A/N

Another chapter out, I hope you all like it. This one was tough to write, I scrapped several drafts because they didn't come out right but this was the best of them.

Please continue to leave Reviews and Comments, they really mean a lot and give me the drive to keep writing!

Reviews

Andy – Wow thank you, I've read Blindness a looong time ago and I remember it being very good so that is a huge compliment!

Death390 – Haha I hope I can live up to your expectations!

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Disestablishmentaria – You are very welcome, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

Guest – I am much better now thank you!

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JFuzz2364 – Thank you very much! Yes I took a lot of inspiration from Netflix' Daredevil series for Harry's magic sight, the visuals for Daredevil's abilities in that show are hugely underrated.

Gracfully – I'm hoping this chapter gets three smiley faces!

Chapter 28

It was a risk to enter Hogsmeade for Sirius Black, even in his canine form. Enchantments to force an Animagus out of their transformation were rare and expensive, the ability was so scarce that most did not see it as a worthwhile investment, but it was always possible one of the shops or houses would have one and he would be spotted.

However, after weeks of surviving on rainwater and scraps he could steal from bins or the odd rodent he could catch and eat (which he found darkly satisfying), he had decided the risk was worth the potential rewards. While food was a definite bonus, his real aim was to uncover information. He had tried to reach little Harry on Halloween, planning to sneak into the Gryffindor Dormitories and leave a note on his bed explaining as much as he could. It hadn't been his finest moment when the Fat Lady had refused him entry, even when he used the old Head Boy password that James had shared with him in Seventh Year.

In his anger he had lashed out, ripping the enchanted canvas apart before fleeing when the other portraits raised hell at the ruckus. He had escaped the castle and wards, just, but it had cost him days of travel across the Highlands to shake the Dementors off his tail.

Only later had he discovered that even if he had broken into the Gryffindor rooms successfully, he would have missed Harry anyway. The pup was in Ravenclaw somehow, despite having parents whose blood ran red and gold through and through. But then, he supposed the boy wouldn't have grown up knowing them, not after that night.

It took him several minutes to shake himself free of those dark thoughts, and he found himself deeper in the village than he had intended to venture when he lifted his shaggy head and looked around. While he was a monstrously large dog when transformed, his years of near starvation had left him much reduced in size, enough that if he kept hunched and slightly crouched, he merely looked like a large thin hound. When he caught his own reflection in the window of Gladrags he couldn't help but snort, long gone was the bear-like dog that could wrestle with a werewolf.

He stuck to the side streets, slipping down the narrow gaps between houses and shops until he reached his intended destination. Brixton's Butcher's was an older shop, just a few buildings down from the Hog's Head Inn. The owner, a corpulent man who looked like he ate more than he sold, would often throw the scraps from the previous day's work out behind his building for the stray cats and dogs to feed on. It was also close to Griff's Apothecary, the owner of which was a notorious gossip. Two birds, one stone.

He reached the back of the butchershop just in time to scare off a large orange cat from what seemed to be a mostly unspoiled chicken. He might not be of a size to square off with a werewolf anymore, but a cat was certainly doable. It took only a low rumble of his chest to deter the feline and leave him with the slightly dirty chicken carcass. He picked it up in his jaws and trotted to the corner facing the Apothecary where he sat down in the shadow of the building and waited, his ears perked up and listening for anything of interest.

He learned a few things as the morning progressed, but none were of any use to him. Though it was amusing to hear that someone had started complaining about the Shrieking Shack again, either a werewolf was using it again or actual ghosts had taken up residence in the ramshackle building. Either way it tickled him, and fond memories of nights spent in the shack threatened to overwhelm him for several long minutes before he was dragged from nostalgia by a violent shiver that wracked his weak frame.

He exhaled heavily and watched with trepidation as a foggy cloud escaped his jaws, slipping around the fowl he still held. While they were deep into Autumn, he knew the cold wasn't natural. Already he could hear the whispers at the edges of his mind, feel the chill that stole the vigour from his limbs, he could even smell the decaying flesh they hid beneath tattered cloaks.

Ice began to form quickly across the cobblestones and already he could hear people slipping and crying out. He stood with a low huff and slipped softly back the way he had come, he had become adept at squeezing through the thinnest of gaps between houses and quickly reached the end of the street where the Hog's Head stood, the final building before Hogsmeade ended and the southern edges of the Forbidden Forest began.

He had almost reached the first of the trees and some fragile cover from the demonic prison guards when he heard the first scream. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder and glance back towards the village. He froze as soon as he did. It couldn't be. She was long dead but there, cowering from the Dementors he could see her again. Marlene.

