Chapter Seven
Wolf's Moon
9.00 p.m.
When Ruta Lupin left Stephen Seeker's house, the sky had a lilac tone, seamed by thin streaks of pink and orange. A heavier band of clouds was drifting in from the steep hills in the east, obscuring the waning, pale moon. She inhaled deeply when she stood on the doorstep, turning to her host; the air smelled of the coming rain.
"Thank you," she said. "For the true story, the wine and the food. It was a real joy."
"And an easy pleasure for me, Miss Lupin," he answered, almost smiling at her. "If you should feel the need to know any more details, I'd be willing to… enlighten you."
"I would like to hear more about Tibet," she retorted, a humorous glint in her eyes. "I wonder if you ever met the Yeti – or if it was a mere chimera of Gilderoy Lockhart's colorful imagination."
"Oh no," he quietly said. "The Yeti is real – only not half as murderous as it's assumed to be. It is a shy creature, and it normally only defends itself if it is attacked."
"Which applies to many people, I think." She held out her hand. "And by the way… my name is Ruta."
For a long moment he was silent, and involuntarily Ruta held her breath. She had overstepped an invisible border, spontaneously but deliberately… and now she was not entirely sure that he wouldn't draw back once again.
"Very well." His fingers closed around hers in a surprisingly strong, warm grip. "And my name is Stephen. Good night… Ruta."
"Good night, Stephen." She turned away and walked down the path and through the garden gate, her steps fleet-footed and fast; she could feel his gaze following her until she heard the soft click of the closing door. Only then did she allow the deep joy inside her to warm her face.
vvvvv
9.07 p.m.
The smile lingered on her lips until she turned around the corner of the small road that led to her own house. Her neat, little front garden was shadowed by the feathery, hanging branches of a willow, and the air was heavy with the scent of the ivory white Cymbeline roses blooming behind the wall. She was searching for the keys in the pocket of her robe when she suddenly noticed a hunched figure under the slate-roofed porch that guarded her front door. Thunder rumbled overhead – the thickened clouds were now rapidly darkening the sky, and for some reason the street lamps had not yet come alight. She paused, trying to penetrate the shadows with her eyes.
"Hello…?"
"It's… it's me." The voice was as small and miserable as the boy staring up at her.
"Teddy?" She hurried over to him, filled with a mixture of anger and surprise. "What on earth are you doing here? Gran Dromeda will be completely beside herself if she finds out that you have disappeared!"
"I know." Now the tone was even more miserable. "But… I couldn't stand it. I simply couldn't."
Ruta felt the first, heavy drops of rain in her hair and pulled the boy deeper into the shelter of the porch, sitting beside him on the wooden box where she kept her hand tools. "Couldn't stand what?"
"You being mad at me," he whispered. "You don't talk to me. You… you talk to Gran, you talk to that stupid Mr. Seeker… but not me. And you talk to Harry about me! You've told him everything!" Now it was a full-blown accusation, and despite her righteous chagrin she felt that he was not completely wrong.
"I had to," she said gently. "He is your godfather, and he had every right to demand an explanation. But you shouldn't be wandering around at this time of night," she sternly continued, trying to take up the educational reins again. "Your house arrest doesn't end until tomorrow."
"I know." He hung his head. "But I wanted to see you. You haven't read me any bedtime stories for nearly two weeks. Where… where have you been in the evenings when you didn't visit Gran Dromeda and me?"
Ruta hesitated. "I have… I have been taking chess lessons. Mr. Seeker offered to teach me the game."
She could see the boy's lip twitch in something that looked suspiciously like disgust.
"I don't like Mr. Seeker," he said bluntly. "Since you met him, you don't have any time for m… for Gran and me. You talk to him all the time, and now you go and play chess with him." He took a shaky breath. "And I had to write a letter to apologize for… for that stupid medal, and Gran made me write it twice even though I got almost all the words right the first time, and Mr. Seeker didn't even answer!"
Unable to hold back any longer, Ruta pulled him into a hug. After stiffening for a second, he relaxed and with palpable relief leaned into her touch, giving a rather watery sniffle and burying his face against her shoulder.
