Chapter 5: Escape

Harry ran as fast as was possible without pitching Remus right off his back. Behind him, he could hear soft, padding footsteps. With a twitch of his ears, he had all the information he needed to know that they were the footsteps of those residing in perilous Itzal's Den. They were human, though irregularly soft, and there were a lot of them Harry's heart raced as their pursuers closed in. Every turn around a tree, every jump over a bush, lessened their precious time.

Finally, Harry could tell that the werewolves had caught up with them. Harry heard the twanging of a bow and, seconds later, the whoosh of an arrow. Harry dodged and ducked frantically, trees and arrows whooshing past, blurring into each other, both dangerous obstacles in the way of the chase. Despite the prospect of being caught, wounded, or even killed, Harry's worst fear was the loss of weight on his back that signaled that Remus was still there. If Remus fell off, all would have been in vain.

Harry jumped and swerved, avoiding both a tree and clump of bracken all at once, losing valuable time as he passed the golden leaves that he couldn't even consider beautiful, just as a factor against him, blocking his vision. His concentration was broken by a sound that pierced horror through his heart like a javelin bent on destroying reality as he knew it. It was a scream. Then agony held within that one sound was so intense, Harry could hardly bear it. With a jolt, he realized it was Remus, no one else could possibly have been that close to Harry's ear.

No! And with that thought, he put all his energy, all of his heart and breathe into a surge of speed he hadn't even thought possible. And with that, they broke through the thinning trees of the forest, leaving the werewolves behind.

Tonks glanced anxiously at the clock; 7:00. "Where could they be?" She looked over to Minerva, but, to her surprise, the other woman was asleep. Tonks marveled at this. Though is seemed childish, she admitted now that she never thought of her teachers, especially Minerva McGonagall, ever sleeping. They seemed to always be up, ready to spot and put an end to trouble. Sure, they were in nightgowns or pajamas, but they were still awake at the time. It seemed odd that such a tight, strict person could do something so peaceful.

Tonks' mind peacefully wandered from the sleeping figure next to her to the crickets chirping outside. Outside. Remus was outside. With a sudden emptying lurch of grief, Tonks returned her thoughts to Remus. Outside she heard a noise. It sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. A soft, dragging sound, and what sounded like... yes, footsteps, but broken, labored, and at an odd, faltering pace. Tonks jumped out of her seat, rushing to the door, heart jumping at the sound of a muffled, pained, groaning scream.

Adrenaline died down, and Harry found himself stopping, desperately trying to breathe, ears strained for any sound signaling pursuit. Harry gasped and continued running. It was already well past noon. How long had he rested for? How much longer did Remus have to live with the arrow wound? Thoughts raced through his head, spinning around almost visibly, making him dizzy and nauseous with confusion and anxiety. The sun moved slowly westward as time passed and Harry lost speed due to exhaustion.

Dusk came, darkening to night and finally, Harry came to Grimmauld Place. He trotted feebly towards Number 12, body weighed down by the need for sleep. With a shuddering gasp, Harry collapsed, transforming as his exhausted body was drained of all power. Remus let out a small cry as he fell to the ground. Still, Harry went on, slinging as much of Remus' weight as was possible onto his back. He trudged on, dragging himself and Remus past house after house.

Finally, he reached the house, stumbling on his way up the walk. Remus cried out at the sudden jolt. Just then, the door opened, letting out light and a pink, short-haired woman who rushed out to them, somehow managing to catch them both, calling for Minerva to help her. McGonagall rushed out a few minutes later, helping Harry up as Harry embraced the darkness that relieved him of his burden.

I woke up in a bed to a room filled with bright, shimmering sunlight. Above me was a face I couldn't make out, though my tired, pain-dazed eyes searched for something, anything that would help my mind recognize the being above me. Finally, through the blur and blinding sunlight, I noticed shocking pink.

"Tonks?" I whispered, throat dry and hoarse from screaming, weak from pain and exhaustion.

"Remus. How are you feeling?" I paused, searching for words, watching as my vision cleared, finally becoming one image. Her face was so beautiful. I had no idea how much I had missed her until now.

"I'm... fine." I held her hand, the sun warming up the scene as if it couldn't help but be part of something so tender, so loving. Tonks smiled, but then it faltered.

"Harry's completely drained. He's awake, but constantly exhausted and he has trouble performing even the simplest of magic. We're worried about him."

"Harry?" I was confused, "He's here? What hap-" I cut myself off, looking up at Tonks with sudden comprehension, "Harry... the... stag?" Tonks nodded. I bolted upright.

"I need to see him!" Tonks placed her hands on my shoulders, but I struggled desperately. Then, a new voice entered the room.

"Remus! Relax! You need to Relax!" Someone else pushed me down firmly.

"M-madam Pomfrey? You don't understand! Harry! I need to see Harry!" Once again, a voice came from the doorway, blocked from my vision now by both Madam Pomfrey and Tonks. But this time, the voice was soothing, though tired and worn.

"I'm here Remus," Harry came into view and knelt by the bed, "It's okay."

Fighting down a lump in my throat and any doubts I was having, I hugged him. I felt him tense under me, then relax. "The stag was in my pack." I leaned back to see his face. Looking into his eyes I could see a sense of sadness as well as a fierce pride.

Minerva stared at me in horror, "You're sure this is Fenrir's plan?"

I had just finished telling her all that had happened, all that I had found out, "Yes," I replied, "And I wouldn't dare assume that he hadn't already begun." I glanced over at Harry, his face was pale, but hard as he absorbed this information. Tonks looked worried and vulnerable in her shock. We had to do something, but what? What could possibly stop a legion of werewolves most likely supported by Death Eaters and led by perhaps one of the most insane of Voldemort's supporters: Fenrir Greyback?