August 31., 1996
A Swamp
Cursing, Remus tried to keep his balance when the ground suddenly gave beneath him. The gleaming container he had been carrying fell, but he had more important things on his mind right now. There was a smacking sound when the swamp released his foot. Hurriedly, he bent over to free his shoe, still stuck in the mud. He pulled it out, turned it over to drain it of the foul smelling water as well as he could, and put it on again.
Looking down at himself, the werewolf grimaced. His robes were drenched up to the knees, as were the pants he wore underneath. The cloth kept swinging heavily and wet against his legs with every step. The sound the remaining water in his shoe produced did not exactly help his mood.
He almost forgot the reason for his spending the evening in one of the most dangerous swamps he knew of. He jumped after the container, which was trying to vanish in the mud.
The three balls of light, floating behind the magiced glass in the small cage-like container seemed to sneer at him in their dance. Actually, it was hilarious. The teacher for Defense against the dark arts had lost his way trying to catch Will-o'Wisps for his class. Out, Lupin, you failed!
About fifteen feet ahead of him, another small ball of light floated in the air. Lupin dropped back and pulled out his wand.
"Accio", he whispered, but his target danced out of the way and his spell hit only empty air. Now it kept just out of the range of a well-aimed spell.
This time, he made sure the ground would carry him before taking every step. He was not too fond of almost bathing in swamp water.
Half an hour later, he put the fourth Will o' Wisp in his container. He was tired and had lost all enthusiasm for this work of collecting interesting specimen. If he kept working at this speed, he would still be at it by dawn, when the sunlight was too bright for him to see his targets.
He stopped, catching his breath, when he heard a low whisper.
Sowly he lifted his head and concentrated. Human ears would have been unable to discern the sound from the whistling of the wind, but part of the sharpened senses of a werewolf stayed with Remus even between full moons.
The bits of talk the wind carried into his direction were not loud enough to understand the words. Without reaching a conscious decision, he moved into the direction the whispering came from, his wand ready in his hand.
In the center of the swamp there was a circular spot of rather reliable ground. Centuries ago, it had been created by magic, but its inhabitants had long since left. The spells keeping the ground dry and hard were dissolving, and muddy puddles started to form. The swamp recovered what it had once lost.
At the moment, there was no danger yet of drowning in mud here. The ruin of a small cottage rose into a sky lighted by an eerie green glow, which emphasized the edges of the crumbling walls and the shadows they cast. The only plants remaining were a few small, leafless trees starved or in various stages of decay, the only witnesses left of the events which had once taken place on this island.
Remus stood behind one of these ruined trees, his hands on the slick bark, the container with his catch by his feet, watching the scene playing out before him.
The gaunt figure standing on the free space in front of the cottage was not quite human. Red eyes glowed in a hairless, reptile skull. The robe hanging form Voldemort's shoulders almost brushed the ground. The Dark Lord's body was not big enough to fill it properly, and folds of cloth kept moving around him in the wind. It did seem to be immune to water.
A small man stood next to the dark being. His shoulders drooped, and he looked as if he was just about to fall to his knees to beg for mercy from his lord. Remus was unable to see his fearful face from where he stood, but he knew Peter Pettigrew well enough to imagine it. Whatever Lord Voldemort was doing over there, the small guy was fearing for his life.
Good.
It was well enough that he should.
Remus just could not make himself suppress the grim satisfaction this thought brought to him.
Slowly he returned his focus to the dark Lord. He had drawn a glowing design in the air. The bright light hurt Lupin's eyes, but he was unable to turn away. Then the glowing green lines merged into a frame, with a figure appearing inside...
Surprise and shock made Remus step back. His foot hit the container on the ground. He struggled to stay on his feet, lost, and fell over into the dirt.
Before he had time to get up again, Wormtail was racing over to his hiding place. Remus Lupin left his container where it was and ran as fast as he could.
It was easy for Pettigrew to follow. The werewolf's tracks could be seen clearly: Every step made him sink in deeper. Water collected in the prints his shoes left in the mud. Voldemort's servant followed his friend without exerting himself. Remus had to hit a dead end sooner or later.
Breathing heavily, Remus stopped dead, when he heard the sound accompanying any apparating person. Voldemort appeared in his way.
Only now, his last, deadly mistake began to sink in. In his panic, he had acted instinctively, running instead of apparating back to Hogwarts while he had still a chance to escape.
Trying to catch his breath, he faced the dark creature which seemed to float above the swamp as calmly as he could. Determination and Defiance were the only emotions in his eyes. He banished fear into the darkest corner of his soul, where it was still gnawing at him with all it's strength. His veins seemed to carry pure adrenaline instead of blood.
Motionles, Voldemort stood over the swamp, returning the werewolf's gaze with open hatred. He lifted his wand, pointing it at Lupin.
The Werewolf dissaparated in the same moment the spell hit him.
Pain took away his concentration, and he almost fainted. He lost his balance, stumbling and hitting the ground hard. Groaning, he turned to his back. Stars were glittering between the trees' branches.
He was in a forest. Remus had no idea if it was really his target, the Forbidden Forest. He had been lucky to arrive in one piece, no matter where. His hand touched the wound in his side. His robe was wet already. Even the light touch caused a burning pain, as if another spell had hit him. Remus shut his eyes, until the world stopped spinning around him.
Albus!
Albus had to know what he had witnessed in the swamp.
Slowly, swaying, he got first to his knees, then his feet, there was no way that he would be able to apparate again. He was unable to concentrate on a spell.
Keeping one hand on the wound in his side, he set off. Every step took him through hell, but he forced himself to go on. He forbade himself to think about what would happen if this was not the Forbidden Forest.
There was
only one thing in his thoughts: Go on, go, go to Hogwarts. He
stumbled, fell, and somehow got up again. Branches slapped his face
and tore at his clothes. The creatures of the forest caught his
scent, smelled the blood on him, and stayed near. He never heard
their sounds, never noticed the gleaming eyes watching him from the
darkness, much too near. His
werewolf's scent was the only thing
that saved him from being eaten alive right there and then.
Finally - he had reached the last trees. In front of him, a number of little lights painted the castle's huge form into the night sky. Hagrid's hut was a blur of light, not quite as far.
Remus stumbled on. Then he had to stop, trying to clear his head, to make the world stop spinning once again. It happened more and more often. He had lost his wand, and the strength to give any kind of signal. Step by step he moved on.
The ground seemed to move under his feet. He fell.
His arms trembled as he tried to push himself up again. He did not get far, before he sank back to the ground.
