"Did you take the letters, Mr. Silversmith?" Hermione asked.
"I'd rather not say for certain." A blush crept into Ares's cheeks. "I could probably still get in trouble for it if I did. Let's just say that, for whatever reason, Mr. Greyback did tell me why he bit Athena. He said he chose her specifically over me. Part of it was that my father adored Athena before she was bitten, or so he said, while I was more my mother's child. But Athena was also more rambunctious. He said he chose all of his 'pups' carefully. Not everyone took lycanthropy well, and… how did he phrase it? 'Strong children make strong pups.' He wanted children who could take the disease as well as possible.
"As for why he wanted either of us, my father was a weaponsmith. My whole family has been for generations, so long we're named for it. My father's legacy is his 'improvements' to the Sniping Blade. Originally, they were a Hunter's weapon; they would track a Dark Creature if thrown at one correctly. The Werewolf Capture Unit still uses that type as standard issue. But Dad wanted people who weren't trained with them to be able to use them for defense, so he made them autonomous. And he didn't really think through what that could mean."
"FENRIR!"
Eleanor's shriek ripped through the house, and Fenrir slammed open the kitchen door. The smell of blood hit him like a sledgehammer. Eleanor struggled to hold 10-year-old Jacob on his feet, and Fenrir's stomach turned over at the sight of a silver dagger handle sticking out of the boy's left shoulder and blood running down his side.
"What happened?" Fenrir asked, taking Jacob from her and laying him down in the hall. He didn't dare move him further, the way he was bleeding. The dagger twitched in his body as Fenrir's hand came near.
"We were on Diagon, and that thing came flying out a window at us. Fenrir, it actually turned in mid-air to hit Jake!"
"Sniping Blade." Fenrir waved his wand over the dagger and the blade again twitched toward him. "It won't vanish. Eleanor, go get that big rock in the garden. Levitate it if you have to."
As Eleanor dashed down the porch steps, Fenrir conjured a pair of heavy leather gloves and put them on. Jacob's eyes struggled open and focused on him. "Fenrir?"
"I'm here, Jacob," he said, brushing the boy's hair out of his face and taking his hand.
"It hurts."
"I know it does, Sport. We're going to get it out of you; just stay with me for a little while."
Eleanor came running back, a large stone floating in the air beside her. "Put it here," Fenrir said, patting the ground beside Jacob's shoulder.
Eleanor dropped it there with a thunk and slid to a kneel beside them. "Is he gonna be OK?"
"We'll see, but I need your help. Hold out your wand." Eleanor obeyed, and Fenrir took her hands, positioning them so that the tip of her wand touched the stone. "I'm going to teach you an incantation that will make this as soft as clay for as long as your wand touches it. I want you to keep the wand tip on it until I tell you, all right?" She nodded, a small tight motion. "Repeat after me. Similutum."
"Similutum," Eleanor said.
The stone oozed and flattened under its own weight, and Fenrir pushed her hand down to keep the wand in contact with it. "Keep touching it, and do your best to concentrate on it no matter what happens, all right?" Eleanor's eyebrows wrinkled tightly as she nodded again.
"All right, Jacob, this is going to hurt, but you'll feel better once it's out," Fenrir said. "Are you ready?"
Jacob nodded. Taking a deep breath, Fenrir focused on the blade, flexing his fingers inside the leather gloves. His hands darted out and pulled the dagger from Jacob's shoulder. The blade fought him, trying to turn on him one moment, and jerking toward Eleanor in the next. Gritting his teeth, he forced it towards the softened stone and plunged it into the clay-like material.
"Now, Eleanor! Let go!"
Eleanor dropped her wand with a loud clatter on the hall floor and jerked back. The instant the wand tip dropped away from the stone, it solidified again, trapping the blade inside the rock. Not even the stony prison stopped the Sniping Blade from fighting, though; it still tried to move towards Jacob, and towards Eleanor and Fenrir as they got close to it.
Fenrir turned his attention back to Jacob. With the blade gone, blood poured out anew. A first aid spell did nothing to slow the flow. He tried a second, but with no better response.
"Eleanor, contact Doc. Tell him it's an emergency," Fenrir said, conjuring a bandage. He pressed it against the wound, then summoned a Blood-Replenishing Potion from the medicine cabinet. She pulled a watch pendant out from under her shirt and fiddled with it, almost dropping it twice before she managed to send the message. As the watch let off a soft blue glow, Fenrir shook one of the leather gloves off his hand and pushed the stopper out of the potion bottle with his thumb, then held it to Jacob's lips. "Here, drink this."
Jacob obediently drank, and his nose wrinkled up as he groaned.
"I know it tastes terrible, but you've lost a lot of blood." Fenrir stroked Jacob's hair, then took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
A 'crack' sounded out, followed by a loud curse and the incantation for a Bubble-Head Charm. "Damn, Fen, what happened?"