"If there was no answer, I am sure it was not because he didn't care," she gently replied. "Perhaps he simply didn't know what to say… he's not very used to apologies. And I'm certain his anger about the medal is long over."
She pressed a quick kiss in the tousled hair.
"And I'm no longer angry, too," she whispered. "I shouldn't have stayed away for so long. I'm really sorry."
He raised his head and looked up at her, his eyes wide and hopeful.
"Will you come tomorrow and read The Little Witch to me? Gran refuses to read the same chapter more than three times."
"Most understandable," Ruta said with a grin. "But before I make any promises, we should get you back home. Perhaps I'll be able to smuggle you in before she notices that you were gone in the first place… or we will be both in trouble."
She watched the heavy drops, splashing on the flagstone path, and pulled the boy close once more.
"I'll tell you something, Teddy," she said. "The storm is passing, and it's time I saw you safe in bed for the night. But we should wait until the rain is over – how about a short story right now?"
vvvvv
9.09 p.m.
Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter Apparated in Berwick just as the first, hesitant drops had turned to a steady drum roll of rain on the roof. They entered the house, shaking themselves like a pair of wet dogs. When Ginny saw their dripping coats, she snorted audibly and removed the puddles on the wooden floor with a short, resolute flick of her wand.
They settled down in the fire lit living room; Harry let Jamie bounce on his lap and Ginny brought two steaming mugs of Butterbeer. Neville sat in the rocking chair, reverently fingering a book about rare herbs in Normandy and Brittany that he had purchased that afternoon at Flourish & Blotts.
"Do you have something left for dinner, love?" Harry called, tickling his son, who gave a giggle of delight. "I've had nothing but a cup of mediocre coffee and some terribly dry muffins today, and I could put away a whole flock of sheep."
"You'll have to settle for chicken breast and spinach, my heart," Ginny replied blithely. "Ruta was here today, and we made enough food to stuff you both to the brim."
"Chicken breast sounds fine," Harry said, secretly grimacing (he hated spinach nearly as much as Neville hated Brussels sprouts). "And if you just add some chips and vinegar, you'll have an extremely happy husband. Is the Muggle newspaper anywhere around?"
"Don't overdo it!" Ginny's laughing voice came out of the kitchen. "You'll try at least one or two spoonfuls of Ruta's cream spinach – even Jamie didn't spit it out! – and I'm pretty sure you'll manage the way to the letter slot without collapsing in the vestibule. It must be out there somewhere."
"I'll go and fetch it," Neville volunteered, laying the precious book aside and hauling himself out of the rocking chair, "though I'll never figure out why you constantly have to read that silly stuff."
"Information," Harry said, raising an educational forefinger – and spoiling the effect when he had to rescue his glasses from his son's grasp. "I want to know about what's happening in the area, and since the Wizarding papers pretty much ignore the Muggle news, the local paper's the best way to find out. And it is not silly stuff."
"Car racing!" Neville gave a suppressed snort. "What could be sillier than two pages about a handful of Muggles, sitting in those stinking, roaring machines and mindlessly driving round in circles, in some ugly town in the middle of Belgium?"
"Not in the Eskdale Gazette," Harry retorted, vividly remembering Neville's first, gobsmacked encounter with a Muggle sports magazine. "And I doubt a racing driver would find it easy to get the concept of Quidditch – I certainly had some difficulties at first."
"Ha!" That was Ginny again, every inch the celebrated Chaser of the Holyhead Harpies. Neville laughed and toddled off into the vestibule.
Harry settled in his stuffed chair a little bit more comfortably; Jamie was a warm, living weight in his arms, nestling against his shoulder and yawning. In few minutes the baby would be sleeping and ready to be carried over to the nursery. Harry watched Ginny, laying the table in the small dining room, and again a breathless wonder about what he possessed hit him like a gentle blow. A delicious smell wafted in from the kitchen, and he decided that his domestic peace was certainly worth a few spoonfuls of spinach…
"Harry."
He turned, the sudden movement startling a small sound of protest out of James.
Neville stood in the door to the vestibule, the familiar, daily editions of the Eskdale Gazette and the Daily Prophet in his left hand. The other hand clutched a third newspaper, scarcely more than four pages. Harry saw the expression on his face and quickly rose from his chair.
