Chapter Text
Prologue-
There were three things in the world that always made Remus, six years of age, happy.
The first of those three things were the few times that Remus could convince his mother to stay in his room late into the night, reading bedtime stories to him. He loved listening to the adventures of knights from far away kingdoms with fire breathing dragons, or pirates that sailed oceans he had never seen with unimaginable treasures. He loved following his mother's words with his little fingers on the page, trying to piece the letters together.
The second thing was when Remus’ father came home from the village with his brown honey colored sack. He always knew what that sack meant, and before his father had even made it two steps into the house, he was jumping up and down excitedly. It was a rarity for his father to come home with chocolate; it was usually too expensive. Remus would eat his share with his parents, and then wrap his arms as far as he could around his father’s neck, never letting go.
The last thing was the nights that Remus’ father would take him up the hill with the big cream quilt that his grandmother had sewn them. He would sprawl the quilt down onto the grass, and they would lay on their backs, staring up at the twinkling stars that littered the sky like pinpricks in the universe. His father knew everything about the stars. He could point out every constellation and every planet, telling him countless stories of vein queens who were hung in the night sky and children who flew on the back of a ram. Remus could have stayed on that quilt all night long if his father would let him on nights like those.
It was on one of those special nights that it happened.
They were just leaving the farmhouse; Remus’ father’s hand in his as they walked the trail leading to the hill.
“I almost forgot,” his father had said, “I got you a present today in the village.”
Remus’ eyes lit up excitedly because he would have been perfectly content just to have that night to watch the stars. There was a meteor shower that night, and they had already spotted a few hurtling stars cutting long tears in the dark night sky.
“I’m going to run back inside and get it.”
His father jogged back to the farmhouse, the door making a loud slapping noise as it closed. Remus looked back up at the sky, smiling with every shooting star that made an appearance.
He was so transfixed with them that he didn't notice the shadow in the distance slowly creeping up on him. Not until there was a bag thrown over his head, and strong arms tossing his struggling form over a broad shoulder. Instantly, the night sky disappeared from his view; the last thing he saw before the bag closed over his eyes being the white full moon shining down on them.
Remus kicked and screamed, calling for his father over and over again until he heard the sound of their farmhouse door slapping loudly and quick footsteps racing towards them. Remus heard his mother yelling, “Lyall!” From the distance.
“Don’t touch my boy!” his father had screamed. It was the last thing Remus ever heard him say.
At the time, there was a moment that Remus thought his father was going to save him. He was passed into someone else’s arms, and he heard a loud struggle from somewhere to his left. There was a thud, and he heard his father let out a sharp gasp.
It wasn’t until a couple hours later when the bag over his head was removed, and Remus caught a glimpse of a blood-soaked knife attached to his captors' hip, that he realized the loud thud he had heard was the sound of his father’s body hitting the ground.
-Eleven Years Later-
Remus woke up only a few seconds before a foot hit his stomach. It knocked the air out of him, and he struggled to breathe as black spots filled his vision. Usually he could sense someone nearing him in his sleep with more time to escape, but he had been too tired from yesterday's work.
“Get up you piece of shit!” the grumbling voice of Greyback said, filling his ringing ears.
Remus struggled to climb to his feet, his arm clutched tightly around his stomach. He didn’t dare ask what he did wrong this time, but instead ran through a mental list of the chores he had yesterday, and what he could have possibly messed up.
There were leaves clinging to his ragged shirt from where he had been laying on the forest floor, and he tried to brush them off before Fenrir commented on how disgusting he looked.
Fenrir took hold of Remus’ shirt, pulling him close to his face so that Remus could smell his putrid breath and see yellow stains on his sharp teeth. A silver chain dangled in front of Remus’ face with a little silver moon charm on it. Remus tried to look away, his father’s gift around Fenrir’s neck still making his stomach churn after all these years.
“Did I not tell you yesterday to gather extra firewood for the meetup tonight?” he hissed; his hand still clenched tightly on Remus’ shirt.
“I-I did gather extra firewood,” Remus stuttered, recalling the extra two hours he stayed up last night rummaging the forest floor.
Remus saw it coming before it happened and clenched his stomach in preparation, which turned out to be a terrible idea. The knee that came crashing into his gut sent him doubled over coughing as he tried to regain his composure. Fenrir now had his hand on the back of his throat, squeezing just enough to let him know he was there; his sharp fingernails breaking skin.
“Not enough! There are going to be many fires burning tonight, larger than any we’ve had in the past. You gathered a pitiful amount of wood.”
