Hunted

Chapter 20: Out of the Woods

As dawn approached, Angela was once again roused from slumber. This time, her eyes opened to find the face of Albus Dumbledore peering down at her. His azure eyes studied her with concern over those half-moon spectacles. Severus Snape stood by his side, his posture stiff and businesslike. Angela gasped and attempted to rise.

"No need to get up on my account, Angela," Dumbledore said. His hand rested on her shoulder, applying gentle pressure.

Her body sank back down on into the bed. Her lips moved to speak, but Dumbledore raised a finger to silence her.

"Rest," Dumbledore said. "Severus has already given me the details. I just wanted to see you before I left to find Remus. I did not want you to fret. Fawkes will take me. I will return shortly."

"Thank you, sir," Angela whispered, a grateful smile upon her lips.

She watched the two men leave the room. Her ears heard the click of the infirmary door, as they exited. Then she heard the phoenix song again and knew that the headmaster had gone. But she did not rest as instructed. Instead, she sat up in bed, her eyes wandering to her babies in the adjacent crib.

Both infants stirred in the swaddling blankets. James' face screwed up, preparing to cry. Sirius' lips worked themselves into a little pout, as hunger filled the tiny belly. Angela made a hushing sound. Then she gathered both boys in her arms and took them with her into her bed.

Angela had just tucked the boys back into their crib, when Albus Dumbledore returned. Hovering over the floor behind him was a stretcher. Remus lay upon it. Dumbledore maneuvered the stretcher through the infirmary door and onto one of the hospital beds. Madam Pomfrey bustled out of her office door, dressed in her uniform this time. Angela leapt from her bed and rushed to her husband's side.

Remus' face was gaunt and pale. Violet circles surrounded his sunken blue-gray eyes. Those eyes brightened, when they met hers, then clouded over. Her gaze ran down the length of his body, taking in every injury. His shirt was stained crimson with his own blood. A large gash torn in the material extended down his left side from under his arm to his hip. She glimpsed his bloodied flesh through the gaping tear in the shirt. She gasped. Her shaking hand reached for him, as her eyes filled with tears.

Madam Pomfrey approached the bed, an expression of alarm on her face. "Remus! Oh, dear!" she exclaimed.

She waved her wand. A basin of warm water and a clean washcloth materialized on the bed stand. She lifted Remus' lids and stared into his eyes for moment without saying a word. Then she turned to Angela.

"Clean him up as best you can," Madam Pomfrey whispered, her lips drawn thin and her expression grim. "I'll be back momentarily with more supplies."

She bustled off. Dumbledore surveyed the scene, studying every detail of the proceedings.

Angela's trembling fingers fumbled in a clumsy attempt to unfasten the buttons of her husband's shirt. She pulled it open to expose his chest. She gasped. His skin was so stained with blood that it was impossible to ascertain the extent of his injuries. Angela swiped her eyes with the back of her hand to clear her vision. Then she took the washcloth in her shaking fingers, dipped it in the basin, and bathed his body with the warm water. Her salty tears mingled with the wash water, as she worked her way across his chest. His face contorted with pain once or twice, but he did not cry out. She bit her lip to suppress her sobs.

The contents of the basin turned scarlet with large quantities of blood. But Angela sighed with some measure of relief, when she uncovered a long silvery scar that ran down his torso. The phoenix tears had worked their magic upon him. The wound had been closed.

Angela's eyes swept over his chest, searching for other injuries now that the blood was washed away. Many old battle scars marked his body, remnants of struggles long past. She was familiar with those, having memorized the position of every one. Then her gaze fell to the bruises on his ribs, now visible as ugly black and blue splotches on the landscape of pale flesh. She watched his chest rise and fall in steady rhythmic breathing.

Her eyes now wandered to his face. Her fingers ran across the stubble on his cheek with a gentle stroke. His eyes remained closed, but his lips now wore a feeble smile.

Madam Pomfrey hurried back into the room, her arms laden with potions and supplies. She placed them on the bed stand, approached the bed, and examined Remus. As she surveyed the long, silvery scar, her mouth dropped open and then closed with a snap. She turned to Dumbledore with a solemn expression.

"Fawkes' healing handiwork, I presume?" she queried, pointing at the silver trail.

"Yes, Poppy," remarked Dumbledore with a nod, "I believe so."

Madam Pomfrey continued her examination. Her eyes bored into Remus' face. Her fingers poked and prodded him. He winced only once, when her hand brushed against one of the bruises on his ribs. Angela watched, her eyes riveted on her husband.

"Hmmm," the healer mused. "Any broken bones, Remus?"

"No," he whispered, his lips hardly moving. His eyes remained closed.

"Well," she concluded, looking from Angela to Dumbledore. "He's very weak and he's lost a great deal of blood. He also has some residual sickness from his latest episode of lycanthropy. But he should recover fully with a little care."

Angela sighed with relief. Her hand clasped over the closed fist of her husband's right hand. She smiled at him.

"Remus, you are a lucky man," Madam Pomfrey remarked, patting him on the shoulder. "That was a close call. I prescribe lots a rest and a regimen of Blood Replenishing Potion and Strengthening Draught." She moved over to the bed stand and filled a goblet with a cocktail of potions. "Here, drink this," she ordered, holding out a goblet filled with a vermillion liquid.

Dumbledore and Angela helped Remus into a sitting position. Angela held the goblet to his lips. His left hand rested on hers, as he steadied the cup and took a deep draught. He pulled a face, then drained the cup. His head dropped back down onto the pillows. His weary eyes stared over at Angela, as she tucked a warm blanket around him.

"Now, the patent needs his rest," Madam Pomfrey instructed, casting them her sternest look.

"Shortly, Poppy," Dumbledore replied, smiling at her. "I promise I will be brief."

Madam Pomfrey uttered an exasperated hurrumpf. Then she turned, strode back to her office, and slammed the door.

Angela felt light-headed, but could not will herself to leave her husband's side. Something in her expression must have changed, because Remus' eyes took on a worried look. His left hand reached toward her. Angela's legs gave way beneath her body. In the next instant, Dumbledore strode to her side and grabbed her arm to steady her. He conjured a comfortable chair behind her and lowered her into it.

"Thank you," she whispered, casting him a wan smile.

She allowed her body to melt back into the soft cushions of the chair. Her gaze wandered back to her husband's face. She took his hand in hers.

"I know that you need rest." Dumbledore studied them both with a careworn expression on his aged face. "I won't keep you much longer. But it is imperative that you tell me everything that you can remember about what happened last night."

Angela glanced over at Remus. She nodded to him. Then she turned to Dumbledore and began the tale.

"I was with Remus in the Den," she said. "The full moon, you know. I left him for a time to tend to the children. That's when it happened." She shuddered. Her eyes refilled with tears. "I heard an explosion and saw the door to the Den blown apart through the looking glass in the children's nursery."

"That was Macnair," Remus whispered. "He had a gun."

"A Muggle firearm?" Dumbledore inquired. The snowy brows rocketed up, then fell again in sudden understanding. "Loaded with silver bullets, no doubt?"

Angela gasped. Walden Macnair, the professional executioner, had come prepared to murder her husband.

"I assume so." Remus nodded. "He fired a round of ammunition into the room, but I had hidden under the cot out of sight. I remember lunging at him. I bit his hand, trying to prevent him from casting a spell at me. I heard another shot...I think. He must have dropped the pistol...I don't know...It's all...It's all very unclear...spotty...like a dream." An agitated look flashed across his face. His voice faded.

Dumbledore put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You must try to remember, Remus. Think. It is important that I know every detail." He turned to Angela. "Did you give him the Wolfsbane Potion in the week before the attack?"

"Yes, of course," Angela replied, nodding her head. "He was in control of his senses. I can attest to that." She gazed into her husband's face and leaned forward in the chair. Her hand stroked his cheek.