"Neville? What is it?"
"Here."
Harry took the slim newspaper and saw the headline, his eyes widening as he began to read.
Mysterious murderer kills helpless old man and his dog
All Citizens of St. Mary Green and Berwick are strongly cautioned not to leave their homes
By Ernie Pembroke
This morning Ezra Donohue (age 81) was found murdered in his cottage in St. Mary Green by Constable Bernie Smithers, who had noticed the door of the cottage on Oak Lane standing ajar during his usual rounds. Donohue's dog was also found dead. Both victims were badly mauled.
Donohue was recently held under suspicion of being connected with the mass escape of sheep at Tom Kerrey's farm, said Kerrey's mother-in-law, Mrs. Eleanor Carpenter of Mill Road. "The poor old man blamed it on a monster from the hills," she told our reporter this afternoon. "But we never took it seriously. The footprints near the paddock were huge, and his was the only dog large enough to match them. But it was hard to understand Ezra, he was a bit of a recluse, and very eccentric and shy."
Shy or not, he may have been right about the monster. Constable Smithers feels that whatever killed man and dog, it couldn't have been human, and the initial reports from the pathology lab agree. The pathologist in Keswick, Dr. Franklin Beresford, confirms that the wounds inflicted on the bodies were made by large claws and fangs. "Razor sharp," he warns. "Some kind of big predator – perhaps escaped from a zoo or more likely a private game preserve. We've asked every authorized animal facility to check their numbers."
People are asked to stay indoors as much as possible, and to keep windows sealed. Report any unusual sounds by calling 999, but do not attempt to get close to the beast. The authorities are doing everything possible to capture or contain it, and our newspaper will keep you informed.
Under the article Harry saw a black and white photograph, showing a rather shabby little cottage. The door was nearly broken from its hinges, and though the remains of Ezra Donohue and the dog had been mercifully removed, the huge dark spots on the doorstep and some ugly, long splashes on the wall revealed enough about the drama to make Harry's stomach lurch. There was barrier tape everywhere, and half a dozen men with rubber gloves were examining the ground scrupulously.
He raised his eyes from the page, finding his own dismay mirrored in Neville's face. The youngest professor for Herbology suddenly seemed to have lost a good dozen years of age: he looked every inch like the frightened little boy who, during his first year at Hogwarts, had miraculously attracted every disaster possible.
"Remember what Ruta told us yesterday about the old man?" he murmured.
A monster in the hills. Harry felt a shudder running down his spine, and he tightened his grip around Baby James in an unconscious gesture of protection.
vvvvv
9.19 p.m.
Most of the rain had come and gone in a short, heavy shower, and the few laggard drops were warm on the skin, so Ruta didn't want to wait any longer. A quick drying charm would get rid of the remaining dampness as soon as Teddy was home.
"I could climb up Gran's trellis," he offered eagerly while they were walking along Mill Road towards the bend that led to Andromeda's cottage.
"You will do nothing of that sort," Ruta firmly said. "The last thing we need right now is you breaking your neck while sneaking back in after you snuck out without permission."
"How do you think I got out?" Teddy retorted, giving her a cheeky grin. Ruta shook her head.
"You're incorrigible."
It was very silent; apart from their united steps, she could barely hear a sound. Like earlier that evening she found it a bit odd that no one could be found outside; it was still summer, after all, the holidays weren't over yet and she would at least have expected a few neighbors, returning from a visit, or children besides her nephew, coming home from a careless trip.
As soon as Teddy was safely delivered into the care of his unsuspecting grandmother, she would take the time to sit down in peace and ponder the day. She could still hear the quiet, hoarse voice, telling her about strange, faraway places, about landscapes unseen and the mysteries of rare, healing draughts, never brewed before.
Your trustworthiness may be completely unexpected, but it is highly welcome.
Again she felt her face relax in a secret smile, and her feet found the familiar way to Andromeda's house almost on their own while she ambled along, lost in thoughts. -
It was the smell that startled her out of her reverie… a nauseating odor of rancid sweat and dirt, and of something else that made the fine hair on the back of her neck rise in alarm.
Blood. Something – someone – smelled of blood.
