Chapter 28 - The Close Encounter

Blood and sweat stained my forehead. There was a gash on my hairline, running from the corner of my right eye. A dull, throbbing pain ached my chest, where Byron punched my ribs. I was pretty sure one or two were broken, but it was impossible to tell.

Time was lost to me. It could have been minutes, but it felt like days. My head was hurting and the frustration, fear and anxiety were building up. My arms and back were so uncomfortable as I fought against the ropes and the spells that were binding me. But it was all done in vain. I couldn't break free, no matter how hard I pulled and yanked.

I couldn't help but dully wonder, in the back of my mind, if anyone would ever find me, help me. Even if Byron and Gavin came back for me, it would be more than a relief.

After quidditch practice, I slowly remembered, I was supposed to start prefect rounds with James. I almost cringed as I remembered my stomach churning at the thought of being with James. Now, I would have gladly traded that for this. Maybe he would look for me. But I wasn't counting on it. I wasn't his favorite person now, apparently.

The more I thought about it, the more I wished he would show up and save me.

The natural sounds of the Forbidden Forest was the only thing that kept me from losing it. Large insects, terrifying canines, the howling of the restless wind. Screaming out would only worsen the situation.

It was getting harder and harder to remain aware and calm. I was holding in the despair, but it was starting to leak like sand running through my fingertips.

There was no light to aid me. Certainly I was going to stay here for hours, if not days. I could only pray that I wasn't stuck there forever.

"Mr. Potter? May I ask why you and Miss Flint haven't started your rounds yet?" Professor McGonagall inquired, giving James a look, her stern eyes watching him without budging.

He gave an exasperated sigh. "I'd like to tell you, Mickey, but I haven't got a clue where the gal is."

"I would prefer if you stopped addressing me by that farcical and ludicrous nickname," she said, without giving him room to make a comeback. "Now, I expect you to go and look for your partner before I give both of you detention."

"Professor, I've looked everywhere," James said, a serious tone now threaded into his voice. "I even went down to the Quidditch pitch and asked Ruthford."

Her eyes flickered to some passing students before she said, "Perhaps you did not look hard enough."

James shook his head. "I swear, it's like she's just vanished." He didn't bring up the earring he discovered on the road the lead down to the pitch. He felt as if it were weird that he recognized it so quickly, so he kept it to himself.

McGonagall turned to a painting that hung next to their heads. "Hello, Mr. Abbott?"

The portrait of the pudgy man turned to face the headmistress. "Professor! What a pleasant surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Miss Flint, she appears to be missing. You haven't seen her about, have you?"

"She stepped out a few hours ago, ma'am, dressed in her quidditch robes."

"Thank you, Mr. Abbott. You see, Mr. Potter? Go look down at the quidditch pitch again, before you both have you prefect privileges revoked for being so irresponsible." With a terse nod, the strict headmistress turned and walked away from James.

He audibly groaned. "Now I have to walk all the way to the pitch again."

But a little voice, in the back of his mind, told him, James, something isn't right.

Ignoring his conscience, he stalked back out of the school and started down the rocky path. Pebbles crunched under his feet as he hobbled lazily towards the pitch that seemed to be empty. The sky was dark now, and it would have been impossible to see if James hadn't taken out his wand and lit the tip of it. Finally, when he arrived at the lush and well-cared for field, he did a quick scan. No Rosalie in sight.

He stalked over to the locker rooms, his mood darkening, and he tentatively knocked on the door. When he pushed it open, all of the light were off. Curiously, he stepped in.

James had been in the girls' locker rooms only once before, so he wasn't accustomed to it. It was different from the boys', he noticed warily.

There were several quidditch robes slung over hooks, near the showers, and he quietly stepped over to them. There was one pair that he immediately recognized - Rosalie's - and he figured that she'd probably left them here with full intentions of returning early in the morning. Her dedication was intense.

The tip of her wand peeked out from one of the inner pockets, and, suddenly curious, he picked it out. She must have left in on accident.

And then it dawned on him that something really wasn't right. Rosalie wasn't a careless person.

Walking out of the locker rooms and not caring enough to shut the door behind him, James jogged up to the spot where he found her earring earlier.

