Chapter 41: Assault
"Arthur? What's wrong, dear?"
It was past midnight, and Arthur Weasley stood by the window of the Burrow, watching the stars twinkle. Something felt wrong. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he had a foreboding feeling about something.
Before Arthur could answer, the wards around the Burrow screamed.
"Everyone down!" Arthur bellowed, his wand already in his hand as he spun toward the door.
The front wall of the Burrow exploded inward in a shower of timber and shrapnel. Death Eaters poured through the breach, their masks gleaming in the firelight, their wands raised and already casting.
Arthur threw up a shield charm just as the first volley of curses came flying. Behind him, Molly was already moving, shoving Ginny and Hermione toward the back stairs while her own wand came up to fire a stunner at the nearest attacker.
Bill came thundering down from the upper floor, Percy right behind him. Both had their wands out and were already casting before they'd reached the bottom step.
"How many?" Bill shouted over the chaos.
"Too bloody many!" Arthur fired a blasting hex that caught one Death Eater in the chest and sent him flying backward through the broken wall. He didn't get up.
Remus Lupin appeared in the doorway to the sitting room, his wand already moving. A barrier of silver light erupted in front of the family, giving them precious seconds to regroup.
"Where are the twins?" Molly screamed.
"Here!" Fred and George appeared from the cellar, their arms loaded with what looked like an arsenal of their experimental products. "Got the good stuff!"
"Arthur, the floo!" Remus shouted. "Contact the Order!"
Arthur spun toward the fireplace, but even as he moved he could feel the wrongness in the air. The magical signature was all off, twisted somehow.
"The wards!" he shouted back. "They've put up anti communication wards! We can't floo out!"
"Then send a Patronus!" Bill yelled as he deflected a purple curse. "Someone get a bloody Patronus out!"
"Percy, get the girls upstairs!" Arthur ordered. "Ward the upper floors!"
"I'm not hiding!" Ginny's voice rang out, her eyes fierce and defiant. "I can fight!"
"We all can," Hermione added, her wand already raised.
There was no time to argue. The Death Eaters were pushing forward, their curses hammering against Remus's barrier with increasing fury. Arthur could see more figures in the darkness beyond the broken wall. This wasn't a raid. This was an assault.
"Fine!" Molly snapped. "But you stay behind us, you hear? Fred, George, what have you got?"
The twins sported identical grins that would have been unsettling under less dire circumstances.
"Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder," Fred announced, lobbing several small spheres toward the advancing Death Eaters.
"And some new experimental surprises," George added with glee.
The powder exploded on impact, plunging half the room into absolute darkness. Screams and curses erupted from within the black cloud as the Death Eaters stumbled into each other.
"Now!" Arthur roared.
The Weasleys and their allies opened fire. Spells flew through the darkness, illuminating the room in bursts of colored light. Arthur's stunner caught one Death Eater square in the face. Bill's cutting curse dropped another. Percy's piercing hex punched through a third attacker's shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground.
But for every Death Eater that fell, two more seemed to take their place.
"They're coming through the back!" Hermione shouted from her position near the stairs.
Arthur's heart sank. They were surrounded.
"Remus, take Bill and Percy! Hold the front! Molly, with me! We'll handle the back!"
The family split, adults moving to meet the new threat while the twins continued lobbing their experimental products with abandon. One Death Eater got too close and found himself encased in what looked like living treacle. Another stumbled into a puddle of something that exploded upward, coating him in a substance that hardened instantly into stone.
"Brilliant!" Fred crowed.
"Told you the Cement Jinx would work!" George added.
The celebration was cut short as a new figure stepped through the broken front wall. Even in the chaos, even through the darkness and smoke, there was no mistaking that wild mane of black hair or the mad gleam in those dark eyes.
Bellatrix Lestrange had arrived to play.
"Well, well," she purred, her voice cutting through the din of battle like a knife. "The blood traitor Weasleys and a dirty mutt, all gathered in one pathetic little hovel. How convenient."
She raised her wand and a purple curse erupted from its tip, so fast and vicious that Remus barely managed to deflect it. The spell struck the ceiling instead, bringing down a shower of debris.
"Bellatrix!" Remus snarled. "Face me! Your quarrel is not with them!"
"Oh, my quarrel is with anyone who stands against the Dark Lord," Bellatrix laughed. "But I'll be happy to start with you, mutt."
She attacked with a fury that was almost beautiful in its violence. Curse after curse flew from her wand, each one deadlier than the last. Remus met her assault with grim determination, his own spells forming a defensive web that kept her at bay.
But Bellatrix wasn't alone.
Another figure emerged from the darkness beyond the wall, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Fenrir Greyback stepped into the firelight, his yellow eyes gleaming with predatory hunger.
"Fresh meat," he growled, baring his teeth in a grotesque display of a smile. "And I smell young ones too."
"Over my dead body," Bill Weasley stepped forward, placing himself between Greyback and his younger siblings.
"That can be arranged," Greyback lunged.
The werewolf moved with inhuman speed, crossing the distance between them in a heartbeat. Bill barely got his shield up in time. Greyback's clawed hand struck the magical barrier with enough force to send cracks across its surface.
"Percy!" Bill shouted. "Help me hold him!"
Percy was already moving, his wand weaving a complex binding spell. Ropes of light shot toward Greyback, wrapping around his arms and legs. The werewolf snarled and tore through them like they were paper.
"Going to have to do better than that, boy!" Greyback laughed.
At the back of the house, Arthur and Molly were fighting for their lives. Three Death Eaters had broken through, and more were pressing in behind them. Arthur's stunning spell caught one in the chest, but the other two were already firing back.
"Reducto!" Molly's blasting hex struck the doorframe, bringing part of the wall down on one of the attackers.
A cutting curse slashed across Arthur's arm, opening a deep gash that immediately began bleeding. He stumbled, his wand arm suddenly weak.
"Arthur!" Molly screamed.
She stepped in front of her husband, her wand moving in a blur. Spell after spell erupted from its tip, holding back the Death Eaters through sheer ferocity. But there were too many, and they were pressing closer.
In the main room, the battle had devolved into pure chaos. Fred and George were still lobbing their products, but they were running low. Hermione had joined Ginny near the stairs, both of them firing spells at any Death Eater who got too close.
"Stupefy!" Hermione's stunner caught one attacker in the leg, sending him sprawling.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Ginny's full body bind hit another, freezing him mid curse.
But for every Death Eater they dropped, two more pushed forward.
