Chapter 130 — The Weight of the Lion

Ron gripped the timber beside his hip as Snape eased the support under his leg. He had managed the journey through the tunnel without complaining much, which made the way he watched the professor’s hands considerably worse.

‘Tell me before you move it again,’ he said. His knuckles had gone white against the wood.

‘I shall. Granger, hold the cloth clear of his ankle.’ Snape waited until she had done it before touching the binding. ‘Now, Weasley. A little towards you.’

I kept my end steady while Ron drew breath through his teeth. Across the grass, Harry said something to Sirius too quietly for me to hear; Sirius answered, and Harry’s shoulders lowered a little. I hoped they were discussing something worth remembering from this afternoon.

‘Nearly ready,’ I told Ron. ‘Then someone else can carry you, and you can complain about their driving.’

‘I wasn’t going to complain about yours.’ He tried to look down at his foot without moving his leg. ‘Yet.’

Lupin made a sound behind us, a breath caught halfway out. I turned and found him standing very still, his free hand pressed to his chest. The cord hanging from his other hand had slackened between him and Pettigrew.

‘Professor?’ I said. He looked towards me, but his attempt to answer ended in a gasp. I took my hands off the timber. ‘Snape. Look at him.’

Snape rose at once, his wand coming up as Lupin doubled over. Beyond the rise, a pale moon had cleared the low cloud. The light lay across the ground where, a moment before, I had been watching a bandage.

‘Remus!’ Sirius left Harry and caught Lupin by the arms. ‘Look at me. Stay with me.’

‘Get away from him, Black,’ Snape ordered. He moved sideways, trying to bring his wand past Sirius’s shoulder. ‘I cannot restrain him with you there.’

Sirius either did not hear or would not let go. Lupin’s fingers spread against his sleeves, the joints shifting, and I stepped back towards the litter. The dose we needed lay broken at the far end of a tunnel; we had all known we must hurry, and we had still run out of time.

‘Harry, help me move Ron under the roots,’ I said. ‘Hermione, the stick. Press the knot like Sirius did.’

She looked from the litter to the Willow. Its branches were moving again, sweeping over the entrance we had just left, but the length of wood Sirius had used lay within reach of her wand. She lifted it off the grass and guided its end towards the trunk.

The tip slipped against the bark on her first attempt. I was already reaching for Ron when she found the knot, and the branches stopped with a thick bough stretched over our way in. We would have to duck beneath it.

‘Hold it there,’ I said. ‘Harry, take that end. Keep his foot level with mine.’

We lifted together, got three steps and had to stop when Ron cried out. Harry shifted his grip while I lowered my end an inch; Ron’s breath came easier, though his fingers still clamped the timber. Behind us, cloth tore with the sound of a sheet being pulled across a nail.

Pettigrew had brought his bound hands close to his chest. Lupin’s fingers opened, dropping the loose end of the cord, and Peter looked straight at me as he stepped away.

‘Watch Peter!’ I shouted. I set the litter down, reached into my pouch and threw a prepared strip at his legs. ‘Locomotor Mortis!’

His body folded before the light reached him. The cord fell empty, the spell passed over a small grey shape, and the rat ran between two roots towards the dark edge of the forest. I took a step after him before Ron made a frightened sound at my feet.

Harry was still holding the litter. Hermione had both hands tight around her wand, keeping the stick in place, and Lupin’s changing body was only a few yards behind them. If I went after Peter, those were the people I would be leaving.

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‘Lift again,’ I told Harry. ‘We’re getting him inside.’

Sirius hit the ground behind us. Lupin had thrown him clear, and the creature straightening from the torn clothes no longer stood as a man stood. I could recognise scraps of his robe more easily than anything in his face.

Harry pulled Ron’s feet beneath the root while I lowered the other end of the litter. The timber scraped earth, caught and moved again. Ron tried to make himself smaller without bending his leg, which was a horrible thing to watch and no help at all.

‘Keep your hands inside,’ I said. ‘We’ve got you. Just keep them away from the edges.’

Hermione held the knot until Ron was far enough in, then lowered the stick and backed towards us. The branches stayed still. I did not know how much longer we had before the tree joined the trouble outside.

The werewolf turned towards our opening, its mouth open and wet. For an instant I looked for the man who had watched me struggle through a Patronus lesson and known when to shut the trunk.