“I’ll get right to finding more,” Remus insisted, still clutching his stomach.
“You better.” Fenrir threatened. He let go of Remus and turned to walk back to camp. Remus heard him mutter, “Should have killed you too,” as he walked away.
It took every ounce of control he had in his body to hold himself back from attacking Greyback for that. He had learned early on the consequences of fighting back, though, and wouldn’t risk another beating. A part of him hated himself for not defending his father’s honor, but it hadn’t taken long for Remus to learn that all he needed to do was survive, and in order to do that, he had to shut up and keep his head down.
Remus slid back to the ground, resting his back against a tree trunk with his hand gingerly wrapped around his stomach. He could still feel blood trickling down his neck from Fenrir’s claw-like fingernails. It didn’t take long for Peter to come clomping over, sliding down next to him.
“Do I want to know?” Remus asked, his words sounding more like a wheeze.
Remus couldn’t exactly call Peter a friend. They rarely talked except for the few times that Peter had a chance to between work. Remus was the only one around who wasn’t in the loop about the events happening around them, and Peter was the only one who liked gossiping more than anything else, so Remus entertained him, not exactly opposed to hearing about what was going on.
Peter was the only one in camp who was as young as Remus, but unlike Remus, Peter hadn’t been kidnapped. Remus had heard from some of the other wolves that Peter was only there because he had sold out some of his friends to the Pack in order to be favored in Voldemort’s eyes. Remus had never cared to ask him about it.
“Guess who the meetup is with tonight?” Peter asked, sounding excited.
“The Death Eaters?” Remus guessed, his voice sounding strange still from when Fenrir had knocked the air out of him.
Peter’s face fell in disappointment. “How’d you know?”
“Who else would the Wolfpack be meeting up with?”
“Right, true. Okay, but do you know what the meeting’s about?”
Remus looked at Peter, wondering if he was going to make him answer the question. When Peter didn’t continue, he sighed. “No, I don’t.”
“I heard that the Death Eaters finally have enough allies for the attack on Hogwarts. Tonight is one last celebration before the siege.”
“The siege?” Remus asked, trying to mask the horror in his voice. Shut up and keep your head down, Remus reminded himself. He didn’t need to agree with overrunning the monarchy; he just needed to stay alive.
He may have spent eleven years with the thugs that called themselves the Wolfpack, but that didn’t mean he had grown to hate the Kingdom of Hogwarts like they did. He had been born there after all.
“Yup. According to Silas, Voldemort is finally following through with all the promises he made the Pack. It’s actually happening. No more walking around these filthy woods, stealing from travelers, attacking Hogwarts knights on their journeys. Soon we’ll be in the Hogwarts palace itself.”
Remus didn’t mention that Fenrir would probably kill him before they ever got to that point. The only reason he even kept Remus around was for entertainment and someone to do all the chores that nobody else wanted to do. Remus also suspected that Fenrir kept him as a sort of trophy against his father.
A long time ago, Peter had told him about how he had heard the reason Fenrir went after Remus was because his father had supposedly spoken out against him. Remus didn’t doubt it, his father had never had a strong filter when it came to his opinions on criminals like Greyback. Remus wondered what his father would say to him if he could see him now. It probably wouldn’t be good.
“That’s crazy,” Remus responded, trying to feed into Peter’s gossip, but his voice sounded almost monotoned.
“I know! They’ve finally got all the gangs from the eastern side joining up. The Giants, The Vampires...oh! Get this, I overheard Silas and Greyback talking, and the Blacks are -”
“Pettigrew!” Someone yelled from a tent that Remus didn’t bother looking at.
“Oh, got to go! Have fun finding firewood,” Peter laughed as he ran off.
It was hard for Remus to wrap his head around everything Peter had said. If the Wolfpack was a band of lowly thugs, the Death Eaters were a group of merciless and powerful criminals who would stop at nothing to see the Black family removed from the throne. The Blacks may have been power-hungry pure-blooded leaders just like the Death Eaters, but Voldemort only wanted power for himself.
Remus sighed and dragged himself up from the ground, ignoring the aching pain he still felt. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t felt before.
He spent hours gathering wood until his arms were aching, and he was starving from not eating anything that day. He didn’t dare ask for food when Fenrir was so angry with him, or else he might have another chore he would have to waste away doing.
