My apologies for leaving you lovely readers waiting so long for the next chapter. I had to think on this story for a while about where I wanted it to go, and in between writer's block and focusing on other stories for the fandom, I sort of lost track of this one.

To top all of that off, then when we had a bad storm here that knocked out our power for a couple of days, I wound up losing a lot of my pre-written works and wound up scrapping the outline that I did have, and as a consequence, wound up changing most of the remaining plot since I had to start from scratch lol.

I do plan to continue this story, and as of right now, my outline for Hope & Lyall's tale is sitting pretty at around 30 chapters, so this story is far from over. I appreciate you bearing with me!

21

HOPE'S first thought as her feet touched down on the solid ground once she and Lyall had reached their destination was that Lyall had not been teasing her when the wizard had made mention of Apparition as he called it, of being an unpleasant sensation.

Her arms instinctively latched around the closest thing she could think of, which in this case happened to be the side of whatever building they had magically appeared next to, and clung to the bricks on the side. She suddenly felt the world begin to spin underneath both her feet. The world around her grew dark, and she was falling.

Before all faded from her view, before her body could smack hard against the hard concrete pavement, Hope could feel Lyall's strong arm around her waist, supporting her and helping to steady her gait. Her nose had decided for some reason, that she could go no further. Repulsed by bitter acidic reflux from her throat, Hope gagged and dry-heaved but could not dare to bring anything of the contents of her stomach up.

She remembered not having eaten breakfast this morning, too busy in filing reports for the office and sorting through the inventory for this month's purchase order, to think to make time for herself to grab a bagel or a piece of plain buttered toast from the back break room.

When her nausea cleared, she straightened her gait with the help of Lyall. Lyall studied Hope with a worried frown.

"Something is wrong," he murmured, turning Hope around to face him, his concern for the beautiful young Muggle woman overpowering his desire to do what he came here to do and rid this town of their monstrous boggart. "I should not have brought you here, are you alright, Hope? Can you walk?" he continued, a twinge of self-hatred and bitterness seeping its way to the surface of his voice.

"I-I'm fine, Lyall, you're...you're sweet to worry about me, really," Hope managed to gasp out, though she shivered.

The gesture did not go unnoticed by Lyall. The morning was cold, the skies above their head dull and grievous. Hope only wore a light jacket over top of her dress. He feared if she stayed out here exposed to the elements like this, then she would only succeed in making herself physically sick.

Hope slowly but surely came back to herself somewhat and tried her best to be brave as her fingers curled over the strap of her bag for support as she righted her posture, trying to stand up tall and proud.

"Didn't you say it yourself, Lyall?" she asked shyly, downcasting her gaze as a light pink blush speckled its way along her cheeks, embarrassed at how sick she still felt. "That most people vomit the first time?" she said.

Lyall furrowed his brows into a frown, his brown eyes making a quick scan of Hope's appearance, not liking the sheen of sweat that glittered along her scalp, or how pale the young woman was suddenly looking.

"I don't want to take any chances," Lyall retorted flatly, absolutely refusing to be cavalier about the health of the woman that he was falling in love with. "If you need me to, I'm happy to take you back home, or I could have Newt or his wife Tina check on you. Or perhaps even your coworker, Janey?" he offered, unable to disguise the note of hope in his voice. A part of him half-hoped that she accepted.

He would simply have to call upon the people of Strathtully in a few hours and come back if Hope was ill. In his mind, her health and well-being came first. But Hope had other ideas.

Hope vehemently shook her head, her face draining off-color at the thought of being forced to miss out on watching the man she loved literally work his magic, and hopefully save an entire town in the process, too.

"No." She wanted to see this, whatever was to come next, even if she did not feel at all confident in her own stamina. "You invited me along, Lyall. I—I want to be here for you." Hope would try the best that she could.

Lyall looked doubtful, but deep within the recesses of his heart, he knew that he could not refuse Hope, though he looked yet to be convinced.

"Very well," he sighed, his shoulders slumping forward slightly in defeat, wishing that Hope would not be so casual about her own health and would take this seriously. "Come along then, Hope. With any luck, we'll be back home in Cardiff before your lunch break is up." Lyall tried to encourage Hope as well as himself, though his smile if he was being honest with himself, felt strained.

