My Soul to Keep

Just as predicted, Quidditch tryouts were indeed largely a formality. Charlus was apparently so unconcerned about the whole matter that he waited until the second Friday of term before actually holding trials. This suited Alastor just fine, because by the end of the second week of classes he was quite ready for a break of any sort, though Quidditch was a definite plus. Classes themselves had not yet proved too exceptionally challenging, no worse than fifth year had been at any rate. The issue lay more with the fact that Bell McKinnon had taken to following him around the castle, whether they had class together or not. She had in fact made several appearances in the library in an effort to gain his attention, and had already twice asked for help with Defense work. Alastor had begun to realize that he probably ought to do something about Bell one way or another, and soon, before things got out of hand. She really was rather pretty, even if Minerva seemed to be offended by the very thought, and she could be quite nice. Alastor had thus spent a fair amount of time debating over what precisely to do, having not dared ask Tiberius' opinion on the matter. Quidditch as always was a welcome relief.

Thursday had been a particularly rainy day, but thankfully the weather cleared in plenty of time for the Friday trials. The pitch was still damp, grass squelching beneath Alastor's boots, and he relished the smell of damp air and earth. Swinging a leg over his broom, he kicked off, rocketing skyward and welcoming the burst of adrenaline that always came with flying. He rolled a time or two, practicing maneuvers that were by this point second nature, and barely veered in time to avoid hitting Tiberius, who had flown directly into his path.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Alastor demanded fiercely, not at all pleased at the sudden interruption. Tiberius merely smiled, leaning back and shrugging, his lanky frame looking far too long for his broom. Height and range did present a certain advantage though, and that was precisely why Tiberius had been the Gryffindor Seeker ever since he hit his apparently never-ending growth spurt.

"Just warming up mate. Though you may want ta take another lap or two. Running into teammates is frowned upon."

Alastor wished he had a Quaffle to throw at his friend's head, but in absence of that made an effort to instead merely push Tiberius from his broom. Built more like a Beater but always a Chaser, Alastor boasted the ability to outmuscle most of his opponents. Unfortunately, Tiberius' grip did not seem about to give anytime soon. Or perhaps that was more of a fortunate fact, as they were indeed quite high off the ground and Charlus would likely be a bit upset if Alastor broke his Seeker's neck.

"Can't you two behave for ten minutes?"

Minerva flew over to join them, hair pulled back in a long braid and glasses balanced on the end of her nose. She appeared to be trying to scowl at them with her intimidating prefect look and failing miserably. Alastor adopted the most innocent expression he could manage.

"I was minding my own business til he came along."

"Oh I'm sure," Minerva said dryly. "It's never your own fault."

"Never," said Alastor, nodding in agreement and ducking in time to avoid being struck in the side of the head. Minerva seemed about to try another swing at him, but fortunately Charlus decided to begin and Alastor was spared any further attacks. He had been hoping that perhaps this year Minerva would not prove to quite as much of a distraction as she had been during last year's Quidditch season, but as Alastor flew along behind her he realized that had been an unlikely hope at best.

Once everyone was back on the ground, Charlus gave a welcome back speech to last year's team, which comprised all but four of the Gryffindors on the pitch. This was not especially surprising, since the Chaser and Seeker positions were quite definitely filled, and had been for years now. Alastor would not have especially minded replacements in the Beater department, but he supposed they could do worse than Scrimgeour and Lockhart. Neither of the fourth-years in question seemed to have grown much over the summer, though Lockhart had lost a bit of his gangly thinness.

The hopefuls for Keeper were all students Alastor recognized, more or less. Two of them were third-years, a boy and a girl. The boy seemed horribly uncomfortable, shifting nervously from foot to foot, but only the girl's white knuckle grip around her broomstick betrayed her nerves. Thomas Cromwell, a fifth-year, was not someone Alastor had ever expected to see near the Quidditch pitch, much less on a broom. Thomas was a nice enough fellow, but a bit on the clumsy side. He might have been made a prefect this year, though Alastor was not entirely sure about that and made note to ask Minerva after practice. The fourth Gryffindor trying out was of course Gabriel Valentine, Charlus Potter's best friend and Alastor's dormitory mate. Alastor had been on good enough terms with him all the way up until fourth year, when Gabriel had dated Minerva for admittedly a rather brief time. Brief or not, Alastor had never really cared for him too much after that. Not to mention, Gabriel always seemed to have at least three girls following him about at all times. Alastor and Tiberius had had numerous conversations complaining about how some fellows just had all the luck and made the rest of them look bad.

