Chapter 133: Blue Fire

The shield failed before Edward could move. 

Fenrir's next blow broke it into sparks. Edward dropped beneath the werewolf's arm, slid through wet leaves, and aimed at the narrow gap he had chosen. A binding rope struck the tree beside him and wrapped itself around the trunk. The second wizard fired a curse at Edward's legs. He blocked it, but the impact turned his escape into a stagger. 

"Alive," Dolohov repeated. "I want him able to answer." 

Fenrir showed no sign that he cared. 

Edward sent a flame serpent across the werewolf's path and ran. A red curse cut through the fire. Another struck the ground ahead, throwing soil into his face. He changed direction, found three wands waiting, and realized the people around the clearing had stopped treating him as entertainment. 

He drew fire close to his body. Full transformation needed space and concentration he did not have, so he used the lesser change Professor Flitwick had helped him stabilize. Flame passed over his shoulders and arms while his feet remained solid. The next stunning spell lost force as it crossed the heat, yet enough reached him to numb his left hand. 

A cutting curse followed. Edward twisted aside. It scored his ribs instead of his chest and tore his robe from hip to shoulder. The partial change closed the shallow wound with heat, but the effort emptied him faster than any classroom exercise. 

He cast a shield toward the two wizards on his right and a burst of fire toward the open ground on his left. Neither spell was meant to defeat anyone. Together they created three seconds in which no curse occupied the same path. 

Edward ran through it. 

Fenrir caught the back of his robe. Cloth tightened across Edward's throat. He released the garment with a severing charm and pitched forward as the werewolf came away holding half a sleeve. Edward rolled, rose on one knee, and struck Fenrir's chest with Impedimenta. 

The spell slowed him for less than a breath. 

"Enough," Dolohov said. 

A red bolt passed Fenrir and struck Edward's shield. The charm collapsed. A second bolt hit Edward high on the shoulder and spun him around. It was not a full Stunning Spell, perhaps because Dolohov wanted him conscious, but his wand almost left his fingers. 

Ash surged with the pain. 

The name did not make the pressure a second mind. Ash was Edward's own survival magic, carrying buried fear and anger along with the protective imprint his mother had left behind. Under threat, that partition of himself pushed one brutal instinct to the surface: burn every path that led toward him. 

Edward refused the scale of the impulse. He used only the speed it lent his reaction. 

His next flame serpent struck the binding rope instead of a person. The charmed cord recoiled from the tree and tangled the ankles of the wizard controlling it. Edward used the opening to reach the edge of the clearing. 

A curse struck the oak beside his head. Splinters crossed his cheek. Another passed close enough to heat his ear. 

Then a large black dog came through the undergrowth and hit the nearest pursuer at the knees. 

The wizard fell. Before he could recover, the dog became Sirius. Mud covered his coat, leaves clung to his hair, and fury sharpened his face. He did not waste time on a threat. 

"Stupefy." 

The fallen wizard went still. Sirius turned his wand toward the binding rope and cut it away from the man trapped beneath it. 

"Edward, move." 

Edward tried. His left leg failed on the first step, and he caught himself against a tree. 

Two Death Eaters attacked Sirius together. He blocked one spell, ducked the other, and disarmed the closer man with a hard upward motion. His fighting was fast without being reckless. Azkaban had weakened him, but it had not erased thirteen years of training or his knowledge of how such people fought. 

"Black?" Dolohov lowered his wand a fraction. "Have you lost what remained of your mind? That boy is your blood. We were stopping Greyback from killing him." 

"You surrounded him." 

"Because he spied on us and set the wood alight. Ask him." 

Sirius did not look away from Dolohov. "I intend to. Somewhere else." 

Edward reached him and raised a thin shield over their exposed side. The effort made his sight pulse at the edges. 

Dolohov studied them both. Calculation replaced anger. "There is no need for another old family to serve the Ministry. We can settle this without giving Dumbledore a victory." 

"You can start by lowering every wand," Sirius said. 

No one obeyed. 

Fenrir circled the remains of Edward's fire, favouring one burned arm. "He owes me skin." 

"He owes you nothing," Dolohov snapped. "Stand down." 

Fenrir moved anyway. 

Sirius fired a Stunning Spell, but the werewolf twisted behind a tree. The red light shattered bark. Fenrir came out low and fast, not at Sirius but at Edward. His claws reached across the final yard before Edward could restore his shield. 

Ash pressed forward again. This time Edward had no room to choose a careful spell. He drove his wand into the soil and released the heat he had been holding around his body. 

Orange fire rose between them, narrowed under pressure, and changed. 

Blue spread from the base of the flame in a sudden, soundless sheet. It was hotter than Edward intended and far less stable than the barriers he knew. Fenrir flung himself backward. The edge caught his front paw and the hem of his coat, leaving blackened earth between them. 

Edward pulled at the spell at once. For a terrible instant it resisted him. The blue fire wanted to travel along every dry root beneath the clearing. 

"Look at me," Sirius ordered. 

Edward heard the command through Ash's fury. He fixed on Sirius's face, closed his hand around the wand, and forced the flame inward. It shrank from a sheet to a ring, then to a wavering line. Smoke rolled across the clearing. 

The fire died. Edward nearly followed it to the ground. 

Sirius caught him beneath one arm. "Can you stand?" 

"Long enough." 

It was an optimistic answer. His knees shook, his left hand remained numb, and the blue flame had taken most of what remained of his strength. 

Dolohov's people spread out again, more cautious now. No one entered the burned strip. Their hesitation offered seconds, not safety. 

Sirius pulled Edward close and raised his wand. "Side-Along Apparition. Hold on to me." 

Edward gripped his coat. Apparition from Hogwarts grounds would have failed, but they were well outside the school boundary. Sirius turned on the spot. 

The clearing vanished with a crushing darkness. 

They landed in a narrow valley several miles away. Edward's boots struck uneven ground, and he folded to his hands and knees. Cold grass pressed against his palms. For several breaths he could do nothing but listen to his own breathing. 

Sirius remained upright long enough to cast two concealment charms and a false trail toward the stream. Then he crouched beside Edward. 

"Where are you hurt?" 

"Shoulder. Ribs. Nothing deep." 

"You cannot know that." 

Sirius checked the cut at Edward's side without touching it, then looked toward the ridge behind them. His anger had not gone. It had changed direction. 

"I left the village because Peter ran," he said. "The Vow stopped me from taking him near Ron, and he reached the trees. I should have returned when I lost the trail." 

"I should have stayed after signaling." 

"Yes." 

The blunt agreement hurt more than comfort would have. Edward sat back against a stone and closed his eyes for one moment. 

Sirius continued, quieter, "We can both admit a mistake without pretending they were equal. I am the adult. I knew you were watching Dolohov." 

Edward thought of the broken signal, the red flare, and the clear instruction he had converted into an excuse. "Did you see the flare?" 

"I saw smoke. Then I heard curses." 

"Peter escaped." 

"For tonight. Ron is alive, and Peter showed everyone that Scabbers can move when he chooses. That matters." 

Sirius offered his hand. Edward took it and rose, though most of his weight remained against Sirius's shoulder. 

"The Shrieking Shack is the nearest secure place we both know," Sirius said. "One jump to the edge of Hogsmeade, then the passage. No more detours unless we detect pursuit." 

Edward nodded. He looked once at the scorched cuff of his robe. Blue fire had saved him, but only after his own decision placed him where such force seemed necessary. That distinction would matter when Dumbledore asked for the truth. 

Sirius tightened his hold, and they Disapparated again.