‘Professor,’ I began. Hermione caught my sleeve and pulled as its arm swept across the gap. Claws struck bark where my head had been, showering my cheek with splinters.

I landed on my good hand and scrambled backwards. Beyond the root, Snape’s spell struck the creature at an angle and drove it away from us; Sirius rolled clear of its next swipe. The werewolf recovered its footing and turned towards Snape.

There was a prepared Incendio strip between my fingers before I had finished standing. I waited for a gap between the creature and the professor, threw the paper into it and called the word. Flame burst across the wet grass, sending up steam.

The werewolf checked its stride. I kept the root between us and looked past the narrow burning patch; it could get round either end if it chose. I had bought time, and I had very little idea how to spend it.

‘You’re not going to burn him?’ Hermione asked. She stayed beside Ron, wand aimed through the gap rather than at my hand.

‘I’m keeping him back.’ I watched the creature edge towards the end of the flames. ‘For as long as that works.’

Snape crossed towards us, his injured arm held close to his side. I asked whether there was another dose at the castle, and his face tightened before he answered.

‘It will not reverse this, Mercer. Keep Potter and Granger with Weasley.’ He placed himself in front of the opening. ‘And get behind me.’

The castle windows shone beyond his shoulder. Somewhere over there people had answered our signal, but between us lay enough open ground for Lupin to catch anyone trying to cross it. I backed beneath the root and heard the last of the fire hiss out.

The werewolf sprang into Snape’s shield. It struck hard enough to throw itself sideways, one claw scraping the wood above me, and Snape stumbled back against the trunk. His injured shoulder hit bark; the breath came through his teeth, but his wand stayed up.

‘Stay down, Ron,’ I said. He had begun trying to sit up on the litter, and Harry put a hand gently against his shoulder.

Outside, the werewolf landed on all fours and turned again. Snape adjusted his stance, taking the weight off the arm pressed against his side. Before he could finish his next spell, a black dog crossed the clearing and hit Lupin from the flank.

They rolled across the wet grass in a tangle of limbs and teeth. Snape checked his wand rather than fire into them, and Sirius caught the werewolf’s arm, trying to drag it away from the roots. He lost his grip, scrambled up and went back in.

I had thought the dog enormous when it came out of the dark at Ron. Now I could see its ribs each time it stretched to reach Lupin, and how much effort it took to regain its feet. The werewolf struck its side and sent it sliding over bare earth.

Harry moved towards the opening. I caught his sleeve before he could get through, and he pulled against my hand.

‘He’s going to kill him,’ Harry said. His eyes stayed on the dog as Sirius tried to stand.

Snape was moving round them, searching for a clear shot, but Sirius staggered back into the way. A second blow knocked him down. This time one of his legs folded when he tried to get up, and Lupin turned over him.

I remembered the weight I had learnt to balance in McGonagall’s practice space. I knew the reach of my paws and the dreadful extra stride it could take to stop myself when I turned too quickly. There was room to run across this grass, and the dog did not have time to wait for a safer idea.

‘Hermione, take the pouch,’ I said. I undid the strap and put it into her hands. ‘I can knock him away from Sirius.’

‘Then get out of Snape’s way afterwards.’ She folded both hands over the opening, holding the paper clear of me. ‘Don’t stay there trying to beat him.’

I nodded, though the first part of the plan already felt large enough to occupy everything I had. My scraped palm left a mark on the strap when I let it go; then I stepped out from beneath the root.

‘Professor! I’m getting him off Sirius.’ I pointed across the creature’s body, trying to show Snape where I meant to hit it.

‘Mercer, wait for—’ He turned towards me as the werewolf raised an arm over the fallen dog. I ran before he could finish.

The change caught up with my first strides. Hands struck the earth as paws, cold mud filled my nose, and my lengthening body nearly carried my chest into the ground. I found the next stride just before that happened, drove off my hind feet and hit the werewolf across the body.

For a moment we were both off the ground. The force went through my shoulders and back with a violence I had never found in the practice room, and I twisted as we fell, keeping its claws away from my face. We struck the grass clear of Sirius.

I got my feet under me first. The werewolf rose in front of me, and behind its head I could see the place where my friends were sheltering.