Only minutes ago, Ron had apparated her to a strange castle. They were in Scotland again; she could feel it, but it was to the north of wherever Hogwarts was located. The castle also looked substantially different. It's still standing, for one thing.

Hearing about the loss of the school had been beyond devastating. There were times she wished that she and her friends could have fought, because if it came to a fight on the Quidditch pitch, there would at least be enough people who did not want the school to go down that they would be able to fight off those who did. If there was one person in the Ministry school she would not be sad if she inadvertently killed, it was Hopkins.

"What is this place?"

"It's the main Bulstrode property, I think."

"Is Bulstrode here?"

"Think his wife is. That's enough for Dean." Hannah looked around. She had more questions, like why Ron thought this was the time and place to wait for their old acquaintance to show up. At the same time, there was something more pressing.

"I think we need Hermione here. She would be able to find him more quickly." He sighed, but disappeared with a pop. What? It's not as if he hated her. In any case, though, the fact that he went to get her meant that he recognized the advantage of bringing her along. He reappeared a minute or so later.

"Why do you think this is Dean's next target?" the Ravenclaw was asking as soon as she appeared.

"It's what I'd do. I don't think Malfoy has any other friends with relatives left on this island. Can't rule out that he's moved on to a different island, I suppose, but if we don't find him staking out the place, we could always get something out of the lady of the house."

Hermione waved her wand over the ward boundary, inspecting what the castle had in the way of defenses. She let out an awkward sort of chuckle. Hannah looked over at Ron to see if he was getting any of what they were seeing and he shook his head.

"The warding is out of date," she explained eventually. "Contrasting with ancient spells, ancient warding is pretty easy for most wardens to break, since it has been available for study this entire time." Laying down a handful of Chinese characters on the ward boundaries, she appeared to make some of the outer circles disappear.

"That won't notify anyone inside?"

"I presume she could check it," she answered without looking up. "We should be safe now, though." I need to get her to put the wards back on my body. At least I don't have to worry about most of the wards the Ministry put on.

The three of them walked up to the castle as Hannah handed Hermione her wand, which she had not used in days. Surprisingly, it seemed pretty easy for Hermione to remove the warding. She then responded to the expression her Hufflepuff friend was wearing.

"The Xian are some of the oldest and most powerful wizards in the world. They showed me how to remove wards without tripping the inner wards. Not to get too much into the theory, but the trick is to place a specific blocking ward in between the first and second layer, which keeps the removal of the first from activating the second. Sometimes that sort of thing is anticipated and it becomes more of a puzzle, but if you have the knowledge and the patience you can get through anything eventually."

The Hufflepuff nodded at the explanation. As far as she understood with the general theory of magic that her friend had been developing, there were no absolutes. No spell was inevitable, no ward impassable, no charm irreversible, and no curse unbreakable. After hearing Ron and his associates describe the rounded black shields, which they doubted were not simply distractions conjured by Ministry officials, she could not absolutely rule out the chance that certain dark spells would be blocked by them. It had been difficult catching up on all that had taken place since she had been in prison, but she was happy to know that most of her friends were still alive.

It had been sad hearing about how Terry went out, though.

The Gryffindor knocked on the door as he asked the Ravenclaw to scan the castle. We could have brought Luna, I suppose, but we probably thought we would be better with a smaller group in this context. It would be better not to surprise Dean with some sort of army. Being honest with herself, she was still afraid of him.

As soon as the door opened, a curse of a sickly green hue chased Ron away from it as Hermione sank to the floor. Hannah threw the door open herself, casting a stunner blindly. She missed, but it appeared the caster, a middle-aged witch in a black and white dress, was already clutching her head in pain.

"Petrificus Totalus," she incanted, her friends appearing behind her.

"Thanks. What sort of curse was that? Couldn't rule out a killer."

"I did not recognize it either," Hermione said. "I managed to assault her mind through the door, though, so that might have been what canceled it." They were standing around their target, whom they presumed to be Bulstrode's mother. She did not look much like her daughter. "绳索." Red cords wrapped around the immobilized witch and she took the cue, removing her own body-bind.

"What do you know about the bloke who's been going around killing you lot?" Ron asked, moving her body to a Persian in the drawing room. He took a seat right next to it.

"What do you want with me? I have no ties to any living Death Eaters."

"That's not good enough for the Ministry," Hannah spat. "Just because your husband isn't around and your daughter's underage doesn't mean they won't torture the truth out of you. Frankly, I don't know why you haven't fled."

"I have nothing to flee!" she argued back. "I spend seventeen years under the Imperius Curse, I find out I have a daughter, and now I'm wanted for being connected to some quasi-terror-"

"Check if she's lying," Ron suggested. Hermione shook her head.