When he was finished, Remus set out to do his normal routine for the day. Feeding and grooming the horses, cleaning and sharpening all the weapons, gathering water from the nearby spring. By the time dinner rolled around, his stomach was growling so loudly that the others were starting to give him cold glares. Remus ducked his head, willing his stomach to be silent. He hated the extra attention.
“Remus, my boy!” Fenrir’s voice sent a shiver down Remus’ spine, and he whipped around, cringing before Fenrir wrapped his arm around Remus’ shoulders, sharp fingernails digging into his shoulder. “Did you get that firewood?”
Every nerve tingled where Fenrir touched him, his entire body on high-alert.
“It’s all where you asked me to put it,” Remus informed, trying to speak clearly like Fenrir was always going on about, but not powerfully like Fenrir hated.
“Good! And your chores?”
“Finished.”
Fenrir shook Remus’ shoulder playfully, but Remus felt the threat behind it. He felt the threat behind every touch he received, and there always was one.
Suddenly, Remus’ stomach grumbled again, and he squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, waiting for whatever way Fenrir was going to lash out on him.
“Boy, have you not eaten today?”
Remus cracked open one of his eyes, his heart beating a mile a minute. “No.”
Every muscle in his body was tense, ready for whatever painful punishment he was about to receive.
“Well, why not? You’re going to need your strength for tonight.”
Remus’ heart dropped. He should have seen it coming with the Death Eaters joining them, and the way Fenrir was leading them to the fire where the Wolfpack was eating some sort of cooked animal from the last hunt.
He was to be entertainment tonight.
Remus ate up despite the way his stomach suddenly didn’t seem as keen on eating. Fenrir was right; he would need his strength that night. When the Death Eaters arrived, Remus was busy with setting up their tents, tending to their horses, and serving them food, so it was easy for him to keep his mind busy and not get nervous about later.
“Remus, start the fires,” Silas, Fenrir’s second in command, barked at him.
Soon enough, black paint was spilling across the blue sky, and the full moon began to sketch bright streaks of light down, filtering through the trees. Nighttime had broken out, bringing with it a cold promise of long hours to come. When the fires were finished, Remus retreated to the edge of the campsite, finding himself backed against the shadows that remained untouched by the burning lights of the fires. He watched the night take hold of the pack, his back against a tree, arms crossed over his chest.
It started with a few drinks and some music, but pretty soon things were almost getting out of hand. They were partying like they had already won the war. He wondered if they were partying prematurely, but even Fenrir wasn’t stupid enough to celebrate a feat before it had been scored. Maybe this really was it. Maybe tomorrow they would march into Hogwarts and take the palace.
As it grew further into the night, and the Death Eaters became more and more drunk, Remus could tell Fenrir would call for him soon. The Death Eaters would grow bored of the roaring fires, music, and booze...eventually.
Remus knew he was right when he spotted Fenrir standing from the log he had been perched on, his eyes glowing yellow like a real wolf from the light of the fire. He gave him the look that Remus knew meant “come here”, and sat back down.
His legs were shaky as Remus made his way down, but he knew the forest floor well and climbed swiftly into the opening, ducking under branches, and climbing skillfully over fallen logs. There was an area being cleared in the middle of a large circle of Death Eaters and wolves, and Remus joined Fenrir in the center.
“Hand to hand or sword?” Remus asked, trying to get his head in the zone.
When Fenrir didn’t answer, Remus looked up at him. He had a terrifying smirk on his disgusting face, and his greasy hair was falling into his cold eyes.
“Hand to hand,” he hissed, his voice barely audible over the noise.
Remus nodded, and began wrapping his knuckles, swallowing the heartbeat that kept threatening to beat out of his chest. He didn’t want to see the opponent he would be facing. Remus was fast and a good fighter. That was why people liked watching the matches; because he always fared well in the beginning. He was smart and small enough that he could dodge around the guys he was against for a while, but that was it. He never won.
They were always too big, too strong, and too experienced. The audience just wanted to watch a longer fight, but the most exciting part for them was when the other guy would get one good swing in on Remus, and then it was all over.
When Remus was finished wrapping his knuckles, he turned around to see an enormous man entering the circle. He had arms that looked twice the width of Remus’ body, and he towered a foot over his head. Remus scrambled back towards Fenrir, heart picking up more in his chest.
“What is this?” he asked, his voice sounding as terrified as he felt.
There was a cold shove at his back, and Fenrir’s slurred voice started behind him, egging him on. There was no way Remus would survive against this guy. He barely survived the others, and this one was practically twice their size. He tried to step out of the ring, but there were people on every side of him now.