Remus was losing ground against Bellatrix. The mad witch was simply too skilled, too vicious, and she was enjoying herself far too much. Her laughter rang through the burning house as curse after curse flew from her wand.
"Dance, little wolf!" she cackled. "Dance for Bella!"
"Expelliarmus!" Remus tried to disarm her, but Bellatrix batted the spell aside contemptuously.
"Is that the best you can do? The great Remus Lupin, reduced to schoolboy charms?"
She fired a curse that Remus couldn't quite identify, something dark and writhing that moved like a living thing.
"Protego Maxima!" His shield barely held as Bellatrix's follow up curse slammed into it.
Near the broken wall, Bill was fighting desperately against Greyback. The werewolf was toying with him, laughing as Bill's spells glanced off or failed to penetrate his unnaturally tough skin.
"You're strong," Greyback acknowledged, ducking under a cutting curse. "For a human. But you're still just food."
"Percy!" Bill shouted again.
Percy was doing his best to support his brother, but he was engaged with two other Death Eaters who had broken off from the main assault. His piercing hex took one in the shoulder, spinning the man around. His stunning spell caught the other in the chest.
But it left Bill alone against Greyback for just a moment too long.
The werewolf's clawed hand shot out, faster than should have been possible, and caught Bill across the chest. The curse woven shield Bill had erected shattered. Fabric and flesh parted under those vicious claws, and Bill went down with a cry of pain.
"Bill!" Ginny screamed from the stairs.
"No!" Percy turned, abandoning his own fight to rush to his brother's aid.
It was a mistake.
One of the Death Eaters he'd been fighting fired a purple curse that caught Percy in the back. The spell lifted him off his feet and hurled him against the far wall with bone breaking force. He hit hard and slid down, leaving a smear of blood on the wallpaper.
"Percy!" Fred's anguished cry rang through the house.
George was already running toward his fallen brother, but Greyback was faster. The werewolf pounced on the prone Bill, his jaws opening wide.
"Get off him!" Remus appeared, having broken away from his duel with Bellatrix. A bolt of silver light struck Greyback in the side, throwing the werewolf off Bill's body.
Greyback rolled to his feet, snarling. "Lupin. I've been waiting for this."
"Then come and get me," Remus growled.
The two werewolves clashed in a fury of tooth and claw and magic. Remus fought with everything he had, his spells precise and powerful, but Greyback had given himself over to his beast entirely. He fought with animalistic cunning and savagery.
Behind them, Bellatrix laughed.
"How touching! The wolves fighting over scraps!" She raised her wand toward the back of the house, where Molly was still defending her wounded husband. "Let's make this more interesting, shall we?"
"Molly!" Arthur tried to warn her, but he was too weak from blood loss.
The curse struck Molly in the back.
For a heartbeat, nothing seemed to happen. Then Molly staggered, her wand falling from nerveless fingers. She turned slowly, her eyes finding Arthur's across the burning room.
"Arthur," she whispered.
Then she fell.
"NO!" Arthur's scream was inhuman in its anguish. "MOLLY!"
He tried to crawl toward her, but the Death Eaters were between them. One raised his wand to finish Arthur off.
"Bombarda!" Fred's blasting hex caught the Death Eater from behind, blowing him clear across the room.
George was at Arthur's side a moment later, dragging him back toward relative safety. "Dad, we have to move! We have to get you out of here!"
"Your mother," Arthur sobbed. "Molly, she's… she's…"
"I know, Dad," George's voice was thick with tears. "I know."
At the front of the house, Remus and Greyback's battle had reached its conclusion. Remus was bleeding from a dozen wounds, his robes torn and his face pale with exhaustion. But he'd managed to drive Greyback back, away from where Bill lay bleeding.
"You fight well, Lupin," Greyback acknowledged, circling like the predator he was. "For a half breed who denies his nature. But you're tired. Weak. Human."
"Better human than monster," Remus spat blood.
Greyback's laugh was more growl than anything else. "We'll see about that."
He feinted left, and when Remus moved to counter, struck right. His claws raked across Remus's chest, opening wounds that immediately began to bleed. Remus stumbled, his wand arm dropping.
"Pathetic," Greyback sneered, and without wasting a moment, he moved in for the kill, his jaws closing on Remus's throat.
"REMUS!" Hermione's scream was lost in the chaos.
Greyback tossed Remus's body aside like a broken doll and turned his attention back to Bill, who was trying desperately to crawl away. The werewolf's yellow eyes gleamed with malicious pleasure.
"One mutt lost," he growled, stalking toward Bill. "Another mutt gained."
"No," Bill tried to raise his wand, but his hand was shaking too badly. "Please…"
Greyback's jaws opened wide.
The bite was savage. Greyback made sure Bill would survive it, made sure the curse would take hold. When he finally released his grip, Bill collapsed to the floor, already beginning to convulse as the werewolf infection began its terrible work.
"There," Greyback said with satisfaction. "Now you'll understand what it means to be truly powerful."
"You bastard!" Fred's voice was raw with rage and grief.
Both twins opened fire, their spells flying with reckless abandon. But Greyback was already moving, retreating toward the broken wall where the other Death Eaters were beginning to pull back.
Bellatrix stood in the doorway, surveying the carnage with evident pleasure. Bodies littered the floor. The Burrow was burning. The Weasley family had been shattered.
"Such fun," she purred. "We really must do this again sometime."
"Avada Kedavra!" Ginny's curse flew from the stairs, fueled by pure hatred.
Bellatrix dodged it with ease, her eyes wide but a wild grin on her face. "Ooh, the little blood traitor has some fire! Perhaps next time, dear. For now, our work here is done."
She disappeared into the darkness with a crack of apparition. Greyback followed, his laughter echoing through the burning house. The remaining Death Eaters retreated, leaving behind only destruction and death.
In the sudden silence that followed, the survivors slowly picked themselves up. Fred and George rushed to Percy's body, but even from across the room, Hermione could see it was too late. Arthur was cradling Molly's corpse, sobbing into her hair. Bill lay on the floor, writhing in agony as the werewolf curse took hold.
And Remus Lupin, the last Marauder, lay still in a pool of his own blood.
On the stairs, Ginny stood clutching the wooden railing, her eyes bloodshot and tears streaming down her face.
XXXXX
Harry was laughing at something Daphne had said when the floo roared to life.
They were all gathered in the sitting room of Grimmauld Place. Harry sat on the sofa with Daphne tucked against his right side and Astoria on his left. Susan occupied the armchair nearby with Hannah and Tracey perched on the arms, while Fleur had claimed the other end of the sofa. They'd been discussing their imminent return to Hogwarts, debating what the new term might bring.