"I... I don't know how to tell you this, but you were forced to conceive whilst you had no will of your own," she explained. "Do you... do you still feel attached to your daughter?" she asked. Hannah was still trying to keep up with the developments. You can be under an Imperius for that long? Whoever did it must have- She tried to think of whether or not Bulstrode was still alive. She remembered nothing of the recent news of Death Eater activity, nothing of older news from when she was in Hogwarts-

I haven't read any articles since that old Quibbler-

The older witch was answering the Ravenclaw, but she was not listening. What the hell is the date? How long has it been since-

"Are you alright?" the Gryffindor asked, perhaps for the third time that day. She found herself going outside to see the moon, but the sky was too clouded.

"Ron, I think she's turning!"

"Well, we have to stun her, then-"

"That won't hold her for long, we need the chain- don't you still have it?"

"It's at the old base; I'll be back as soon as I'm out of the wards-" Hannah could no longer hear his voice, and she decided he must have left.

"Sorry..." she managed. "I lost track-"

"It's okay, we'll make sure you don't hurt anyone- and that no one hurts you. I'm still really sorry about what happened and every time you have to-"

"Don't-" she growled. "Just put me down as long as you can-" She wished she still had Slughorn's potions, but even if the man was out of St. Mungo's, she would probably never see him again.

"Is there a safe?" she heard Hermione ask. "绳索"

"I'm not telling you how to-" Her higher reasoning capacities overburdened with the task of trying to keep herself in control, Hannah could not quite guess her friend's intentions as she felt the red cords wrap around her. It would not hold her beast form for long, but neither could anything else. Please get away from me. Please get Lady Bulstrode away from me. I don't want to kill her.

The beast found itself restrained. That alone was nothing new, it seemed that every night it woke hungry, and every night it woke restrained, unable to fight her way out of her bindings, but she always had the strength to try. This time it seemed she had something around her chest and forelegs, but her claws could just reach the lower bindings. Not for the first time, she wanted access to the human's memories, since it would have at least given her more information on what was going on.

Growling, she rolled around on the floor, feeling her bonds grow tighter. A wizard came through the door, but she paid him no mind. If he came any closer her teeth would be more than enough to deal with him; she hardly needed her claws. Struggling, she managed to snap a few of the cords, but the witch was restraining her more, her mouth, her haunches- She felt something click into place right as she got a paw into her bindings. Howling, she found her rear leg had been chained to some sort of post.

Hannah?

I am going to kill you. Let me off this chain. The witch seemed taken aback for a moment.

If you're going to kill me, I can't let you off the chain. Do you know anything about Hannah?

No.

I am about to cast a false memory charm on you. These will not be Hannah's memories, but I can assure you they are true, as they are my memories of her. Do you want to know about her?

Of course I do. If I learn where her mate sleeps at night-

I'll tell you anything you want to know. The strange witch was being oddly patient with her. In all her past wakings, she had mostly been alone, but the pack-like familiarity with which the witch communicated suggested she knew the human.

Memories poured in. Her suspicion based on the smell of her own pheromones was correct; the human form did have a mate; his scent was still on her body. She saw them lying together only recently and could not help but to note what fools they were to try to rut where they could be attacked, and then to stop when the witch appeared, only to flee like a proper prey animal. She would not know what to do with offspring, of course, but they would be kin and kind.

Eventually the humans left her to the memories. She saw that the name of her other side was Hannah Abbott, and the witch and wizard were Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and they had all spent an inordinate amount of time together. Gone was another wizard named Terry Boot, but that was no matter. The wise hunter knew that some prey always escaped, and it was better to just worry about what was directly in front of her, which was just a pair of children and an old witch who was still tied up. The beast knew not what they wanted with her, but it seemed their work was done for a little while.

The door came open again. This time it was a witch and a wizard, though the witch looked like she was the age of the others, but the wizard looked much younger. There was some pointless confusion. The beast could not tell what they were saying, but it hardly mattered. She tuned out their conversations the way she disregarded the constant chirping of insects; without any particular effort. Making herself as small as possible, and lying down as if to sleep, she had some hope they would venture in her direction. The desire for blood on her fangs grew. There was one among them, however, if she killed him, she would not eat.

The humans started to fight, which she ignored. Their fights were pointless, as even when someone ended up dead, no one was eaten. She did not watch even as she heard the incantations of spells going back and forth. Her instincts told her she was still as magical as they were, even as a beast, and the memories from her other side confirmed she had some understanding of spells and the crafts only humans were meant to know. The werewolf was equally intelligent, to be sure, as wizards had yet to discover how a brain might be transfigured to make it smarter or duller.

Why, then, does the werewolf not perform magic?

She supposed she was in something of a unique position. None other, she presumed, had ever been shown such memories, and none other had been instructed in a class. The beast almost snorted at the notion of one of her kind sitting still with children rather than devouring them. Slowing her heart rate, she felt the magic in her very blood and struggled to bring it forth.

A witch needs a wand. Effortlessly could her human half call forth her magic with a narrow length of wood and whatever the hell smelled so different within. Animal remains, she presumed, if in the last place she expected to find them. A beast, however, would not allow herself to use such an instrument.