There was a heavy smoke in the air that was making Remus feel dizzy, and the chants of the audience reverberated around in his head painfully. Fenrir stepped into the center of the ring, his eyes flashing yellow, his sharpened teeth snarling at the chanting crowd.
“As a gift, we offer this match to the Death Eaters!” Fenrir howled into the night air. “To show our gratitude for the union formed between all of the most powerful gangs across the land, we invited Hugo to come and represent The Giants!”
Greyback’s words were met with thunderous applause, and Remus felt like he was definitely going to be sick. One punch from Hugo, and Remus was done for.
“And to further our gift, we offer a worthy opponent. He’ll give Hugo a run for his money!”
As Fenrir motioned towards Remus, the crowd erupted in laughter, taking in Remus’ slender frame. Fenrir joined them in their laughter and stepped back into the circle, disappearing among the many faces.
Hugo put his hands up in front of him and took a fighting stance. Remus tried to mimic him, feeling his dinner coming up from his stomach. There was a strange dark symbol on the man’s shirt, and his hair was intricately braided and pulled back at the nape of his neck. War paint dripped down his face below his eyes, and it looked suspiciously like blood.
It wasn’t like Remus was really that small. He was stronger than a lot of the guys in the Wolfpack even, but next to Hugo, Remus could be an ant.
His opponent made the first swing, which Remus ducked with easy agility. Remus landed a punch to Hugo’s throat, which sent him stumbling back a couple steps, but then he was coming at him again, arms swinging. He was predictable, but Remus didn’t know how far that would help him. The punch he had gotten in to Hugo’s throat had only destabilized him for a second, and it had made Remus’ knuckles burn.
His attacker lurched forward, trying to grab Remus around the waist, but Remus ducked and rolled under the guys arms, dirt flying up in his face. He landed a kick to the back of the giant’s leg, causing Hugo to lose his balance and fall down onto his knees.
The crowd roared and chanted around them, screaming things that Remus couldn’t latch onto with the amount of words being thrown at him. He tried to tune them out, jumping forward to wrap his arms around Hugo’s neck while Hugo stayed bent on all fours.
Remus thought that perhaps he really did have a chance. Hugo struggled beneath him, coughing as Remus’ arms tugged harder on Hugo’s meaty neck. Remus could feel every muscle in his body straining as he pulled, his legs planted steadily on the ground. He could hear Hugo snarling and gasping for breath as he twisted around into a sitting position, but Remus still didn’t let go.
He saw it before he had a chance to stop it. A flash of shining silver coming out from nowhere; the fire hitting it just right so that it sparkled in Remus’ eye for a second before it was being plunged right into Remus’ leg, dragging down and down.
His body reacted immediately. A loud guttural scream escaped his lips, and he let go of the giant, falling back against the ground. He tried to call him out, accuse him of cheating with a knife, but the crowd was roaring with excitement, screaming for Hugo to finish Remus off. They didn’t care how Hugo did it, as long as he did.
There was a dark red liquid escaping Remus’ leg, and it took him a second to realize that it was his own blood staining the forest floor. There were bright spots clouding his vision, and he blinked them away, using his hands to crawl backwards as Hugo approached him, snarl menacing and knife still in hand.
Hugo brought the knife down as he towered above him, and Remus found himself rolling away, dirt stinging his leg. He grimaced and held in another cry of pain. He wondered if this was it; if Hugo was going to kill him in front of all of these people. Would Fenrir let him?
He continued scurrying back, but he couldn’t escape fast enough, and soon Hugo was on top of him, trying to get a hold of Remus’ arms. Remus gave one last punch as hard as he could to Hugo’s wrist, and the knife went tumbling to the dirt away from them. It didn’t matter, though, because soon his hands were being restrained above him, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get away.
Had everything he had ever done really been for nothing? Was this how it ended, in front of a roaring crowd, all cheering for his death? Remus took in a shuddering breath, almost a sob, and did something he had never done before. Not when he was being kidnapped, not when he was being tortured by Greyback for his father’s mistake, and not during a fight.
He pleaded for his life.
“Please don’t,” he choked out. Hugo just laughed, a cruel horrible laugh, above him.
A dirty fist came hurtling towards his face. One punch made Remus taste blood. Two punches made Remus see spots across his vision. Three punches made everything go black.
———
“We’ve got them where we want them, Your Highness.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Frank?” Sirius joked as he paced back and forth.
“Sorry, we’ve got them where we want them, Sirius.”