They had not walked very far through Strathtully before they spotted it, and given its size, the Screaming Bogey was almost impossible to miss.

The sharp gasp caught in her throat as Hope craned her neck up to look at the monstrous demonic entity that was threatening to engulf the entirety of an old brick building. The scream caught somewhere in the back of her throat, though her tongue refused its release, sending it away with a rough and painful swallow.

Hope was confident she had never seen anything quite like this and would never again.

Her eyes widened as she stared up at the unspeakable horror that loomed above her and Lyall. The same massive black shadow, this swarm of darkness that threatened to engulf the block, was spreading, somehow, in some way.

"Wh..what on earth?" she squeaked, her voice escaping her lips as a nearly hoarse little whisper.

The entire street was becoming swathed in thick, dark shadows, like a black-out, but the creature's eyes burned like midnight torches, two white pinpricks that Hope could only make out if she squinted.

Glancing nervously at Lyall out of the corner of her gaze, she could clearly draw the loathing that burned within the man's normally kind and soft eyes for this monstrous wretch.

A chill crept on her pores, and she shivered, gritting her teeth, the fingers of her left-hand curling into a tight fist over the strap of her purse, wishing she could pelt this creature with it and this monstrous entity would cease to exist and disappear.

She basked on the tension that was firmly built on Lyall's body. All of him at this moment as he was mentally preparing for handling the situation with a manner of professionalism that Hope admired within the wizard, the perspiration that glittered on his brows, the way he held his wand steady in his hand told Hope one thing: that Lyall Lupin's foundations were his fury and his pain, and it all was radiating off of him like venom as he glowered up at what the locals had dubbed the Screaming Bogey with hate.

And still, Hope looked at Lyall Lupin without a hint of fear or dread burgeoning in her chest, though she would be the first to admit that she did not like this shift in the thirty-year-old wizard's countenance. She had been trained to mask panic with apathy the day that both of her parents passed on. The way that she did not give in to her own fear only fueled Lyall's desire to rid the town of such a disgusting creature.

Lyall, sensing that Hope was eyeing his every movement as his mind felt like it was going into overdrive, sure he had never seen a boggart quite this big before, turned slowly to study the young brunette Muggle woman who held his heart. He could see by the way her hands were shaking that she was either frightened by the unusual and quite frankly, terrifying, sight in front of her, or that she was still feeling sick and was trying to hide it from him. His sense of urgency to finish the job grew.

Curling his fingers even tighter around the handle of his wand, he checked her over one more time before daring to leave her side, but Lyall loathed needing to part from Hope for even mere seconds. He bit down on his lip.

"Will you be alright while I sort this out, Hope? I won't be long," he asked worriedly as Hope watched him. Her hazel eyes glazed over somewhat, which immediately worried him, though, after a moment, Hope nodded. She seemed like she was fighting with all her might to either remain alert, looking on the verge of fainting or brave, not wanting to worry Lyall and cause him to fret over her.

Watchful for any sign of danger in the young woman that he knew he loved, Lyall offered a curt nod towards Hope and turned, taking a few steps forward to begin to rid the town of this massive boggart.

Hope could only stand on the side of the pavement and watch, her heart skipping a beat in her chest, watching him outlined against the grey sky. As he brandished his wand and uttered an incantation that Hope could not even begin to make sense of what the words meant or what the spell he had cast intended to do to this creature, she thought Lyall Lupin was easily the strongest, bravest man that she had ever seen, his status as a wizard notwithstanding, and she loved him fiercely for that.

A chill went down her spine as a strange noise that sounded like the scraping of a wooden barrel against the cobblestone street caused her ears to perk up at the unfamiliar noise. Hope peeked over her shoulder, reluctantly tearing her gaze away from watching the man she loved work.

Whatever Lyall was doing to this massive entity, the spells he was casting on it did not seem to be working, as it had no effect on the boggart. She wondered if he had ever dealt with one of this size before if perhaps that was why he was having so much difficulty in trapping and subduing the creature.