Fleur's veela magic hummed restlessly as she observed them, responding to Harry. Back then in the training room, when she'd watched him cast those powerful spells, when he'd embraced her and she'd inhaled his scent, her veela nature had sung with recognition. This was what she'd told herself then, what she'd been trying to ignore all morning.
But after a couple of days here in his presence, she'd come to realize her feelings for Harry were rapidly growing beyond their friendship and the gratitude she felt for what he'd done for Gabrielle. The veela in her recognized something in him, something powerful and protective that called to her most primal instincts. And the woman in her appreciated his kindness, his strength, and the way he carried himself with quiet confidence.
But he already had lovers. Beautiful, talented witches who clearly adored him and whom he cared for deeply. What place could there possibly be for her in that dynamic?
She watched as Harry said something that made them all laugh again, his emerald eyes bright with amusement. Daphne swatted his chest playfully while Astoria giggled. Susan rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. Hannah and Tracey were grinning openly.
They were happy together. Content. A unit that had formed naturally over time.
And Fleur felt like an outsider looking in.
The realization shouldn't have stung as much as it did. She'd only been in Britain for two days. She had no claim on Harry Potter, no right to feel this strange possessiveness that her veela nature seemed intent on having. Yet she couldn't deny what she felt, couldn't ignore the way her magic reached toward his whenever they were close.
Harry turned slightly, his gaze finding hers. He smiled, and Fleur felt her breath catch.
"Fleur, you're being too quiet," Harry said.
"I am enjoying listening," Fleur replied, but even she could hear the slight strain in her voice.
Daphne pulled back from Harry slightly and stared at Fleur with knowing eyes. The look in her eyes made Fleur slightly uncomfortable, that maybe she wasn't hiding her budding feelings as well as she'd hoped.
Suddenly, the floo flared to life and everyone turned toward the fireplace.
Nym stumbled through the floo, her hair a shade of dull brown that said enough about her emotional state. Amelia followed a moment later, her expression grave.
Harry was on his feet instantly. "Nym? What's wrong?"
Nym opened her mouth but no sound came out. Her eyes were red rimmed and her entire body was shaking. Amelia placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and stepped forward.
"There's been an attack," Amelia said quietly. "The Burrow was hit approximately two hours ago. Death Eaters. Multiple casualties."
The room went deathly silent. Daphne's hand found Harry's and squeezed tight.
"Who?" Harry's voice came out flat and cold.
Amelia met his eyes steadily. "Molly Weasley. Percy Weasley. And Remus Lupin."
For a moment, nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
"How?" Harry's voice was still quiet.
"Bellatrix Lestrange led the assault," Amelia continued. "She had Fenrir Greyback with her and approximately a dozen other Death Eaters. They erected wards before attacking, prevented anyone from getting out or calling for help. By the time someone managed to get a Patronus through and reinforcements arrived, it was over."
"Bellatrix," Nym's voice cracked on the name. Her hair flickered between colors, unable to settle. "That murdering bitch killed my mum, and now she's killed Molly. She killed her from behind like a coward. Didn't even give her a chance to defend herself."
"And Greyback?" Harry asked.
Amelia's expression darkened. "Greyback killed Remus Lupin with his bare hands. Tore out his throat. Then he turned on Bill Weasley. He survived the attack, but…"
"But what?"
"Greyback bit him," Amelia said with a sigh. "He's been turned. He's a werewolf now."
Daphne's grip on Harry tightened.
"Greyback said something before he bit him," Nym added, her voice filled with rage. "Said one mutt lost, another mutt gained. Like it was a fucking joke."
Harry still hadn't moved. He stood frozen in the center of the room. His emerald eyes had gone distant, and everyone who knew him could see the storm building behind them.
"Where are the survivors?" Harry asked.
"St. Mungo's," Amelia replied, eyeing the girls around him. She'd been made aware of the dynamics present in this household, and although a part of her didn't fully reconcile with the fact that her own niece was involved with a wizard who apparently had a harem around him, she didn't object if Susan was happy. "Arthur was badly injured. Cutting curse to the arm, blood loss, shock. The healers say he'll survive but it'll take time. His twin sons have minor injuries, cuts and bruises mostly. Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley were both caught by debris when part of the house collapsed. Miss Granger has a concussion and some broken ribs. Miss Weasley has a fractured arm and extensive bruising. They'll both make full recoveries."
"And Bill?"
"Still at St. Mungo's," Amelia said. "The transformation has already begun. There's nothing they can do to reverse it. He'll be a werewolf for the rest of his life."
An uncomfortable silence set in as everyone grappled with the news. Harry's breathing had gone very slow and very controlled, as if he was trying desperately not to lose control.
Then his magic exploded outward.
The windows rattled violently in their frames. The fire in the hearth roared up the chimney with sudden fury, sending sparks flying across the room. Every loose object began to shake and vibrate. Cracks appeared in the plaster walls, webbing outward from where Harry stood.
"Harry!" Susan's voice cut through. "Harry, you need to control it!"
But Harry wasn't listening. His face had gone deathly pale, his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles were white. The temperature in the room dropped sharply, then rose, then dropped again as his magic lashed out in waves.
"Mrs. Weasley," he said softly, and the name was filled with such anguish that it made them all flinch. "They killed Mrs. Weasley."
Images cascaded through his mind. The original Harry's memories, accompanied by his feelings. Molly Weasley welcoming him to the Burrow that first summer, her warm smile and warmer hugs making him feel wanted for the first time in his life. Molly treating him like one of her own sons, feeding him and fussing over him and showing him the kind of maternal love he'd never known existed.
Molly knitting him a Weasley sweater every Christmas. Molly making sure he had enough to eat. Molly hugging him fiercely and telling him he was always welcome in her home.
And now she was dead. Murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange. Cut down from behind like she meant nothing.
"Harry, please," Daphne's voice was muffled against his chest. "Please control yourself."
Her words seemed to penetrate the rage. Harry took a shuddering breath, then another. Slowly, painfully, he began pulling his magic back under control. The windows stopped rattling. The fire settled. The cracks in the walls ceased spreading.
When he finally looked around at the gathered women, his eyes were clear but burning.
"This ends now," he said firmly. "No more waiting. No more planning. No more playing by rules that only we follow while they butcher innocent people."
"Harry…" Daphne started.