Dumbledore reached into the pocket of his robes and extracted a small phial. He dribbled a drop or two of a purple liquid into the injured man's mouth. Remus swallowed. His troubled look vanished and he closed his eyes. His expression grew placid again.

"Yes." Remus' voice was now calm and more certain. "The pistol went off. I can hear the shot. It missed us both by some miracle, but it startled me. I let go of his wrist. He turned on me and prepared to cast another spell. I lunged at him again. This time, I bit down on the wand and it broke in two." He hesitated now, reliving the attack. His breathing grew rapid, as if he was back in that battle, still fighting Macnair.

Angela watched him, her moist eyes riveted to his face. Her hand now grasped his arm. She caught her breath, waiting for him to go on.

"What happened next?" she prompted, leaning forward.

"He pulled a knife on me," Remus whispered, his eyes still closed. "A long knife. I can see the blade flashing in the moonlight. Silver. We circle each other in the Den. There isn't much room to maneuver. He charges at me, slashing at me with that knife. I dodge the blade and bite down into his arm. I can hear his screams. I can taste his blood." He stopped speaking. He swallowed hard. He grimaced, turning his head away.

Angela's gaze was fixed upon him, a look of horror on her face. Dumbledore's expression remained unchanged. His blue eyes stared into the face of the werewolf.

"Macnair fights back, dragging me with him," Remus whispered, his voice quavering. "Then he stumbles backward. I come down on top of him hard. And then I feel it, the searing pain of the blade penetrating my side and raking across my ribs. I howl. And I hear his head, hitting the stone floor." He stopped speaking, unable to continue.

An audible sob escaped Angela's lips. Tears coursed down her cheeks. Remus' eyes opened and stared at Angela. He placed his left hand upon hers.

"Was he dead?" Dumbledore prodded gently.

"I don't know for sure," Remus replied, his gaze meeting Dumbledore's. "But I don't think so."

"And what did you do then?" Dumbledore prompted.

"I heard Angela...I heard her scream from the cottage...I saw her in the broken mirror...in the doorway of the nursery...writhing...in...agony." Remus broke off and turned his head away from Dumbledore's stare. His eyes closed again, a pained expression on his face.

"There was a second Death Eater," Angela explained. "Bellatrix Lestrange. She entered the house and went after me. We dueled. I don't know how I survived it. I just remember dodging behind every piece of furniture in the room, as she blew them up one by one. When there was nowhere left to hide, she disarmed me." She hesitated, sobbing. "Then she went after the children. She threatened to murder my babies, but I wouldn't let her." Angela's voice grew quiet, now the merest whisper. "So she used the Cruciatus Curse on me."

Dumbledore's face stared at her with concern. Remus squeezed her hand more tightly in his, averting his gaze. The struggle to master his emotions was visible in the pained twitch that flashed across his countenance and the deep creases that marred his brow.

"That's when Remus came to my rescue," Angela continued, her voice now stronger. "He bit her hand, until she dropped her wand. Then he pounced on her and she fell." She shuddered in horror at the memory. Her voice trembled. "She's dead...impaled on a piece of broken furniture." Angela stared down into her lap. A trail of tears trickled down her cheeks.

"You are certain of this?" Dumbledore prompted.

Angela looked up to meet his kindly gaze. She nodded her head. Her eyes wandered back to her husband. Her hand stroked his side where the wound had been.

"Then I noticed the wound on Remus' side...fur...all bloody," Angela whispered. She faced Dumbledore with an earnest expression. "But he wouldn't let me near him. He ran off into the woods to protect me...I could see Remus...in the eyes of the werewolf."

"What happened after I left you?" Remus said, his eyes searching hers.

"I tried to get help...to contact Headquarters," Angela replied, "but no one was there. And our Floo Network was being watched. A hand grabbed for me from the fireplace. It was Lucius Malfoy. I am certain of it."

Remus' eyes opened wide with alarm. "Why was no one at Headquarters?" His brow furrowed. "Who was on duty last night?" He cast Dumbledore an inquisitive glance.