Hope furrowed her brows, making a mental note to ask him when Lyall had finished what he came here for, but for now, she wanted to find out what had made that noise. Ever since a few weeks had passed and she had dealt with that strange, hooded figure who had come into the insurance office's lobby where she worked, Hope seemed to have this strange feeling she was being watched.

It was an uneasy feeling; one she was too embarrassed to share.

Surely, she was just being silly.

It was because something of that man's odd demeanor had stuck with Hope and frightened her. She had continued to feel put off by the whole scenario and could not bring herself to tell Lyall of it.

Now, as she gazed out over the simple village, she saw nothing. Not a single person or a car in sight, but she felt eyes on her. The sky above their heads was growing dark, anyone could be hiding out there, waiting for her, watching her. Hope shook her head and let out a deep breath.

"Don't be ridiculous," she scolded herself through gritted teeth. She was being utterly ridiculous and taking a ridiculous line on all of this. This wasn't a movie she was watching.

Before she could ponder what might have made that noise, hoping that perhaps a stray alley cat had knocked over a trash can, a noise from behind her rent through the air.

"It's quite the sight, miss, isn't it? Mr. Lupin's boggart he's dealing with? I don't think I've seen one so impressively large," came a mirthful voice from behind her that startled Hope so badly, she nearly cried out.

Hope turned on her heels, alarmed, finding a thin and pale man, about her age, perhaps a few years older, with thick dark curly locks, leaning on the brick wall of the building next to her.

He had a handsome enough face. Pale angular features, and high cheekbones, but spying. He wore dark-clad robes that looked as though they did not come from any shop that Hope recognized.

Her brows furrowed as she made a quick scan of him. She could only surmise this was a man like Lyall, another wizard, perhaps this man was a colleague of Lupin?

Either way, whoever this man was to Lyall, she did not particularly care for the way that this man seemed to have appeared so magically close, and she abhorred it.

Hope offered no immediate reply, trying to gauge who this stranger was to her, what he wanted with her, and what his business was. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" the man murmured in a lowly voice that was laced with gravel and ire that sent a shiver of revulsion down her spine.

"It's not," Hope heard herself answer by way of reply, a hardened edge to her voice that she did not recognize, but nor could she bring herself to stop, the words already out of her mouth and past her lips. She glanced up at the boggart Lyall was battling, which seemed to be getting smaller, or perhaps that was merely a trick of the light? "For me, at least. But things change when you see worse. And you go back to what you thought was ugly once and find them the most beautiful thing of all," she breathed.

The man breathed out what was supposed to be laughter, and Hope knew immediately, she wasn't impressed. She found it unpleasing for a stranger to have discovered her and Lyall here without revealing his name or intentions, and immediately grew more guarded, not liking how he looked at her.

"Wh-what's your name?" she stammered, trying to sound kind, wondering if this man would tell her.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then answered with a coy smile in a smooth, languid voice.

"Evan, my dear. Evan Rosier."

She swallowed down thickly past a lump in her throat as the man smiled at her, a wolfish sort of smile, if she was being honest with herself, predatory, and not at all kind.

And to the best of her knowledge, Lyall was still heavily distracted in dealing with his boggart, and she did not want to distract him from what he had come here for if she could at all help it.

He moved to stand in front of her, tall, looming, powerful, and totally in black. His eyes almost seemed to glow green as he tilted his head to the side. She began to take a cautious step backward, though was halted in her attempts as the man's arm shot out and wound around her bicep.

The growl she let out came from somewhere deep within her.

It was wild and feral and downright angry. Her limbs failed, her elbows aimed upward as she slid the strap of her bag off her shoulder, fully prepared to pelt this man square in the face with her purse if that's what it took to get him to relinquish his grip on her arm and let her go.

Though before she could open her mouth to call for Lyall to help her, a strong, calloused hand was clamped over her mouth to stifle the scream that was more of a squeak.

She froze as he closed off the gap of space that existed between them and wound his other arm around her waist, yanking her close so that she was suddenly pressed flush against his body.

A blast of nausea suddenly made her skin shiver as she thought she caught a thick scent of some sort of drug on the man's person, something to make her feel incredibly light-headed and dizzy, as black spots crept at the edges of her vision. Was she being drugged? Poisoned?

