39: Braced
Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed deeply to himself as he pulled his cloak more tightly about him and gazed out wearily into the twilight.
It was not a pleasant evening.
For one, the wind was bitter. It hissed spitefully down, racing off the moors to shake the trees at the edge of the valley where the Muggle railway line ran and chill the bones of the two men who stood there, waiting, in its path. And then of course, the sun had gone, leaving only the last traces of its warming light, an orangey pink glow that tinted the Western horizon and taunted with a last hint of vanished daylight. But they did not see the remains of the day that lingered at their backs for their eyes were fixed before them, captured by the sight that none of them had wished to see.
Slow and round and gleaming silver, the full moon was rising over the moors, casting the hulking silhouette of Feral Institute into a grim and sharp-edged relief. The outlines of robed figures on broomstick-back circled it like flies around a carcass.
And there was no doubting their purpose.
Death Eaters.
There were perhaps twelve Order members gathered down at the little Muggle railway platform waiting for instructions. The Death Eaters “ and this was only those that they could see “ already had them outnumbered.
They had tried to rouse the Aurors to deal with the threat against the werewolf facility. But no one had been willing to listen. Not until morning.
Not until it was far too late.
If it wasn’t too late already.
Eventually, Kingsley broke into the quietude, driving to the heart of the matter with a single fervent word.
“Damn,” he said.
“You said it, laddie.” Grizzled and scarred, the crags of his faces cast in chasms of silver and shade by the brightness of the rising moon, Alastor Moody swivelled his electric blue eye round to fix upon the tall Auror at his side. “I was hoping we’d be in and out before that great round bugger made its appearance.”
Kingsley silently shook his head as the wind skimmed once more across his bald crown. “She was right,” he murmured almost absently. “Tonks was right. She said it was a diversion, she said Bellatrix was a ploy to get us out of the way and we were so damned slow off the mark! And now…” His eyes drifted with weary resignation to the blocky building that towered perhaps a mile distant on the chilly moors. “And if that note we’ve found is right, she’s in there all alone facing Merlin knows what…”
“Easy.” Moody’s single true eye was lost in the cavernous depths of his shadowed eye socket but Kingsley could see the motion of his mad eye as it trailed across the twilight landscape. “She may be a bloody liability around furniture but she’s a good lass and a damned good Auror to boot. And if she’s hooked up with Lupin, I’d like to see the Death Eater that could take them both.”
“Even after moonrise?” Kingsley’s lip twisted bitterly. “We should’ve got here sooner. If Lupin hasn’t had his potion…”
Moody shook his head with careful deliberateness. “The only things what if and should’ve ever got me were a bucket full of regrets and a few extra scars that I wouldn’t have had if I’d paid less heed to then and a bit more to now. You can stamp over old ground later, laddie. Right now we need to think.”
Kingsley sighed deeply. “Did Dumbledore say when he was coming?”
Moody growled, a disturbingly animal like sound that almost made Kingsley jump in spite of himself. “When he tracks Potter down, I reckon. He was cursedly alarmed when he got back to Hogwarts and couldn’t account for the lad.” The older Auror pulled a face. “A double strike at the heart of the Order! Hell’s Teeth! I told him to be vigilant…”
Kingsley stared out once more across the silver washed moors. “You still think Potter’s disappearance and Lupin’s arrest are linked?”
“There’s something else to think?”
Kingsley smiled humourlessly. “I think Potter’s very good at not being where he’s supposed to be. I’m not panicking just yet.”
Moody grimaced bad-temperedly. “When You-Know-Who strolls into the Ministry with Potter’s head on a spike, I’ll remind you that you said that. But all this yammering’s beside the point.” He gestured irritably towards the hulking Institute and the circling broomsticks that orbited it. “What we need to talk about is how in hell’s name we’re going to get in there to deal with those Death Eater buggers without coming down with a bad case of dead.”
Kingsley’s eyes drifted along the edges of the moon. “If we try to storm it, they’ll have numbers on us. It could get messy. We need to find another way inside.”
Moody snorted. “Good luck.”
“You can’t see any possibilities?” Kingsley gestured vaguely towards his eye socket. “With your…” He tailed off with a vague wave of the hand but Mad-Eye’s expression was enough to tell that his meaning was clear.
“Not from here I can’t.” Moody frowned, casting shadowy furrows across his brow. “If I could get closer, maybe. But that would mean risking the wards and if there aren’t a few booby traps out there, I’m a three-legged Crup.”
Kingsley sighed once more. “Unfortunately, we might not have any choice. Without inside knowledge…”
“Kingsley! Mad-Eye!”
The hiss came from behind them, torn between being a subtle whisper and a hail and not quite managing either. But it was at least enough to make the two men turn.
Hestia Jones was crouched, muddy and dishevelled, at the bottom of the bank on which they lurked. She looked out of breath.
Moody’s reprimand was sharp. “I told you and the others to wait down there.”
Hestia pulled a slight face but did not rise to the scolding. “I know, but something’s come up. Literally.” At Moody’s irritable expression, she opted to get to the point. “Bill was scouting over the other side of the railway tracks and he happened across a gang of people climbing out of a hole in the ground. It turns out that they’re the Institute staff. They used an escape tunnel to get out of the building before moonrise.” She allowed a brief moment for this revelation to sink in, taking a few further breaths as she rested her hands on her hips. “There’s a woman down there called Felisha Hathaway who says she’s got some news for us about Lupin and what’s going on inside. So would you like to speak to her?” she added, slightly tartly. “Or shall I go back and wait by the platform like you told me?”
Kingsley and Moody exchanged a long look. But neither chose to respond to the sarcasm. Their minds were otherwise engaged.
Felisha. The meeting in Dumbledore’s office and the letter from Remus’ Institute contact flashed into Kingsley’s mind.
And a tunnel…
He glanced up at the moon, at the Death Eaters the circled beneath its silver glow.
Maybe it isn’t too late. Could we still pull this out of the fire?
He caught Moody’s dark, living eye. It reflected his thoughts like a mirror.
A moment later, both men were moving rapidly, rushing passed their breathless and irritable messenger as they hurried down into the valley without a backward glance. After a moment’s heavy gasping, Hestia rolled her eyes silently and trailed quickly in pursuit.
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
Bloody hell. What a mess.
Nymphadora Tonks was an old hand at handling disasters. From the youthful simplicity of hiding the remains of Mummy’s best and now sadly departed vase through to the stark despair of that night in the Department of Mysteries, Tonks had always done her very best to face whatever the world chose to throw at her with a sturdy determination and firm resolve. But when the weapon of assault the world decided to smack her with was being magically sealed inside a building full of Death Eaters and snarling beasts with three teenagers and an unconscious werewolf… Well. It was tempting to wonder if she shouldn’t just hold up her hands to the world and call pax.
With a weary sigh, she laid her head back with a clunk against the solid metal of the Lockdown door, her fingers resting absently along the borrowed sabre that now sat, full-sized once more, within her lap. Oh, that bloody door! Its closure had separated them from Rebekah and deprived them of their escape by just a few Merlin-cursed yards. If only she and Remus hadn’t argued for so long. If only they could have run faster. If only…
If only, if sodding only. Well, if only didn’t happen, so live with it! Honestly, if Moody could hear me now, he’d hex my ears off!
Think about something else…
Her eyes drifted upwards. Ahead, she could see the tense, crouched form of Ron Weasley, red hair dishevelled and face pale beneath his freckles as he lurked at the gap in the wall that lead out into the corridor and the Institute beyond. He sat braced, almost coiled, one shaking hand gripping his wand, the other wrapped around the wooden shutter that rested to one side. He stood ready, just as she’d told him to be, ready should the need arise and Death Eaters appear to yank closed the shutter and conceal the tunnel’s entrance, re-establishing Rebekah’s currently dormant wand seal. It was not a prospect that Tonks relished for restoring the seal would leave them trapped between wand seal and metal door until moonset and the release of the Lockdown.
But she was not a person built to sit and wait. She wanted to do something. She wanted to act. She wanted to fight off the Death Eaters, she wanted to protect the residents, she wanted to make sure that all Kingsley and Mad-Eye had left to do when they arrived was a bit of mopping up.