"Prudence Crutch," Dumbledore replied. His face wore a grave expression. "She left her home at the appropriate time, but never arrived for her shift. She remains missing." He paused, glancing from one to the other. "Fallen prey to the Death Eaters, we presume. Yours was not the only attack last night."

"Who else?" Remus inquired, his voice cracking. Dread flashed in his eyes.

Dumbledore's piercing gaze softened. Angela noticed moisture forming in the corners. The Headmaster looked ancient and exhausted. He did not seem able to answer.

"Who?" Angela prompted, giving him a pleading look.

"Alastor," Dumbledore said, in a barely audible voice, blinking a tear from his eyes. "He was attacked in his home by three Death Eaters. Minerva and I went to help, but arrived too late. He is in St. Mungo's now in critical condition." He shook his snowy mane. "He is not expected to survive."

Angela gasped and sniffled. She glanced over at her husband. His eyes were squeezed shut and his fists clenched. He said nothing.

Angela sprang from the chair and grasped his hand. A shuddering breath left his lips. He twisted his head away and clasped her hand in his. For several minutes, no one spoke. Then Remus stirred, still clutching Angela's hand.

"Anyone else?" he inquired, looking over at the Headmaster.

"No," Dumbledore replied, with a melancholy gaze. "It is enough as it is."

Remus released his wife's hand. He stroked her hair, picking a few remaining feathers and bits of wood from her soft curls. Her head lifted and she gazed into his face.

"Angela," he whispered. "How then did you come here? I know that you won't fly."

"I took the children on the Knight Bus," she answered. "I asked the conductor to bring me here directly without stopping to take on any other passengers. I was afraid that Lucius would come after me. And the conductor, a young man...I think his name was Stan...he took pity on me and did."

"Who else was on the bus?" Dumbledore inquired, raising his bushy eyebrows.

"The conductor and the driver, of course," she answered. "There were only three other passengers on the lower level. Two wizards and an elderly witch. I did not see the faces of the men, but the old woman was very upset with me. She complained that she had been riding on the bus for a long time and that her stop should be next. But the driver ignored her."

"Did you see anyone outside your house?" Dumbledore inquired. "Any neighbors? Or others that could bear witness to your story?"

"No, I saw no one," Angela replied. "Our nearest neighbor is old Emmett Brown. He lives about a half mile up the road. But the Knight Bus conductor, he got out of the bus to help me. I remember the expression on his face when he saw me. I think that's why they took me here straight away ahead of the other stops."

Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes studied their faces for a moment. "Is there anything else that you can remember?"

"No!" Angela shook her head.

"Thank you," Dumbledore rejoined. "Now, I suggest that you both get some rest. I wish that I could tell you that this ordeal is behind you. I need to leave now to take care of some business. I will return to check in on you shortly. In the meantime, Poppy will look after you."

Dumbledore rose to his feet and strode from the room. His expression remained grave and pensive. His eyes took on a steely glint.

The infirmary door clicked shut. Remus turned back toward Angela. They gazed into each other's eyes. Angela spoke first.

"What happened to you in the woods?" she whispered, caressing his cheek.

"I really can't remember much," he replied. "I only recall waking in the woods to find Fawkes by my side. He dropped this." He opened his right fist to show the locket that had remained clutched in his grasp. His fingers fumbled and she helped him fasten the chain back around her neck. His voice quavered as he spoke. "I knew that you had sent Fawkes to me and I knew that you and the boys were safe. My angel," he whispered, cradling her face in both his hands. "You saved my life."

"What else could I do?" she replied, with a wan smile. "You saved all our lives last night. I could not leave you out there alone. You know that I would have come for you myself, if there was no other way."

"Yes, I know," he whispered, a wistful smile upon his lips.

Angela leaned over and kissed his brow. She stared into his eyes, as her own turned into watery green pools. Then she bathed his face in her kisses. Remus closed his eyes. A smile still played faintly on the corners of his lips. Angela slid onto the bed beside him and laid her head on the pillow. Locked in his embrace with her body nestled against his, she drifted off into slumber.