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CHAPTER 7: The Wolfhaus
Heidelberg, Germany
Wednesday, the First Day
Neville Longbottom downed the rest of his hefeweisen in one long draught. Beyond the tawny–roofed buildings of the old city lay the viridescent Odenwald Mountains. Longbottom had spent the afternoon perched on the eastern cliff in front of him, watching the altstadt from afar. A slick lather of suds slid to the bottom of the frosty pilsner glass in his hand. Replacing the glass onto its napkin, Neville could just make out the pub logo through the bottom of the glass—Wolfhaus. The moon being this close to full did not sit well with Neville, but this was where he was told to go, and Neville always did as he was told. Neville traced the contours of the napkin's lunar logo with his finger. A crescent moon. A glimpse of the dusky sky above reassured Neville that it would be another two or three days before the next full moon. He allowed his posture to ease just a little into his weathered patio chair as he let his mind wander.
Neville thought back a fortnight to that chaotic night in Birka. The night they nearly killed Ron Weasley. Along with their mentor, three Aurors had been given the charge by Shacklebolt to investigate the deaths in Birka, Sweden—Neville, Ron, and Harry. A thousand years ago, Birka had been a Viking settlement but the history of the island went back much, much further. The place dripped with a primeval, enigmatic magic. Once at Birka, Heloise Güring from the Durmstrang Institute was kind enough to lend her services as their local liaison. Dead werewolves had been splayed across ancient megalithic stones. Rigor mortis had taken the werewolves and nearly ceased again, which was consistent with their death occurring less than three days ago. Neville declared as much to the group, to which Ron responded by pointing out that, paradoxically, the moon was not full. Something had caused these werewolves to transform unnaturally. It was Harry that noticed the noise in the trees.
The ambush came without a sound. Dark creatures assailed the five wizards from all directions. With magnificent ferocity, Neville's master charged into the dark horde, flying into their champion in a burst of white cloud, dragging the two combatants out into the icy depths of Lake Mälaren. Neville counted two dark wizards, though there may have been more. Their champion he saw only in a flash and even then only in silhouette—it was an upright writhing creature, larger than a man. It let out a great wheezing shriek as it was tackled. Neville did not last long in the fight, having taken a nasty knock on the head. When he returned to consciousness he and Heloise were in a safe house in Stockholm.
Apparently, Harry had returned briefly to England with Ron to leave him in Hermione's care and had not yet returned. Heloise explained that Ron had been petrified by one of the dark wizards. Meanwhile, Heloise had been badly burned by a fiendfyre spell and was doing her best to tend to her own bandages, but had an inadequate knowledge of the necessary herbs and potions to counteract fiendfyre. Neville spent that evening tending to Heloise and discussing the matter with her. Heloise, it seemed, had a little more of the picture than Neville. Though she only remembered one dark wizard, she did get a clear look at the foot soldiers that had attacked them. It was not uncommon, explained Heloise, to see Drow in this part of the world, working as mercenaries for the criminal underworld. Drow were related to the house–elf species Neville was familiar with, but were far more aggressive and powerful. Larger and darker than house–elves with glowing blue eyes, the drow always hunted in clan–packs and lived in outright hatred of humans. "House elf," which is the same word in German as in English, is an impolite word among German wizards—to a drow, it is a call to arms. As Heloise explained it to Neville, wizards touring Germany are warned not to discuss house–elves in the hinterland; dire consequences have befallen those imprudent or forgetful of this warning.
With no word from Harry or Neville's fallen master, the two wizards resolved to continue their investigation. The Ministerium für Hexerei sent three wizards to assist Heloise and Neville—one werewolf and two non–werewolves, Wilhelm, Maria, and Reza. Wilhelm was a werewolf, a tracker and master Auror. Maria was an expert on the drow. Reza was an apprentice Auror whose master had apparently sent him to study in Germany for a year. The five of them had spent the last week following up leads on drow activity and the spike in recent werewolf disappearances throughout central Europe. Despite the absolute need to keep their investigation secret, their activities had not gone unnoticed. Heloise found it difficult to travel with her injuries, and some infighting came to the fore as Wilhelm became increasingly distrustful of Reza.
The irregular quintuplet of wizards tracked the Drow and werewolf deaths and abductions south to the Odenwald Mountains. For the last two nights, the five patrolled the city of Heidelberg, a favored haunt for Black Forest werewolves. Tonight, Neville Longbottom had been watching the Wolfhaus pub for any signs of the drow. He missed his master. He missed his laboratory in England. He had made such tremendous strides in his life as a herbologist, and though he nowadays found himself in the position of Auror, it was his alchemical acumen that made him the proudest. For a brief moment—and with the exception of Christmas it was only ever for a single moment that he allowed himself to feel this—he missed the loving embrace of his parents.