Whatever was happening to her left a ringing on her ear, leaving the last words he whispered into the shell of her ear as he kept a hand clamped over her mouth inaudible. Her brows gave a spasmodic little twitch, though before she could scream, though her throat hurt and with how muffled it was, thanks to Evan Rosier's hand over her mouth, there was no telling if Lyall would even hear her.

Heat spasms dragged across her body, wave after wave, making her feel physically sick. Her vision blurred and everything around her seemed to revolve. Hope could not even hear the muffled whimpers and whines she let out, only the stillness of the ringing that persisted on her head now.

She just wanted it to stop. Her stomach heaved a pressure she was so unfamiliar with, and she turned her head to the side, reaching up with her hands to claw the man's hand away from her mouth in the likely event that she vomited. And then, she felt his arms circle her small waist, and almost gently, the black-clad stranger pressed her against him.

"Let me go…ah…" Hope whispered weakly, shoving against the stranger's broad chest, strong and harsh, she was sure, she was sure. But her efforts appeared to be in vain and for nothing as the man was still clinging tightly to her waist, unmoved and unflinching and unbothered by what he was doing to her.

Her breathing had become laced with panic.

No. Please no… her tongue felt thick and when Hope parted her lips to speak it was like her tongue was swelling like there was a gag this man had placed over her mouth.

"Shh…don't worry, Hope. It is Hope, right? Hope Howell? Don't worry, love. I won't kill you. Yet."

For just a moment, Hope's body stilled in her efforts to fight back against her assailant.

"Wh—what…?" she managed to croak out in a hoarse whisper, her tone hardly audible, and she almost did not even hear herself speak up.

She was almost certain that she had misheard this man. The man holding her sighed in exasperation, tightening his grip around her waist, his fingers clutching onto the material of her dress for support.

"You made quite an impression on a friend of mine, my dear. So much so that he can't seem to be able to get thoughts and images of you out of his thick skull and went as far as to pay a hefty sum of Galleons to ensure that you were brought safely to him. Your new suitor over there managed to make my…friend very, very angry a while back, Miss Howell. Your...friend, Mr. Lupin, he has quite the nasty temper, though I'm sure you'll learn that of him soon enough." Pursing his lips, he cocked his head to the side and continued to stare at her like an artist who was finally ready to start on his masterpiece. "He thought taking you away from Lupin over there would send the man a message that his kind is not to be crossed. It matters not that you're a filthy, disgusting Muggle, his price was too handsome to pass up."

The way Evan Rosier spat the word Muggle as though it were poison that lingered on his tongue, elicited a chill down her spine and Hope shivered, feeling like her mind was reeling.

She could hardly believe that this was happening to her now. Dread filled her upon hearing the stranger's words, turning all her muscles heavy and cold. She felt his searing breath on the back of her earlobe, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck bristled and stood on end. She did not understand.

"Poison, I-h-have I been…poisoned?" Hope whispered weakly, not harsh as well, and could hardly get the words out as a lump had formed in her throat and it hurt her to speak, and her voice was beginning to go faint. She gave Evan Rosier another slight push, but Rosier closed in on her, one hand around the back of her head, pressing the side of her face on his shoulder, and the other arm was in the middle of wrapping itself hungrily around her waist. This stranger was so calm it made Hope even sicker.

This man, this wizard, and his friend, whoever Greyback was, have poisoned her. They were rooting her away from Lyall, perhaps the one wizard alongside his friend Newt that she trusted, and the man's wife, Tina, and were now kidnapping her and were sure to kill her to send a message. She was dying.

When it occurred to her that she was slowly dying, it almost sent her mind insane.

I'm dying…and I will see my mother and father again… I wish I could tell Lyall how much I…

Even in her mind, her thoughts faded away as her strength too dissipated. A single tear slipped from the edge of her eye. "Please..." she whispered, summoning every last ounce of her strength that she could manage, already feeling herself starting to slip away. "Please don't kill me," Hope managed to gasp out.

