Chapter 141: The Last Defense

"Incendio!"

A wall of orange fire rose across Fenrir's path. He did not stop. He crossed one forearm over his face and drove through the weakest edge, sacrificing cloth and skin to preserve his momentum.

Edward sent a Stunning Spell at his chest. Fenrir knocked the wand aside with the back of one hand. The spell grazed his ribs and burst against the valley wall.

"Help is coming," Edward said, retreating toward the stream. "This is your last chance to surrender."

Fenrir answered with a rush. Edward cast Impedimenta, and the werewolf slowed as if forcing his way through deep water. Binding ropes caught one wrist and his injured shoulder. For a second, the combination held.

Then Fenrir planted his feet and pulled. One rope snapped. The other dragged Edward forward before he released the spell. Fenrir came through the collapsing barrier with blood running down his arm and joy in his face.

Edward changed into fire as the claws reached him. The first swipe passed through sparks. The second struck while his body was reforming and tore three lines across his side. Pain ruined his balance. He hit the ground on one knee.

The attempt proved what Sirius had warned him about: Elementalization was not invulnerability. Timing mattered, and fatigue made the return to flesh dangerously slow.

Fenrir lunged again. Edward rolled behind a stone and cast a narrow flame along the ground. Fenrir jumped it, landed badly on his burned leg, and stumbled. Edward used the opening to send more red sparks into the sky.

"Calling your teachers?" Fenrir asked. "Let them find what is left."

He seized a fallen branch and threw it. Edward shielded, but the impact shattered the branch and drove him back into the stream. Cold water filled one boot. His wand slipped from numb fingers and landed beyond reach on the bank.

Fenrir saw it.

Edward tried to transform. The change began at his shoulders, then failed when Fenrir caught the front of his robe and hauled him upright. Magic flashed without completing the shape. Fenrir slammed him against the rock.

The valley narrowed to breath, blood, and the pressure of a forearm across Edward's chest. Fenrir's face came close. His teeth were human, but sharpened by deliberate filing, and his breath stank of raw meat.

"Not the full moon," Fenrir whispered. "You won't turn. You will only carry the scars."

Edward struck his burned shoulder with an elbow. Fenrir snarled and tightened his grip. Edward's hand searched the cold streambed and closed around a jagged length of the branch Fenrir had thrown through the shield. One end had split into a hard wooden point.

His wand lay several paces away. The failed transformation had left fire flickering uselessly at one shoulder, and Fenrir's weight prevented any complete movement. The branch was not a spell or a prepared trap. It was the only object he could reach before the werewolf's teeth reached him.

Fenrir drew back to bite.

Edward drove the broken wood into the side of Fenrir's neck.

The motion was short and desperate. The point entered beneath the jaw. Fenrir released him at once, staggering backward with both hands at his throat. Edward fell into the stream and scrambled away on hands and knees.

Fenrir pulled the wood free. Blood followed in a violent pulse. He pressed both hands to the wound and tried to speak, but only a wet rasp emerged.

"What did you do?" he rasped.

Edward found his wand and raised it with both hands. "Stay down."

Fenrir took one step toward him. His leg folded. He struck the stones hard and lay still while blood spread through the stream.

Edward did not approach. He cast a shield between them and sent a third flare. His whole body shook now that there was nothing left to fight. The cuts along his side burned, and his wet clothes pulled heat from him.

He forced himself to preserve details while they were fresh. Fenrir had crossed the stream after Edward lost his wand. The remaining pieces of the broken branch lay upstream. The first blood on the stones belonged to Edward; the darker water beneath Fenrir had appeared after the stab. Edward spoke the sequence aloud so shock could not rearrange it later.

He counted Fenrir's breaths from behind the shield. They slowed, separated, and stopped. A diagnostic charm cast from a distance found no movement, but Edward did not touch the body or the bloodied branch. He had already altered everything necessary to survive.

A distant voice answered the flare.

"Edward!"

Professor McGonagall appeared at the upper edge of the valley with Hagrid behind her. Both had their wands drawn. Hagrid descended first, placing himself between Edward and the body while McGonagall checked the hidden ridges for another attacker.

"Don't touch the branch," Edward said. His teeth knocked together. "It entered his neck."

McGonagall's head turned sharply. "Was it already broken?"

"It was part of the branch he threw. My shield shattered it. I found the piece in the stream after he pinned me."

Hagrid crouched near Fenrir without touching him. After a moment he looked up, grim. "No breath. No pulse."

McGonagall closed her eyes briefly, then opened them with the expression she wore before difficult Transfiguration. "Hagrid, preserve the scene. Touch nothing except what is necessary to prevent another injury. Send for Madam Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore, and the Auror liaison."

She turned to Edward. "Tell me what happened from the moment you left the road. Do not omit the part you think will disappoint me."

Edward told her. He described the trail, the scouting pass, the purple flares, his landing, Fenrir's approach, each spell he remembered casting, and the moment his wand fell. He did not claim he had returned for a forgotten object. He did not call the death victory.

McGonagall listened without interrupting. When he finished, she conjured a clean dressing for his side and bound it in place.

"You should have returned after locating him," she said. "You should not have been alone."

"I know."

"That does not mean you were required to let him kill or bite you once he attacked."

Relief came with shame attached. Edward looked past her at the motionless figure. "I meant to stop him."

"Intent will be examined with the rest of the evidence. For now, leave everything where it is."

Madam Pomfrey arrived with Dumbledore several minutes later. She treated Edward's cuts, checked his pupils, and refused to let him walk unaided. Dumbledore inspected the scorch marks, broken ropes, blood trail, purple flare residue, branch fragments, and the positions of both wands. He spoke little.

Professor McGonagall accompanied Edward back toward the castle while Hagrid guarded the valley for the Aurors. She did not deduct house points or offer absolution. Both would have been premature.

"Professor Dumbledore wants a complete statement," she said. "Professor Snape is awake, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione are safe. Professor Lupin is secured in the hospital wing."

Edward nodded. The last sentence lifted one weight. Another remained in the valley, surrounded by evidence no fire had erased.

At the gargoyle outside the Headmaster's office, McGonagall gave the password and waited for the stairs to begin turning.

"Come in," Dumbledore called from above.

Edward entered knowing the adults inside had questions he could not answer with a polished story.