Hunted

Chapter 18: Shattered

The June evening was peaceful and still, as a balmy afternoon had given way to the cool of the night. The full moon shone in the evening sky, bathing the bucolic country cottage and its surrounding structures in its light. In a small shed alongside the cottage, a large, gray werewolf and a small, reddish-brown fox nestled together on a carpet in front of the hearth. The fox nipped playfully at the wolf and nuzzled her head against his snout. The wolf licked the vixen, buried his face in the soft pelt, and closed his eyes.

The cry of an infant pierced the stillness of the night. Hearing the child's lament, the wolf pricked up his ears and looked in the direction of the sound. Seconds later, the fox emerged from the shed and trotted toward the cottage. As if a trick of the moon or the shadows, a woman appeared where the fox had been. She entered the cottage and crossed the house to the nursery.

"Hush now, James," Angela whispered, picking up the crying child in her arms.

She settled into a rocking chair and began to suckle the child. Gulps and gurgles replaced his cries, as the babe nursed at his mother's breast. Angela's gaze flitted to a large looking glass in the nursery. Through the glass, she could see the wolf still curled on the rug of his den, his glowing amber eyes following her movements. No hint of menace lingered in the eyes of werewolf, only serene watchfulness.

The suckling sound abated. The child's eyelids drooped. Angela smiled, admiring her six-week-old infant with a loving gaze. His eyes were closed in blissful trusting sleep, the pouting mouth continuing the sucking motion. Leaning her cheek against his little head, she rubbed the baby's back and softly sang a lullaby. After several minutes, she tucked him back into bed.

In the cradle, his twin stirred and yawned. She gathered this child in her arms, changed, and nursed him as well. Then she laid the babe back in the cradle, swaddled cozy and warm in a blanket. For a moment, she stood over the cradle and watched the two little faces contentedly sleeping, unaware of the tragedy that was about to befall them all.

A loud crack, like the sound of thunder, shattered the peaceful scene. Startled, Angela jumped. Her gaze flicked to the mirror mounted on the nursery wall. In the looking glass, she could see the wolf rise to his feet with a menacing growl, hackles raised.

Seconds later, the door to the shed blew open. The force of the blast shook the whole house and threw Angela to the floor. She scrambled to the cradle, shielding her children with her body. Her babies woke with bleating cries. With her shaking hand still on the crib, Angela's gaze flew to the mirror.

"Remus," she screamed, an agonized cry.

Angela watched as the werewolf dove for cover under a cot. Splinters from the battered door flew like deadly darts around the den. One hit the mirror and shattered the glass. Angela shrieked and threw her body in front of her children. But the looking glass in the nursery remained intact, now offering only a fractured view of the horrific events unfolding in the shed outside.

For a moment, Angela froze, torn between a compelling desire to rush to her husband's aid and her maternal instinct to stay and protect her children. How could she leave them so small and helpless? But neither could she stand aside while her husband fell under attack. Angela doused the lights and ran from the room, sealing the nursery door behind her to safeguard her little ones.

A round of gunshots pierced the night. Remus! Angela whispered a hurried prayer for his deliverance. Her footsteps hastened.

Before she had traveled the length of the sitting room, a second explosion ripped the cottage door from its hinges. The force of the blast sent debris flying into the adjoining kitchen and through the open fireplace into the parlor. Angela was thrown to the floor. She scrambled up and flattened herself behind the cold masonry of the massive fireplace. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath catching in her throat.

Outside, the growl of the wolf and sounds of a struggle sliced through the open doorway. A sobbing breath escaped her lips in a single rush. At least he was still alive.

She edged along the fireplace and peered through the grate into the kitchen. She caught her breath once again. A hooded and masked Death Eater stood silhouetted in the moonlight flooding through the cottage doorway. Their enemies had found them at last.

With her back flattened against the stones of the hearth, Angela listened for the approaching footsteps of the Death Eater. Her tense fingers clutched her wand. Terror gripped her. Her children's cries, muffled behind the sealed nursery door, tugged at her heart. She suppressed her motherly instinct to run to her babes and gather them in her arms. She knew that her only chance to save their lives was to remain hidden and catch the Death Eater by surprise. So she waited in the darkness, straining every nerve to hear the sound of the footsteps coming ever closer.

