It was all pain and darkness. He was screaming, being dragged. Snarling. Moonlight. The moonlight hurt. His shoulder was on fire, his head striking rocks. Then a grey rush—a large body flew over him, hit what was dragging him. Over his head, all around him, growling, snarling, tearing, two great beasts at war. Suddenly a black streak flew away, whimpering. Grey eyes floated in the world above him, gentle in a blood-smeared face; a tongue cleaned up his wound; a muzzle pointed to the moon and howled piercingly; and then a grey streak was flying away after the black one. He was alone—the moonlight hurt—he was beginning to feel hungry. Red, tearing need filled him—he smelled something, a good, tender, warm smell that made the hunger good. He launched himself up and at it—and the world exploded with a bang, and "Stupefy!" rang in his head for a very long time.