"Shh…" Evan Rosier shushed the object of Lyall Lupin's affections softly and gently ran the length of his finger over her right cheekbone. She felt his hand slide back to her hair and he gripped onto her braided plait. "Be quiet now, Miss Howell. Shhh…."

Hope did not really have time to register the pain that engulfed her as he roughly yanked on her hair, pulling her head back.

In one single swift movement, he shoved her head towards the brick wall of the building they were standing near, and her forehead slammed onto the hard surface with a loud, sickening thud.

Hope cried out in pain as she saw spots blotting her already fading vision as she felt the trickling of something warm as it slid down the slope of her temple. Hope did not even need to wipe it off to know that it was her own blood which now stemmed from a cut above her browbone.

"Hush now," he said again in that deceptively smooth and soothing voice intended to disarm, and her hair was yanked back again, and her head slammed against the brick wall of the building.

This time, Hope felt no pain and heard no thud, but saw only black.

The last thing Hope felt before her world went blank was a hot, embarrassed, unending shame.

She was already unconscious when the Dark wizard Evan Rosier effortlessly lifted her into his arms bridal style and Disapparated with her, vanishing on the spot, right as Lyall Lupin was finishing dealing with the Screaming Bogey of Strathtully by trapping the monstrous entity into a matchbox permanently.

Lyall turned around on his heels, triumph singing in his veins as he clutched his prized matchbox containing the boggart in his hands before pocketing the magically sealed matchbox into his jacket pocket.

Lyall turned to offer Hope a smile and had been about to offer to take her out to lunch before ensuring her safe return to her job, though his smile instantly slid off his face when he found her not where he had left her.

He halted in his tracks, stopping short as he looked to the left and right. The alarm of not knowing the whereabouts of the woman with who he knew himself to be desperately and hopelessly in love, began to grow in his chest.

"Hope?" he called out, alarmed, his voice trembling with emotion as his eyes made a desperate scan of the pavement in front of him. Lyall swallowed hard, forcing his racing heart to calm down as he took a cautious half-step forward, peering into a few of the various shop windows.

Surely, there was a reasonable explanation as to where Hope could be.

Perhaps she had become frightened and ducked into one of the shops to avoid watching him vanquish the boggart, or was still feeling somewhat sick to her stomach, lingering after-effects of her first-time experiencing Side-Along Apparition.

Whatever her reasons were for disappearing on him, he knew that he had to find her, and quickly.

Lyall quickened his pace and set off down the side street, not finding any sign of Hope Howell in the shop windows as he passed them by. By the time he reached the entrance to the wizarding village, Lyall's heart was pounding in his eardrums, and his stomach was a sick, churning knot in his belly.

Worry worming its way into the pit of his stomach and making a home for itself as the emotion nestled its way into his heart, Lyall searched for Hope Howell at a frenzied pace.

His frantic thoughts came so disjointedly that the beginnings of a tentative plan would not form in his mind.

He did not see the faces of various Muggle passersby and a few Ministry employees that he recognized and worked alongside, regarding him curiously as he peered frantically into each shadowed glass front shop window of the various boutiques and restaurants, hoping to spot any sign of her.

By the time that Lyall had no other choice left available to him but to retrace his steps, his urgent strides had become nearly a full-out run. Still, there was no sign of Hope.

Never, during all the skirmishes and battles in which he had fought in engaging a various number of Dark creatures, had fear threatened to incapacitate him quite as it did right now, making logic impossible.

However, he had never had a woman to care for before, much less the woman who he knew he wanted to marry and had been hoping to propose to her with the rings that sat prettily in their box in his coat pocket by the weekend, searching for her missing and praying that Hope would turn up.

Lyall's terror threatened to consume the man. Near the entrance to a wizarding village, Lyall was pleased to find old Newt Scamander deep in conversation with old Elias Jameson, the current Head of the Department of Regulation and Control for Magical Creatures.

As Lyall approached, he was not aware that Tina stood on the opposite side of him.

"Newt," Lyall gasped, struggling to catch his breath. "I—I need your help, my friend." His voice quivered with fear.

Newt was instantly concerned.

"Mr. Lupin," Tina Scamander spoke up, rushing to the younger wizard's side. "What is the matter?" she questioned urgently, giving the young wizard a quick once-over with narrowed dark eyes. Never had Newt's wife since Newt's protégé in such a state of pure, unadulterated panic before.