He was moving before he realised it. Sprinting back towards the village, he had transformed mid-step and was already close enough that the two other girls had spotted him. He could see the realisation dawn on them as he approached, legs pumping furiously until he was only a dozen meters away.

"OI!" He hollered as he came to a stop and waved his arms. The hooded figures hovering around the trio of girls twisted and turned to face him, deep rattling breaths escaped from beneath their cloaks as they stretched rotted limbs towards him.

"Come and have a go if you think you're 'ard enough!" He was quite proud of the look of shocked bewilderment on all three girls faces as the Dementors ignored them and started to float closer. There were four of them, more than enough to turn the surrounding area into a premature winterscape as ice hardened across the cobblestones.

The pride melted in the face of the four monstrous wardens as they drifted closer with malevolent intent oozing from them. He jabbed his stolen wand at the cobblestones and ripped a wide section of the street up to block their approach before he spun and sprinted back towards the forest's edge. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that his makeshift obstacle had only slowed them for a moment, they were swiftly gliding across the no-man's land between the forest and the village, gaining on him as he stumbled over the uneven ground.

He kept up the run for a solid thirty seconds before he felt far enough from the village to transform. His skill as an Animagus had been the worst of the group when they left Hogwarts, taking him almost ten seconds to transform even at his best. But years of transforming in his cell in Azkaban had lent him a speed and control he had been missing those years at Hogwarts. Now he could shift between his forms in the span of a heartbeat, between one step and the next he was suddenly bounding through the forest at a steady run.

He knew from experience he could keep ahead of the Dementors and as long as he stayed transformed, they would lose his trail eventually. They could 'smell' magic and a person's memories, and used this to track them. However when he transformed, his thoughts, his memories, all became muffled to them. He just needed to gain some ground and get clear of the village before the Aurors arrived.

He was several miles away before he forlornly remembered the chicken he had dropped at the forest's edge.

Albus Dumbledore appeared with a thunderous crack as he ripped through the anti-apparition wards the Ministry had raised over Hogsmeade in September. His wand was already raised as he stepped towards the crater that now swallowed the end of the street, scattered rubble and sundered earth lay covering the cobbles and three students were huddled against the wall of the last house, dusty and dirty but otherwise they seemed to be unharmed. His sudden arrival prompted one, Angelina Johnson, to draw her own wand and point it in his direction but at the sight of the Headmaster, the fear was somewhat replaced with relief.

In the distance he could see a cluster of Dementors swarming through and above the forest, moving away from the village, but the chill was still present and he could sense another group of the foul creatures deeper in the village behind him.

"Miss Johnson, are you hurt? What happened here?" He stepped closer to the gouge in the street and immediately recognised the magic used, along with the caster. He had seen it used countless times during the Blood War by James, Sirius and even Remus, though usually as a defence against curses not as an attack. By ripping up earth and stone, one could intercept spells and their effects would usually be dampened or blocked entirely. As a defence it was quick and dirty, but undeniably effective against lesser opponents. Why Sirius Black would have used it against three underage students was a mystery though, he could detect no other magic in the air, no other spells were cast to defend against.

"The Dementors sir, they just suddenly appeared around us – well Katie really, and they got so close a-and it got so cold and then suddenly he was here shouting and then there was ... like an explosion or something and we were pushed back a bit and then they were all gone. Into the forest over there I think." Angelina stuttered and seemed to be in shock but she stumbled over the words quickly as her friends climbed to their feet and approached slowly.

"I see, thank you Miss Johnson. Please make your way to the Hog's Head Inn, you should find a professor or Auror there waiting for you." He cast a keen eye across the scene in front of him once more, committing it to memory before he spun and disappeared with another, quieter crack.

With the anti-apparition wards fractured by his initial arrival, it was child's play for him to avoid the tattered strands of enchantment and reappear on the roof of Honeydukes, his dragon-leather boots gripped the tiles firmly and with an assuredness that contrasted greatly with his elderly visage. He raised his wand in preparation as he stared down in mounting horror at the establishment that most considered the heart of Hogsmeade.

The Three Broomsticks was surrounded by cloaked figures clawing at the windows and doors, ice was spreading across the walls and even out away from the building. The groan of timbers straining under the weight of the bricks was audible even to him as the tavern's enchantments failed in the presence of decay and entropy. Pallid light flickered in the windows but, beyond hisses of revulsion from the demonic prison guards, it was having little effect.

There were at least a dozen of the Dementors that Dumbledore could see, and a quick glance up into the darkening sky revealed a handful more dark specks in the distance moving closer. It was unfortunate, but unsurprising to the experienced mage. Once Dementors started feeding, they fell into a frenzy and attracted more and more of their kind until they could be repelled or, as happened more often, they fed on all that was available.