“Their scouts?”
“Taken care of.”
“Good. Everyone knows their locations?”
“I’ve been over it with them, Potter has too, dozens of times.”
“Okay. Okay.” Sirius was trying to reassure himself that this was going to go down right.
They had been tracking the Wolfpack for months, and never in a million years would he have thought they would have led them straight to the Death Eaters. And for Voldemort himself to be there too. This was their chance to extinguish this once and for all. Tonight had to go well.
Sirius followed Frank out of the tent, swiping the map of the layout of the Wolfpack’s camp that they had made on a few spying missions.
“It’s go time!” Sirius called to his knights. James stood from where he was sharpening his knife, swiftly making his way to Sirius’ side. Sirius gratefully looked at him, offering a small smile, and turned back to his group of knights.
“We’ve been over the plan a thousand times. They don’t know we’re coming, and half of them are drunk off of their minds. The opening that they’re camping in is low ground, almost like a hole in the forest. All we need to do is stay unseen as we move to surround the camp from above. On my call, we attack. You know the signal—”
“When are we going to stop going over the plan, and start kicking some Death Eater asses!” Marlene called from the back, causing small bursts of laughter among Sirius’ knights and a series of cheers.
Sirius smirked and nodded, knowing she was right. “Yeah, yeah Marlene, I got it.” Sirius leaned in, ready to give his last word of advice before the ambush. “Stay sharp, fight strong, and for the love of Hogwarts, be brave.”
The knights erupted with whoops and applause, slapping each other’s backs as they began packing up camp. They made it out with plenty of time, and as they grew closer, there was a hush that fell over Sirius and his people.
They began separating, spreading out in a circle around the camp. There were large fires roaring everywhere he looked, which was perfect for them, so they could see better in the darkness. When Sirius got to his position, he and James laid down on their stomachs together, observing the camp below.
He had been wrong about half of them being drunk out of their minds. It looked like all of them were drunk out of their minds. There were Death Eaters and wolves dancing around, chanting drunkenly as they celebrated their upcoming “win”. Sirius chuckled softly, causing James to smile next to him, reading his mind like he so often did.
“See Greyback?” James asked, scanning the ground.
Sirius began scoping out the camp. Most of everyone were separated in different locations around the fires that were scattered around camp. It was hard to spot Voldemort or Fenrir among the large groups of people, especially with the shimmering lights of the fire making everything flicker.
“Think Greyback will be by Voldemort?” Sirius asked.
“Probably.”
It wasn’t until Greyback stood up that Sirius finally spotted him. It was strange how he had stood. He was looking off into the distance, his face shadowed with something stern looking.
“There,” James pointed even though Sirius had already seen him.
“What’s he looking at?”
Sirius followed Greyback’s gaze to a body that was moving swiftly over the forest floor from where it had come out of the shadows. Sirius’ stomach lurched. Were there more wolves in the forest? Frank had said all their scouts were taken care of.
As the body grew closer to the torches and bonfires of the camp, Sirius could see him better. He looked young, younger than most of the other Death Eaters and wolves. Judging by his clothes, Sirius would guess he was with the Wolfpack as opposed to the Death Eaters.
While the boy walked towards the group, a majority of the Death Eaters and wolves began making their way over to Greyback, forming a large circle.
“What the hell are they doing?” James asked, voicing exactly what Sirius was thinking.
Soon, the boy that Sirius had seen coming out of the forest walked to the center of the circle. Even from where Sirius sat above everything, he could see the tremble in the boy's step despite the careful measured way that he moved. Sirius’ eyes were drawn to another form that was entering the circle. There was a strange dark tattoo taking up his entire arm, and it took a second for him to place where he knew it from. He pictured the symbol painted on a scroll of notes written by scouts, and he remembered it belonged to members of the Giants; a criminalistic gang that controlled the Eastern Cape.
The Giants were like a different breed. Nothing but pure muscle, towering at least seven feet high. The boy who had been summoned by Greyback suddenly looked tiny next to the menacing man.
“No fucking way,” James muttered from besides Sirius.
“What?” Sirius asked, feeling slow.
“They’re going to make the wolf fight the giant.”
Sirius gasped, but suddenly it all made sense. He must not have come to the conclusion himself from how absurd it had seemed. This wasn’t a fair fight in the slightest, and he found himself already rooting for the wolf despite the fact that they were both Sirius’ enemy.