"That thing happened, Doc." Fenrir jerked his head toward the dagger stuck in the stone.
"Man, what did you get into, kid?" As Doc moved to Jacob's side, the Sniping Blade rattled towards him. He jumped back with another curse.
"We didn't get into anything," Eleanor said. "We were just walking around, and it came after us!"
"Must be one of Silversmith's. I swear, someone ought to hex that guy sideways for what he's done to those things." Doc went to Jacob's right side instead and eased Fenrir out of his way. "Clean up some of this blood, would ya, Fen?"
Fenrir vanished the nearby stains as Doc lifted the bandage and pulled the cut edges of Jacob's shirt to get a closer look. A soft whistle escaped his lips.
"I just gave him a Blood Replenisher," Fenrir said. "The usual first aid spells wouldn't stop it."
"No surprise there. Malicious silver's pretty stubborn, and it doesn't get much more malicious than one of Silversmith's Sniping Blades." Doc opened his medical bag and took out a cloth and a small bottle. "I'm afraid this is going to hurt, kiddo. Are you ready?"
Fenrir took Jacob's hand again, and the boy nodded, closing his eyes. Doc soaked the cloth, took a deep breath, and clamped it over the wound. Jacob let out a blood-curdling scream so loud that Eleanor threw her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. Fenrir's free hand shot out to hold Jacob's legs down as he kicked, but the boy's left hand remained limp in Fenrir's grasp.
"I know, kid, I know," Doc said, still pressing on the cloth. "3… 2… 1." He released it, and Jacob drew a deep breath of relief. Fenrir reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes.
"Let's get you sat up," Doc said. He and Fenrir helped Jacob sit and switched places so Doc could look at his back. Another low whistle escaped his lips. "I was afraid of this; it looks like it went all the way through. How deep was it in when you got to him, Fen?"
"Within a couple inches of the hilt, I think. I didn't really notice; I was more worried about getting it out."
"Fair enough."
"Is it going to scar?" Jacob asked.
"Oh yeah. I'm sorry, kid, but I've got to be honest. This is a bad one." Doc ruffled his hair. "But all your packmates will be very impressed when you show it to them. No one's going to mess with you after seeing that." Doc looked up at Fenrir. "With that thing going through the bone, this is going to take a while. Is there somewhere more comfortable I can get him set up?"
"My room. It's at the top of the stairs, first one on the right. Doc, his hand-"
"One crisis at a time, Fenrir. Do you think you can walk, kiddo?"
"I think so." Fenrir and Doc helped Jacob to his feet.
"Why don't you get the rest of that blood cleaned up, Fen?" Doc helped Jacob to the staircase, hovering nearby as he clung to the railing and made his way up the steps. "I'll let you know what I know when I know it."
With a nod, Fenrir turned and vanished the remaining blood in the hallway and what had splattered on his clothes. "Eleanor, Sweetness, let me clean you up."
Eleanor stepped towards him, and he cleaned the blood off her clothes and arms. "I'm very proud of you, Sweetheart." He brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "It must have been hard staying here and helping me with that smell all around. You were very brave."
She burst into sobs and threw her arms around his neck. "I don't feel very brave."
He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently. "You can be brave and frightened at the same time. I thought my heart had stopped when I saw you two standing there with that thing in Jacob's shoulder." Loosening his grip, he brushed her hair back again. "Sweetness, I know you did the best you knew how, and I am proud of you for it. But I want you to know that when one of you is hurt badly, it's all right to go to St. Mungo's. Even if they try to take you away from me, I'll get you back, I promise. Don't be afraid to go there if you need help."
"I tried to go there, Fenrir!" Eleanor said. "I couldn't get anyone to help us. The shop's owner said that thing only attacks Dark Creatures. After that, no one would get near us, no matter how much I begged. I was afraid everyone would let Jake bleed to death there on the street! I don't know how to apparate on my own or cast a portkey. All I could think to do was use our portkey back here and hope you were home." She drew a hiccupping breath. "I don't know what I would have done if you weren't."
Fenrir drew her into another hug as she started sobbing again. "I was home; that's the important part. You did the right thing, if none of those monsters would help you. From now on, I'll make sure you all have portkeys to St. Mungo's before you leave, so this won't happen again."
"He's going to be all right, isn't he, Fenrir?"
"As well as can be expected, Sweetness, thanks to you." As he rocked her, his eyes fell on the Sniping Blade, still trapped within the stone and yet still struggling to move toward him and Eleanor. He would take that back to the shop owner tonight, and they would have a little 'chat' about his inventory. As for the man who made that monstrosity, perhaps a change in circumstances would make him reconsider his definition of 'Dark Creatures'.