She stopped abruptly, keeping Teddy's hand in a hard grip.
"Aunt Ruta?" He tried to free himself. "Aunt Ruta, what is it?"
"Shhhh…"
The street was only dimly lit by a single streetlight down the road. But now her senses were sharpened by a sudden foreboding of danger; they registered the steps of yet another person on the sidewalk, and then the odor hit her again like a cloud and made her gasp.
She reacted as she had been taught all those years ago back in school, and to her gratitude her instincts still worked. A turn of her wrist, and the willow wand slipped out of her sleeve and into her hand.
"Lumos!"
Now she could see clearly. The very next moment a dark, tall figure stepped out of the shadows merely ten yards ahead of her. It was a man, with grey, unkempt hair and scrubby whiskers, his loose, long coat littered with big dark blotches… and with horrendous clarity she understood where the blood stench came from, for she knew this man, this spawn of darkness and evil, and it took all her force of will not to drop her wand from fingers that had suddenly turned cold and numb.
"What a pleasure!" The low, raspy voice was filled with cruel mirth. "The last time we met you were much younger, my little poppet, and I found you much more… tempting. But I won't complain - your sweet cousin was a real treat. And look what a juicy morsel you have found me today!"
Teddy. Please, not Teddy.
Without thinking, she pushed the boy behind her, one arm holding him under the cover of her ample robe for protection, the other one pointing the wand at the creature in front of her. The clouds above their heads drifted apart, and the light of the waning moon brightened the road and was mirrored in the puddles on the uneven asphalt.
He can't change, Ruta thought, filled with sudden hope. Thank heavens, the full moon is over, and he is unable to turn into a wolf. She saw the slim chance that was given to her and used it.
"Stupefy!"
vvvvv
9.21 p.m.
"What kind of…" Harry's and Neville's eyes met again. "Surely it can't be a werewolf, can it?"
"That's hardly possible." Neville said, turning to the calendar on the wall. "Not the right time of the month."
"Hmmm…" Harry automatically began to stroke Jamie's head. The feeling of the small skull and the downy hair under his hand normally never failed to calm him… but this time the simple gesture wouldn't work its ancient, wondrous spell.
"But if it isn't a werewolf, what else could it be? A runaway tiger from a circus?"
Neville shot him a surprised gaze. "A circus?"
"A company of jugglers and acrobats, doing their performances in a tent," Harry explained. "They travel from town to town, and they often have wild beasts, even lions and polar bears… or camels."
Neville cleared his throat. "Harry, I know," he said. "Gran took me to a circus once or twice when I was a child."
"Oh." Harry felt slightly stupid. "Of course."
"But if a lion or a tiger had escaped from a circus, the Muggles would know about it, wouldn't they? Circuses don't have that many animals," Neville continued, a deep, vertical fold between his eyebrows. "That guy from the newspaper wrote that it must have been 'some big kind of predator'. And even though I guess that Muggle pathogol… pathologist knew what he was talking about, he still wasn't sure exactly what kind of animal killed the old man."
"Very well," Harry said. "But what kind of animal could it be, then? Is it possible that it is a wolf, escaped from some game reserve?"
"Perhaps," Neville stepped over to the window, looking outside. The rain had stopped while they were talking, and the thick clouds were rapidly sailing past the shrunken silver disc in the sky. "But normal wolves are extremely shy when it comes to people. I don't think that one of them would easily attack an old man in his house. It would kill and eat sheep to still its hunger. And the article only says something about a 'mass escape of sheep'. Obviously not a single one was killed."
"Instead it was Ezra Donohue who died," Harry slowly said; his Auror instincts began to stir. "And Ezra Donohue was the one who talked about a 'monster in the hills'. He had seen the beast before."
Neville stared at him.
"What do you mean?" he said sharply. "That the poor old bloke was killed because he had noticed something - or someone - and began to tell people about it?"
Harry returned his gaze, a queasy feeling in his stomach. "Why not? Of course…" He got up from his chair and began to pace the room, the drowsy child in his arms. "… of course this would lead us back to the werewolf theory."
"It's not the time in the month for a werewolf to attack," Neville reminded him patiently.