"They've been terrorizing people for months," Harry continued, his voice gaining strength with each word. "Torturing. Killing. Destroying families. Murdering good people like Molly Weasley who never hurt anyone, who spent her whole life taking care of others. And what has anyone done to stop them? What has the Ministry done? What has the Order done?"
He turned to Amelia. "You know I'm right. You've known it for months. The system is broken."
Amelia was quiet for a long moment.
"We've had this conversation before, Harry," she said quietly. "You and I have discussed the failures of our government, the corruption and incompetence that's been allowed to fester for decades. I told you then that I agreed with you. That many of us in the Ministry, the ones who actually give a damn about protecting people, have thought the same things."
"You did," Harry acknowledged. "And you told me that changing things would take time. That we didn't have the resources or the political capital to take aggressive action."
"That's still true," Amelia said. "Fudge may be gone and I may be Minister now, but the problems he created remain. Half the Auror corps is dead or compromised. The Wizengamot is still controlled by old pureblood families playing political games. Our resources are stretched to the breaking point trying to maintain basic security, let alone mount offensive operations against deep-rooted Death Eater positions."
"I'm not asking you to mount offensive operations," Harry said. "I'm not asking the Ministry to do anything. I'm telling you that I'm going to do it myself."
"Harry, you can't just…" Amelia started, but Harry cut her off.
"Can't what? Can't go after the Death Eaters who are killing innocent people? Can't hunt down the monsters who murdered Molly Weasley and turned Bill into a werewolf? Can't take the fight to Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback and everyone else who thinks they can terrorize the magical world without consequences?"
"That's not what I was going to say," Amelia replied calmly. "I was going to say you can't do it alone. But you're not alone, are you?"
She looked around the room at the gathered women. Susan, Hannah, Daphne, Tracey, and Astoria, all watching with fierce determination, Nym shaking with barely contained rage, and Fleur sitting still, her veela magic humming just beneath the surface.
"No," Harry said quietly. "I'm not alone."
"Then let me be clear about where I stand," Amelia said. She drew herself up, and suddenly she wasn't just Amelia Bones the woman, she was the Minister of Magic. "As Minister, I cannot officially sanction vigilante action against Death Eaters. The Ministry must maintain at least the appearance of proper procedure and rule of law, especially during wartime."
Harry's expression darkened, but Amelia held up a hand.
"However," she continued, "as a witch who nearly died when Death Eaters attacked my home, who only survived because you intervened to save me and my niece and her friend, I understand exactly where you're coming from. And as someone who has spent decades watching our justice system fail to protect its citizens, I can't say I disagree with your assessment."
"So what are you saying?" Daphne asked.
"I'm saying that if certain Death Eaters were to meet with unfortunate deaths," Amelia said carefully, "well, that'd be good riddance, I say."
"You know could lose your position for this, right?" Harry asked. "If anyone found out you're going to be involved in hunting down Death Eaters."
"I don't think it would matter in the new world that's coming for all of us," she said simply, and Harry's eyes widened. That was basically her consent to being involved in the vision he had for Britain's future.
His lips curved upwards as he gazed at Amelia who gave him a firm nod. "Understood, Amelia."
"Good," Amelia said. "Now, what exactly are you planning?"
"I'm going after them," Harry said simply. "What I did to the Carrows will look merciful compared to what I'm going to do to the ones responsible for this. Greyback and Bellatrix especially."
"We're coming with you," Daphne said immediately, pulling back from Harry's embrace.
"No," Harry's response was immediate and firm.
"Harry!" Daphne's eyes flashed. "You can't just exclude us from this!"
"I'm not excluding you," Harry said, his voice gentler now. "I'm being realistic about capabilities and readiness."
"We've been training," Hannah protested. "We're not helpless."
"I know you're not helpless," Harry said. "You're all skilled witches. Talented. Dedicated. But fighting Death Eaters, especially Inner Circle members like Bellatrix and Greyback, isn't the same as training. It's not dueling in a controlled environment where the worst that happens is you get stunned and wake up five minutes later."
"So we're supposed to just sit here?" Susan stood up, her composure cracking. "While you go off and risk your life?"
"You're supposed to keep training," Harry said. "Keep getting better, keep preparing, so that when the time comes you'll actually be ready to stand beside me in real combat."
"And when will that time come?" Astoria asked quietly.
"When you can demonstrate you have the skills, the reflexes, and the mindset to survive what I'm about to walk into," Harry replied. "This isn't about whether you're capable. It's about whether you're ready."
"Harry's right," Amelia said, and everyone turned to stare at her in surprise. "I've seen combat. Real combat against trained killers who are trying their hardest to end your life. I've watched good Aurors, people with years of training and experience, freeze up or make mistakes that got them killed. It's not about being capable or surviving one battle. It's about having lived through it enough times that your body knows what to do even when your mind is screaming in terror."
She turned to the younger women. "None of you have that experience yet. You're all talented, all skilled, but you haven't been tested in real battle. And testing yourself for the first time against Bellatrix Lestrange or Fenrir Greyback is a good way to die very quickly."
Susan looked like she wanted to argue, but she couldn't find the words. Hannah's shoulders slumped in defeat. Daphne pressed her lips together in frustration.
"Next time," Susan said finally, her voice fierce. "Next time, we're coming with you. No arguments."
"Next time," Harry agreed, "if you're ready, I won't stop you. I promise."
"We'll be ready," Daphne said firmly. "You can count on that."
Harry nodded. "I know you will be."
"However," Amelia spoke up again, "not everyone here falls into that category."
All eyes turned to her.
"I'm coming with you," Amelia said simply. "I have the experience, the training, and frankly the authority to back up whatever action you decide to take. My home was attacked by Death Eaters, Harry. They tried to kill me and Susan and Hannah. You saved our lives that night, but that doesn't mean I'm content to sit back and let you handle everything."
"I'm coming too," Nym said, her voice rough with emotion. "Bellatrix killed my mum. She killed her own sister in cold blood, and now she's murdered Molly Weasley. I owe that bitch a debt written in blood, and I'm going to collect every drop."
The grief and rage in Nym's voice was palpable. Her hair had finally settled on a blood red that perfectly matched the fury in her eyes.
Harry stared at her for a long moment. He could see the pain there, the desperate need for vengeance.
"Alright," Harry said quietly. "Nym comes."
"What about me?" Fleur's voice was soft but steady.
Everyone turned to look at her. The French witch had been so still throughout the discussion that it was easy to forget she was there. But now she stood, her blue eyes meeting Harry's without flinching.
"I am capable, 'arry," Fleur said. "More zan capable. I 'ave fought before. I competed in ze Triwizard Tournament. I faced a dragon and dark magic and obstacles zat would 'ave defeated most adult wizards. And my veela 'eritage gives me advantages zat few ozers possess."
Harry considered her words. Fleur was older than Susan, Hannah, Daphne, and Astoria. More experienced. She'd proven herself in the Tournament, shown courage and skill beyond her years. And she was right about her veela abilities. In a fight, those could be a significant advantage.
"You follow my lead," Harry said finally. "Understood?"
Fleur inclined her head. "Understood."
"Harry," Daphne stepped forward again, her jaw set stubbornly. "Promise me you'll come back. Promise me you won't do anything stupid."
Harry pulled her into a tight embrace. "I promise. I'll come back to you."
He kissed her, then turned to embrace Susan as well. Both girls held on like they were afraid to let go.
"We'll be ready next time," Daphne said again. There was absolute conviction in her voice. "Next time there's a battle or a mission, we'll be prepared. We won't give you a reason to leave us behind."
"I know," Harry said softly. "And I'll hold you to that."
They pulled away and exchanged glances with each other before they all filed out of the room together. Harry could hear their voices as they headed toward the stairs, already discussing training regimens and spell combinations. They would push themselves harder than ever, he knew. They would make sure they were ready.
Chapter 42: The Forest of Dean
When they were gone, Harry turned to face the three women who would accompany him into battle. Nym looked like she was barely restraining herself from apparating away to hunt down Bellatrix immediately. Fleur's expression was calm but determined, her veela magic humming just beneath the surface. And Amelia stood like a pillar of strength, her years of experience evident.
"Are you ready?" Harry asked quietly.
"More than ready," Nym growled. "I want Bellatrix's head on a spike."
"We start with Greyback," Harry said. "He's the easier target, and taking him down will send a message. Then we go after Bellatrix."
"Do you know where to find Greyback?" Amelia asked.
Harry's smile was cold and predatory. "I know exactly where to find him. He has a den in the Forest of Dean, surrounded by his pack. He thinks he's safe there, protected by numbers and isolation that the place provides. He thinks it's his home terrain."
"And? Is it? Is he safe there?" Fleur asked.
"Not even close," Harry replied. "Not from what's coming for him."
Fleur shivered at the tone. It did something weird to her, something she didn't want to pay attention to at this time. It could wait.
She watched as he moved to the table and pulled out a large map of Britain, spreading it across the surface. His finger stabbed down on a location deep in the Forest of Dean.
"Here," he said. "This is where Greyback holes up between hunts. He's got maybe a dozen werewolves with him, all feral, all loyal to him because he's the strongest and meanest of the lot. They live like animals, hunt like animals, and they answer only to him."
"A dozen werewolves," Amelia murmured. "That's going to be difficult even with a dozen aurors in addition to us four."
"Not with the right approach, and there's no need to involve your aurors. Us four are enough," Harry said. "Werewolves are dangerous, but they're also predictable. They rely on their physical advantages. Speed, strength, regeneration, and enhanced senses. They don't do well when they come face to face with wizards who can match their raw power or who understand how they think."
"And you understand 'ow zey zink?" Fleur asked.
"I've learned more than enough," Harry replied. "Their habits, their weaknesses, even their pack dynamics. Greyback rules through intimidation and violence. His pack fears him more than they respect him. Take him down hard enough, fast enough, and the others will scatter."
"Making them scatter isn't what we're planning to do though," Amelia remarked, earning a firm nod from Harry.
"No, we aren't. We end them right then and there. No way we're letting them escape to hurt someone else."
"What about Bellatrix?" Nym asked, her voice tight. "After Greyback?"
"After Greyback, we rest and regroup," Harry said. "Then we track down Bellatrix. She'll be harder to find, more paranoid about security after news about Greyback reaches her. But I'll find her, Nym. I promise you that. And when I do…"
He didn't need to finish the sentence. The promise in his voice was clear enough.
"When do we leave?" Amelia asked.
Harry checked the grandfather clock in the corner. It was just past eleven in the morning. "We leave tonight. That gives us time to prepare, gather supplies, make sure we're all ready. We hit Greyback's den after dark when his pack is active but not yet hunting."
"Why not during the day when they're not in their element?" Fleur asked.
"Because I want them fully awake and in their element," Harry said simply. "I want Greyback to see what's coming for him. I want him to know exactly who's killing him and why. And I want to destroy every fight in them before allowing them to die."
The cold fury in Harry's voice made even Amelia shiver slightly. This wasn't the boy who'd competed in the Triwizard Tournament. This was something else entirely. Something harder and more dangerous. Her throat bobbled as she stared at him, her fists tight at her sides.
"Alright," she said after a while. "Tonight then. That gives me time to make arrangements at the Ministry, ensure I won't be missed."
"And me time to prepare some... surprises," Nym added, her hair finally settling on a determined midnight black. "If we're going after a pack of werewolves, I've got some tricks that might help."
"Good," Harry said. "Let's meet back here at sunset. We'll come prepared for a fight."
Amelia and Nym both nodded. They headed toward the floo together, Amelia placing a steadying hand on Nym's shoulder as they went. The younger Auror was still shaking slightly, her grief and rage barely contained beneath a thin veneer of control.
When they'd gone, Harry stood staring at the map. Fleur remained behind, studying him with those penetrating blue eyes.
"You are angry, which is understandable, but even then, you are very calm," she observed quietly. "Considering what we are about to do."
"I've learned to be calm before battle," Harry replied without looking up. "Rage has its place, but not in planning. Not when other people's lives depend on me keeping my head."
"We all saw your rage earlier," Fleur said. "When Amelia told you about Molly Weasley. Zat was not calm, 'arry."
Harry was silent for a moment, his jaw working. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with emotion.
"Molly was… she was good to me. Better than I deserved. She treated me like family when I had none, like a son when my own relatives made it clear I was nothing but a burden. She fed me and fussed over me and made me feel wanted for the first time in my life. Every Christmas she knitted me a sweater. Every summer she welcomed me into her home with open arms. She defended me when half the wizarding world thought I was a liar or an attention seeker."
He looked up, and Fleur could see the pain in his emerald eyes.
"She deserved better than to die at the hands of a mad woman like Bellatrix," Harry said softly. "She deserved to grow old with Arthur, to see her grandchildren, to live in peace. Instead she's dead because Voldemort's followers decided to send a message by attacking her family."
"Zen we will avenge 'er," Fleur said simply. "We will kill ze ones responsible, and we will make zem pay for what zey 'ave done."
She moved closer, close enough that Harry could feel the warmth of her presence and smell the subtle floral scent that always seemed to surround her. Her veela magic was carefully controlled, but he could still sense it there beneath the surface, responding to his own power in ways that made the air between them crackle with energy.
"Thank you," Harry said softly. "For being here. For helping with this. You didn't have to come to Britain at all, let alone agree to fight in our war."
"I told you before," Fleur said softly. "You are my friend, 'Arry. And I am 'ere for you in your time of need. Besides…"
She hesitated, something flickering in her eyes that Harry couldn't quite identify.
"Besides?" he prompted.
"Besides, I find zat I cannot stand by and do nozing when innocent people are suffering," Fleur finished. "It is not in my nature to be passive."
Harry smiled slightly. "No, I suppose it's not."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the map spread between them marking the location where violence would soon erupt. Finally, Fleur rose on her toes and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
"For luck," she murmured. "In ze coming battle."
She started to pull back, but then she hesitated. Harry could see the internal struggle playing across her features, the way her blue eyes searched his face as if looking for something. Her veela magic flared slightly, responding to whatever emotion was coursing through her.
Then, before either of them could think better of it, Fleur leaned in again and pressed her lips to his.
It was tentative at first, almost questioning. Harry froze for a heartbeat, surprised by the sudden escalation. He truly hadn't expected it. But then something inside him responded, something that had been building since she'd arrived in Britain, since he'd held her in his arms in the training room, since every conversation and every shared glance.
He kissed her back.
The tentative touch became something more. Fleur's hands came up to frame his face, her fingers threading into his hair. Harry's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, became hungry and desperate and charged with magic that made the air around them shimmer.
Fleur's veela nature sang with approval, her magic reaching out to intertwine with Harry's in ways that felt natural and right and completely overwhelming. She could feel his power responding to hers, could sense the strength and danger and raw potential that existed within him.
It was intoxicating. It was dangerous. And it was completely unlike anything she'd felt before.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard. Fleur's eyes were wide with shock at what she'd just done, her carefully maintained control shattered by impulse and emotion.
"I… I am sorry," she stammered, taking a step back. "I should not 'ave…"
Harry didn't let her finish. He closed the distance between them in a single step and captured her lips again, more forcefully this time. His hands tangled in her silvery blonde hair, holding her in place as he kissed her with an intensity that made her knees weak.
Fleur melted into him, all thoughts of propriety or caution evaporating under the onslaught. Her veela magic flared wildly, no longer controlled or leashed, responding to Harry's power with an enthusiasm that would have embarrassed her if she'd been capable of rational thought.
But rational thought had fled. There was only sensation. The taste of his lips, the strength of his arms around her, the feel of his body pressed against hers, and the way their magic intertwined and sparked between them like lightning. It was overwhelming and perfect and completely terrifying all at once.
When they finally broke apart again, both were flushed and breathing heavily. Fleur stared up at Harry with wide eyes, her usual composure completely shattered.
"'Arry," she whispered. "What… what are we doing?"
"I don't know," Harry admitted, his voice rough. "But I'm not sorry it happened."
"I should be," Fleur said. "I should be sorry. Zis complicates everyzing. You 'ave ozers already. Daphne and Susan and 'annah and Tracey and…"
"I know," Harry said quietly. "And if this bothers you, if you want to pretend it never happened, I'll understand."
Fleur was quiet for a long moment, her blue eyes searching his face. Her veela magic was still humming contentedly, more settled than it had ever been around anyone else. Her heart was racing, her thoughts a jumbled mess of desire and confusion and a much deeper feeling that she wasn't quite ready to name.
"I do not want to pretend it never 'appened," she said finally. "But I also do not know what it means. What we are to each ozzer."
"Neither do I," Harry admitted. "But maybe we don't need to figure that out right now. Maybe we can just… see where this goes."
"And ze ozers? Your lovers? What will zey zink?"
Harry smiled slightly. "They'll probably be less surprised than you'd think. They've seen the way you look at me, Fleur. The way your magic responds to mine. They're not blind."
Fleur flushed at the knowing look he was giving her. "Is it zat obvious?"
"To people who know what to look for, yes," Harry said with a chuckle. "But that doesn't mean we need to rush into anything. We have time to figure out what this is between us."
"After we kill Greyback and Bellatrix," Fleur said.
"After we kill Greyback and Bellatrix," Harry agreed.
They stood close together for another moment, neither quite willing to step away. Finally, Fleur took a deep breath and forced herself to put some distance between them.
"I should go," she said, stepping away from him. "Prepare for tonight. Make sure I am ready."
Harry nodded, allowing her to take a few steps back.
"Fleur," he called as she turned toward the door.
She looked back, and the vulnerability in her expression made his chest tighten.
"Be careful tonight," he said. "Stay close to me. Don't take unnecessary risks."
"Ze same could be said to you," Fleur replied with a small smile.
"I'm always careful."
"You are many zings, 'arry Potter," Fleur said. "But careful is not one of zem."
She left before he could respond, but Harry could see the smile tugging at her lips as she went. He stood alone in the sitting room, surrounded by maps and plans and the lingering scent of flowers and the unique veela magic.
His fingers touched his lips, still tingling from their kisses. Whatever had just happened between him and Fleur, it was significant. Important. Something that would need to be addressed properly once they survived the night to come.
But first, they had werewolves to hunt.
'Oh, who are you fooling with those thoughts, huh? You know exactly what it all means,' the voice of Maria interjected with amusement.
Harry merely rolled his eyes.
XXXXX
The hours passed slowly. Harry spent them preparing, checking and rechecking his equipment, reviewing his plans, and making sure everything was in order. He reinforced the wards around Grimmauld Place, ensuring his girls would be safe while he was gone.
Susan found him in the library around mid-afternoon, her breaths coming in soft pants from all the exertion in the dueling chamber of the townhouse but her expression determined.
"Are you really ready to do this?" she asked softly.
"Yes," Harry said simply.
"Then promise me something," Susan said, gently resting her hand on his chest, right over his beating heart. "Promise me you'll come back just like this. That you won't do anything stupid or reckless or self-sacrificing."
Harry pulled her into his arms, holding her close. "I promise. I have too much to live for to throw my life away stupidly."
"Good," Susan said fiercely. "Because if you die out there, we'll all find a way to bring you back just so we can kill you ourselves."
Harry let out a small laugh despite the tension. "Duly noted."
They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other. Eventually Hannah joined them, followed by Daphne and Astoria. All three of them looked utterly spent, which was understandable considering they'd been at it for hours in the basement.
The five of them sat together in comfortable silence, drawing strength from each other's presence.
When sunset finally came, Harry stood and gently disentangled himself from the pile of witches.
"Time to go," he said quietly.
They walked him to the sitting room where Amelia, Nym, and Fleur were already waiting. All three women were dressed for battle in dark, practical clothing with their wands holstered but easily accessible. Nym had her hair pulled back in a severe bun, her face set in grim determination. Amelia stood with the calm confidence of a veteran Auror preparing for combat. And Fleur looked like a warrior goddess, beautiful and deadly in equal measure.
"Everyone ready?" Harry asked.
Three nods answered him.
"Then let's go hunting," Harry said.
He took one last look at Daphne, Susan, Hannah, and Astoria. They stood together near the fireplace, watching him with expressions mixed with fear and pride and absolute faith.
"We'll be back before morning," Harry promised.
Then he turned and led his small strike team toward the door. They had werewolves to kill and a message to send.
The Death Eaters had declared war on innocents. They'd murdered Molly Weasley and turned Bill into a monster and terrorized the magical world for too long.
Tonight, the war was coming for them.
And Harry Potter was bringing it with both hands.
XXXXX
The Forest of Dean was darker than Harry had expected.
They'd apparated to the edge of the woodland, where ancient oaks stretched their gnarled branches toward a sky already bleeding into twilight. The air smelled of damp earth and rotting leaves, and somewhere in the distance an owl hooted its mournful call.
Harry stood perfectly still, his senses extending outward. He could feel the forest around him, alive with magic both natural and unnatural. Werewolf magic had a particular signature, he'd learned. Primal and aggressive, it left marks on the environment like claw scratches on stone.
"How far?" Amelia asked quietly beside him.
"Three miles northeast," Harry replied. "Deep enough that muggles never wander close. Isolated enough that Greyback can operate without interference."
"And you're sure he'll be there?" Fleur asked.
Harry's smile was cold as he replied, "He's always there this time of night. Holding court with his pack, planning their next hunt. He's predictable that way."
Nym shifted beside them, her wand already in hand. Her hair had darkened to pure black, matching the fury barely contained beneath her skin. "Then let's not keep the bastard waiting."
They moved through the forest in silence, Harry leading with Amelia close behind. Fleur followed with inhuman grace, her veela senses alert for any threat. Nym brought up the rear, her Auror training evident in the way she constantly checked their flanks.
The forest grew denser as they penetrated deeper. Undergrowth clawed at their robes. Low hanging branches forced them to duck and weave. The light faded quickly beneath the thick canopy, reducing their world to shadows and uncertain shapes.
Harry navigated through it all with confidence. He'd studied maps of all the important areas for weeks, and he had memorized every landmark and pathway. More importantly, he could feel Greyback's presence ahead like a festering wound on the fabric of reality.
"Stop," he whispered suddenly.
The three women froze. Harry tilted his head, listening to something only he could hear. Then he pointed to their left where a barely visible trail wound between two massive oaks.
"Patrol route," he said softly. "Two werewolves, circling the den's perimeter. They'll pass by in approximately thirty seconds."
"How do you know?" Amelia asked.
Harry tapped his temple. "I can feel their magic. It's crude, animalistic. They're not trying to hide their presence because they think they're safe here."
True to his word, less than half a minute later two shapes emerged from the darkness. They moved on all fours despite being in human form, their movements disturbing and wrong. Yellow eyes gleamed in the dim light as they sniffed the air.
Harry's wand moved in a precise arc. No incantation, no visible spell. The werewolf on the left simply crumpled mid-step, his body seizing as his nervous system shut down completely. The second werewolf spun toward his fallen companion, confusion evident on his bestial features.
Fleur's spell caught him before he could raise the alarm. Silver fire erupted around the werewolf, burning through his enhanced regeneration with savage efficiency. He opened his mouth to scream but Nym's follow-up silencing hex robbed him of sound. The werewolf collapsed, still thrashing weakly as the flames consumed him from within.
"Move," Harry ordered.
They stepped over the bodies without pause. There was no room for hesitation now, no space for doubt or mercy. They'd come here to end Greyback's pack, and every werewolf they encountered was another monster who wouldn't prey on innocent people.
The forest seemed to grow quieter as they advanced. Birds had fled. Small animals had gone to ground. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, as if the woodland itself sensed the violence about to erupt.
"There," Harry pointed ahead to where a faint orange glow flickered between the trees. "That's their den."
They crept forward until they could see the clearing properly. It was larger than Harry had expected, perhaps fifty feet across. A massive bonfire burned in the center, casting dancing shadows across the assembled werewolves lounging around it.
Harry counted quickly. Fourteen total, including Greyback himself. The alpha werewolf sat on what looked like a throne cobbled together from logs and bones, his massive frame dwarfing those around him. His face was more wolf than human even in this form, with elongated features and yellow eyes that glowed in the firelight.
"Bigger pack than we thought," Amelia murmured.
"Doesn't matter," Harry replied. "The plan remains the same."
Fleur studied the clearing with calculating eyes. "Zey are relaxed. Confident. Zey do not expect an attack."
"Why would they?" Nym said bitterly. "Nobody's ever had the balls to come after them before. The Ministry's too scared. The Order's too busy with other things. Greyback's been operating with impunity for years."
Amelia nodded bitterly. She truly couldn't refute those words.
"Well, all of that ends tonight," Harry said simply.
He began mapping out the battlefield in his mind. The bonfire would be both advantage and disadvantage. It provided light to see by but also obscured vision with smoke and dancing shadows. The trees at the clearing's edge would provide cover but also restrict movement. They'd need to hit hard and fast, give the werewolves no time to organize or use their numbers effectively.
"Amelia, you take the left flank," Harry said quietly. "Spread out and hit them from the side. Focus on the ones trying to escape or flank us. Nym, you've got the right. Same strategy. Fleur, you're with me. We're going straight through the center for Greyback himself."
"Divide their attention," Amelia said with approval. "Classic pincer movement."
"The moment we engage, they'll go feral," Harry warned. "Full animal instincts. They'll be fast, vicious, and they won't stop coming until they're dead or we are."
"Good," Nym said, her voice cold. "I'm in the mood for vicious."
Harry looked at each woman in turn. Amelia stood calm and ready, decades of Auror experience evident in her posture. Nym practically vibrated with controlled fury, her wand hand steady despite the rage in her eyes. And Fleur met his gaze with determination, her veela magic humming just beneath the surface.