Neville looked down at his hands and noticed that he had gripped his pub napkin tightly into the ball of his fist. He smiled, and set the napkin down. Neville was a gentle soul. He was a little scared, but he was no creature of destruction, and as proof of this to himself, he straightened out the napkin, pinched the corners flat, and gently placed his glass at its center. Cocking his head to the side, he observed that the glass was at the perfect center of the napkin. With a great sigh, Neville stood from his patio chair, grabbed his glass, and started into the pub. And a great light engulfed him.
Reza heard the explosion from three blocks away. Running down the cobblestone streets, Reza swung his wand out from its hiding place and charged toward the smoky intersection. Turning the corner sharply, he ran into a throng of pedestrians fleeing the scene. It took a moment for him to regain his footing, and was again on his way when a second explosion went off. Must have been the gas main, he thought. When he turned the final corner, he was shocked at the severity of the damage. Great billows of black smoke filled the rubble–strewn street, as several small fires began to escalate and threaten the neighboring buildings. No fire engines were yet at the scene. Some may have survived the first explosion, but none could have survived the second one, he thought. Yet two soot–covered bodies came crawling out of the smoke in the following moment. Reza approached the two and instinctively drug them away from the building. Neither of the now unconscious victims were Neville, and Neville was not in the growing crowd behind him. The drow had done their job; the Wolfhaus had been firebombed, and Neville was nowhere to be found. Just then, Wilhelm could be seen running toward the Wolfhaus from the opposite side of the street. "Reza!" he yelled. Reza could barely see him through the smoke and the small mob of people—there were about a dozen people now gathered around, ostensibly waiting for the fire engine.
Someone in the crowd yelled, "Da! Ein Mann mit einem Mädchen!" Reza spun around to see, low to the ground, a soot–covered Neville slowly making his way out of the flames with a little girl in his arms. Neville took the girl's Yankees baseball cap off her face and fanned the air around her as he hustled toward the bystanders. "It's a miracle!" shouted one of the onlookers. The little girl ran to the two people Reza had assisted, and hugged them as they lay on the ground. The mother reacted to her daughter's embrace and smiled.
Neville stammered a bit, "I was…there was…is the girl ok?" Reza barked back, "Yes, Neville. We've got to get you out of here! I just saw Wilhelm." Neville continued, "It wasn't the fire or smoke, it was…the explosion. I could…barely spit out the…flame-freezing charm." Neville's white eyes widened in panic across his sooted visage. "Reza, why is Wilhelm on the ground?" Reza spun around to see Wilhelm's dead body lying next to a parked car, his neck covered in blood. Amidst the smoke, panic, and din of people, fire, and collapsing walls, a woman next to Reza could be heard screaming at the sight of the dead wizard. Reza raised his wand high as Neville quickly put his back to Reza's, mimicking Reza's ready position. Neville was now aware of roughly fifteen drow charging through the cover of smoke and into the crowded intersection from three different directions. A glancing turn revealed that Reza was now engaged in hand–to–hand combat with one of the drow. Reza was unarmed while the drow wildly swung a bone–handled knife at his chest and arms. In horror, Neville watched as drow began openly attacking the muggles. By then, two polizei had made it on foot to the scene—one began shooting at the drow, while the other took aim with his baton. Neville took aim at the drow behind the gunman and fired off several non–verbal stupefy spells. The cop stopped shooting and looked at Neville in shock, just long enough to be taken down by an unseen drow to his right. Neville turned toward the unarmed muggle crowd.
Neville took out two, then three drow who had descended upon the shocked onlookers. The polizei guns then started shooting into the crowd from behind Neville; Neville turned to see the two officers down and their guns taken by the maniacal drow who now had Neville in their sights. Reza countered as quickly as he could with a Persian spell that caused the gunpowder in the guns' bullets to explode. Neville had never heard Farsi uttered before, and, in the midst of the carnage, it intrigued him. Reza smiled at Neville, but his eyes were quickly averted as he flung his hands and arms over his face. Neville turned to see a police car silently hurtling over his head. Covered in ashes, having had the wind knocked out of him, battered, bruised, shot at, and a little bit singed, a defeated Neville watched in horror as a gorgon joined the chaos of their little corner of the world.
—
Emma didn't know what "obliviate" meant. In fact, now that she thought back to the word, she didn't really know how to say it either. She also didn't understand why Mommy didn't remember the monsters or the people who turned into big, mean dogs. After the big snake–monster came, the little monsters took the two wizards and the dogs with them. The people who were awake were scared until the burned girl who came with the firemen whispered something to everyone. But not Emma. After the wizard carried her out of the fire—which didn't burn her—she hid under a car and waited for the little monsters to go away, which they did. And now, riding in the truck with the doctors, Mommy said they were going back to New York, which is what Emma wanted to do anyway.
A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing