Sweet Puppy

Chapter 14

It took Harry about one minute to decide that he was going after Fenrir. He had no idea what he would say to him when he found him, but he would somehow get him back – or at least convince him to think about coming back. He was so furious at Remus and Snape, and his expression must have been truly frightening to behold because Remus shrank away as though wounded when Harry stormed past him and down the hall. Harry walked right up to Draco’s door and burst into the room to find Hermione, Ron, and Bill, who eyed him perplexedly, and Draco, who spun around and glared at the intrusion.

“I need to talk to you,” said Harry shortly, ignoring Draco’s scowl.

“What’s going on?” asked Bill.

“Go ask Remus,” Harry spat, turning and heading for Ron’s room without a backward glance. Hermione and Ron hurried after him, shooting each other concerned looks, leaving Bill and Draco with open mouths.

Harry wrenched open Ron’s door and stepped back, allowing Ron and Hermione to enter before shutting it with a snap and locking the door.

“Harry, what’s happened?” Hermione asked, taking in his angry features.

“Snape used Legilimency on him,” said Harry, starting to pace. Hermione covered her mouth with her hands and sank onto Ron’s bed, her eyes wide.

“So what did he do?” asked Ron.

“He left,” said Harry, raking a hand through his hair. “He’s gone – back to the cave.”

“Why’d he leave?”

“He must be furious, Harry,” whispered Hermione through her fingers. “Oh, this is awful….”

“Why’s it so terrible?” asked Ron, looking back and forth between Harry and Hermione. “What’s wrong?”

“Fenrir doesn’t like magic, Ron,” said Hermione. “Remember? He doesn’t like magic being used against him – he’s got to see this as an attack.”

“They promised,” Harry muttered. “And they did it anyway.”

“Did they though?” asked Ron awkwardly. “They never said they wouldn’t use magic… I mean, if they thought they needed to….”

“But they didn’t need to!” exclaimed Harry furiously. “They didn’t have to go that far! He’s not ever going to trust us. I’ve got to go after him.”

Hermione and Ron glanced at each other before Hermione stood up tentatively and said, “Harry – you have to be calm about this – you can’t just run off after him. We don’t know how many werewolves there are… Fenrir said there were ‘hundreds’… although that’s most likely an exaggeration….”

“I don’t care. I’ve got my cloak, and I’ll use Anti-Scenting charms–”

“You can’t go alone!” said Hermione. “It’s too dangerous!”

“I’ll be fine,” said Harry stubbornly. “And hopefully I’ll find him before he gets back to the cave anyway. I’m going.”

“Not without us, you’re not,” said Ron, striding forward. “You can’t think we’d let you go alone.”

“We’re not going at all!” Hermione protested. “Besides, how would we even get out? Snape and Remus and all of them are probably still at the table! They’d notice right away if the door just opened and closed by itself!”

“Tonight, then,” said Harry decidedly. “We’ll sneak out tonight. We’ll track him – convince him to come back.”

“What if he’s in the cave?” asked Ron, a bit pale beneath his freckles.

“I’ve – no, we’ve gone into worse.”

“We’re not going into the cave,” said Hermione firmly. “We’ll search the forest – if we don’t find him in there, we’ll come back.”

Harry glared at her but saw that there was no way he could win this argument, and he nodded before sitting on the bed, and the three teenagers put their heads together and began to plan.


* * *


Fenrir crashed through the underbrush, unconcerned by the many scratches and cuts he was acquiring on his legs as he ran, his mind fixed firmly on the grisly deaths of Severus Snape and Remus Lupin, and the subsequent kidnapping of Harry Potter.

He’d have to somehow lure the boy outside, or perhaps finally reveal the identity of his Scented to certain members of his core so that they could help him attack the cottage; even Fenrir knew he would be almost powerless against so many wizards with wands. With a snarl at the memory of Snape standing over him, Fenrir sped up, his powerful arms pumping and his feet slapping against the dirt.

In no time at all, Fenrir entered his territory, his nose sniffing the air. Nothing seemed amiss, and he headed for the mouth of the cave where the hidden entrance to his underground lair was sheltered. No guard or lookout approached him and Fenrir frowned, but did not hesitate as he entered the cave and hurried to the concealed mound of earth at the back. He stomped on it and stood still as he was slowly lowered into the ground, finally allowing himself to breathe more easily. He was home now.

The revealed passageway to the main den was darker than usual, as several of the torches appeared to be burnt out. But Vadania must have had more important matters to deal with, thought Fenrir, what with the recent Full Moon, and he walked confidently down the passage.

The main den was similarly dark, and there were no werewolves in sight. Fenrir’s ears were pricked for the slightest sound, and his golden eyes added much needed light to the cavernous room. He sniffed deeply, beginning to feel unsettled. Where was his pack? And why were there no guardians about in the territory or at the entrance? Could they have moved in his absence? Or was Vadania simply taking extra precautions with the disappearance of Longfang?

There was a deliberate crunch of gravel beneath a foot from behind him, and Fenrir whirled around, his body ready to spring.

Devis Bloodjaw smiled at him from the entrance.

“So good of you to return to us, Fenrir,” he said with a gleam in his eyes.

“Bloodjaw,” Fenrir inclined his head. “Where is everyone?”

“In the dens, sleeping,” said Bloodjaw. “Or at least, most of them are. Where is Amaryllis?”

Something about his tone told Fenrir that Bloodjaw already knew very well what had become of Amaryllis Longfang.

“Dead,” he said shortly. “Wake Nestrobber. I need to speak with her about the lack of sentries.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too hard on her, Fenrir,” said Bloodjaw lightly. “She’s had a lot to deal with… you were gone so long…. The Death Eaters came calling.”

“I’ll decide how to deal with my pack,” growled Fenrir. “I don’t suppose they left word with her?”

“Not with her,” Devis responded quietly, still reclining against the entranceway wall.

Fenrir stared at him, then let out a derisive bark of laughter. “Not with you, I hope!”

Bloodjaw scowled, then wiped the expression from his face and straightened a bit.

“They did. They want to see you. They’ve got something they want kept safe. The Dark Lord thinks you would do a good job.” It was clear that Bloodjaw disagreed.

“Anything for the Dark Lord,” Fenrir replied, and he turned and made for the sleeping dens.
“They’re coming at any moment!” said Bloodjaw, moving from the wall. “I wouldn’t bother waking anyone up.”

Fenrir turned slowly, his teeth bared. “As I said, Bloodjaw: I’ll decide how to deal with my pack.”

Bloodjaw sneered. “You’ve barely been here as of late – they’re not likely to listen to you anymore!”

“And you think they’ll listen to you? Are you challenging me, Bloodjaw?” Fenrir rasped, turning to face him, crouching low and thrusting his head forward.

Bloodjaw smiled, then moved to completely block the entranceway. “Oh, they’ll listen,” he breathed. His eyes were wide and he smiled, his tongue licking his lips. “And I don’t need to challenge you, Greyback – I guess I should have mentioned… the Death Eaters never left.”

Fenrir stared, confused.


Fenrir howled as thick ropes flew around him from behind with such force that he was brought to the ground. Roaring, he struggled with the bindings, only succeeding in trapping his arms against his body and falling to his knees.

Bloodjaw, you traitor!” he bellowed, writhing on the ground. He heard Bloodjaw laughing and saw the dark red hair of the werewolf as he stood over him.

“Traitor?” cried a large blonde Death Eater, coming into view above him as well, wand pointed in his face. “He is loyal to the Dark Lord! Are you loyal to the Dark Lord, beast?”

Fenrir bared his teeth, then spat up at him. Bloodjaw laughed cruelly and leaned over his bound body.

“Come, see your leader!” Bloodjaw crowed. Although he could not see them from his position on the floor, Fenrir could hear the shuffles of footsteps, and could smell many of his pack entering from the direction of the sleeping dens. Voices began to make themselves heard, but with a wave of his hand, Bloodjaw brought silence to the room. He bent low over Fenrir and peered at him through the ropes that criss-crossed over his face.

“I am not the traitor among us,” he whispered, the soft hiss carrying through the den. “You are. You reek of humans and their filth. Hmm, and what’s that smell? Do I detect…? Oh, say it isn’t so… cooked meat, Fenrir?”

Murmurs and growls were heard all around the den, and Fenrir’s heart skipped a beat; in his fury, he had forgotten to bathe in the stream.


* * *


“So we’ll go after everyone’s finished eating and they’ve gone to get ready for bed,” said Ron, summarizing their plans.

“And we’ll just be scouting,” said Hermione, sending a sharp look Harry’s way. “Just scouting.”

“I know!” said Harry. “I got it. If we can’t find him, we’ll come back.”

“Yeah, and we’ll get the others,” said Ron.

“Maybe,” said Hermione.

Harry ignored her, his mind churning with possibilities of giving them the slip, should he feel that he could get into the cave undetected. He wanted to be able to talk to Fenrir without Snape or Remus, or any of the others around, so that he could explain that what had happened had been borne from concern for him, not from hatred or disrespect for Fenrir; he had a feeling he’d do a better job if it was just him doing the talking.

Dinner was quiet. Remus was looking rather regretful, and kept shooting apologetic looks Harry’s way, which were all ignored. Tonks, Charlie, and Bill were gamely trying to keep the conversation going, but they had little success.

After the sullen and uneventful meal, Harry, Ron, and Hermione camped out in Ron’s room, waiting for the right moment when everyone had gone to bed. Remus had knocked on the door earlier, but didn’t come in after Harry said curtly, “I don’t want to talk to you right now.” It was around ten o’clock that they were sure everyone was in their respective rooms.

“Right, let’s go,” Harry muttered, his wand drawn. The three of them crept out of the room under the Invisibility cloak and down the hall. With a quick glance around the corner, they saw that the way to the door was clear, and they walked through it and shut it quietly. None of them noticed the flash of blonde hair in the window as they left the protection of the cabin and disappeared into the darkness.

They didn’t have far to walk before they met the sight of a recent trail.

“The path is pretty clear,” said Harry, moved his wand over the disturbed ground.

“He was angry,” observed Ron as they passed a bush that had been completely uprooted.


With such a clear map of where Fenrir had gone, the three of them walked faster. Soon Harry was jogging, his cloak stuffed under his shirt and his wand held high above his head, with Ron and Hermione keeping pace behind him.

“We should probably cast those Anti-Scenting charms now,” said Hermione nervously, glancing around. “And Muffliato.”

The two boys nodded and all three began casting charms quietly, looking around as they did; nothing had approached them yet, but they were still cautious as they walked on. They passed the nearby bubbling sounds of the stream. Harry was surprised to see that Fenrir’s path continued forward instead of deviating, dashing his hopes that he would find him there as he had before. He guessed that that they were about halfway to the cave, although he couldn’t remember exactly, as he had been running the last time he’d been there… running from Fenrir, desperate to get away… and now he was running toward him, desperate to stay by his side.


Harry, Hermione, and Ron froze, all three of them extinguishing their wand light. Harry’s heart was pounding so loudly that he was sure they would be discovered at any moment by whoever had just Apparated–

“Damn. It’s dark here.”

“It’s the Black Dust Forest, of course it’s dark!”

“Doesn’t make it better. Where is this place again?”

“It should be close by, that’s what he said. A little further on.”

The first voice gave an annoyed grunt. “Why couldn’t we have Apparated inside? It’s not like it would be rude.”

“Would you really want to Apparate into a cave full of beasts?”

“Greyback’s not there. Isn’t that what he said?”

The hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood on end. Who was ‘he’? Had Snape betrayed them? Had Draco contacted the Death Eaters somehow? Or was it someone else?

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t others, idiot. Come on. We’ve got to deliver this quick, or the Dark Lord won’t be happy.”

The second person began to move, and the first followed. Harry couldn’t stop himself – he followed too, being careful to keep his distance. He thought he felt someone try to grab his elbow, but he kept walking. No amount of pleading from Hermione could stop him now.

“Bloody insects,” the first voice grumbled. “Won’t stop buzzing in my ear.”

“Just ignore it. Focus on the job.”

One of them lit his wand, and Harry shrank back. He could see their broad outlines, black against the one speck of brightness. He turned to Ron and Hermione, who were standing just behind him and motioned them away, trying to tell them to turn back. Ron rolled his eyes while Hermione glared at him and shook her head, then prodded him in the back with her wand, mouthing the words, “get your cloak on!” Harry nodded and withdrew the cloak, throwing it over them and continuing their silent trek.

They walked for several minutes in silence, every breath and crunch of dirt seemingly echoing in Harry’s ears, but they appeared to go unnoticed by the two Death Eaters. They didn’t stop until the second Death Eater let out a triumphant shout.

“There it is! I see it.”

“Looks small. We’re expected to go in there?”

“There’s a switch inside that’ll take us underground. That’s what he said. Just stomp on it and it’ll go.”

“Stomp on it, eh? Bloody primitive.”

“Well, what did you expect? They’re little more than dogs.”