"No holding back," Harry said. "No stunning spells or attempts to capture. We came here to send a message. Every werewolf in that clearing is a killer who's chosen to prey on innocent people. We end them all."
"Understood," Amelia said.
"With pleasure," Nym added.
"Zey will regret ever touching innocent people," Fleur said softly.
Harry nodded once. Then he raised his wand and the hunt began.
His first spell was a masterwork of precision and power. The cutting curse slashed through the air faster than sound, crossing the clearing in a fraction of a second. It struck the werewolf closest to Greyback, opening his throat and tearing through arteries in a spray of blood.
The werewolf's eyes went wide with shock. He clutched at his ruined throat, trying desperately to stem the flow, but Harry's curse had been too precise. Enhanced healing meant nothing when your windpipe was completely severed. He toppled forward into the fire, dead before he hit the flames.
For a heartbeat, the clearing was utterly silent.
Then chaos erupted.
Greyback roared, a sound more animal than human that echoed through the forest. The other werewolves leapt to their feet, already transforming further, their bodies rippling as they embraced their curse fully.
"Now!" Harry shouted.
Amelia came from the left with devastating efficiency. Her first spell was a bone-breaking hex that caught a charging werewolf mid-leap, shattering both his legs and sending him crashing to the ground. Her second was a piercing curse that punched through another werewolf's chest, leaving a fist-sized hole where his heart had been.
Nym attacked from the right with fury that bordered on madness. Silver chains erupted from her wand, wrapping around one werewolf and burning through his flesh like acid. Another lunged at her and she blasted him backward with a concussive hex that sent him flying into a tree hard enough to crack the trunk.
Harry and Fleur charged straight through the center.
A werewolf threw himself at Harry, claws extended and jaws open wide. Harry's shield spell caught him mid-air, and his follow-up curse turned the shield into razor-sharp fragments that tore through the werewolf like a meat grinder. Blood and viscera sprayed across the clearing as the creature crumpled into a heap of gore.
Fleur moved like a dancer, her movements fluid and graceful despite the violence. Her veela fire consumed one werewolf entirely, reducing him to ash in seconds. Another tried to tackle her from behind but she sensed him coming, spinning and unleashing a cutting curse that separated his head from his shoulders.
"Hold formation!" Harry called out.
They were outnumbered but not outmatched. The werewolves had numbers and ferocity, but Harry's team had training, power, and most importantly, a plan. Every spell they cast was lethal. Every movement was calculated. There would be no prisoners, no survivors. Their primal nature wouldn't allow them to flee either. This ended tonight.
Greyback finally moved.
The alpha werewolf launched himself across the clearing with terrifying speed. He ignored the battle raging around him, his yellow eyes fixed solely on Harry. Saliva dripped from his elongated jaws as he closed the distance in three powerful bounds.
Harry met him head on.
His piercing curse struck Greyback center mass, a spell powerful enough to punch through stone. It tore into the werewolf's chest, opening a wound that would have killed any normal creature instantly. But Greyback just snarled, his enhanced healing already knitting the damage closed even as he continued his charge.
"Stubborn bastard," Harry muttered.
He dove to the side as Greyback's claws slashed through the space where he'd been standing. The werewolf's momentum carried him past, but he recovered with inhuman agility, spinning and lunging again without pause.
This time Harry was ready. His shield spell caught Greyback's claws, and Harry poured power into it, turning the defensive magic into an offensive weapon. The shield exploded outward in a wave of force that sent Greyback tumbling backward.
Before the werewolf could recover, Fleur's silver fire washed over him. Greyback howled in pain and fury, his body smoking where the veela flames touched bare skin. He rolled frantically, trying to extinguish the magical fire, but it clung to him like napalm.
"Together!" Harry shouted to Fleur.
They attacked in tandem, their spells weaving together in a deadly dance. Harry's cutting curses forced Greyback to dodge and weave. Fleur's fire hemmed him in, restricting his movements. Between them, they slowly backed the alpha werewolf toward the bonfire.
Around them, the battle raged.
Amelia fought with cold precision, each spell perfectly placed and devastatingly effective. A bone-shattering hex crippled one werewolf. A blood-boiling curse dropped another. She moved through the chaos like death personified, her years of experience showing in every calculated move.
Nym fought with barely controlled rage, her spells wild and vicious but no less effective. She conjured silver spikes that impaled one werewolf through both legs, pinning him to the ground. Another tried to blindside her but she sensed him coming, spinning and unleashing a spell that literally tore him apart from the inside out.
Things were going swimmingly for them, but the werewolves were adapting as well.
Three of them broke away from the main fight and circled toward Amelia, moving with pack tactics. They split up, coming at her from three different angles simultaneously, forcing her to divide her attention.
Amelia saw them coming. She erected a circular shield and fired through it, her spells precise and deadly. One werewolf went down with a piercing curse through his eye. Another stumbled as a cutting hex opened his thigh to the bone.
But the third got through.
He came low, using his packmate's body as cover. By the time Amelia realized the danger it was too late. The werewolf's claws were already slashing toward her unprotected side, close enough that she could smell his rancid breath.
Her eyes widened, her heartbeat shooting rapidly as she realized she was going to meet her end. Her wand came up on instinct, but suddenly, Harry was there.
He'd crossed half the clearing in an instant, abandoning his fight with Greyback to intercept the attack. His shield caught the werewolf's claws bare inches from Amelia's ribs. The force of the impact drove Harry backward, his boots tearing furrows in the soft earth.
"Behind you!" Harry shouted.
Amelia's eyes widened. Even with adrenaline surging through her system, she could realize that she would've died right then and there if not for Harry's intervention. His shout made her spin around and her piercing hex caught the werewolf who'd been creeping up on her other side.
Alas, she was a second too late, and that second cost her. The dying werewolf had come too close, and his momentum carried him forward, his claws raking across her arm before he collapsed.
Blood welled from the wound, and Amelia bit back a cry of pain, but her wand hand remained steady. She fired a bone-breaking hex that shattered the second werewolf's spine, ensuring he wouldn't rise again.
She blinked blearily as she felt her legs shake. Her vision began darkening around the edges and her wand arm began to tremble. She let out a pained hiss, a shudder coursing through her.
'It's just a scratch,' she thought. Her legs shook again, and she felt them give out. Gravity carried her down and Amelia hit something solid. It wasn't the ground though, and she realized she was being held up by a strong pair of arms.
As she blearily looked up, she found herself staring into the familiar emerald orbs of the wizard who had saved her life.