"What happened here?" he asked out loud, to himself.

Pointing his wand at the spot to bring more light, he noticed, if he looked hard enough, the imprint of a small body. It was barely there, but definite. Large footsteps, obviously not Rosalie's, circled around the area.

At first, James immediately thought of Matthias. But there were two sets of strange footprints. Maybe Blake? No, he wouldn't take part of such an act.

His thoughts turned to the two sketchy-looking boys he'd seen earlier, Byron Adams and Gavin Peterson. Dirty and wary looking. But why? What did they have against Rosalie?

James remembered the scene at the Leaky Cauldron, so many months ago. Rosalie's snide words, their aggressive stances... the very words of Byron: "You better watch your back, Flint!"

Clenching his fists, James was suddenly engulfed in rage, but also worry. What had they done to her? He was disgusted by them, horrified that two students from his own house could do such a thing. It was always the Slytherins... how prejudiced James had been.

He didn't even have to admire his very good detective instincts. He couldn't confront the two Gryffindors - they each had at least 60 pounds on him. So he set off, to look around a bit more, for clues.

Like Sherlock Holmes, he thought. Okay, so he did have a few ticks to admire his detective skills. But his expression deepened soon, and he returned to being very serious.

James ran into his cousin, Lucy, on his way through the castle. Only eighteen months younger than her older sister, Molly, she was in the year below James. She was about five foot two and her hair was what appeared to be a mix of Weasley orange and Percy's wife's shade of brown. Altogether, she was what 'very pretty' looked like, but being her cousin, James could hardly come to that conclusion.

She had a fiery spirit, and sometimes - okay, all of the time - she was hard to get along with. She was one of those artsy, rebellious people who were daring and sarcastic. Lily often reminded him of Lucy. Despite their age difference, they did hang out a lot. Though, God knows what would happen if Lily started acting completely like Lucy.

"Oi, where're you off too?" she hollered after him, and his fast pace slowed down considerably, allowing her to catch up. "Merlin, I'm not even running and you're making me feel out of breath."

Rolling his eyes, he commented shortly, "What do you need?"

"I just wanted to talk with you. Sue me."

"Now's not a good time."

"Why not?" she persisted.

"I've got something to do," he replied.

Her eyebrows shot up, and a small grin grew on her face. "Oh?"

James hissed as he let out a sharp breath through his teeth. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

Growing impatient with her, James spilled. "It's Rosalie. I think she's... in some sort of trouble."

"That girl you fancy? What's the problem?"

"Well, you see- I do not fancy her!" he protested.

Lucy gave him a lok that only girls could master: the 'oh-please-of-course-you-do' look. Unable to fight against it, James sighed.

"Whatever, Lou."

"It's funny that you've brought her up," she said, turning to peer at her older cousin. "Because I just heard Byron Adams and Gavin Peterson muttering about her, those devils."

"What did they say about her?" he asked swiftly.

"Now, now, don't get your knickers in a twist."

James wanted to tell Lucy to stop joking, to make her understand the severity of the situation. But, at the same time, he didn't want to reveal too much to her, and get her involved. So, he waited for her.

"I didn't hear too much," she finally said, after making several other comments, much to his nerve. "Just something about Rosalie, and the forest. Mad, they are."

"The forest? As in the Forbidden Forest?"

"No, the Peppermint Forest," she answered sarcastically.

"Oh, just shut up, Lucy. I've got to dash."

After ditching Lucy, who was almost not worth the trouble for the sliver of information he shook out of her, James realized that he didn't have many people to go to. He needed help, but it was too soon to go to McGonagall. So, he turned to his last resort.

Albus.

I was so sore, so exhausted and drained, and so scared.

I didn't normally accept the fact that I was terrified, but I had no reason to hide my emotions and put on a brave face anymore. There was no one around to see me fall apart.

A small, dark squirrel padded past me, it's bushy tail twitching as it stopped to stare at me with beady and black, curious eyes.

"Oi, what are you peering at?" I whispered. "Unless you're going to chew through these ropes, get your ass out of here!"

And the little creature scurried off, no longer interested in me.

Now I was talking to squirrels. Great.