A few quick calculations ran through Dumbledore's mind as he drew from the deep wellspring of magic that lay beneath his skin, pale blue and white strands of light gathered around his wand arm as he raised his hand into the air. He lined up his wand tip with the left-most edge of the building as he squinted somewhat and then traced the outline of the pub's walls in the air, leaving a faint outline hovering where his wandtip passed. When he was finished, he dragged the tip of his wand across until it hovered over the door and with a few small twitches, he sketched the Thurisaz rune.

As he lowered his wand and opened his eyes wider again, the hovering lines of light blurred slightly before settling again, except now they no longer hovered in the air atop the sweet shop. Now they sat like a cage over the Three Broomsticks, blazing pillars of light that burned away the layers of ice and frost. The rune he had sketched was originally the size of the palm of his hand, now it stood as tall as he did and was seared into the wood of the door like a brand.

The aged Headmaster allowed a brief grin to slip onto his face as he scanned the newly placed protective enchantment with a studied eye, a vain part of him was somewhat disappointed no one still lingered outside to witness his manipulation of dimensional magic but he quickly smothered it. It was a trick he had mastered during the war against Gellert and one he was particularly proud of, but it required complex calculations that most could not perform mentally and certainly not at speed.

He was drawn from his inspection and reminiscence when a hissing sound, like drops of water on a fire, emanated from the front of the building followed by an unearthly screech. One of the Dementors had drifted too close to the now protected door and a light similar to that of the Patronus flashed to repel it. The grin was replaced by a frown as he observed the admittedly hasty enchantment he had laid over the building flicker slightly, a combination of the Dementor's presence and his not having permission from the owner meant the magic would likely not last more than a few minutes. Time he would need to make the most of, he could see no bodies on the ground which was a good sign but it was not unheard of for the presence of Dementors to cause those whose bodies were too frail to give up and pass on to the next life.

He took a steadying breath as he raised his wand again and ignored the chill in the air, the echoes of his sister's voice that threatened to tear into his carefully ordered mind. Instead, he thought of the Sorting feast, smiling faces looking around with wonder and amazement at the Great Hall as he sat at the Head Table with his friends and colleagues. He had long ago realised that his true purpose in this life was as an educator, as a guardian, not a ruler or warrior, and if one of those sat beside him in this imagined Great Hall looked like a certain white-haired Dark Lord then that was just a quirk of his subconscious.

"Expecto Patronum."

When he had first cast the Patronus Charm at the tender age of fourteen, the corporeal form had been that of a proud and arrogant lion. A clear sign of his youthful arrogance, though he had seen it only as a symbol of his Gryffindor pride at the time. After Ariana's death it had taken him several years to muster the appropriate mindset to conjure a patronus again and by then it had changed to the humble Bumblebee, a far more modest creature and yet one he had felt was most appropriate. Only after he had gained Fawkes as a companion and acquired the Elder Wand did his Patronus change to it's current form.

White light erupted from his wand as a phoenix burst into life in front of him, identical to Fawkes down to the last tailfeather. It took to the air and circled him as it expelled waves of light with every flap of its ethereal wings. He could feel the strain of the spell as he maintained it, even as the Dementors fled the spell's effects, unable to find purchase on the unassailable concept of love that he built the magic on.

It was an exceedingly deceptive spell, the Patronus Charm. Very few magics could withstand the Dementor's entropic effect, only those based on fundamental concepts that were anathema to them or those spells which shared a common source with the magic which spawned them in the first place. Many thought of the Patronus as a 'shield' against their effects, a source of emotion for the Dementor to feed off instead of the caster. This was a common misunderstanding, and a dangerous one. Dementor's sought out negative emotions like pain and suffering, grief and hate. They could find no sustenance on positive emotions which is why they elicited the sensation of fear in those around them, the remembering of bad memories was them preparing their food for eating.

The Patronus Charm at it's core, was a magical construct fuelled by a potent and primal emotion and, like all spells, maintained by the caster's will. It was remarkably similar in concept to a particularly dangerous piece of dark magic, however the Patronus was limited only by the strength of will and the potency of the emotion, the concept with fuelled it.

Albus Dumbledore was not a perfect man. He knew many who would not even call him a good one. But he had only found himself lacking in will and love once in his life. This day was not that day.

The Dementors fled from his spell, like shadows recoiling from the dawn they scattered across the horizon. Only when the last had disappeared from his vision did he let the spell fade, a relieved sigh escaping him as he relaxed slightly against the chimney he was stood next to.