But she was one Auror alone with just three kids and a potential snarling beast as back up. It just wasn’t realistic. It just wasn’t safe. And so waiting was all she could do.
Which was the last few hours had been such bloody agony.
And not just for her.
Her eyes lingered once more upon Ron. It felt odd, using a young man barely of age as a last line of defence, but what choice did she have? With the others long gone down the tunnel that was so emphatically sealed, there were no other friends to be had inside these walls and Harry, Ron and Hermione had all been anxious, even desperate to do something useful. Harry in particular had been all but chomping at the bit “ and so, when after a couple of hours of fruitless waiting, listening to the distant crashes and howls of the imprisoned werewolves overhead, he had grabbed his invisibility cloak and declared that he was going to scout the situation out, Tonks had not stood in his way. She had simply told him to take care and watched him vanish. And then she had assigned Ron to the door and Hermione…
Hermione she had asked to watch Remus. The moment he showed any signs of waking, Hermione was to say.
For to do it herself was almost more than she could bear. In case…
Her hands tightened on the sabre she gripped in her lap. She closed her eyes.
He said it was Wolfsbane. He sounded so sure. He only collapsed from exhaustion.
He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.
But you don’t know that. Do you?
For in those chaotic moments as they had raced towards the tunnel, Remus had never given any definite indication that the Wolfsbane had actually worked. And she had made him a promise. If it was a choice between his life or another’s….
If the werewolf came round and she didn’t find Remus Lupin behind his eyes, she would have no option. She would have to kill him.
Which was why she couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t think of him as Remus, she dared not think of him as…
“Tonks.” Hermione’s soft voice cut nonetheless into her thoughts. “I think he’s coming round.”
Dammit. Dammit all to hell…
“Get back.” To judge by Hermione’s expression, the brusqueness of the Auror’s tone had startled her. But nonetheless, she did as she was asked, retreating carefully until she had joined Ron at the small passageways far end. Tonks caught a brief glimpse of the long, low look they exchanged, the squeeze of hands and then determinedly, she forced herself to rise to her feet and look down.
And there he was. Remus the werewolf.
She knew that it was not a sight that he was keen for her or anyone else to see. Remus Lupin’s other side, a lean grey, slightly battered looking werewolf, his body shifting slightly against the makeshift pillow made from the torn remnants of his robes as he stirred back into wakefulness. Her eyes drifted across him, drinking in the heavy scars across the neck and stomach that were his legacy from Kane, visible even through the thick grey fur that coated his lupine form. His muzzle was narrow, his jaws slightly parted to display a hint of sharp white teeth. It was almost unbelievable to realise that just a few hours before, that maw had been the very lips she’d kissed with such passion in the confines of Zelia’s lab.
But as long as it was still Remus inside, she didn’t really care.
Be Remus. Just be Remus. Please…
Slowly, carefully, she lowered the sabre, resting the sharpened point across the werewolf’s windpipe. One slash of the throat. That was all it would take…
Paws twitched. Eyelids flickered.
And then, still blinking sleepily, two golden eyes quietly opened. And then they fixed upon her.
Tonks braced, her heart pounding, waiting for the snarl, the lurch, the terrible crunch as she did what she had to do. It didn’t come. Instead the werewolf simply stared at her.
Please. Oh please…
“Remus?” she ventured.
The werewolf’s eyes flickered to the blade. And then very tentatively, it nodded.
He nodded. Remus nodded.
She had never felt a relief quite like it. It swamped her body, rushing through her veins in a euphoric surge that almost drove her to her knees with its intensity. In that instant, in spite of everything erupting around them, life had simply never felt so glorious.
Thank you. Whoever’s up there watching and arranges these things just…thank you.
One peril down. Maybe, just maybe…
Remus’ eyes had drifted to the blade pressed against his neck. His golden eyes offered her a very pointed look.
Any remote and cloudy hint of doubt that it was Remus running the show inside that furry body vanished in an instant. Only Remus could look at her quite like that.