The click of her assailant's heels crossed the stone floor of the kitchen. The Death Eater was almost upon her now. Angela steeled her nerves and readied her wand in her trembling grasp. A long, inky shadow crossed the threshold from the kitchen into the sitting room. The time had come.

Angela jumped from her hiding place, pointed her wand at the intruder, and yelled "Impedimenta!" A red beam flew from her wand, blinding the intruder in a momentary flash of crimson. She scored a sidelong hit on the Death Eater's ribs.

The attacker pitched sideways and smashed against the bookcase on the far wall. The impact knocked the mask askew. Tomes cascaded from the shelves to the floor at the Death Eater's feet. The intruder snarled, pulled her mask from her face, and cast it aside. Angela found herself staring back into the cruel countenance. She gasped with horror. Bellatrix Lestrange!

In desperation, Angela sent another spell winging toward the Death Eater. But the intruder was prepared for her this time. Bella parried the incoming hex, then pointed her wand at the books on the floor and sent them hurtling toward Angela.

Angela's eyes widened at the air-bourn tomes. All that Remus had taught her about dueling seemed to flee her thoughts. She had no time to utter a counter charm before the first volumes pelted her body. So she did what any sensible witch would do. She ran.

With her arms shielding her head, Angela sprinted for the sofa, out of the path of the onslaught of books. She scrambled over the couch and ducked behind it. A lethal curse flew in her direction, missing her by mere inches. The curse hit the wall behind her in a deadly flash of green light, leaving a gaping hole to mark its passage in the plaster and woodwork. Angela's head spun to glimpse the woods behind the cottage now visible through the opening. Bloody hell!

With terrified glance, Angela peered over the sofa and sent a volley of her own spells winging toward Bellatrix Lestrange. The Death Eater deftly blocked them all, then sent another fatal curse toward Angela. No Shielding Charm could deflect a curse so deadly. Angela had only seconds to react. Her fingers grasped a pillow from the sofa and threw it in the path of the hex. Pillow and curse met in midair. The cushion disintegrated in a pouf of feathers, but did little to impede the progress of the hex. By some miracle, the curse bypassed Angela and slammed into the wall behind her, leaving another yawning fissure in the plaster.

Angela spun to face her adversary once more. Floating white plumes obscured her vision. She did not see the fatal hex now aimed at the sofa. The curse hit, reducing the couch to shreds of wood and fabric. Debris exploded in front of her. Angela screamed, knocked backward by the force of the blast. She dropped to the floor, flattening herself against the cold flagstones. She buried her head in her arms and lay still. Stuffing, bits of fabric, and small splinters of wood rained down upon her and pelted her body. Any protection once afforded by the sofa was now gone.

When the worse of the hail had subsided, Angela raised her head, aimed her wand at an armchair, and sputtered an incantation. The overstuffed seat skidded across the floor toward Bella. Just before the chair bowled into her, the Death Eater met it with another curse. The chair exploded in a shower of splinters and batting.

The diversion gave Angela opportunity. She scrambled to her feet and dashed behind an end table for cover, one of the few pieces of intact furniture left in the room. She aimed a second hex at the bookcase. The wooden structure pulled away from the wall with ominous creaks and groans. The remaining books and parchments spilled from its shelves. A waterfall of paper cascaded toward the Death Eater. Bella jumped aside, a narrow escape. The bookcase crashed to the floor and broke apart. Books and planks littered the floor, now blocking passage to the kitchen.

The Death Eater hissed and eyed Angela with disdain. She raised her wand and another lethal green flash sped across the room. Angela saw the charm hurtling straight at her. Her green eyes flushed with alarm. What could she do now?

Thinking quickly, Angela levitated the end table into the path of the hex. The table blew apart. But Angela was hit by wreckage from the blast. The force slammed her back against the rear wall of the cottage. The collision knocked the wind from her lungs. Her injured body slid down to the floor. She sat, struggling to catch her breath. Sweat mingled with blood trickled down from her forehead. She had no where left to hide.