He only allowed himself a breath to rest before he stepped from the roof, drifting to the ground with a minor exertion of power, and made his way over to the Three Broomsticks. He was only a few steps away when the door exploded outwards in splinters and a hulking figure flew through it.

The first sign that anything was wrong came when one of the pub's patrons sat beside the window fell off their stool. It drew a laugh from most of the tavern, though Susan was quick to elbow Terry when he guffawed at the older gentleman's accident and Hermione and Hannah expressed concern for him as someone helped him to his feet.

Harry, along with most of the pub, assumed the man had drunk too much and simply slipped from his seat. Only when he started shouting about 'Dementors' did anyone pay further attention. Though that could also have been because the window he had been sat next to suddenly turned dark as a shape blocked out the light and a faint crackling sound crept through the pub as ice crawled across the glass.

Harry didn't catch what broken the window pane, whether it was one of the Dementors or one of the drinkers, but the sound of the glass shattering and the unearthly cold that poured through the gap was unmissable.

Panic spread through the crowd like a wave, starting small but building until an older man, short and balding, tried to apparate away in fear. It was a unique experience for Harry. He had never seen someone try to apparate through an anti-apparition enchantment before. The magic sat like an enormous net over Hogsmeade, but the moment the man tried to apparate, the magic reacted. Violently. Space had only begun to bend around the man in a way that made little sense to Harry when the enchantment suddenly appeared around him, panels of solid reality that rejected his attempt to warp space completely. The air around him grew heavy as space twisted back into place, expelling him with a sound akin to piece of heavy metal flexing. The short wizard was sent spinning into the bar, knocking over two other panicking patrons and a bar stool as he did so.

"The windows are cracking!" The terrified shriek from one of the witches by the front door caused even more panic as the crowd surged inwards, desperate to reach the fireplace and the possibility of escape through the Floo.

Harry grabbed hold of Susan and Terry even as they tried to stand and follow the crowd, his grip was firm and his voice even despite the fear that thrummed in his veins as he vocalised what those closest to the fireplace had already discovered.

"Wait, the Floo is down, we can't get out that way." Terry immediately stopped and stepped back to stand beside Harry, Susan seemed conflicted until shouts echoed from the fireplace that confirmed his statement. Hannah, Neville and Hermione had taken a few short steps before they too returned to the table that the six third years had been sat at.

"H-how did you know that?" Hermione questioned but Harry ignored her as his attention turned away from the torn strands of magic across the fireplace and instead focussed on the magic laid into the stone and timber that formed the walls of the Three Broomsticks. He could see the charms flickering at the edges closest to the Dementors outside, they wouldn't hold up against such concentrated exposure to the Dementor's awful aura.

"QUIET!" It took Harry a few seconds to realise it was him who had shouted, but something in his voice shocked the rest of the bar into a tentative silence. For a moment the only sound in the inn was that of a dozen people breathing. Then the sound of old wood creaking under the strain of holding up the first floor without the aid of magic filled the barroom, quickly followed by the sound of oak splintering as one of the pillars began to crack and split.

The panic returned with a vengeance as half a dozen wands suddenly pointed towards the faltering wooden pillar and cast various spells to reinforce it. Unfortunately, one of the first lessons Hogwarts teaches was forgotten by these six eager witches and wizards; while combining the efforts of multiple magic wielders could allow them to perform feats which individually would be beyond them, this could only be done with careful planning and practice, otherwise the conflicting intentions, however small, could cause the whole project to collapse.

While all the casters had the same general intention of preventing the ceiling above them from falling down, the specific intentions differed greatly. One witch tried to simply repair the damage already done to the pillar, reforming it into an undamaged state. Another cast a strengthening charm to reinforce the wood. A younger wizard who had only graduated Hogwarts a few months prior tried to transfigure the beam into steel in the hopes it would hold the ceiling up.

Six spells collided with the wooden post, warping it and strengthening it in various ways. What was left looked like a piece of modern art gone wrong. Veins of metal ran throughout the wooden post, tufts of green leaves sprouted from the sides, splinters spiked out from it where they couldn't return to their original positions and the whole thing had swollen to be twice as thick as normal.

Only Harry could see the roiling mass of colour that burned inside the malformed pillar like a storm, so only he could act when it suddenly burst sending wood and metal fragments rocketing across the room.

Harry moved even as he saw the magic expanding, his wand flew to his hand before he could draw it and he flicked it through the air with practiced movements. He had inverted his favourite shield charm, that Susan had affectionately nicknamed the Tortoise Shell, before but this time he both inverted it and manipulated the shape. He conjured a cylinder of hexagonal panels of force that caught the worst of the shrapnel, though a few pieces slipped over the top or ricocheted inside. The ceiling groaned and slumped before it caught against the topmost section of the spell where it rested with an ominous creaking.

