Chapter 140: The Wolf's Trail

Morning mist blurred the spires of Hogwarts while Professor Flitwick guided Snape's conjured stretcher along the path. Madam Pomfrey walked beside Lupin's, checking the silver restraints at every turn. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed between the adults. Edward followed at the rear, watching the forest.

At an alder beside the road, Hermione pointed out the dark smear Edward had shown her outside the Shack. Blood had dried beneath a crust of ash, and a second stain marked bracken several paces farther north.

Flitwick examined both from the road. Fenrir's injured shoulder had bled during his retreat, but the marks did not prove whether he had continued away or begun circling toward them. The professor sent red sparks toward the castle and ordered everyone to continue together. No one was to follow the trail.

They adjusted positions before moving. Hermione maintained Lupin's restraints and watched the left side of the path. Harry helped guide Snape's stretcher. Ron, whose injured arm made precise casting unreliable, stayed beside Madam Pomfrey. Snape's wand remained sealed with Lupin's rather than placed in an unconscious hand.

Edward looked once more at the line of damaged bracken. An aerial pass could show whether the trail crossed their route ahead. It could also repeat the mistake that had brought him into the forest the previous night.

"I can check from above and return," he said.

"Professor Flitwick said no," Hermione replied.

The stretchers were already moving around the bend under both adults' protection. Edward told himself he was checking for an ambush rather than following Fenrir. The distinction was thinner than he wanted it to be.

Hermione caught his sleeve. "You said something similar before following Dolohov."

The accuracy stung. "If I am not back in three minutes, continue to the castle and send sparks again."

"That is not permission," she said. "If you ignore the order anyway, stay high and do not engage anyone."

Edward accepted the warning without pretending it made his choice authorised. He marked his departure time on a scrap of parchment and gave Hermione the route he intended to fly, creating a record even as he broke the rule.

Edward moved away from the stretchers, transformed, and rose through the mist. Golden-red wings made concealment impossible, but concealment was not the purpose. If Fenrir attacked, Edward wanted the werewolf looking upward rather than at four exhausted students.

He did not gain a hunter's impossible senses in phoenix form. Instead, he followed what the ground revealed: snapped branches, spots of blood on pale leaves, and an occasional thread of blue-gray smoke where cursed fire still clung to cloth. The signs turned away from the road and descended toward a narrow valley.

Edward checked the sun against the tower roofs before continuing. Less than a minute had passed. He marked the route by landmarks rather than instinct: a lightning-split pine, a stream shaped like a hook, then a stand of white birches below exposed stone. If he found a threat, those details would let the professors reach it without relying on him to guide them back.

That direction eased one fear and raised another. Fenrir was not waiting between the students and Hogwarts, but he remained close enough to return. Edward circled once. At the bottom of the valley, Fenrir crouched beside a moss-covered rock, wrapping his burned shoulder with a strip torn from his robe. The carcass of a deer lay nearby, opened with a knife rather than claws.

Edward did not descend. He fixed the valley's position against a forked stream and a stand of white birches, then turned toward the castle. Reporting the location was enough.

A purple flare rose from the far side of the valley.

Fenrir had not been alone.

The spell passed beneath Edward's left wing and burst against an oak. Splinters filled the mist. He climbed, searching for the hidden caster, but a second flare struck the air above him and forced him down. Whoever had fired remained concealed beneath the canopy.

The spacing bothered him. Both spells had come after he crossed invisible points over the slope, and neither adjusted when he changed speed. They might be triggered wards rather than a hidden duelist. That made the valley no safer. A prepared hunting ground could injure anyone following the blood trail, including the professors now responding to his sparks.

Edward angled toward open ground. If he flew directly back to the road, he might lead an attacker or more triggered spells toward Harry and the others. The valley offered stone cover and a second path toward the castle. He chose it, landed behind a low ridge, and changed back into human form. Before moving, he scratched the location and the likely ward line onto a strip of parchment, wrapped it around a bright stone, and sent the stone uphill with a Banishing Charm. It might give the responding staff a warning even if he could not. He waited through ten measured breaths for a return flare. None appeared, so he chose the stream rather than crossing either suspected trigger line again.

The silence offered no reassurance. Returning uphill meant crossing the two places where purple spells had fired. Remaining behind the ridge allowed anyone on the slope to close around him. Flitwick's emergency rule was to signal, seek cover, and move toward a known exit only when the cover became less safe. Edward had already violated the first plan; he could still follow that rule.

The brass emergency disc was already broken. The Two-way Mirror showed only gray light, distorted by the valley walls. Edward sent another column of red sparks and listened. No answer came.

He could wait behind the ridge, but Fenrir knew the terrain and another caster controlled the high ground. Edward moved downhill with his shield raised, trying to reach a shallow stream that continued east.

A stone rolled behind him.

"Running again, little Black?"

Fenrir stood above the ridge. His shoulder dressing had already soaked through, but the injury had not weakened his grin. No second wizard appeared. The purple spells might have been timed traps left to drive prey into the valley, a hunting method rather than proof of an ally.

Edward kept his wand trained on Fenrir. "Hogwarts has been alerted. Stay where you are and you will receive treatment under guard."

"Treatment?" Fenrir laughed. "You burned me twice and now offer a healer?"

"I am offering surrender."

"You are offering yourself."

Fenrir descended one deliberate step at a time. Edward moved sideways toward the stream, leaving room to retreat. The Basilisk fang and the locket shell remained under joint custody, exactly where dangerous evidence belonged. Edward had only his wand, the spells he could still cast, and the distress flares already burning above the valley.

"Stupefy!" Edward cast.

Fenrir twisted aside. The red light struck stone, and the werewolf came on faster. Edward followed with binding ropes. Fenrir tore one loose, ducked another, and drove through a low fire barrier despite the heat.

The duel had begun before Edward's three minutes expired.

Edward retreated into the valley, using shields to keep distance and sending sparks whenever Fenrir gave him half a breath. He no longer thought about eliminating an enemy or settling a future threat. He thought about holding the path until help arrived, keeping Fenrir away from the road, and surviving long enough to explain why he had once again crossed the limit of a plan.

Fenrir lowered his head and charged without warning.