Lupin.
Forgetting the wand, she started to run again, limping a little now, towards the sound of the howling. She rounded another corner, stumbled, and came to the gate that blocked off the dungeons. She wrenched it open and ran inside, calling for Sirius.
'I'm here,' came a terse voice from a cell at the end of the corridor.
Hermione ran towards it — and came up short.
Sirius was in the cell, backed against the opposite wall — and between him and the cell door was a wolf. A wolf the size of a small pony, brindled gray and silver, lips pulled back from its teeth, snarling, ears laid flat back against its head.
Not it, she reminded herself. He. It's Lupin. You've seen him change before.
But surely, when he had changed before, he hadn't been quite so….large? Or so ferocious-looking?
'Sirius,' she hissed, 'change into your animal form — you said he's only a danger to humans!'
'Tried that,' said Sirius shortly. 'Didn't work. Hermione-'
'Don't tell me to get out of here, I'm not going to go and leave you here to be eaten!' she snapped hotly.
'He won't eat me-' Sirius began, then broke off as the wolf emitted another blood-curdling snarl. 'Well,' he amended, edging slightly farther away from the wolf, 'if he did, he'd be very sorry afterward.'
'Oh, he'll eat you all right,' the demon interrupted. 'As soon as the Call becomes strong enough. I give you… five minutes.'
Hermione ignored this. 'Sirius — there must be something-'
'The Lycanthe,' said Sirius quickly. 'That silver thing of Draco's -
that used to be a Portkey — I need that. Can you Summon it for me?'
Hermione already hand her wand in her hand. 'Accio Lyncanthe!'
There was a short silence. She waited, heart pounding, the snarl of the wolf in her ears, Sirius' deadly silence nearly as bad. A sudden mental picture of Harry came to her, standing on the field during the First Task, hand outstretched for his Firebolt, and waiting, waiting…
Clink.
The Lycanthe flew towards her, ricocheting off the bars of the cell opposite, and Hermione reached up to catch it. Her fingers closed around it; she turned back to Sirius —
A blackness so intense it was blinding flashed behind her eyes. She staggered, felt her back hit the stone wall behind her, nearly fell.
Darkness flooded her vision.
And then came light.
In quick succession, a series of images raced across the back of her eyelids. She saw a castle surrounded by thorns, a great glass Orb in which flame trembled, a table on which rested a cup, a dagger, and a scabbard, and the polished surface of a mirror which reflected only darkness.
Her vision cleared and she was suddenly back in the dungeon, staring through the bars of the cage at Sirius and the werewolf, still locked in their frightful staring contest. Her knees felt weak and there was a buzzing in her ears, but she knew what she had to do.
She heard Sirius yelling her name, but ignored it. Instead, she strode up to the unlocked cell door, flung it open, and walked inside. She did not feel at all afraid, not even when the wolf turned from snarling at Sirius to face her, not when it drew its lips back from its teeth, its eyes narrowing, muscles tensing -
'Hermione, get out!' she heard Sirius shout despairingly, and then she raised her hand with the silver Lycanthe in it and held it out in front of the werewolf.
The werewolf cringed back and let out an unearthly, whimpering howl.
Hermione took a deep breath, and raised the Lycanthe higher.
'Tutamen mali intus,' she cried, directing the light of the Lycanthe at the werewolf as if it were a wand. 'Cum monstrum colloquor, repulsus! Repulsus!'
The werewolf stiffened — its eyelids drooped, its limbs trembled -
and then it crashed to the ground in a heap and lay still.
Hermione gasped, and the burning light in the back of her mind vanished, like a light switch flicked off.
Shaking, she let her arm fall to her side and looked up at Sirius.
He was white as his shirt, staring at her. 'What did you do? And how-?'
'I don't know,' she whispered, staring back at him, and then, recalling why she was there, reached out to seize at his hand, which was icy cold, and started dragging him towards the door. 'Sirius -
you have to come — it's about Harry and Draco…'
Heart pounding, Draco turned to face Harry's parents, feeling somehow that facing them directly was the least he could do. His eyes fastened on Harry's father — who hardly even looked like anyone's father, he seemed so young, a barely-aged version of Harry. Of course, he had been only five years older than Harry was now when he had died.
Draco felt a chill go through him.
James Potter raised his eyes to Draco's and they were not green as Harry's were, but black. He said, 'I'm sorry I interrupted your conversation.'
'Oh,' said Draco. 'Oh. That's — that's all right.'