Something was horribly wrong with Lyall Lupin.

Tina reached out a hand as if to steady the man, but pulled her hand back, unsure if he would allow it, even now. Newt and Elias Jameson were instantly on the alert as well, looking taken aback.

"I can't…" Lyall began, his words forming ahead of his thoughts. His frantic, pleading eyes searched the spaces nearest to where they had gathered, still frantically searching for any signs of the Muggle. "I can't find Hope!" he spluttered, almost afraid to say the worst, already fearing the worst had happened.

"What? Merlin's Beard, Lyall, start making some sense if you please," he snapped. "What do you mean, you cannot find her, Lyall?" Newt Scamander's thick white brows shot so far up onto his forehead, they almost disappeared into the older wizard's wrinkled forehead. Newt was sure he had heard Lyall wrong. "Miss Howell was with you while you were handling that boggart. I saw her standing by you."

Newt could feel his chest constrict at the thought of the endearing young Muggle woman's possible peril, wondering if perhaps she had been taken.

"She's gone, Newt, Tina, Elias," Lyall informed the trio, quaking where he stood. "I've looked everywhere." He reported breathlessly, warm water beginning to brim at the edges of his eyes.

Without any semblance of hesitation, and willing to forget the rocky start that Newt and Hope had gotten off to when Newt Scamander had made aspirations against Hope Howell's character involving the misunderstanding surrounding her bag, his eyes instinctively went to Newt's face as if the wizard was the only one in the world who could help him locate where Hope had disappeared to.

Newt was quickly visibly startled, realizing that his protégé was not even considering his annoyance towards him for mistaking Hope's bag for dragonhide those few weeks ago, and stepped forward to clasp a comforting hand around Lyall's shoulder. He did not resist, for which Newt was thankful.

"We will all search. She cannot be far," Newt murmured as he tried to give Lyall Lupin some hope through his own despair growing within him, already fearing that the worst might have come to pass.

If she had been taken by another witch or wizard and they had Disapparated, it would be almost impossible to track their movements.

"I will check a few of the businesses, ask any of the owners if they've seen her," Tina offered, trying to be calm, for Lyall's sake, and her husband's.

Tina offered her husband and Lyall a dutiful but affectionate nod and set off immediately.

"Come with me, Lyall," Newt commanded in an authoritative voice. "We'll retrace your steps," he offered. "Perhaps she has returned and merely stepped away to use the lavatory," Newt offered.

Lyall nodded, almost too afraid to hope that were to be the case. Quickly, they made their way back down the side street and began to head back towards the building that had suffered from the boggart's presence. But bitter disappointment was waiting for Lupin once more.

Newt and Lyall found no sign of Hope anywhere. Newt paused in his tracks, wracking his brain for places to search, but feeling as though they were running out of options.

As Newt began to head down a side street, he felt Lyall shrug out of his ironclad grasp. Lyall no longer followed behind and let himself be led by him.

Newt turned on his heels to face his protégé and found himself facing a heart-wrenching scene.

Lyall stood a few paces behind him, frozen in his tracks, violently trembling, and was paler than Newt had ever seen the much younger wizard in his life. His hand was curled around so tightly to the handle of his wand that his knuckles were white with the effort.

The rest of him had gone ashen and grey with despair. It looked like he was about to be sick. His chest heaved for the taste of the air his burning lungs gasped for. Lyall stared directly at Newt, though the wizened old Magizoologist was not even sure if Lyall Lupin could see him at all.

"Where is Hope, Newt? H—how could I have let this happen? I—I never should have brought her out here, she should have stayed back!" Lyall begged Newt as if his mentor could answer him.

He did not wait for Newt's attempt at trying to calm him down but instead choked on the sounds that rose from his throat so violently, that Newt was sure it was all Lyall could do not to vomit.

He was starting to fear for Lyall's health, fearing that he might collapse.

"She is well, Mr. Lupin," Newt tried to encourage his protégé. "Lyall, you must believe that. Miss Howell must be. I am sure if she were not, if someone took her, we would hear otherwise."