"Look there," whispered Tiberius. He pointed toward the stands, where a fairly large crowd of girls had gathered. "Nice ta see we have an audience."

"I rather doubt they're here for all of us," Alastor muttered, sending a pointed look in the direction of Gabriel. Tiberius shrugged, smirking.

"Oh, I donnae know about that."

Frowning now, Alastor glanced back toward the stands. After a moment of searching, he was not entirely surprised to see Bell waving at him from the front row. Half-hoping no one but Tiberius had seen, Alastor waited until Charlus was gesturing at the goalposts and waved back, grinning a bit sheepishly. Minerva, on the other hand, did seem to notice, following Alastor's gaze to the stands. The moment she caught sight of Bell, Minerva scowled spectacularly. Alastor waved once more for good measure.

At the front of the group, Charlus clapped his hands together, bringing Alastor's attention abruptly back to Quidditch.

"Any questions, or can we begin?" asked Charlus, smiling broadly, his default expression whenever Quidditch happened to be involved in one way or another. No one spoke or raised a hand, though Alastor was tempted to ask a question just to be difficult. He missed his chance though, because Charlus was already on his broom and in full Quidditch-captain mode.

"Brilliant. Kirk, feel free to practice maneuvers or whatever you like. Lockhart, Scrimgeour, grab the Bludgers, will you?"

"We're going to use real Bludgers?" the nervous boy asked. Alastor almost felt sorry for him.

"Of course. Best to get used to the real thing, and the Beaters need the practice," Charlus said matter of factly. "And if someone would grab the Quaffle I'd greatly appreciate it."

Tiberius was already in the air, zooming upward and chasing after nothing in particular, at least not that Alastor could see. Minerva jogged off to retrieve the Quaffle, and Charlus led the four prospective Keepers over toward the goals. Alastor waited patiently for Minerva to return.

"Who do you think it'll be?"

"Well..." Minerva paused, holding the Quaffle under one arm. "Gabriel looks to be the best flyer. Thomas seems to be in danger of falling off at any moment."

She was certainly correct, as every few seconds Thomas tilted dangerously one way or another. Alastor sincerely hoped the boy did not actually fall, because he did not particularly like the thought of having to make any diving saves on the first day of practice. Waiting until Minerva was fully focused on the potential players, Alastor swung out and knocked the Quaffle up into the air. By the time Minerva was shouting at him, Alastor was already airborne, snagging the Quaffle with one hand and grinning at her over his shoulder.

"You'll pay for that!" shouted Minerva.

Shook her fist at him, racing to catch up.

"I'm utterly terrified," Alastor shouted back, cutting sharply left.

Minerva managed to close in on him, making a valiant effort to snatch the Quaffle from his hand. Alastor finally tossed the ball up into the air, intending to make another sweeping catch. Charlus, however, reached the Quaffle first.

"You two quite finished?"

Alastor nodded, not entirely sure whether Charlus was genuinely annoyed or just pretending to be, but figuring upsetting the captain on the first day of practice would likely be a bad idea. Beside him, Minerva did the same.

"Then we'll go youngest to oldest. The Chasers will run through a few plays, you'll be trying to stop the goals, obviously. Five shots each, whoever stops the most will be getting the spot on the team," Charlus said this all in a rush, gesturing from Alastor and Minerva to the goalposts and once or twice to himself. Not for the first time, Alastor wondered if Quidditch did something a bit funny to Charlus' head.

"What if there's a tie?" the third-year girl asked, seeming fairly doubtful of this possibility even as the question left her mouth.

Charlus did not seem to find the idea much more likely, but admittedly, neither did Alastor. Especially not as Thomas Cromwell nearly slipped off his broom once again.

"If that's the case, there'll be a shootout I suppose," answered Charlus, shrugging. "Places everyone!"

The nervous boy stayed in position in front of the goal, the other three Keeper hopefuls drifting off to one side to wait. Alastor looped around and followed Minerva and Charlus back towards the middle of the pitch. The chatter from the stands died away, and Tiberius halted to watch from above. One heartbeat, then two, and then the Quaffle was in the air, Minerva reaching the ball first and taking off toward the goal. Alastor fell in at her right, ducking to avoid a Bludger and waving a rude gesture back in the direction of whichever Beater had been aiming for him. Minerva faked a pass to Charlus but kept the ball, scoring easily as the boy fell for the feint. The unfortunate fellow actually failed to stop any goals at all, as Minerva scored twice more and Alastor and Charlus both added in goals of their own. The third year girl did not fair much better, succeeding in stopping one of Charlus', but only because the Quaffle bounced off the post and into her hands.

Thomas Cromwell took the next turn, wobbling all the way into place, squinting at the oncoming Chasers. Charlus fired the Quaffle across the front of the goal, just past Thomas' fingertips and into Alastor's waiting hands, and from there Alastor quite easily scored. Thomas did manage to perform a bit better than Alastor had expected though - after the first goal, he managed to stop the next three. Charlus took the last shot this time, firing from further away but putting a fair amount of curve on the Quaffle. Thomas might have reached the ball in time, but a Bludger jolted into his broom and knocked him badly off-balance. The Quaffle sailed through the hoop as Thomas hung upside down, trying desperately to regain his seat. A number of the girls in the stands were laughing, and Thomas was beginning to go a bit red in the face, though whether from embarrassment or from hanging upside was entirely uncertain. Either way, when Thomas failed to right himself, Alastor finally flew over to help him, Tiberius descending from his perch to do the same.

Once Thomas was situated and safely in the stands, Gabriel flew into position in front of the center goal. The girls in the stands reacted with great enthusiasm, cheering and chanting quite loudly. Alastor wondered if he could get away with simply knocking Gabriel off his broom. Charlus started with the Quaffle again, taking the same curving shot toward the far post. A difficult enough save to make, but unfortunately Gabriel succeeded. Minerva and Alastor passed the ball back and forth a bit on the next two turns, Minerva taking both shots and Gabriel blocking both to rousing cheers from his fan section. More than a bit annoyed and determined to score, Alastor himself took the last two shots, one from a distance and the other a one handed shot off a pass from Minerva. Neither shot succeeded, much to Alastor great displeasure.

The fan section was still cheering as Charlus signaled for everyone to return to the ground.

"Could you at least try and look a bit more cheerful?" Tiberius asked, landing beside Alastor. "You look like you mean ta murder tha fellow."

"Dunno what you're talking about," Alastor insisted.

"Least we know he's a good Keeper."

"Oh, aye, that makes me feel much better," Alastor grumbled, kicking at a puddle for good measure.

Unsurprisingly, Gabriel was indeed named as the new Keeper. What was surprising was that Thomas was kept on as the reserve. Alastor rather sincerely doubted Thomas would ever see much playing time. Charlus seemed pleased with practice anyway, dismissing everyone and promising to work out a practice schedule soon. Gabriel was quite abruptly surrounded by adoring fans, very few of which actually seemed to be Gryffindors. Sparing one last wave for Bell and swearing under his breath, Alastor stomped off the pitch and back to the locker room before he could manage to actually work himself into a temper.

"I think it went very well," Minerva declared, waiting beside Alastor as Tiberius closed the door to the broom shed. Alastor had managed to calm himself down rather quickly after practice, but had still roundly refused to carry anyone's broom to the shed. Tiberius had naturally told him off for being horribly ungentlemanly and carried the brooms himself.

"Suppose it did," Alastor allowed. Just because he no longer wanted to punch anyone did not necessarily mean he was willing to admit that Gabriel Valentine might actually make a decent Keeper. Minerva sighed at him, shaking her head.

"Oh, stop being difficult. He blocked my shots too."

"Who said that was the problem?"

"Was there something else then?" Minerva asked, eyebrows raised. Alastor did not see any appeal in explaining to her precisely why he was not entirely fond of Gabriel, opting instead to shrug and ignore the question.

"Is he still pouting?" Tiberius asked as he approached, grinning even as Alastor's face went dangerously red.

"Alastor, don't-" was as much as Minerva managed before Alastor's temper snapped and he tackled Tiberius. Minerva seemed to be making an effort to pry him off, but Tiberius was still laughing and Alastor would not be moved. At least not until Minerva delivered a sharp kick to his ribs that knocked the air from him.

"Merlin, Minerva, that hurt!" Alastor gasped, more than a bit surprised that she had actually kicked him. Minerva herself seemed a bit surprised too, hands covering her mouth.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, I was just trying to get your attention!"