"It's not the time for a normal werewolf," Harry answered, his mind working furiously. "There is one werewolf I know who wouldn't care the least if the moon is full or not as long as he's after someone. He's as much a monster in human form as he is when he's changed."
Neville took a deep breath.
"Greyback," he softly said. "You're talking about Fenrir Greyback." Harry saw that he swallowed convulsively. "But Harry… believe me, that's impossible."
"Can you prove to me that he is dead?" Harry retorted. "I know you and Ron brought him down during the Second Battle, but… can you swear to me that he really died? Did anybody find his carcass, eight years ago?"
"N… no." Neville's tone was almost angry.
"He might be still alive," Harry said. "And he would have no qualms about torture or murder. And if he managed to stay hidden during the past several years, and has now decided to come here…"
"But why?" Neville shook his head. "Harry, what for?"
Suddenly everything made sense. It was sheer madness, but it still made sense.
"Ginny?!"
The name of his wife came out much more sharply than intended; Jamie winced in his grip and began to cry. Ginny appeared on the doorstep, eyebrows risen.
"Sorry, love," Harry said, handing over his son. "It seems as if we have a case of emergency here. Would you take Jamie… and read this?"
He handed her first his son and then the slim edition of the Eskdale Gazette. She settled the child firmly on her hip and began to read. After a short, tense moment of silence she raised her head, visibly paling.
"A wild animal?" she whispered. "And it killed that poor, old man?"
"Yes," Harry grimly said. "But it was not a normal animal. I strongly believe that it was Fenrir Greyback."
He ignored his wife's shocked gasp and Neville's attempt to interrupt him once again, and continued in a soft and urgent tone.
"I know this sounds crazy, but I don't have the time to explain everything right now. I would like you to take Jamie, love, and leave for The Burrow, at once. I don't think he's after me or my family, but… I won't take a risk if I don't have to."
Ginny stared at him, and he waited, quivering with nervousness. Suddenly her lips formed a narrow, determined line.
"And I won't either," she said, stepping forward and giving him a short, intense kiss; he could feel the warm body of the sleepy child between them. "I'll go and pack a small bag… but before I do, would you tell me who Greyback is after if we are not his target?"
"Teddy," he replied. "He's after Teddy… and perhaps after Ruta, too. Teddy's grandfather insulted him, and he took revenge by biting Teddy's father. Remus was only the first Lupin he brought that curse upon, and now he's returned to finish his work of destroying the whole family."
"You shouldn't try to face him alone," Ginny said, her face hard with frozen fury. "Take Neville with you, he already brought him down once, and he deserves a second chance to free the world from this piece of filth." She spun around and left the room; Harry could hear her fast steps on the stairs.
He turned to Neville. "I hope I'm imagining things, but if I'm not..."
Neville nodded. "Better safe than sorry. Let's go."
vvvvv
9.24 p.m.
A bolt of red light hit Greyback's neck; he reeled, but he didn't fall, shattering Ruta's hopes that she might be strong enough to bring him down alone. With a sinking heart she realized that her possibilities to protect herself and the child were limited. She had never been an overly enthusiastic student in Defense against the Dark Arts, and keeping herself out of the line of fire had robbed her of the chances to gain the battle practice she so desperately needed now.
Think of the fairytales.
Remus' voice, as loud and clear as if he stood by her side. She blinked, a tremor running down her back, and suddenly her mind was filled with the warm, green-golden light of a summer afternoon more than fifteen years ago, and the memory of her cousin, telling her how people used to fight werewolves in ancient times… about the moon and the metal that was so closely connected to it.
If I should ever change in your presence, this is how you can fight me back.
She could only hope that he was right. To her surprise, her lips curled to a small, ironic smile. He had been an expert, after all.
She raised her wand again, drawing a tetragon into the rain-damp air.
"Murus Argentum!"
At first the spell seemed to have no effect. Then all of a sudden, a brick appeared out of nowhere, an exact reflection of the outlines her wand had traced. A second brick appeared, then a third and a fourth, and more, forming a wall of semi-translucent, shimmering silver… a wall, high enough to hide Greyback's bewildered face, a wall, closing around him like a tower without any way out.