He tried to make himself rely on the same words he spoke to a man who was so desperately in love.

"What if we don't find her, Newt?" Lyall was staring at Newt Scamander in such a way as though the younger wizard were seeing his mentor for the first time since this harrowing ordeal had begun.

Newt had heard more than enough. He covered the brief distance between them and took his arm.

"Lyall, please listen to me." Newt stared earnestly into Lyall's pained and panic-stricken eyes. "I will help you find her. I will help bring Miss Howell back to you if it is the last thing I ever do."

Newt did not even realize he was shaking with the solemnity of his pledge.

He blew out a deep breath and continued. "I swear it," Newt vowed.

Lyall drew in a breath and held it, hesitating. He slowly lifted his gaze to Newt and searched Newt Scamander's lined and wrinkled face for any sign of falsehood, any hint that he could not trust him, that Newt was simply telling him what he wanted to hear but found none within the old wizard's eyes.

All Lyall could manage to do was stare at Newt. For Newt, it was more than enough for right now.

Slowly, Lyall managed to regain some small semblance of control over his raging emotions and nodded, telling Newt he was reading to continue their search.

Newt offered an affirmative nod and had been about to begin to lead him back towards the building in which Lyall Apparated in front of when the flash of something silvery and wispy caught his eye.

The unmistakable image of a snake Patronus came slithering through the air in front of the two wizards, stopping about a foot in front of where Lyall and Newt stood, rooted to the spot.

Both wizards instinctively stiffened and clutched their wands out of a reflexive habit as the unmistakable low baritone voice of the hulking and savage brute, Fenrir Greyback rent through the air, delivering a message for Lyall.

"She's really pretty, Lupin, your special little friend…so pale, so perfect, so cold." Greyback's deep grating baritone teased. "And brave too. Why is everyone so willing to die for you, Lupin?" he growled.

Lupin's blood turned sour as the image of the Patronus shifted from Greyback's face to show him a vision of Hope, seemingly unconscious, though she was stirring.

Hope was lying on the forest floor on her back, one arm draped limply over her stomach, the other at her side. Her eyes were closed, her eyebrows were knitted together in worry and concern. Her mouth, complete with a now-bleeding cut on her lower lip, was set in a slight pout and she looked deathly pale. The details began to itch on his mind, a ringing screeching on his ears and his heart almost burst against his ribs.

Merlin, but he could feel it. A drop of rage now fevering and spreading through his veins like Lyall had never felt before and welcomed it. His breaths were half-mad, falling out of control. A strange itch ruptured on his jaw.

Greyback continued to taunt and goad Lyall into coming after him and Hope. "I suppose, your lovely little liability could still watch you die with one eye, though. One hour. The outskirts of the Forest of Dean, Lupin. Don't keep me waiting, or I might make short work of her pretty fingers as a snack."

The last taunting words lingered in Lyall's mind as the snake Patronus dissipated and vanished into thin air, its message delivered.

Damn. Lyall wished he could think of something strong as he stared at the space where the snake Patronus had lingered not but a half-second ago.

His breaths were coming to him short; his chest was tight. For a moment, Lyall feared that he might pass out.

His blood was roaring in his ears, the sound of his heart pounding in his chest drowning out everything else, though Newt was attempting to speak to him.

"Lyall, please don't do something stupid," Newt urgently pleaded, desperation in his voice. "Greyback isn't going to hurt her, it's you that he wants, can't you see, he's leading you out into a trap, Lyall—"

"Why did he tell me this then, if not for me to do something about it, Newt?" Lyall roared, seizing on tufts of his hair, and pulling on them hard until he swore the roots screamed in protest.

He looked positively livid as a shadow of anger flickered in his eyes and his rage swept over him like a blackening torrent. He almost launched himself at his mentor, but somehow, by a miracle of Merlin, refrained himself.

Lyall was making a terrible noise that came from deep within the confines of his chest which belonged to neither man nor animal.

A noise of self-hatred and pain and betrayal and utter agony, and he sank to his knees on the pavement, wishing he could tear it up, wishing he could rip his heart out from his chest with his own two bare hands, anything to make it stop, just make it stop.