"ARGH!" The pained bellow came from a little old lady stood close to the pillar, one of the metal splinters had ricocheted off the floor and under the shield to catch her in the leg. "YOU BLOODY-" The shout was at odds with the woman's diminutive frame her kindly face twisted into a rictus of fury as she staggered clutching her bleeding leg.

Harry rotated his wrist and twisted the shape of the spell to form a more complete base and prop up the ceiling more, it was stretching the spell's to its limits to do so but it held for the moment. As he turned to apologise to the elderly witch he had injured he stopped in shock.

The woman's magic, which he could have sworn was a pleasant and placid lilac only a few moments before, was changing. Streaks of amber and red and grey bled through the lilac, staining the magic until it was entirely replaced with deeper, wild colours that promised hidden violence. The magic strained against the confines of her body and for a second Harry thought her skin might burst from holding it.

And then it did. Or rather, it stretched enormously. Starting with her leg, the skin swelled and extended until it was almost twice its previous length. Her other leg grew similarly as she stumbled forwards, the change spreading to her torso and arms. Coarse black hair burst through her skin to cover her limbs. Claw-like nails grew rapidly from her fingers. Her face was the last to change. A deep jaw and a nose that had been broken many times pushed through as she straightened to reveal that she was no longer a kindly old woman.

A wild man, long straggly hair covering most of his face, he towered over the rest of the crowd standing a good head taller than all of them. The enraged expression seemed far more natural on his predatorial face and the growl that emanated from his chest sent those still standing nearby scattering backwards.

"Tha-that's Greyback!" The cry was echoed by others who recognised the man from the wanted posters and a new fear filled the barroom. The crowd surged as people struggled to decide which they feared more. The monsters outside or the one in the room with them.

"That's right. I am Fenrir Geyback." The monstrous werewolf stepped forward with a slight limp as blood dribbled from the wound in his leg that had carried over from his disguised form. "You all know what I do to anyone who gets in my way. Today I just want the boy, so stay out of my way."

It's a sad fact that when faced with a real monster, most will turn away. Self-preservation. Fear. There are many words for it but in the end they bring the same result.
Greyback took another limping step and the crowd stayed silent. Another step. By now Harry could smell the odour of rotting flesh that wafted from the werewolf's mouth. Another step. Harry was the first to notice the ripple that passed through the crowd. It coincided with light pouring in through the windows, banishing the shadows from the inn. Greyback winced slightly at the sudden glare and the show of vulnerability broke the fearful spell the crowd was under. Wands began to appear, pointed at the criminal as figures stepped closer to Harry.

It was heartwarming. Delayed, but still heartwarming that most of the crowd stepped up to help him. Even his friends stepped up with wands drawn in the direction of Greyback who faltered in the face of so many mages against him.

"I tried to be diplomatic." Fenrir growled as he drew his own crooked wand from the pocket of his ripped robes, they had not survived his sudden growth spurt unharmed.
Before he could turn it on the crowd though, Harry acted. He had been waiting for Greyback to get closer to the remains of the pillar where his spell still remained, but he had no choice but to act as streams of grey and red flowed down Greyback's wand arm.

With a jerk of his hand, he ripped the cylindrical barrier down, collapsing it and reforming it until it settled over the crowd around Greyback. For a panic-filled moment nothing happened.

CRASH

The ceiling gave way with a tremendous clatter, wood and stone crumbling down to fall almost directly onto Fenrir who moved to try and avoid the falling rubble but bounced off the barrier straight back into its path. Stone and broken wooden planks covered him and sent him crashing to the floor as a heavy cloud of dust kicked up around him.

A few long moments passed before the pile of rubble shifted, a claw tipped arm pushed free of the stone and began to lift the mound of stone and timber with unnatural strength. Harry moved as quickly as he could to position the portion of fallen ceiling between him and the door even as Greyback raised himself to a crouch and pushed the last of the fallen masonry to the floor.

"You are going to regret that you lit-"

"Depulso!"

A concentrated wave of force rippled out from Harry's wand as he put all of his effort into banishing the furious Greyback in the direction of the front door. He had expected the spell to send the Dark Wizard bowling towards the door, maybe even cause him to break a table on the way.

It was Harry's first time using the spell but he was pleasantly surprised by the results as Greyback rocketed through the air. He clipped an empty table, breaking the corner against his shoulder, before he struck the door and burst through that as well, scattering the wood out onto the street as he landed in an undignified heap in front of a bemused looking Professor Dumbledore.

"I see you have this well in hand, Mr Potter."

END