Harry gritted his teeth, desperately wishing he could hex them, but he simply followed and elbowed Ron in the chest when he let out an audible gasp at the sight of the cave. The two Death Eaters didn’t notice due to the fact that they were now arguing about who would enter first. They seemed to make up their minds quickly, and one of them strode into the cave, followed closely by the other, and Harry hurried forward. He had just entered the cave when he heard a grinding sound, and the Death Eaters’ exclamations over the ‘primitive’ entrance way. He threw the cloak off and turned to Ron and Hermione.

“Go back,” he whispered furiously. “You should tell the others – someone’s told the Death Eaters that Fenrir’s been gone, and it might have been Malfoy – or even Snape–”

We’re going together!” Hermione hissed back. “How many times do we have to tell you?”

“Well someone’s got to tell them!” said Harry. “There are Death Eaters in the forest! There could be some at the cottage right now!”

“They said they were delivering something, Harry, not attacking anyone! They don’t know we’re here!”

“That’s right. So it can’t have been Snape,” said Ron. “Or Malfoy.”

“Unless they just didn’t tell them about us, only about Fenrir. ”

Ron snorted. “They’re both too self-serving to have left out the fact that you’re here.”

That seemed extremely logical to Harry, and he was left momentarily argument-less. Hermione pushed past him and headed for the back of the cave. Harry swore and strode after her, Ron following at his heels.

“Fine, it’s your funeral,” Harry muttered as a last attempt. Hermione ignored him and stomped on the mound of earth, whispering, “Put the cloak on, they’ll probably hear us coming.”

Once again, Harry drew the cloak over their heads and held his wand at the ready, and the ground slowly lowered them into the earth.


* * *


A single knock resonated against Remus’ door, and he looked up from his desk. Hoping it was Harry, the werewolf jumped up and hastily opened the door. He was briefly stunned when he instead saw Draco Malfoy staring obstinately at the door frame, his hands jammed in his pockets. He had the air of someone who had been loitering for quite some time.

“Oh... Mr. Malfoy. What can I do for you?”

The blonde continued to stare at the door frame, and his mouth twisted sourly before he muttered, “I thought you should know – Potter’s gone.”

Remus’ jaw and heart seemed to drop simultaneously.

“What did you say?”

Malfoy sucked in a breath, looking annoyed that he had to repeat himself. “He’s gone. I saw him and the Mud – I saw him and his friends leave. They had that cloak.”

Remus spun from the door and lunged for his desk to grab his wand before shoving past Malfoy, shouting for everyone to get to the kitchen. He was in such a terrible panic that he didn’t notice leaving behind an oddly familiar scent of misery and loneliness that wasn’t his own.


* * *   


Harry had been worried that they would be attacked the second they landed in the depths of the cave, but the rumblings of their descent went unnoticed. Loud voices were overwhelming any sound that the ground could have made, and the three teens crept closer to the source of the commotion, their wands held up. They made it all the way to the mouth of the passageway, where they were brought up short by the sight that greeted them:

A large, cavernous room was filled with men, women, and a few children, all looking towards a raised stone platform. A tall, dark-red haired man was standing on it with his arms above his head, calling for silence. He was wearing a black, ill-fitting robe that hung down past his clavicle, exposing a few scars on his upper chest. He looked very pleased. Several Death Eaters, some of whom Harry recognized, were flanking him, their wands held tensely at their sides.

“Silence,” the red-headed man intoned, a lazy smile on his face. “Silence, now. It was a shock, yes. But we all should have seen it coming.” The man’s eyes gained a fiery look, and his voice boomed in the now silent cave. “First, he abandons you. Then, he tells you a lie; a lie about a ‘nearby pack’!”

There were several scornful shouts from the surrounding werewolves at this reminder.

“Turns out he was cavorting with those he preaches to despise! And he came back to us and lied again about the Death Eaters!” The werewolf made a sweeping gesture with his arm, acknowledging the men behind him. “Those that are here, asking for help that only we can provide! And then!” He paused and bared his teeth, a look of absolute disgust on his face. “He killed one of our own! A core member, who had discovered his betrayal! He silenced her! Ripped out her throat!”

Jeers could be heard from all sides. Harry felt like he was drowning where he stood, frozen in horror as the red-headed man continued to talk.

“And he had the nerve to show his face here tonight! Reeking of humans, stinking of their comforts that he has denied you – he walked in here demanding respect! Does he have your respect?”