Then Newt was kneeling beside him as best as his slightly hunched-over posture would allow, trying to put a comforting arm over his shoulders, but Lyall ripped away and rose to his feet, letting out a furious blood yell.

He flung himself against the wall of the building they were closest to, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Slamming his knuckles repeated into the brick walls, his sensitive skin shredded against the bricks, but Lyall felt no pain, his mind too focused on Hope's ordeal and the torment she was enduring.

"Hope!" His harrowing scream echoed. Lyall fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands as he let himself lose what little semblance of composure he had left.

He wailed as if the sheer force of his willpower to get her back could magically open the path he needed to get to her. He felt the exhausting rasping of his lungs as air finally failed him.

The taste of blood welled and surged in his mouth from his raw throat.

He continued to kneel on the ground, shoulders slumped and gasping raggedly, his mind racing three times ahead of his thoughts.

"Lyall, please—" Newt started to say, a pleading lilt to his warbling tone as he begged the wizard to come back to himself and try to think logically for a moment, though before the two of them could, another voice beckoned behind them, a woman's, coming to the wizards' immediate right.

"Excuse me, dearies."

Alarmed, they turned to see none other than the Hogwarts Divination Professor, Sibyl Trelawney, approaching, her eyes wide and glassy behind the lenses of her large, round, coke-bottle lenses.

"Mr. Lupin. Mr. Scamander," she began in a dreamy, mystical-sounding tone as she kept her ringed fingers folded neatly in front of herself. Tina was rushing behind the Divination Professor. "Your wife, Mr. Scamander, sent a Patronus to Professor Dumbledore informing the man that the whereabouts of your partner is in question? Albus sent me here to assuage your worries," Trelawney murmured in a hoarse voice, as she watched, somewhat listlessly, as Newt forced Lyall to his feet with a pained grunt of effort.

Trelawney's calm demeanor was in sharp contrast to that of Lupin and Scamander's.

"Sh—she was taken, Professor," Lyall confirmed in a stammering tone, developing a slight stutter from his nervousness, trying to calm the shakes in his body and remain calm enough to address the Seer.

He did not even realize that his hand was still wound tightly around Newt Scamander's arm as he stood breathless alongside that of his old mentor.

Professor Trelawney nodded, considering Lyall's words. Then, from behind her glasses, her eyes grew distant and took on a somewhat glossy look, as she appeared to be watching a scene unfold in her eyes from someplace far, far away from here.

"You will find Miss Howell in the Forest of Dean, approximately one mile away from the wizarding village of Chester," Trelawney calmly explained.

"Are you sure, Professor?" Lyall asked, uncertainly, raising his eyebrows in alarm at her.

He did not think they could afford to take chances. Time was of the essence in getting her back.

Trelawney's face fell only slightly as she shot the flustered and panicked young Ministry worker something of a withering angry glower.

When she spoke, her tone was spiced and offended, as though Sibyl had taken offense that Lyall doubted her abilities as a natural-born Seer.

"Of course, I'm sure, dear. I sense her there. But I would be remiss if I did not caution you to be wary. Grave danger awaits you in your immediate and in your distant future, dear."

Eager for any course of action, Newt sighed with hope. "Thank you, Professor. Thank you, mum." He shifted slightly and eyed Lyall Lupin hopefully.

Lyall was still unsure of the powers of the Seer that Sibyl Trelawney claimed to be, claiming the ability was passed down from her mother and the generations of witches in her family for as long as she could remember, and he sincerely hoped the witch's prediction would not lead to more heartache for him.

There was no telling what he and Newt would find when they Disapparated to the edge of the Forest of Dean. However, at that moment, the hope that had begun to burgeon within his chest was worth laying all his faith on the young Seer's words, at least for Hope's sake, and his.

Lyall offered an affirmative nod to Tina and Professor Sibyl Trelawney as Tina mumbled under her breath to Newt that she would escort the Divination Professor safely back to the castle.

Lyall agreed with this idea and proceeded to take hold of Newt Scamander's hand, Disapparating with his mentor before the two could even take a moment to begin to formulate a plan of attack.

Lyall was smart enough not to look back.