“Right!” Almost instinctively, she snatched the blade away from any point of potential damage, dropping to her knees at his side as he pulled himself shakily onto all fours, shaking the lingering cramps of his earlier transformation out of his joints and bones. She watched him as he stretched his forelimbs uncertainly, apparently accustoming himself to this familiar yet unfamiliar shape but then his eyes caught upon the two teenagers watching him uncertainly from a few yards away and he froze like a statue to the spot.
Tonks sighed inwardly. “Yes, I know,” she told him almost sternly, deliberately catching his muzzle between her fingers as she drew his gaze back in her direction once more. “They’re still here “ all three of them. But there isn’t a damn thing either of us can do about that now and I don’t think any of us want to watch a werewolf have a paddy. So just swallow down that protective streak and get used to it. We’re all in this together whether we like it or not.”
Lack of voice or not, for a moment it almost seemed as though he was going to attempt to argue. But then he gave a wolfish huff and dropped his eyes in a weary gesture of submission.
Tonks barely managed to hide her second surge of relief. In spite of exterior appearances, it seemed that the man trapped beneath those golden eyes was far more the Remus she knew than the temperamental man that had battled both with her and within himself beneath the pull of the rising moon. Merlin bless the Wolfsbane potion.
But she had little time to dwell for with a quizzical glance at Ron and Hermione, Remus was already asking another question. Tonks braced herself. More himself or not, facing an irritable werewolf was not entirely out of the question.
“Harry?” she offered with distinct resignation. At his profoundly suspicious nod, she sighed. “Well, Harry’s…”
“Right here.” All four occupants of the passageway started violently as Harry’s voice rippled out of nowhere; a moment later a dark head appeared in mid air just to Ron and Hermione’s right. Peeling off the invisibility cloak, the young man directed a half-smile at his now lupine teacher.
“Professor Lupin,” he greeted with a slight raise of one eyebrow. “Or I’m assuming it’s you since you haven’t eaten Tonks.”
“If I annoy him enough, he’s got plenty of time to change that.” Flashing a slight grin at the werewolf, Tonks pulled herself back to her feet. “So Harry, what did you find out there?”
Harry gave a slight shrug. “Actually, it’s not too bad. Those Death Eaters I locked in are still stuck fast “ they haven’t given up on the door yet but I charmed the walls with an Imperturbable charm so even if they try and blast through that they won’t be going anywhere. And then I cast a Silencing charm so that no one would hear their shouts for help either.” He smiled almost cheerfully as he glanced down at Remus, who was watching the young man with a strangely thoughtful expression. “Hey professor, I don’t suppose you could ask Professor Dumbledore whether Flitwick could mark our Charms NEWT on magic in pressure situations because I reckon I’d get an O, no problem! That’s the best Imperturbable I’ve ever done!”
In spite of his impulsiveness, Tonks couldn’t help but be a little impressed. “Nicely done, Mr Potter” she complimented sincerely in her best imitation of Flitwick’s squeaky voice. “Ten points to Gryffindor.” Her tone dropped back to normal as Harry’s smile spread. “What about the others?”
The smile vanished as Harry pulled a face. “There are two at the front doors but they look half asleep. I also found the chamber where they’re keeping the Dementors.” He shuddered slightly. “It’s on the ground floor, near the foot of the lift. I didn’t want to get too close but I did see that the Death Eater watching their door was all but in a gibbering heap already. I doubt he’ll last the night on that job.”
“Sounds a good place to avoid.” Dementors did not rank amongst Tonks’ favourite creatures to meet whilst trapped in a building on a dark night. “Did you go upstairs at all?”
Harry nodded slightly, although Tonks did observed a small wince at he caught a glimpse of his werewolf teacher’s expression at this news. “I looked in on the werewolves.” His expression darkened grimly. “They’re all locked up in little cages on the first floor and it’s obvious no one’s given them their last dose of Wolfsbane “ they’re just going mad, all thrashing and biting at the bars. And having six tasty humans lurking just out of reach probably isn’t helping either.” He smiled sourly. “It’s a shame we can’t get those cages open. The werewolves look dead keen to solve our Death Eater problems for us. Mind you, they’d probably choke on the masks…”
Tonks caught a glimpse of Remus as he gave a painful wince. Definitely time to change the subject.