"You certainly have it," Alastor muttered, rolling onto his back and clutching at his side. Tiberius raised up, elbows still resting on the ground and curly hair standing on end.

"That's what happens if you mess with me. Apparently, Minerva will break your ribs."

"Oh, stop it! I was trying to get your attention because Ogg's coming," Minerva muttered, scowling at both boys in turn. Admittedly, her scowl softened a bit when she looked in Alastor's direction, a fact which he much appreciated.

"Tha groundskeeper?" asked Tiberius frowning as he pushing himself back to his feet and offered a hand to Alastor. "Bit early for him ta be out isn't it?"

Ogg the groundskeeper probably had a last name, or even a proper first name of some sort, but no Hogwarts student seemed to know this information, at least not that Alastor had ever heard of. The man was a stocky, bearded fellow who spent most of his time patrolling the grounds and terrifying first years. Typically, Ogg's patrols did not begin until after sunset, plenty of time for any student to be safely inside the castle. The sun had not quite set, but Ogg was very definitely heading in their general direction, which Alastor guessed was probably fitting, based on the rest of the day's luck. The man was rather difficult to miss, and at the moment, did not look particularly happy.

"I think we should hide," Tiberius suggested. "Quickly."

Alastor realized that the castle was indeed too far away to reach before Ogg caught sight of them, once again meeting the day's standard of dismal luck. All three Gryffindors of course had a perfectly good excuse for being outside the castle, and were wearing the Quidditch gear as proof. Ogg however did not seem to be in the sort of mood to be understanding about things like practice. Tiberius' suggestion seemed to be the best plan at the moment.

The only sort of cover in the immediate area came in the form of a high row of hedges that bordered the edge of the forest. While Alastor was not especially keen on hiding in the Forbidden Forest this close to sunset, the hedge would have to do.

"Over there," he said, waving Tiberius and Minerva past him. Alastor followed last, sliding into cover just in time. The three of them waited for a moment, crouched low behind the hedge and as quiet as possible. The trees cast a heavy shadow over the hedge, abruptly darkening the world despite the fact that the sky as still pink and orange with the setting sun. Tiberius looked as though he were about to speak, but Minerva silenced him with her prefect stare as the groundskeeper's footsteps came to a halt nearby. Alastor slowly raised up on his toes to see over the hedge, sincerely hoping not to find the groundskeeper looking back at him. Fortunately, Ogg seemed to have stopped by the broom shed, searching the ground and swearing rather loudly.

"If we stay at tha edge of tha forest, he won't be able ta see us," Tiberius whispered, pointing over his shoulder in the direction of the castle.

Alastor nodded in agreement and took a long step backward, wincing as his foot landed on a branch that cracked loudly. Everyone froze for a moment, Alastor seriously tempted to swear loudly and colorfully. If Ogg heard the noise though, he did not react, and after a moment Alastor breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced down just to make sure no other objects lay in his path and noticed a smear of crimson on the fallen leaves. Frowning now, Alastor took another few steps, in the direction of the odd little trail. Just at the edge of the forest, half-hidden by the deeper shadows, lay a small, unmoving shape.

"What do you suppose has got him so upset?" Minerva asked.

She and Tiberius were both still facing the hedge, unaware of Alastor's discovery. Wordlessly he levitated the shape closer, sincerely hoping whatever it was did not wake up and decide to attack him. His concerns were proven quite unnecessary.

"I think I could make a pretty good guess," Alastor muttered, not sure whether he should be more alarmed or intrigued. Minerva gasped somewhere behind him, and Alastor did not really blame her. A rooster hung suspended in the air, neck hanging at a wrong angle and very definitely dead. Tiberius approached, leaves crunching under his feet as he abandoned all attempts at stealth.

"Merlin. You suppose an animal did this?"

Tiberius frowned, bending to inspect the rooster more closely. Alastor considered doing the same until he realized that Minerva was standing just behind him, looking over his shoulder. He decided to stay in place for now.

"There's certainly plenty of creatures in the forest," Minerva said softly, as though the words would summon one of the creatures she had been referring to. "But they've never killed any of the school's animals before."

"Not that we know of," Alastor pointed out, lowering the rooster to the ground once more. "What should we do with it?"

Tiberius answered by kicking leaves over the animal's body, and when that failed to be particularly efficient, changed tactics and levitated a pile of leaves into place instead.