Suddenly, Greyback seemed to be calling to the crowd, but his voice was hidden behind the loud chanting of the Death Eaters and Wolves combined. He said something that made the whole crowd laugh and sneer, and it seemed to be directed at the boy who met them all back with an unwavering glare. Sirius couldn’t take his eyes off of him.
“How is this even entertaining for them? It’s clearly an unfair match,” Sirius pointed out, watching with horror.
Sirius’ question was answered quickly after he asked it. The giant started with the first punch, and Sirius let out a small gasp even though he should have been expecting it, but then the boy ducked easily under it and quickly retaliated with a jab to the giant’s throat. Sirius caught himself leaning closer, as if a few inches could help him see better.
Sirius was so focused on the fight that he almost forgot the whole reason they were even there in the first place.
“Voldemort,” James whispered next to him.
Sirius tore his eyes away from the scene, focusing on where James had motioned. Voldemort was standing near a tent, close enough to see the fight, but far enough away that they could see him perfectly, his icy white skin shining like a target. Greyback had joined Voldemort at some point, and he was motioning wildly to the fight. Sirius shivered thinking about how this was causing Greyback joy to watch. He had set this up for Voldemort as entertainment.
As Sirius watched Greyback talking to Voldemort, a loud anguished scream rose up over the noise of the crowd, ringing around the forest and bouncing off of the trees in a chilling way. Sirius swore that some birds flew from the branches they were perched on up into the sky by the way the leaves were rustling around them. Sirius’ head flew back to the fight.
At first, he was confused. The boy seemed to have the giant in a choke hold, but then he was falling back onto the dirt, his leg sprawled out in front of him, and that’s when Sirius saw it. There was blood spilling from a wound on his leg, and as the boy scooted back in fear, the giant approached him, something shining between his fingers.
“Did he…?” James asked, his face looking disgusted. Sirius’ face probably mirrored the same horror.
Sirius nodded, and swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat as the crowd screamed and cheered excitedly for the giant. His eyes scanned the circle around the camp, trying to see if he could spot Lily where she should have been perched, ready to fire.
“Why doesn’t Lily take the shot?” Sirius asked, somewhat urgently. He had found himself hoping their ambush would interrupt the fight.
“From where Lily is, Voldemort would be behind Greyback. She can’t risk her arrow missing,” James whispered.
Sirius nodded, clutching his sword so tight in his hand that his palm started to hurt. Lily was their best shooter, and Sirius didn’t doubt her for a second. Once her arrow went through Voldemort, that was the signal for the rest of the knights to proceed, and Sirius waited eagerly for it. He hoped that James was watching Voldemort because he found his eyes continuously being drawn back to the fight.
The boy was now on his back, his huge opponent above him. They struggled for what felt like forever even though it was just a few seconds, and Sirius wondered how the wolf was going to get out of it. He had been so fast earlier, always seeming to have an out to whatever the giant threw at him, but now Sirius didn’t think there was a way out.
The crowd seemed to have grown a bit quieter from the anticipation of the fight coming to an end, and two words echoed up above the noise to where he was perched.
“Please don’t,” the boy had gasped. A cold laugh from the giant followed, making Sirius’ stomach churn.
The sound of the giant’s fist meeting the boy’s face could be heard even above the audience’s chanting. The first punch, the boy had cried out an agonizing noise that Sirius never thought he would be able to forget. The giant hit him four more times after that, and he was silent through them all.
“That’s enough!” Greyback called from where he was standing next to Voldemort.
Move, Sirius pleaded in his head. Please move.
“I’ll have nobody to do my laundry if you kill him!” Greyback joked, causing a chorus of laughter from the others.
That was an odd comment, Sirius thought. Was the wolf Greyback’s servant? If so, why was he so good at fighting, and why was he doing it for entertainment?
The giant stood up, leaving the boy in a puddle on the ground.
And then everything slowed down as Greyback stepped forward to join his people. For a few golden seconds, Voldemort stood alone, right there in the center of camp. Sirius almost missed it. In a matter of seconds, an arrow came hurtling out of the darkness, piercing Voldemort so that he dropped dead on the ground.
Sirius felt himself lurching forward from out of the darkness, James at his side. Everywhere he looked, knights were running out of the shadows, swords in hands. Their enemies were all still confined in one circle, making it almost easy to strike them down.
“It’s an ambush!” some yelled. “Run for the woods!” others called.
Sirius paid no attention to them. He ran straight for the giant he had watched mercilessly beating the boy who was laying limp on the floor next to him, and Sirius drove his sword right through his heart.