“So there are six Death Eaters in the transformation chamber. Did you see any more?”
Harry sighed as he shook his head. “Not on that level.”
Ron’s voice drifted quietly, almost nervously over from near the entrance. “Did you see Wormtail?” he asked softly.
Remus’ ears went flat. Harry’s eyes glittered darkly.
“No,” the young man scowled. “Trust me, you’d have heard if I did. He must be skulking upstairs somewhere.”
Tonks raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t go any higher than the first floor?”
Harry sighed again, his eyes still burning at the thought of the man who betrayed his parents. “I was going to,” he replied slightly irritably. “But then I remembered that werewolf Death Eater is up there somewhere too. And just because he couldn’t see me doesn’t mean he couldn’t have smelled me. So I came back.”
Both Remus and Hermione were nodding approvingly at that decision. “That was the right thing to do, Harry,” Hermione offered matter-of-factly from near the door. “A werewolf’s sense of smell is exceptionally acute. In fact, in The Dark Creatures Compendium, Caractacus Pring believed that…”
“Hermione.” Rather surprisingly, it was Ron who interrupted her, laying one hand almost tentatively on her shoulder as she glanced back to find him wearing an almost plaintive expression. “Not now, yeah? Unless this Cactus Pring chap wrote a chapter on escaping mad Death Eaters in a sealed building full of werewolves…”
For a moment, it almost seemed that an eruption was inevitable. Hermione’s eyes flashed as she drew herself up. “At least I’m trying to help, Ron!” she retorted sharply. “I just thought it might be useful to…” But then her voice trailed away; she swallowed hard and sighed as her eyes swept the room almost apologetically.
“Sorry,” she offered quietly. “This isn’t the time to fight. And I know I sometimes get carried away…”
“Doesn’t matter, Hermione. We’re all in this together and who knows what might come in handy.” Tonks smiled down at the bushy haired young woman, so eager to help, so eager to impress “ she reminded her a little of herself in the early days of Auror training, going out of her way to learn this or that impressive new spell almost to prove to herself and to others that she really did deserve to be there.
But it was probably safe to say that nobody deserved to be at Hogwarts quite as much as Hermione Granger. The girl was a veritable encyclopaedia of magical knowledge.
And how much had she faced? She and Ron and Harry, most of all “ together they had battled trolls, basilisks and acromantulas, fought their ways through charms and enchantments by the score, confronted Dementors and Death Eaters and lived to tell the tale. They had overcome more dangers in their years at school than most full-grown wizards managed in a lifetime.
Within the silence of her mind, Tonks found herself quietly revising her opinion of her unexpected companions on this mission. They weren’t of age just yet, but after all they’d seen and done they could hardly be called children.
They would get my back. If I asked them to.
But do I want to ask them?
They could clean up. Ten scattered Death Eaters weren’t impossible odds “ as long as they were careful, they could guarantee the werewolves’ safety and the thwarting of You-Know-Who’s plans for a feral army instead of just waiting until morning and hoping for the best from the Order. True, Peter Pettigrew was out there at large and Dolph the werewolf was, as ever, lurking in the wings, but if they could just try…
If those residents are Kissed and I could have done something “ I’d never forgive myself. But if I get those three hurt or killed, or if anything happens to Remus…
I can take care of myself.
She had said those words so many times. Was she to be such a hypocrite as to deny them to others?
She swallowed hard. And then she looked up.
Looked at Harry Potter’s green eyes, at Ron’s dishevelled red head and Hermione’s pale face and finally at the grey wolfish form that currently enclosed the man she loved, his golden eyes meeting hers with both support and understanding.
He knew what she was going to say. And he agreed.
And that was all she needed.
“So,” she said softly. “I’m sick of waiting down here. Who’d like to join me in taking this place back?”
They did not need to speak. Their three smiles, expressions tinged with satisfaction, determination and good healthy fear, were answer enough.
Tonks smiled in return, one hand resting almost instinctively against the coarse matted fur of Remus’ neck as he also thumped his tail in approval. “Well, then,” she added. “What are we waiting for?”