At long last it seemed the humans were done fighting and done talking with each other. She was starting to understand their speech; she knew what names were, and she knew enough to pick up from the few memories she had seen what a few of them were specifically. As much as she hated her other side, the beast was grateful to have at least some understanding of what went on around her. I would trade that for a nice rabbit, though. That or a cockatrice, of course.

She longed to hunt and breathe free, though she knew that feeling perhaps more intimately than any other. In the recent past she had spent several nights in a dark room without her chain, but still unable to escape. She shredded everything she could shred with her claws and teeth, but it put her no closer to the wild. The idea of hunting was beyond a need to her, it was an existential part of who she was, and the most delicious experience a werewolf could have was the dark magic she cast through her very being- the unbreakable curse of lycanthropy.

The room was empty except for her.

The beast was under the impression she had been alone for most of her life, and that was fine. It was not an instinct in werewolves to breed with their own kind, and as such, they had no need of others. The only animals they really needed were prey, and there was always more than enough of that to be had. Presently, however, there was nothing to kill, and nothing to turn. It was functionally the same as all the other times the human had decided to imprison her. She knew why, of course, though the reason disgusted her. Hannah Abbott was possessed of a desire to protect her dear friends.

The night passed in silence.

When the witch woke, she removed the red bindings and stretched, grateful to be able to reach her wand. Fortunately her beast form had not destroyed the place, nor had it managed to get out of the chain she now removed. She found herself wondering how the conversation with Lady Bulstrode had gone, but more importantly, where her friends were at the moment. Something about her mind felt like it had been violated, though it was not the first time she had that feeling; she doubted she kept very many thoughts to herself at the Ministry school, though if anyone did that it would have been some faculty member.

Walking around the great castle, she took a moment to appreciate the magical warmth, the gothic architecture, and the stirring depictions of war on every stained glass window. The rug and banners were the same shade of emerald, and she expected that at one point, the castle had been used to host a number of families, all of them with allegiance to Slytherin of course. Even when she was at Hogwarts, there were times when she felt like the school had one House, and then three others to keep it company, or perhaps keep it from controlling the place entirely.

Hannah found her friends in a small room on one of the upper floors. If there was one thing certain about Ron, it was that he was not a claustrophobe, and seemed to prefer being in a smaller room when he only had a few people with him. Oddly, however, he and Hermione were joined by Dean and Parvati, whom she recognized instantly, even if there was something off about the former.

"Glad to see you're up and about," the darker wizard said as she entered. "We were just talking about you."

"Do the others know we're here?" she asked, ignoring him.

"Yes, Ron apparated back to tell them you had turned and we would have to stay the night. We thought it best not to have too many people passing through the Order's secret base all the time." The Ravenclaw seemed put off by her lack of an immediate response. "It was kind of creepy here."

"They didn't sleep in the same bed," Parvati provided. Hannah only scowled at her.

"What did we get out of Bulstrode's mother?"

"Basically nothing," the red-haired wizard summarized. "I reckon they never really told her anything, 's why they decided it wouldn't matter if they left her to watch the castle."

"I figured," the other Gryffindor wizard intoned, agreeing. "The point of coming here was not to learn from her, but to be able to use her as leverage against Bulstrode." It momentarily struck her as weird that Dean would think he could just waltz in and take an adult witch prisoner, but she remembered that he was rather prolific in the defense of Hogwarts, and most adults went on to forget much of the combative skills and spells they learned at school. She had been possessed of a false impression that a teenager would stand no chance against an adult because most of the adults around her had been teachers. Pure bloods would be more likely to know that the average student has a good chance against the average adult, unless that adult is in some profession that requires martial ability.

"Well, would her husband have a better idea of where the Stone is?"

"Most likely. He's not in the Inner Circle, but he knows people who are, and they seem to want the Stone," Hermione explained. "I suspect some of them want to destroy it, but there may be no point until he is dead, or they may still need it for the gold."

"If we put pressure on Bulstrode, he might well destroy it for us," Parvati suggested. "We could tell him his wife is pregnant and we'll burn her to death if he doesn't destroy the-"

"Merlin-" Ron started back, shouting.

"Honestly, I doubt some of them even know if it can be destroyed!" Hermione objected. "That was one of the things they asked me. They were trying to ask me in such a manner that as long as I did not think too long about it, I would not know what they really wanted, but I told them that it should be breakable, though Voldemort might put protective enchantments on it."

"Well, suppose he just steals it for us," Dean decided. "He wouldn't be able to send us proof that he destroyed it, anyway." He looked at Hannah to see she was still scowling. "You were the ones who wanted to work with us. This is the Dark Lord, not fucking Malfoy."

There was a pause. If anyone had any further objections, she imagined they would have been brought up. All that was left was how they would do it.

"I just have one more question," she said.

"Please. We exist to enlighten you," the Gryffindor witch said.

"Why is Dean so small?" Everyone was staring at her. "I'm sorry. I tried, but I couldn't think of a nice way to ask that."

"Unicorn blood," he said at length. "Just leave it at that."