Ruta exhaled sharply and felt Teddy's ice cold fingers close around her hand. When the boy spoke, his voice trembled almost as violently as her knees.
"What… what was that?"
She swallowed. "Old tales say that werewolves can only be defeated or killed with silver. I'm definitely not capable of killing him, and I don't know how long the spell will take to wear off. We must get away from here, quickly."
They had only made a few, hasty steps when she heard the voice behind her and froze on the spot. Teddy stumbled and clung to her sleeve.
"Very amusing." It was almost a purr. "I must admit, though, that the wall was a nice idea. Did that tasty little cousin of yours teach you the trick? Most original, really."
She turned around, her eyes wide with shock. The wall had dissolved into thin air; Fenrir stood barely fifteen feet away, stretching lazily, a triumphant grin on his face.
"Surprised?" He laughed, an ugly, snarling sound. "Did you really think I wouldn't have learned how to survive by now? I know damned well that the Dark Lord saw nothing more in me than a mere tool -- a serviceable bloodhound, as it were… and that his precious Death Eaters never really took me seriously at all."
The tone of his voice was surprisingly bitter, but it grew increasingly self-satisfied as he continued to speak.
"And look where they are now – the Dark Lord defeated by a silly boy, most of his mindless minions dead or rotting away in their filthy cells in Azkaban. They are defeated, and I am not. I am still here."
He laughed again.
"I have found allies even the Dark Lord never dreamt of. I have found power beyond all imagination. Now silver can do me no harm, and the moon doesn't rule over my life any longer. Now it is I who rules over the moon."
Greyback slowly came closer, licking his lips.
"And I will take your cousin's offspring as my cub," he murmured, his eyes glittering. "I will teach him the sweetness of human blood and the delight of torn flesh. But first of all I will have you, my poppet. It is time… I have been waiting to have you for more than thirty years."
She stared at him, spellbound as a rabbit in front of a snake. Her mouth was dry… and suddenly there was a shrill scream, sharp and angry like a whiplash.
"You won't hurt my aunt!"
Teddy?
The boy stood in front of her, straight as a spear. She had no idea how on earth he planned to defend her, not even when exactly he had let go of her fingers, but amidst her icy panic and hopelessness his chivalry warmed her heart. Before she could make any attempt to pull him back, he reached out with his right hand, pointing at Greyback in a gesture of accusal and damnation.
"You won't hurt my aunt!" he repeated, and suddenly a dart of flame appeared on Greyback's throat, singeing the blotchy coat and climbing toward the eyebrows and whiskers of the creature threatening them. Greyback jerked back with a horrified yelp, and Ruta finally felt free from her helpless rigor. She swung her wand.
"Incendio!"
A barrier of fire leaped up between them, washing the road, the sidewalk and the houses to the left and the right in blazing gold and crimson. Teddy cried out again; fresh showers of sparks danced in Greyback's scruffy hair, and he reared up, his yelp turning to a bestial howl.
She whirled around, yelling: "Teddy, run!"
Teddy did his best to obey. He darted off, splashing though the puddles towards Dromeda's house. But then he made the mistake of looking back for one fatal second, and his naked toes in the leather sandals hit the curbside. Ruta heard him cry out as he lost his footing and fell lengthwise on his face. He rolled on his back; his right leg was bent in a painful, awkward angle. Only seconds later she was by his side. There was no time and no need to examine the leg… they both knew that he wouldn't be able to flee.
"Crucio!"
The curse hit her from behind, setting every nerve and muscle aflame with raging pain. Ruta felt her own body crash down on the sidewalk beside Teddy, limbs twitching uncontrollably while she screamed her agony into the damp asphalt. Far away she felt the wand slip from her fingers.
vvvvv
9.30 p.m.
Stephen Seeker sat in his study, trying to concentrate on the letter he was writing. He could hear Winky in the kitchen, cleaning plates and cutlery. He lay down the quill and got up from his chair; the short shower of rain was over, and he felt an overwhelming desire for fresh air.
He went out of the door and suddenly stepped on something lying on the floor. He bowed down and found one of the Muggle newspapers he got on a regular basis but seldom read. It was unusually thin, though… perhaps some colorful advertisement he was even less interested in than Muggle gossip. He was about to flick the thin stack of pages into the vestibule when he finally noticed the headline.