I could hardly find humor in the short conversation I'd just had with a woodland creature, but a small laugh bubbled in my throat. Talking to squirrels, that was a first. And it was a sure tell sign that I was going absolutely mad.

It was very cold. The chilly air of early April nipped at my nose and the tips of my ears. My hands, useless by my side, were starting to numb from the cool temperature. How long had I been out here? Hours, at least four by now. A bruise had formed on my chest, and the ropes rubbed up against it, making the horrid pain nearly unbearable.

Gritting my teeth, I let my head rest against the think trunk of the tree.

Footsteps came from my left side, but I didn't pay much attention to them. They were small, nearly silent, obviously not human. Maybe the squirrel was coming back for another little talk. So, I didn't even open my eyes, figuring that they would pass.

But they didn't. They grew closer and closer, and then realized that my hearing was fuzzy from the previous blow to my head. They were heavier than I had realized. My eyelids flickering open, I almost screamed bloody murder.

A wolf, with narrowed, slightly curious eyes watched me indecisively. The large lupine was bigger than me, around four hundred pounds of lean muscle and sharp teeth. It's fur was a sleek shade of gray, and his stomach and paws were a dirty ivory. I recognized it quickly: a Baltazart Winter wolf, a creature that hibernated for most of the year, and came out only during March and April.

McGonagall had warned the students about them, but Rosalie had ever thought she would encounter one in real life. Her heart was racing as she faced the beast she knew was capable of ending her.

It sniffed the surrounding air, and it must have caught the scent of my blood, because it's once-curious eyes grew dark and he took on an aggressive stance. It turned into a deadly predator.

And I was its prey.

A blood curling scream sliced through the tense air, and it took only half a second for me to realize that it was my own. I started wriggling in the ropes desperately. Had Byron and Gavin known that this would happen? Is that why they left me here, like a sacrifice on the altar? Right then, though, it didn't matter. I was going to die either way.

It sauntered forward, almost taunting me, its sharp eyes focused on me. Then, it lunged. I felt it's long claws penetrate the bark of the tree, on either side of my head. It's muzzle was inches away from my face. I suppressed a yelp, knowing that it would only anger the creature further. It dragged it's long talons down the trunk of the tree, until it's paws met the rope and it thudded to the ground.

Circling around me, I shut my eyes. I hoped that, by some miracle, if I didn't make eye contact with it, it would just leave.

But I had no such luck.

It leaped again, and this time it's claws collided with my body, and they cut into my thigh, raking all the way down to my knee. I let out a whimper, unable to form a proper screech. The pain was extreme, and blood seeped through my pants, trickling down the inside on my pant leg. It was sickeningly warm, and the metallic, coppery scent intensified.

So this was how I was going to die.

"Hagrid, you have to listen!" James nearly shouted. "Rosalie's in trouble."

But he just shook his hairy head, giving the Potter boys an apologetic look. It was obvious that he didn't fully believe either of them. "I'm sorry, but I can' let the two of yeh into the forest this time of night. This is the season of the Baltazart Winter wolves, nasteh creatures. They're hibernatin' most of the year, and are only around early March to late April. I dun even like ta go out there."

James threw up his arms, exasperated, and Albus just crossed his arms. "More the reason to let us go! She could get hurt!"

Hagrid was about to reply was a terrified scream broke the peaceful forest air like a rock thrown at a glass window. The three remained silent for a moment, just staring at each other, before Hagrid said, "I've got ta go get Professor McGonagall. Yeh two stay here, Fang'll protect yer. Don't you go and leave."

But right after Hagrid disappeared into the castle, the two brothers set off to find Rosalie, the forest swallowing them up.

Louis Weasley was in the library when he heard the news.

"Have you heard? Rosalie Flint is missing?" his sister Dominique said, alarmed. "I was looking for her, because she was supposed ot be doing rounds, when I heard Hagrid yelling for Professor McGonagall!" She looked devastated.

"Missing? What d'you mean?" he inquired hurriedly.

"Gone, somewhere in the Forbidden Forest! Nobody knows how she got there. Hagrid said that James and Albus were absolutely sure she was in trouble, somewhere in the forest, and then they heard her scream. What if she's hurt? What if she's dead?!"

