louder.

"No." I said with a strained voice.

I felt him tense behind me. "Now that doesn't feel right. I know you've thought about it."

I had thought about it. But it couldn't have been right; it was just a theory.

"I don't know who you are."

"YOU DO!" He screamed in my ears.

I cringed, then grimaced. I could feel his anger, his outrage that I wouldn't say what he wanted me to say. I laughed at his impotence, choking on the pain.

I felt whatever had stabbed me from behind, pull free and I fell flat on my back, staring up at the man behind me with my blood decorating a pair of claws on his left hand. He loomed above me like some dark war god.

Then there was a sound by my car and both of them looked towards the sound.

I was on my feet before they turned around. I flung myself into the trees, into the shadows that only the trees could bring. I ran as if I could see where I was going, flinging myself into half perceived openings, trusting to the woods the way you trust water, knowing it will part before you without question. I gave myself over to the woods. You don't run in the woods with your eyes. You run with the same part of your brain that makes the back of your neck prickle. I ran and leaped and dodged, and knew it wouldn't be enough.

I was already on the verge of passing out from the pain. It would be a miracle if I didn't pass out from blood loss, but I had a feeling the pain would conquer the loss of blood before the latter succeeded.

A howl cut through the trees in a long, mournful line. There was a growl and then everything was silent.

I slipped going over a log that was bigger around than a small car. I fell, sprawling. I lay there for a moment on the ground, catching my breath, and I didn't have the faintest idea what to do. I didn't so much hear them as feel them in the ground under my hands. I pressed myself against the huge log, and my hands found an opening. It was partially hollow. I crawled into the black opening, not caring that there might be something waiting inside for me.

I knew they'd find me. That wasn't the point. It would take them a little time to get me out of the hole. I was trying to buy time. I just couldn't figure out what I would use the time for. My brain was going fuzzy.

"Granger," Someone called out, "Granger, where are you?"

Good he didn't know where I was. I strained my ears, closing my eyes. I could hear only one pair of footsteps. What happened to the other person?

The log moved. I froze as if just holding very still would save me.

The end of the log near my feet lifted into the air. The cavity that had hidden me kept me trapped as that one end rose slowly into the air. The fallen tree was at least six feet around. I didn't know how much it weighed, but it had to be heavy.

"Come on, Granger."

I looked around the log and thought 'I need something'. My hand brushed against something. I picked it up as discreetly as I could. It was a piece of wood with a really sharp end. How the hell did that get in here? Doesn't matter it was a weapon.

I crept very carefully out from under the huge log. It was a crushing weight. A fine trembling ran through his body all the way to his feet. It was not effortless to hold the fallen giant up. I stayed crouched just beside his leg. He'd have to put the log down before he could touch me. He stared down at me with wolf eyes.

I shoved the piece of wood into his belly and rolled away from him, tearing the wood along his stomach as I moved. He fell to his knees and the tree fell on top of him. I pinned him to the ground but there was still the other person out there.

I started running through the trees again. When I thought I was far enough away I stopped and put my hands on my knees. I was missing something here. Why were they trying to kill me?

I blinked. I had no idea.

I felt the rushing of air and looked in time to see the man I'd pinned under the tree. He hit me from the side in a flying tackle. I was on my back with him on top of me, one arm pinned between us. I had a second to know who I'd thought he was.

"Greyback." I breathed.

He pulled off his mask and glared down at me. "How had you known?"

Something hard poked into my back and I took his hesitation to grab it and think, "Petrificus Totalus."

He fell on top of me, causing the wounds in my back to scream. The pain became too much.

I didn't pass out, but my body went limp. My wand fell from my fingers, and I couldn't stop it. Part of me was screaming silently. The other part was saying, "Oh, what pretty trees."