The resulting roar of anger was deafening. The werewolves were getting agitated in their places, jostling closer to the platform. The Death Eaters’ jaws clenched and their mouths twisted in revulsion, but none of the werewolves seemed to notice. The situation was getting out of control.


Harry opened his eyes, which had been sliding further shut in despair and saw Hermione.

“Harry, we need to find Fenrir! That’s why we came, isn’t it? Either we find him, or we get out of here!”

“I vote we get out of here,” said Ron, entranced in a sort of awed horror at the sight before them.

Harry shook himself. “No. We need to find him. He’s… he’s in trouble.”

“How are we going to find him? How are we supposed to get past them?” asked Ron, eyeing the werewolves.

“We’ll just have to use the spells… we have to get to that one. He knows where Fenrir is,” said Harry, watching as the red-headed werewolf began to descend into the crowd. The Death Eaters followed him like a group of body guards, and they kept the mass of bodies back as the werewolf made his way to another tunnel on the opposite end of the cave. Once they got there, two of the Death Eaters stood facing the crowd, their wands held in their hands as they effectively blocked the entrance. Harry heard Hermione once again repeat the spells that would protect them, then the three began to edge along the wall of the cave, making sure not to bump into anyone as they went.

As they crept along against the wall of the cave, Harry began to feel a strong sense of guilt mingled with fear. Fenrir had apparently been risking more than he could ever have imagined – Harry wasn’t even sure if Fenrir was alive – Harry abruptly stopped thinking.

They were close to the Death Eaters now, and they needed a distraction. Harry looked at Ron and Hermione for ideas, but then, before he could open his mouth, a loud commotion came bursting from another tunnel. Harry caught a glimpse of a wild silver mane before a raging female voice screamed, “Treason! Attack! Attack!

Harry froze as a wild looking woman threw herself from the crowd at the two Death Eaters, her hands scratching furiously at their faces. The Death Eaters bellowed and fired spells at random. It was just what they needed; Harry, Ron, and Hermione barreled past the Death Eaters and the woman, the cloak whipping off of them. He heard some shouts of surprise from onlookers, but the Death Eaters were too preoccupied to notice them.

The tunnel came to a halt at a shallow flight of descending stairs. Harry took them two at a time, and skidded to a stop at the bottom where he saw three Death Eaters and the red-haired man, who was holding – Harry’s breath disappeared from his lungs – the Hufflepuff cup.

“So guard it with your life, the Dark Lord wanted this kept safe at all costs and – YOU!”

Harry Stunned the shocked Death Eater before either of them knew what had happened. Dimly, he was aware of Ron and Hermione shouting Stunning spells beside him, but he could only focus on the sight of the Horcrux clutched in the red-headed werewolf’s hands.


Harry dived to the side to avoid the explosion of rocks above his head.

“No! You’ll bring the place down on us!” one Death Eater bellowed. “Stun him! Stun him!”

Accio cup!” Harry cried. It didn’t work. The red-headed werewolf snarled and ran. Harry was up on his feet within seconds and tore after him. A Stunning spell narrowly missed his ear, and he thought he heard Hermione cry out. He wanted to help them – but the cup! It was right here! They had walked in on the delivery of the very Horcrux that Harry had thought would be here the night he had first ventured into the forest.


Harry spun around in shock. Remus, Charlie, Bill, and Tonks were Apparating right into their midst; the remaining two Death Eaters shouted and fired hexes at them, but Tonks shot a well-aimed Body-Binding spell at one, while Bill and Charlie Stunned the other. It was over in seconds. Harry stared to see Ron sporting a scratched cheek, while the tips of Hermione’s hair were smoking. Both of them were panting.

“Harry, what are you – why – what’s going on?” Remus blustered.

“The cup,” Harry gasped, still barely believing it. “And Fenrir –”

But before he could say another word, a horrifying shriek echoed off the walls, followed by a low rumble of many running footsteps. All of them looked up the stairs. Harry saw the silver-haired woman that he had seen earlier, standing there, her chest heaving while several others stood behind her, glaring down at them.

“Vadania?” called Remus.

“You!” she shouted, confusion evident on her face. “You – but you’re against the Death Eaters!”
“Yes, of course we are! What were they doing here?”

“Took over! With that traitor, Bloodjaw!” she spat. “He helped them! Or they helped him! Used magic against us!”

“Where’s Fenrir?”