"Be quiet, Dominique, she can't be dead," Louis said, shoving his books away and turning to Dominique with concern plain on his face.

"But don't you remember what McGonagall said, at supper a couple weeks ago? "Remember students, this is the season of the Baltazart Winter wolves, fierce lupine predators with a taste for magical blood. It makes them stronger, a more powerful hunter. Under no conditions will any of you step foot in that forest. Not only would you be risking expulsion, but also risking your life.""

"What are they going to do about it?" Louis rushed, walking towards the library exit.

The hallways were crowded with students muttering about Rosalie Flint. In just a short while, the news had spread like wildfire.

"Did you hear about Flint?" a fourth year said to him.

Louis barely nodded, not quite paying attention to the younger wizard.

"And James and Albus Potter have just gone after her! Now they're missing! Flat out idiots, if you ask me!"

Looking down, suddenly focused, he said, "James and Albus?"

Mass chaos had broken out. Kate Levesque, one of Rosalie's only friends, was sobbing on Jared Olinick's shoulder. Professors were trying to calm everyone down, and Lily Luna Potter was arguing with Slughorn about going after her brothers.

"They could all be dead." Dominique started crying. "Our cousins and Rosalie. They could be dead."

It all happened so quick.

The massive beast was about to snap it's powerful jaw on my shoulder when it was shoved down to the ground. It let out an angry whimper and then a harsh bark as it turned to face it's attacker.

I looked to find a centaur, poised to battle the wolf, a bow in his strong hands. While the wolf was distracted, the stoic create took out a long knife and at first, I believed he was going to kill me first. But, instead, he sliced the ropes like it was nothing.

Falling to the ground unceremoniously, pain shot up my leg from the deep gash on the front of my thigh.

"Go," he simply stated, leaving no room for argument. "That way."

I couldn't even speak as unbearable shock coursed through my body. But, I gathered strength and adrenaline and started away from the duo, in the direction my hero had pointed me in. As I continued, I picked up a faster pace, and suddenly I was sprinting.

I wanted to scream out,"help!", but I could barely breathe. I turned my head one last time to find the centaur knocking an arrow and shooting it at the wolf. A bone chilling howl echoed within the trees, and the creature crumbled to the ground.

Tripping over a root, I fell to the ground with a loud crash. An ugly, twisted noise escaped my lips and, for a second, I focused on the relief the cool earth brought me. It felt so much better not putting any weight on my wounded leg.

The world was spinning as I tried to force myself up. Suddenly, I had thirteen blood-stained fingers instead of ten. My head was pounding, my heart was racing, and my leg was in excruciating agony.

"Help me."

My voice was hoarse and it cracked as I uttered the two quiet words.

"Please."

Everything was too real for James.

His breathing was heavy as he ran through the trees, Albus on his tail, his eyes frantically darting from object to object in search of her.

"Rosalie!"

It was desperate, a plea. He couldn't even... fathom, a world without the obnoxious, stubborn, know it all that Rosalie had proven to be. A world without those brilliant, intelligent hazel eyes, and that voice that could lead a thousand armies into battle.

His heart pounded as he ran.

"Rosalie!"

James came to a halt, panting as he looked around over and over again.

"James, we need to get McGonagall," Albus said in defeat. "We won't be able to find her. The forest is too large, and we haven't got a clue where she could be."

"No, I won't give up," James retorted with a fiery determination.

"It wouldn't be giving up."

But James knew it would be. And he wasn't going to stop until he found her.

I was fazing in and out of reality. It was most likely the loss of blood. My leg was soaked with the crimson liquid now, my pants sticking to the grimy skin. Pieces of grass and clumps of dirt stuck to my sweaty and bloody face as I laid on the ground, unable to move.

I could hear voices. I didn't know if it was real, or if it was just my mind finally cracking. I couldn't shout out, so I just listened.

They were faint, but I recognized them, even in my state.

"James. Albus."

A whisper, an echo of what little hope was still left inside of me. I ached for the gentle caress of a hand, something that would comfort me. I thirsted for a drop of cool water to quench the fire burning underneath my skin.