"Expelliarmus!" Angela's wand ripped from her hand. It clattered as it fell on the stone floor among the ruins of the room. The impact of the spell pinned her against the wall for a second time. The duel had ended. She had lost.

Recovering herself, Angela struggled to her feet. She stood unarmed with her back to the wall, facing certain death at the hand of Bellatrix Lestrange. She had no hope of reaching her wand. Escape was not an option. Her only thought was for the lives of her children. How could she save them? God, have mercy!

"So we have come to the end of our foolish game at last." Bellatrix strutted before her and cackled, an insane, mocking laugh. "Now I will make you suffer for the pain you have caused me. And don't even think of trying one of your Muggle tricks. They won't work on me."

Bella's cunning eyes narrowed. She turned her gaze toward the door of the nursery. The muffled sounds of the babies' cries could be heard coming from behind the closed door. The Death Eater's lips curled into an unpleasant leer. Watching her, Angela's eyes opened wide in horror. Not the children!

"NOOOOOO!" Angela screamed.

Bella aimed a hex at the door to the nursery. The curse blasted the door from its hinges. The bleating cries of the infants filled the sitting room. Angela sprinted toward the nursery. She threw herself in front of the doorway, stretching her arms across the gap to block Bella's path.

"Get out of the way," Bella commanded.

"No!" Angela replied, casting her attacker a look of steely determination. "You'll have to kill me first."

"Imperio!" Bella shrieked, through clenched teeth. "Now step aside."

Angela's body shook from the impact of the spell. She felt lightheaded and peaceful. Her own thoughts fled. A voice inside her head urged her to surrender to the suggestion. Simply step aside. It would be so easy to comply. But her maternal instinct also rose within her breast, countering the powerful spell. Protect your children at all cost. Stand your ground. Defy her.

Angela's knees had gone weak. But her fingers gripped the frame of the door with white-knuckled resolve. She would not be moved.

"No!" Angela screamed. "I will not step aside!"

"So you will not obey," Bella replied, her anger rising. "Then perhaps we need to use another form of persuasion. Crucio!" the Death Eater bellowed.

Bella trained her wand on Angela. The hex hit her squarely in the chest. Pain unlike any she had ever known coursed through her veins. She heard herself screaming in agony, as if the voice belonged to another. She doubled over, clinging to the door frame for support. The suffering was excruciating, as if someone had ripped the sinews from her bones. As if her flesh were melting from her body. She prayed that she could simply die so that her torment would end.

As Bella lifted her wand, Angela sank to her knees, panting. She looked over at her assailant, but her eyes would not focus.

"Now step aside," Bella hissed.

Angela's voice was hoarse and she replied in barely more than a whisper, but it was distinct and determined. "You shall not pass, while I live."

"Oh, I shall pass," Bella howled with fury. "And you shall live just long enough to see your children murdered before your eyes."

Once again, the Death Eater trained her wand on Angela and uttered the Cruciatus Curse. Angela crumpled to the floor, overcome with convulsions of pain. She prayed for death, having lost hope for any other deliverance.

At that moment, another sound reached her ears. Was it the bark of a dog? Or perhaps the growl of a wolf?

The large, gray werewolf bounded into the room, leapt over the remains of the bookcase, and charged the Death Eater. Caught completely off guard, Bella released Angela from the spell and spun to face the creature. But the beast was quicker. His mighty jaw clamped on her wand hand and bit down hard. The Death Eater shrieked, pulled at her hand to extract it from the beast's mouth, and pummeled the creature with her other fist. However, the werewolf would not relent. Sharp teeth chomped down harder, tearing into Bella's flesh, until her hand was ripped and torn. With a clatter, Bella's wand fell from her bloodied fingers.

Angela lay upon the threshold of the nursery, recovering from her torture. A mixture of fear and wonder melded in her eyes, as she watched the battle unfold. She stared with an astonished gaze at the bloodied wand that now rolled across the floor toward her, stopping just out of her reach. Such an impossible rescue was beyond imagination. A fleeting hope welled up in her heart.

The werewolf released his hold on Bellatrix Lestrange, backed off, and positioned himself between Angela and her attacker. Angry amber eyes stared at the Death Eater. The beast bared his razor-sharp teeth and snarled at her, hackles standing on end. The Death Eater recoiled from the werewolf. She cradled her bloodied hand to her chest, swaddling it in her robes.