“I don’t know!” she cried. “They Stunned me, kept me in a room! I woke up and they were here, guarding the way to the treasury –”

Harry didn’t wait to hear any more. It was clear what had happened. Sometime while this werewolf had been unconscious, Fenrir had come back – and walked right into an ambush, constructed by the red-headed werewolf who now had the cup…. 

“Harry, wait!”

But he was already running, running faster than he had ever run before. He thought he could hear the others chasing him, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except reaching the cup and Fenrir. He couldn’t leave until he had them both.

The tunnel veered off to the right, and Harry saw a large stone door with odd markings on it. He knew, although he wasn’t sure how, that he wouldn’t be able to open this door unless he literally got rid of it. With the image of Fenrir – whose fate he still didn’t know – fixed firmly in his mind, Harry pointed his wand at the stone and shouted, “REDUCTO!

Harry was almost knocked off his feet by the blast, and he was showered by bits of rock and dust. With his arms over his face, he hurried forward into the room. He barely had time to register the mounds of gold and various glittering objects before something large and heavy knocked into the side of his head with a loud clang. He fell to his knees, his chest heaving and eyes streaming.

“Hah! So this is the great Harry Potter!” a voice gloated above his head.

“Give me – the cup,” he coughed, still unable to see, his head swimming. The voice above him laughed scornfully.

“You’ll never get your hands on it! The Dark Lord will be here in minutes to get you, and I’ll be rewarded with more than I ever could have imagined!”

Harry made a feeble attempt to get up. He yelped when he was kicked sharply in the side, and he fell back to his knees.


Something huge and tan soared over him out of nowhere, and Harry saw the red-head fall to the ground, the tan mass on top of him.

Don’t you touch him, you bleeding excuse for a werewolf!

Harry’s heart soared at the familiar rasping bark, and with an unknown strength that seemed to bubble up from within, he pushed himself to his feet and took in the sight of Fenrir and the red-head locked in a vicious brawl, the golden Hufflepuff cup glinting on the ground, unprotected.

Harry dove for it, but when his fingers touched the metal, he cried out and dropped it and stared at his blistered fingers; the metal had burned him.

With his wand, Harry attempted to levitate the cup, but once again, a spell had no effect. Harry pulled his shirt sleeve down over his hand and tried to pick it up once more, but the metal burned through the cloth. He couldn’t touch it. 

With sudden clarity, Harry knew what he needed.

“I need his hand, I need his hand!” he shouted. Fenrir growled and latched his jaws onto the red-head’s wrist before biting down and shaking his head violently. The red-head howled in pain, his voice going high. Harry turned away and searched frantically for a blade, but a sickening crunch and a garroted scream told him that what he needed had been accomplished.

Turning around, Harry saw Fenrir’s mouth dripping in blood, and the red-head was moaning piteously on the ground, clutching the bleeding stump of his arm. Harry snatched up the hand, and with a sick lump in his throat, he manipulated the fingers and gripped the cup with it. Just as he suspected, the werewolf’s flesh remained unharmed, and he stood up with the cup in the hand’s grip.

He had just raised the cup in exaltation when a blinding pain exploded across his forehead.

“Harry! Harry, he’s coming!”

Harry shook himself at the sound of Hermione’s shouts, and suddenly Remus, Tonks, Bill, Charlie, Hermione, and Ron burst into the treasury, with Vadania and several others at their heels.

“We’ve got to go!” Remus shouted, reaching for him.

Tonks grabbed Hermione and disappeared with a crack. Bill and Charlie seized a battle-worn looking Ron around the arms and they also Disapparated. Harry spun back to see Fenrir, who was still locked in a battle with the red-head. He reached for him, but suddenly a strong, pale arm grabbed him.

“No,” the woman said firmly. “They must battle to the end. You cannot interfere.”

“Harry, let’s go!

Remus grabbed Harry’s bicep and Harry felt the familiar tuggings of Apparition.

“No!” he screamed. “We can’t leave him!”

With a great heave, Harry pulled his arm away and hurried forward. The woman shouted at him, but he ignored her. Fenrir was howling and twisting on top of the red-head, who still had some fight left in him, but Harry ignored everything and threw himself on top of Fenrir’s writhing body. Remus hurried forward and grabbed both of them.

Harry heard the howls of werewolves ringing in his ears as he was sucked into blackness, but all he could feel was the solid body of Fenrir against his chest and the still-warm hand that held a piece of Voldemort’s soul clutched in his own.  



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