So, I tried. The pain skyrocketed as I drew in a long breath. I gathered all the air of aching lungs were capable of holding. And I screamed.

It was short, and it didn't even echo, but I knew they heard me. Everything went silent, deadly silent, and then footsteps could be heard, even with my fuzzy hearing.

"Rosalie. Rosalie! Rose!"

Then a pair of hands explored my body, feeling for injuries. I recognized, through blurry vision, James Potter's face as he stared down at me. I couldn't even feel humiliated, only grateful. I knew I was safe, because I was with friends.

"Broken ribs, a bump on the head." His cool fingers grazed my forehead. "A disgusting gash on her leg."

"Looks like claw marks," Albus noted.

"One of the wolves must've gotten to her."

"How'd she even get out here?"

"I have a hunch."

"But how did she survive? Those wolves... they're not to be messed with."

James ended the conversation with, "Let's not talk about it. All that matters now is that we get her to Madame Pomfrey."

The journey was torturous. Every inch felt like a hundred miles. I hurt all over, and every jolt and bump killed me a little more. But, as soon as we reached Hagrid's hut, and the gentle hands of the healer grasped onto me, I knew that it was over. Finally over.

And I swore, on Salazar Slytherin's grave, Adams and Peterson were going to have absolute hell to pay.

It was quiet when I woke up. I was clothed in a soft white gown and hidden under plenty of warm blankets. The infirmary, as I recognized it to be, was dark and silent. There were no other patients sleeping around me, but there was a body beneath my bed, on the cold floor, curled up beside me. It was obviously a boy, almost a man, with messy brown hair.

James.

I stared at him for the longest time before casting my eyes up at the ceiling and beginning to assess the damages. My leg was absolutely numb, and I could reach down and feel the heavy layers on bandages wrapped around the wounds. There was a bump and several scrapes on my forehead. My rib cage was trapped in a tight, linen cloth, and beside the bed was a few bottles of potions.

"How do you feel?"

The voice was low and gravelly from sleep. James was looking at me lightly, his brown eyes even twinkling in the dark, and he gave me the smallest of smiles.

"Numb, and high on healing potions."

He nearly laughed. "That's... good, I guess."

We watched each other for a while. For some reason, I couldn't tear my eyes away from his face. It meant so much more to me now, he meant more, now that he had saved me. He had searched for me, and didn't give up on me.

"I thought I'd lost you."

It came tumbling messily out of his mouth, but it was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to me.

"I thought you were gone."

Sighing, I finally looked away from him. The situation was getting sentimental, I could feel it coming on. But, even though I had refused to ever have a conversation of the sort before, I didn't close up this time. It was different.

"Thanks. For saving my ass."

He grinned, almost sadly, and remained quiet for a while. I told him to sit on the bed, by my uninjured leg, and he did so hesitantly.

"I'm sorry for being a jerk to you lately. I was thinking about that. I kept thinking that you were going to die, and I was never going to be able to tell you that... And it made me so... distressed. I can't explain it. Gods, I must look like a bloody idiot right now."

My eyes were careful, and my expression calm, as I watched him, with curiosity, struggle with his words. I waited patiently for him to continue.

"It's just... I was afraid of you."

"I'm not that scary, am I?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not like that. I mean... I don't know." And he looked away again.

I was about to tell him to go on when the door burst open, scaring James and I. Madame Pomfrey bustled in and said clearly, "Go to your dormitory, Mr. Potter, and leave Miss Flint to sleep. She needs to rest."

James gave me a look, and suddenly I didn't want him to go. But I let him leave, watching him disappear behind the heavy doors.

"Take this," the matron instructed. "It's a sleeping potion. It's going to knock you out for eighteen hours, giving your body plenty of time to heal. Drink up."

I took a swig of the potion, and instantly I felt drowsy. Madame Pomfrey took the vile away from me before I shut my eyes, and my hands dropped to my sides, and I fell right to sleep.

A/N: Bet you guys didn't see that coming. Oh yeah.

I'm so sorry for the wait, but I just got home from a super long vacation. But I'm back now, and ready to type! Thank you so much for reading, and thank you for all of your lovely reviews! I may not respond to all of them, but I certainly read all of them!