Seeker's eyes scanned the letters, taking in the message of the text and widening in sudden comprehension when he understood the meaning and came to the same conclusions as Harry Potter did… and with more evidence, for he knew the murderer in this case, knew him all too well, and he knew Remus Lupin's story.
Ruta was a Lupin, too, as was Teddy.
He grabbed for his cloak and was out of the door before the prudent part of his brain could take over again; he hurried down the rain-damp path and out on the street. The moment he left the garden, he heard a sound from the distance … somebody speaking in a loud, commanding tone, clearly enough to reach his ear, and then the painful shriek of another voice... a voice that wasn't entirely human.
He didn't allow himself the luxury of qualms or caution. He broke into a run, channeling his strength for the sole purpose of speed; the sound of his steps echoed from the walls of the houses around him where the Muggles had doubtlessly been hiding the whole day, protecting themselves against a danger they could not comprehend.
He reached the bend of the road and from the corner of his eye caught a strange, lingering blaze of brightness down the street to his right. She must have used an Incendio Spell. Clever idea, but it won't buy her much time. In a sudden flash of memory he saw Ruta Lupin sitting in his house earlier this evening, her robe a gentle patch of color in the darkening living room; he saw the shimmer of the small jeweled flowers on her earlobes when she turned her head to answer a question… and he heard her voice, warm and quiet, talking to him without distrust or fear.
With a lightning-fast movement Stephen Seeker drew his wand, for once wasting no thought for his long prepared false identity. He spread his arms like the wings of a huge raven taking flight and felt the ground vanish beneath his feet.
vvvvv
9.32 p.m.
Ruta heaved a sobbing breath, propping herself up and turning back to the insanity behind her with the stiff clumsiness of an old woman.
Greyback didn't cast the second curse she was expecting. He opened his arms wide, and his coat was ripped apart at the shoulder seams and fell off his body, quickly followed by the torn remnants of breeches and shirt. Hair was sprouting from his pale skin, a fur that rapidly covered his chest, his crotch and his legs. He fell to his knees as his face curved and bulged obscenely, forming a long snout with razor sharp teeth. He easily jumped over the last, flickering flames, four-legged, eyes yellow, shining venom in the moonlit night, and gave a hoarse snarl from deep down in his chest.
She knew that she was lost. Her foe was too fast and too strong, and there was no chance to find her lost wand in time, to run or to wait for any possible help to arrive. He moved towards her with a slow, malicious grace, obviously basking in his unendangered victory. She looked at him, her mind astonishingly cold and clear, filled with a single, conscious thought: Not Teddy. Better me than Teddy.
She saw the long body in front of her tense, preparing for the deadly leap; she collected all the strength she was able to muster and lunged forward. The swift current of time curdled to the ductile texture of freezing water. Ruta shot through a thick wall of icy silence, noticing with faint surprise and from very far away the feral sound escaping her throat... and then she crashed into her attacker, digging her fingers into fur and skin and feeling a huff of hot, foul breath on her face.
The world was back to normal speed, a screeching maelstrom of noise, fear and anguish. They fell to the ground, clinging to each other in the grim travesty of a lover's embrace. A deafening howl filled her ears, and with a fast, violent movement he rolled her over and was atop her before she had the slightest chance to move. His weight pressed her body against the ground, knocking the air out of her lungs. He aimed for her shoulder, slashing through flesh and bone; the pain was horrid and she felt her grip slacken. Then the sharp teeth dug deeply into her right arm. She had no breath left to scream. From a distance she heard the fading sound of a human voice, yelling words she could no longer discern. The world grew dark, and with exhausted gratitude she spiraled down into oblivion.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
Author's Notes:
Neville is referring to the Formula One- car race in Spa. And I share his opinion.
Murus Argentum means "Wall of Silver"
Oh – and thank you so much for your patience! Posting chapter 7 took me so long for two reasons: My beta is a busy person, and as soon as she finds the time to check my writing, she sees a dozen things I thoroughly missed before. This makes things a bit more difficult, but it also makes this tale indefinitely better. So, please bear with me… and thank you for all your lovely reviews!