Bird, Wolf, Dog, Bird
Chapter 19: Bird, Wolf, Dog, Bird
The Slytherins went to dinner with everyone else, but did not return to the dungeons afterward. Draco had worked up enough courage to bring the pocket watch with them, just in case they missed either the lightning storm or the execution—although he seemed to be the only one concerned with the latter. They skulked in an empty chamber off the entrance hall, listening, until they were sure it was deserted. They heard a group of people hurrying across the hall and Draco poked his head out to make sure the coast was clear. It wasn’t. Granger was poking her head around a door across from them and Draco quickly leaned back into where they were hidden.
“Okay,” he whispered, “no one there — just Granger and the meddlesome morons —”
“Draco—“ Blaise said sternly, “—we can’t go if they’re going! They’ll rat us out!”
“They’re going to Hagrid’s Hut, I can guarantee it,” Draco rolled his eyes. “Bleeding hearts,” he scoffed.
Draco peeked around the corner once again and he saw the three bodies disappearing under an Invisibility Cloak. Definitely not fair. He waited until the door to the Entrance Hall closed behind the invisible trio, and then motioned for the Slytherins to proceed.
“Can’t you be any quieter?” Blaise whispered at Theo who was clinking from the phials rattling together with each step.
“Not really, mate!“ Theo growled back in irritation.
Walking very close together so that nobody would see them—and if they did, they wouldn’t be able to recognize who was who—they crossed the grounds quickly. The sun was already sinking behind the Forbidden Forest, gilding the top branches of the trees. Draco paused for a moment. He could’ve sworn he heard footsteps and whispers coming from behind him. Turning, he saw nothing, and the wind whistled past. Just the wind I guess. He tried to shrug off the paranoia, but it was difficult, feeling like someone was watching them.
They reached the walk to Hagrid’s cabin and waited as they heard the Gryffindors knock. Hagrid was a minute in answering, and when he did, he looked all around for his visitors, pale-faced and trembling.
They must’ve been talking to him from under the cloak because the half-giant stood back, and then shut the door quickly.
The three Slytherins hurried down the rest of the way and waited behind the oversized pumpkins growing in Hagrid’s garden.
They could faintly hear the conversation going on inside the hut, but it didn’t particularly interest Draco. What did hold his attention was the massive Hippogriff laying nearly twelve feet away from them, with its head resting on its claws in apparent melancholy.
Draco frantically elbowed Blaise and Theo to silently get their attention and pointed to where the beast was settled. Without a word, they quietly crept back toward the tree line of the forest and tucked themselves into the brush. Without warning, they heard the sound of something shattering, putting the trio of Slytherins on high alert. A moment or two later, Granger shrieked, and Draco’s hair was standing on end. Something didn’t feel right, but he wasn’t sure what…
Draco felt a pair of eyes on them before he could see the lurking creature, but it was only Sirius in his animagus form hunching low near them, followed by the bristly shoebrush of a cat close behind. The three boys released a breath, the relief and comfort from having their usual companions with them was immediate.
All eyes focused on the hut as the back door opened, letting out a single stream of light. Draco pulled them further into the trees, as Potter and company came toward them, only distinguishable by a foot sticking out every few steps and the squelching of the slightly wet grass as they moved. When they must’ve been right in front of the Slytherins, there was a riotous squeaking coming from under the cloak—as if a mouse were trapped there.
Sirius hackled at the sound, but froze, head whipping to the path. A group of men were walking down the distant castle steps. In front was Albus Dumbledore, his silver beard gleaming in the dying sun. Next to him trotted a stout Cornelius Fudge and behind them came a feeble old Committee member and the executioner, Macnair.
Dumbledore gently knocked on the door of the hut, and the Gryffindors shuffled uneasily under their cloak. The front door closed with a sharp snap.
“Please, let’s hurry,” Granger whispered emotionally. “I can’t stand it, I can’t bear it...”
They moved up the sloping lawn toward the castle. The sun was sinking fast now, and the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged gray, but to the west there was a ruby-red glow. With the speed they had started running at, all three pairs of feet and ankles were visible—apparently detached from bodies and moving of their own accord. Draco rolled his eyes at the idiocy.
“How do they get away with literally everything?! They’re horrible at sneaking around!” He said exasperated.
SNAP! A crackle of twigs crunching underfoot caught their attention, and Draco spotted the newcomer immediately. It was two unmistakeable heads of hair—wild, untamable brown curls and mussed black hair poking out in all directions. He looked up the hill, but the feet were still visible, moving away from the hut.
The second Potter was vaulting over the fence and into the pumpkin patch. “It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures that the Hippogriff Buckbeak, hereafter called the condemned, shall he executed on the sixth of June at sundown—” Fudge was saying inside.
Potter bowed, and that ridiculous beast, Buckbeak, sank to his scaly knees and then stood up again. Potter began to fumble with the knot of rope tying the Hippogriff to the fence.
“... sentenced to execution by beheading, to be carried out by the Committee’s appointed executioner, Walden Macnair...”
Potter was urging the monster into the forest, not far from where they were hidden, and Draco could see Granger trying to lure it away with the temptation of dead ferrets Hagrid had left for him.
“... as witnessed below. Hagrid, you sign here...”
Potter was throwing all his weight onto the rope, but the Hippogriff had dug in his front feet. Even the beast knows he deserves his punishment! Draco smirked at Potter’s feeble attempt. There was no way he would get the thing out in time with Fudge and the Committee about to go looking for it any second.
“Well, let’s get this over with,” said the reedy voice of the Committee member from inside Hagrid’s cabin. “Hagrid, perhaps it will be better if you stay inside —”
“No, I — I wan’ ter be with him... I don’ wan’ him ter be alone —” Footsteps echoed from within the cabin.
“Buckbeak, move!” Potter hissed, tugging harder on the rope around its neck. The Hippogriff began to walk, rustling its wings irritably. They were still ten feet away from the forest, in plain view of Hagrid’s back door.
Yes. Come on. Open the door! Dammit!
“One moment, please, Macnair,” came Dumbledore’s voice. “You need to sign too.” The footsteps stopped. Potter heaved on the rope. Buckbeak snapped his beak and walked a little faster.
Granger’s pale white face was sticking out from behind a tree. “Harry, hurry!” she mouthed.
Draco looked up the hill. One of the male pairs of feet stopped, the squeaking getting increasingly louder. They heard a door open behind them and then voices—the men were coming over to perform the execution.
“What in the actual fuck is going on right now?” Theo asked as he watched the events unfold in front of him, looking up the hill and back at both sets of Gryffindors.
“Granger has a time turner too,” was Draco’s only response. Blaise and Theo shared a knowing look, and tried not to focus on that aspect.
They could still hear Dumbledore’s voice talking from within the cabin, and Potter gave the rope another wrench. Buckbeak broke into a grudging trot. They had reached the trees.
Fuck.
The feet started to move in tandem again, before being stopped abruptly yet again. Draco was distracted by the Gryffindors, not quite able to catch all of what was being said behind him.
“Where is it?” said the reedy voice of the Committee member.
“Where is the beast?” “It was tied here!” said the executioner furiously. “I saw it! Just here!”
“How extraordinary,” said Dumbledore, completely unphased and with no surprise at all. There was even a note of amusement in his voice.
“Beaky!” said Hagrid huskily.
There was a swishing noise, and the thud of an axe. Macnair had swung it into the fence in anger. And then came the howling, and this time they could hear the half-giant’s words through his sobs.
“Gone! Gone! Bless his little beak, he’s gone! Musta pulled himself free! Beaky, yeh clever boy!”
“Someone untied him!” the executioner was snarling. “We should search the grounds, the forest.”
“Macnair, if Buckbeak has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot?” said Dumbledore, still sounding amused. “Search the skies, if you will... Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy.”
“O’ — o’ course, Professor,” said Hagrid, who sounded weak with happiness. “Come in, come in...”
They heard footsteps, the soft cursing of the executioner, the snap of the door, and then silence once more. The very last rays of the setting sun were casting a bloody light over the long-shadowed grounds.
“I can’t believe this!” Draco was growling—actually, it was Sirius who was growling. The pitch black shadow of a canine was lowered in a prowling manner and padding determinedly toward the Gryffindors—the ones under the cloak, with the cat a good few paces ahead of him.
The feet had now set off back toward the castle, walking slowly to keep themselves hidden under the cloak, or so they assumed since their feet disappeared as well after a few steps. The light was fading fast overhead now.
Darkness was settling like a spell around them, and the Slytherins kept their eyes to the sky, looking for any flashes of light. Draco was whispering adamantly to himself, “this has to work…this has to work…” One objective was already ruined, and he wouldn’t let another slip through his fingers.
A sharp growl pierced the still air, and their three heads whipped back to where they could faintly see Sirius bounding toward a completely visible Weasley, wrestling on the ground with the cat over something small. The black dog made an enormous leap and the front paws hit the newly exposed Potter on the chest—he keeled over backward in a whirl of hair.
The force of its leap had carried it too far, and Sirius rolled off him. Draco was even more confused—wasn’t Potter his best friend’s son? Why would he attack him? Sirius growled as he skidded around for a new attack.
“What the fuck is he doing?!” Theo asked, horrified by the obscene action of his new mentor and father-figure.
Weasley was on his feet, now, and the Slytherins tried to inch closer without drawing any attention to themselves. As the dog sprang back toward the Gryffindors, Weasley pushed Potter aside and Sirius’s jaws fastened instead around the redhead’s outstretched arm. Potter lunged forward, seizing a handful of the dog’s hair, but Sirius was dragging the Weasel away as easily as though he were a rag doll —
Draco froze, even holding his breath. They had crept too close, and he suddenly realized where they were. Slowly, he grabbed hold of Blaise and Theo, dragging them back ever so slightly. Wooden branches began swiping and swinging before them. They were just out of range, but the Whomping Willow still viewed them as targets, attempting to whip them away.
Potter, who was not so lucky, for once, was hit so hard across the face he was knocked off his feet again—glasses dangling from his nose precariously. Draco heard Granger shriek with pain and fall too. His heart was racing, the blood rushing through his ears drowned out all other sounds. He was hyper focused on the witch in front of him, and he was assessing the scene before him.
Finally getting some sense to him, Potter groped for his wand, casting a Lumos. The wandlight showed them the trunk of the thick tree, and its branches were creaking as though in a high wind, whipping backward and forward to stop them going nearer.
And there, at the base of the trunk, was Sirius, dragging the Weasel backward into a large gap in the roots — to his credit, Weasley was fighting furiously, but his head and torso were slipping out of sight —
“Ron!” Potter shouted, trying to follow, but a heavy branch whipped lethally through the air and he was forced backward again.
All they could see now was one of the redhead’s legs, which he had hooked around a root in an effort to stop the dog from pulling him farther underground — but a horrible crack cut the air like a gunshot. His leg had snapped, and a moment later, his foot vanished from sight. Draco, Blaise, and Theo all cringed at the sound.
“Harry — we’ve got to go for help —” Granger was gasping as she was bleeding too from the Willow cutting her across the shoulder, looking like she’d been whipped.
Granger and Potter were arguing, all the while still standing close enough for the Whomping Willow to attack and do some damage. Draco spotted the cat nearby, watching with its head cocked to the side as if assessing the intelligence of the two Gryffindors before it.
“Hey! Cat!” Draco whispered, and the cat looked him up and down. It gave him the feeling he too was being judged, but appeared to win its approval when it took a step toward him.
“Do you know how to help her? Please?!” He pleaded with the feline. Surely if it spent so much time with Sirius, it would also know about the tree like he did…
“Oh, help, help,” Granger said frantically, dancing uncertainly on the spot, “Please...”
The cat darted forward out of the shadows the Slytherins were crouching in. He slithered between the battering branches like a snake and placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk. Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving. Not a leaf twitched or shook.
“Crookshanks!” Granger questioned uncertainly. She now grasped Potter’s arm painfully hard. “How did he know —?”
“He’s friends with that dog,” said Potter grimly. “I’ve seen them together. Come on — and keep your wand out —”
“Crookshanks?” Draco muttered aloud, piecing it together…the cat Granger always wrote about in their messages…oh shit! “The cat is Granger’s familiar!”
“Wait, what?” Blaise did a double-take.
Before they could discuss, Potter was crawling into the opening, headfirst, with Granger slithering in behind him.
“I am not going in there,” Theo said, backing away from the tree even further.
“Where d’you think it even goes?” Blaise asked cautiously as he too put more distance between them and the Whomping Willow; he didn’t want to go ‘down the rabbit hole’ so to speak either.
Soft footsteps coming from behind, alerted the trio to a new presence. “You shouldn’t be here.” Professor Lupin said hoarsely. He didn’t look good at all—even Sirius had looked better than him the last time they saw him in human form.
“Professor—?” Theo said, concerned. The man didn’t seem himself, even his voice sounded wrong.
Lupin’s eyes sharpened as they scrutinized Theo. He took a step closer, breathing deeply. “You—“
“Me?!” Theo shrieked in a fresh panic, trying to step back, but the Professor only got closer. He stalked into Theo’s personal space like a predator, and Theo shrunk back. “I didn’t do anything! I swear!”
“You have her scent—“ Lupin growled, “where is she?” His eyes were shifting between green and gold, and his gaze scanning the terrain around them.
“Scent—who?” Theo choked out through his fear.
“Accalia!” He snapped at the cowering boy. “Where is she?! She’s been gone for years and now you show up here with her scent all over you!” Lupin demanded, his nostrils flaring.
“M-my mother?” Theo whispered in disbelief. “I—you can smell my mother?”
“Mother?” Lupin’s eyes flashed back to green, the gold fading back into flecks—two sides of the man before them warring internally, fighting for control.
“Narcissa said you were friends with my mother,” Theo said warily, “I’m sorry to inform you that she’s gone,” he averted his gaze.
Professor Lupin sighed heavily, looking exhausted, when he finally spoke, his voice was laced with deep sadness. “I’m very sad to hear that, Mr. Nott, she was a wonderful caretaker and friend.”
“Th-thank you, Professor,” Theo stuttered out, trying not to show any emotion, but his eyes brimmed with unfallen tears. He cleared his throat and blinked the excess water in his eyes away, saving face.
“I really must go now, but you shouldn’t be here. It isn’t safe,” Lupin reiterated, scanning the grounds around them once more—clearly able to see further into the darkness.
The boys nodded and moved further away from the Whomping Willow. “Professor—“ Draco called, realizing what the man meant about it not being safe, turned back to say, “Sirius is a good man. I don’t know what’s going on tonight, but I know he isn’t who he’s accused of being.”
Lupin froze, eyeing Draco suspiciously, debating on whether it was worth the loss of time to delay his mission any longer, before turning away without another word. The tree was still frozen like marble, and he lit his wand with a Lumos, turning halfway inside the opening to push the notch again, giving the tree its movement back.
“C’mon, we need to find another spot out of the open,” Blaise tugged on Theo and Draco’s arms, leading them back toward the edge of the forest.
…
After about twenty minutes of wandering with Draco leading the way through the forest, they successfully avoided the time traveling Potter and Granger, ending up in the clearing from Draco’s travel to see his and Theo’s mothers.
“So this is it?” Theo asked incredulously.
“It is,” Draco answered softly, looking around at the oddly familiar place. He wasn’t entirely sure how he found it again, but it felt like the right place. The field was overgrown with wildflowers blooming in the summer heat, and the moon was rising overhead.
They each held out a hand, and Theo levitated the crystal phials to each owner, not daring to touch them or even look. The phials had been hidden in three different locations to keep them straight and separated, just in case. Then, when Theo retrieved the phials that afternoon, he didn’t look for them, he used the summoning charm he’d read about and quickly deposited each one in a different pocket of his robes to be able to tell them apart. It was quite tedious, but he was hopeful the attention to detail would pay off.
The three boys looked to the sky, seeing nothing but pitch black against the bright moon. The tension grew with each passing second that they were enveloped in the darkness. The sounds of the forest faded into the background, and even the light reflecting from the moon wasn’t enough to give them hope.
“Maybe…Sirius was wrong—“ Blaise said in a tone of disappointment.
“No. Trelawney said—“ Draco interrupted, but stopped short of a flash through the sky. Lightning crackled overhead, weaving a web like a spider, beautiful and deadly all the same.
“Now!” All three boys said, their spirits revived again.
The crystal phials sparkled under the flashing light overhead, catching the colors of the flowers around them as they seemed to glow. They contained a single swallow of blood red liquid that sloshed as they each lifted the phial as they tapped their wands against their hearts, chanting, “Amato Animo Animato Animagus.” They all locked eyes, as if to say “bottoms up” and threw the potion back down their throats.
Pain. Intense pain, as if all his bones were breaking and his skin was tearing apart. Unsurprisingly, a new heartbeat that he had only faintly felt during meditation grew stronger. It fluttered in his chest, like humming, so quick and so strong. His eyes rolled back in his head, and Draco felt pinpricks over every inch of his skin, his toes elongating and narrowing, his nails growing much too fast. His arms stretched far to his sides and his shoulders rearranged with snaps and cracks. He called out in pain as an image of his animal counterpart took shape in his mind.
Scarlet and golden feathers erupted from the goose flesh over his entire body. When his eyes opened, they were still his usual silver and he opened his mouth to shout “I better not be a fucking peacock!” But he found only the snapping of a black, hooked beak. A long feathered tail stretched out behind him, and he took turns lifting his feet, getting his balance. His claws dug into the soft earth beneath him, and he had never felt so connected to everything around him. Every shift in the air ruffled against his feathers, and Draco launched upwards, letting his intuition lead him.
His arms spread wide, and he couldn’t help but bask in the glow of the moonlight on his wings. Wings! I have wings! Draco looked to each side, and it finally set in…a phoenix! He swooped a few times, feeling as practiced as he would on a broom, but with even more control. He was actually flying!
He skidded to a halt as he touched down, kicking up a few tufts of grass and flowers, but altogether unharmed and thoroughly exhilarated. A howl to his right caught his attention—Theo, he was sure of it. A warm chestnut colored wolf, his eyes golden, and overall much larger than a regular wolf, almost identical to Accalia. Beautiful.
A crass caw from above sounded as a flapping of shorter wings dropped a large raven to the back of the wolf. The raven looked at the phoenix, cocking its head to the side before cawing a few times more. Draco tried to clear his mind, focusing on the details of his human face…pointed chin and cheekbones…white blonde hair…molten silver eyes…pale skin…ever-growing gangly limbs…
Draco opened his eyes to see his hands—human hands! He excitedly raised his head to find Blaise and Theo doing the same.
“We did it,” he breathed with a genuine smile. “We did it!”
…
The three newly transformed animagi practiced shifting in and out of their forms, until they were near exhaustion. The wolf, phoenix, and raven settled onto the bed of wildflowers, resting and regaining their strength. It was so…magical, for lack of a better word, to be able to fly whenever he felt like it. Theo felt the same as he ran under the two birds through the forest. It was freeing.
The moon was high now, and Draco was nearly asleep when Theo let out a loud howl. Merlin, give a guy some warning before you bloody blow his eardrums out, yeah?
Another howl sounded, but from out in the distance. Theo stiffened underneath the other two Animagi, his ears perking and twitching—listening for any more sounds. The fur beneath Draco’s talons was standing on end. Without a sound, the bronze colored wolf was moving—racing through the trees. Almost seamlessly, Draco and Blaise followed above in a flurry of feathers, gold, scarlet, and black blending together between the trees.
Theo’s gait slowed to a trot, and the phoenix above him glided slowly, only flapping his wings to catch the next pocket of air. A growl of sorts came from not far ahead and there was a whimpering and whining. The wolf sniffed the air and, catching a scent, darted through the trees.
Then he felt it. A bone chilling cold, like ice melting into his veins. And there were the Dementors. They were emerging out of the darkness from every direction, gliding around the edges of the lake...
Draco hadn’t realized how far they’d traveled—their wands and robes were tucked much farther into the forest behind them. Their Animagus forms would have to do in a pinch…not that any of them could summon a Patronus anyway.
Potter was there—and Granger—standing on one end of the lake, and Sirius was so far away. The Dementors swooped overhead, moving away from where Potter stood, to the opposite bank. Draco had no idea what to do. A wolf and two birds were no match for an entire fleet of soul-sucking Dementors.
Much to his surprise, a second Potter appeared on the bank near Sirius's whimpering canine form slowly pulled back into man. The effort it took to shift back must’ve been too much and he was nearly unconscious. Every Dementor took a turn swooping down to pull another happy memory from the man who had so few left.
The second Potter was running to the edge of the bank—for what, Draco had no idea, it wasn’t as if he could fly across the lake…but Draco could. On the opposite bank, he could see tiny glimmers of silver — Potter’s feeble attempts at a Patronus. Draco’s focus, however, was on Granger standing nearly ten yards behind the two men. Her face had gone white, and as he neared—crossing the lake quickly with Blaise on his tail—she swayed on the spot, head bouncing off something hard.
NO!
Draco flapped his long wings with such force, propelling himself toward her with every fiber of his being. He circled above her just slightly, avoiding Potter and Sirius—he would be no help against the frenzied Dementors, but he might be able to save her. The hooded creatures ignored the two birds, not having learned their lesson since the escapee they were currently hunting.
Draco landed on the rocky ground next to Hermione…a trickle of crimson trailing down her temple and onto the jagged rock she had landed on.
She can’t be—
The raven landed next to him, and as if reading his thoughts, pecking at the nearest wing trying to draw Draco from his downward spiral. He forced up his Occlumency shields, his library stacks firmly in place, which Granger just another book on a shelf.
Behind him, the glimmers of silver were suddenly extinguished. A terrified thought shot through him — the Dementors will finish with Potter and Sirius soon…they’ll come for her. Panic renewed, Draco tried to focus on everything he knew about phoenix and crows.
Burning days…rise from ashes…he particularly didn’t want to think about experiencing a burning day, but the information was useless at the moment.
Lift exponentially heavy weights…backup plan to get Granger and Sirius out of there…maybe Potter too, but he’d come back to that later.
Tears! The tears have healing properties! He couldn’t quite remember how potent they were or the debate on fresh and raw versus in a potion or paste…it didn’t matter now, whatever he could muster would have to help. It has to.
It didn’t take much to feel the tears start to form. He had known the moment he met the girl that she’d be his—in some capacity. Enemy…friend…whatever they were anymore—he was hers, he knew that much.
One look at her nearly lifeless body, sent a warm teardrop gliding off the end of his beak. Recognizing it may be only one of few, he used a foot to move her head slightly, letting the tear drop onto the gash extending from her temple to just above her ear. Three drops fell, no more and no less, but none were wasted.
The girl stirred beside him, as the skin knit itself back together seamlessly, blending back into her hairline. Blood remained, but she was no longer injured. As the subconscious glimmer of hope Granger must’ve had, six cloaked figures glided hungrily toward them. Blaise cawed at the creatures to no avail, like the two birds before them didn’t even exist.
Draco looked around nervously—hoping for anyone or anything really—one of the Dementors was lowering its hood over Potter, another over Sirius. Theo emerged, bounding out of the woods behind them and ready to attack, when they heard a yell of “EXPECTO PATRONUM! ”
From across the lake, a blinding, dazzling, silver animal erupted from the end of other Potter’s wand. It looked like a horse at first. It was galloping silently across the black surface of the lake. He saw it lower its head and charge at the swarming Dementors... Now it was galloping around and around the black shapes on the ground, and the Dementors were falling back, scattering, retreating into the darkness... They were gone.
Recognizing they still couldn’t be seen there—how could the presence of another ‘werewolf’ and a phoenix be explained away, especially with Potter’s persistent nature. The Patronus turned, cantering back toward the Potter it came from— across the still surface of the water. It wasn’t a horse. It wasn’t a unicorn, either. It was a stag. It was shining brightly as the moon above, and dammit if Draco couldn’t admit to himself it was beautiful.
Another reason to hate Potter, I suppose.
All three of the new Anamagi slipped into the trees once more, watching the scene before them unfold to ensure Sirius and Granger’s safety. He whirled around and saw Hermione dashing toward Potter, dragging the escaped Hippogriff behind her.
The new Granger and Potter ducked behind a bush, as he surely was boasting about his newfound talent. As peeved as Draco was that Potter had mastered yet another thing to be better than him at, he was unfathomably grateful. If Potter hadn’t been able to cast that, Draco would’ve just lost Granger and his cousin… The thought sunk in even deeper at just how close they had been to dying.
Professor Snape had suddenly appeared and was conjuring stretchers and lifting the limp forms of Potter, Granger, and Sirius onto them. A fourth stretcher, no doubt bearing Weasley, was already floating at his side. Then, wand held out in front of him, he moved them away toward the castle.
What’s Snape doing down here?
A look at both of his companions told him they were thinking the same thing. Draco cocked his head to the direction they had originally come from and both the wolf and the raved gave a nod in agreement.
…
It took nearly an hour to find the clearing from where they had wandered. It was lucky Theo’s wolf had such a sharp sense of smell. Finally wearing down, the three transformed back into their human selves and quickly donned their robes to stave off the lingering chill in the air now that they were no longer covered in fur and down.
“I dunno about you two, but I’m knackered,” Blaise sighed.
“Yeah, me too,” Draco flopped down into the grass.
They rested, watching the moving clouds push across the sky, while the bush next to them whispered in the breeze. Theo, however, kept shifting uneasily next to them.
“Theo,” Blaise sighed in irritation, “what’s wrong, got fleas?” He chuckled at his own joke, and Draco cracked a grin as well.
“Somethin’s not right,” he mumbled more to himself, ignoring Blaise’s tittering.
Draco perked up at the declaration, “What is it?”
“I think I can smell someone—something…but it keeps coming from different directions. Whatever it is, it’s circling us…” Theo looked nervously around the tree line. They were sitting ducks in the middle of the clearing.
“We need to move,” Draco said aloud, tracking Theo’s eyes as they frantically roved around the clearing.
“Shift,” Theo commanded. Forgetting their wands and robes, all three Animagi transformed for what felt like the hundredth time that night.
We need to come up with a way to communicate like this…it’s extremely frustrating.
Only a moment later, a prowling figure entered the clearing, looking confused. A werewolf—Lupin. He sniffed the air around him, catching the last hints of human scent before rounding, eyes locked on Theo. Lupin snarled as he clawed his way toward Theo. The phoenix and raven were watching above, readying to attempt to distract the werewolf if necessary.
The smaller wolf whined as he lowered his body toward the grass below, tail tucked even lower. Lupin’s wolf—Mooney, as Sirius had called him—watched in interest. Seemingly having made a decision, the werewolf rested his own head and muzzle on top of Theo’s for a mere moment. Mooney raised his head toward the darkened sky and let out a loud howl. Theo’s wolf howled in tandem and their cries echoed through the otherwise quiet forest. The two then jogged off through the forest, with a single look back from Theo.
Once the wolves had gone deep into the trees, the phoenix and raven dropped to the grass once more, and shifted back into Draco and Blaise.
“We need to get out of here before Lupin leads him back here,” Draco breathed out heavily. His magic felt depleted, he’d never felt so internally exhausted. One look at Blaise told him he felt the same.
Gathering their wands and robes, the two boys took off on foot, moving as fast as their sluggish bodies would go. Draco tripped over roots and rocks repeatedly, and they both were quickly covered in scrapes and gashes from the vegetation. Struggling immensely, they reached the edge of the forest when a figure crossed the sky overhead and a single gray feather fluttered to the ground before them.
Fucking Hippogriff.