Angela watched Bella's eyes sweep across the demolished sitting room. The floor was littered with shards of wood, batting, feathers, fabric, and parchment, tokens of their battle. Bella's restless eyes fixed on something. Her lips curled into a triumphant grin. Angela followed her gaze and spotted her wand lying on the floor amidst the wreckage. She gasped.

"She's going for my wand," Angela exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.

With a quick movement, Bella lunged for the wand. The wolf pounced, sliding and skidding across the debris-strewn floor. The beast met her before she could reach her destination. His paws slammed hard into her chest. She hurtled backwards, the ferocious beast bearing down on top of her. A sharp spike of splintered wood, a shattered leg of the end table, stood wedged upright among the rubble behind her. Bella's body fell backward toward the deadly pike. She screamed one final cry as the jagged splinter impaled her body. Bellatrix Lestrange's luck had finally been exhausted.

Angela shuddered with horror. She averted her eyes from the ghastly spectacle. The wolf whimpered and sniffed at the now lifeless form of the Death Eater. Then he turned to face Angela with a melancholy gaze.

The werewolf surveyed Angela. She returned his stare. For a brief moment, neither one moved. Although she should have been frightened by her dangerous position, Angela felt no fear at all. She stared into the face of the werewolf, seeing her husband instead of the wild eyes of an untamed beast.

A crimson stain on the wolf's coat caught her attention. Her eyes traveled to a bloody gash that ran the length of his flank. She sobbed and reached for him, ignoring her own safety. The wolf snarled a warning and backed away from her. Then the beast leapt through the hole in the back wall and disappeared into the woods.

Alone in the demolished sitting room, Angela's body began to tremble. Waves of fear washed over her anew. She pounced on Bella's bloodied wand lying on the floor a few feet from her. She aimed at her own wand and summoned it to her. Pocketing both wands, she ran to the fireplace.

She pulled down a ceramic jar that had survived the duel unscathed. Her fingers reached inside, grabbed a handful of a powdered substance, and tossed it into the fireplace. Immediately, a green flame flared up toward the flue. Angela dropped to her knees, stuck her head in the flames, and spoke in a quavering voice.

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place."

The view in the flames swirled before her. The warmth made her face flush. When the spinning stopped, she found herself staring into the deserted basement kitchen of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Help," she cried out. "Is anyone there? Please, there's been an attack. Help."

Her gaze scanned the darkened kitchen. Her cries fell unheard upon empty air. There was no one there to assist her.

In the fire, something brushed against her ear. She recoiled with fright. Her eyes popped wide, burning in the heat. A man's hand, wearing a silver ring with a serpent engraved upon it and an emerald stone, groped among the flames. Angela knew that ring. She had seen it many times on the hand of Lucius Malfoy.

She screamed and pulled her head from the flames. Terrified, she watched as the hand continued to search for her in the fire. She scuttled back away from the hearth, gasping for breath. Malfoy must know that she had survived. Surely, he would come for her next. She must leave immediately. She must go and find help somewhere. But where could she go?

Angela jumped to her feet and ran to the nursery, her children's cries tearing at her heart. She swaddled them both together in a single blanket and pulled them to her breast. Then she fled the room.

Not daring to use the Floo Network or even approach the hearth, she eyed the ruins in the hall that blocked her passage. With a flick of her wand, she uttered an incantation. Books and shelves reassembled themselves, as the bookcase was restored. The hallway was now clear.

She fled through the open passageway and stopped in the kitchen. She laid her precious bundle on the kitchen table and grabbed a ceramic sugar jar from the shelf. Her fingers fished in the jar to extract a small velvet pouch filled with coins, the only money that she had at her disposal. Then she threw on her cloak, clutched her children to her, and fled out the door into the night.

Without looking back, she ran to the desolate dirt road that wound in front of the cottage. Moonbeams lit the potholes in the rutted country lane. The plaintive howl of a wolf carried on the breeze from somewhere deep in the forest. Tears coursed down Angela's cheeks. She held out a trembling hand and summoned the Knight Bus.