"Leave it. We cannae exactly take it back ta dear old Ogg. Tha man'll be thinking we killed them."

"Them?" Minerva asked, stepping around Alastor frowning first at the makeshift grave and then at Tiberius. "What makes you think there's more than one?"

"Firstly, I donnae think he'd be quite so upset if only one rooster was dead," Tiberius began, counting on his fingers. "Second, I certainly dinnae see any others, and there are quite a lot of them. I remember from detention."

A third, slightly more unsettling reason occurred to Alastor.

"There's blood on the ground, but this one had its neck broken. Must have been another rooster. Or something."

"Lovely," Minerva muttered. "Just lovely."

A loud crack echoed in the distance, and all three spun on their heels, lighting their wands and no longer concerned with drawing the attention of the groundskeeper. Alastor's heart was pounding instantly, eyes watching the shadows. He swore he saw a flicker of movement beneath the trees, swinging his wand in that direction. No further sound or movement came, only shadow and stillness, and Alastor realized just how dark the forest had grown. The sun had already set or was perilously close to going down, barely any light filtering down through the trees.

"Pity tha trail ends here," Tiberius murmured. "I'd rather like ta know if there's something out there that wants ta eat us."

"You're not a rooster, I think you're safe for now," Alastor countered. Of course, he himself was just as curious as Tiberius about what sort of creatures lurked in the forest. Especially if they were potentially dangerous ones. Alastor turned towards Minerva, who looked to be trying to decide if she should be excited or not.

"What do you think? Shall we go for a quest?"

"I feel as though I should point out that two of us are prefects and thus are actually supposed to be telling you off for being in the forest at all," Minerva observed dryly.

"You may feel free to take points from me any time you so choose," Alastor said, adding a grin for good measure. She halfway smirked at him, shaking her head, and without waiting for further reply Alastor lit his wand and ventured forward a few steps. He was a bit surprised to see that the trail of crimson did indeed pick up once more.

"Look at that, the trail's not quite cold. Must be a sign. We're meant to continue on."

"Brilliant!" Tiberius said. He lit his wand and passed Alastor in a few long strides, framed in shadows as he took the lead.

"Following a trail of blood into the Forbidden Forest. You know, I don't think many people would call that brilliant," Minerva said, nonetheless following along and quickly matching pace with Alastor.

"Don't worry, if something jumps out I'll protect you." Alastor winked at her, earning himself a swift smack to the shoulder and a pointed glare.

"I'll remember that when I save your life in the next half hour."

"Play nice you two," Tiberius spoke without turning around. "There's deadly creatures about. We best be on guard."

Alastor rolled his eyes but fell silent all the same. He knew full well that Minerva certainly did not need protecting - he had seen her in enough duels to know better. That knowledge did not stop him wanting to look out for her, however, nor did it stop the sick feeling that crept over him at the thought of her being hurt. This was all of course perfectly friend-related protective instinct, Alastor assured himself. Nothing romantic at all. Hopefully.

They passed further into the forest, the sunlight rapidly fading as they walked until only the silvery glow of wand light remained, casting odd shadows all around. Twice more Alastor would have sworn he saw something move in the darkness, his pulse quickening once again. After the second time he stepped a bit closer to Minerva, but if she noticed she did not seem to mind.

"We still on track Tiberius?" Alastor asked quietly, having long since given up trying to follow the trail himself. Tiberius could be the guide if he wanted, Alastor was perfectly content to be the guard. Somehow that seemed oddly fitting anyway.

"Believe so," Tiberius replied after a moment.

"Believe so?" Minerva repeated, not sounding entirely enthused by the answer. "Please don't tell me you've gotten us lost."

Tiberius halted long enough to scowl over his shoulder in Minerva's direction.

"I haven't, thank ye kindly. Just getting a bit hard ta follow is all."

Minerva waved for him to continue on then, and Tiberius straightened to his full height, apparently trying to look as important as possible. Alastor considered hexing him just to see what would happen.

"What sort of creatures you expect are in this place anyway?" Minerva asked.

"Dragons," Tiberius answered without hesitation.

"Werewolves," Alastor added, nodding confidently.

"Thestrals." Tiberius spun about and took a few steps backwards, wand beneath his chin and face cast into shadow. He even waggled his fingers, succeeding in looking like a possessed scarecrow. Minerva rolled her eyes at the both of them.

"Now really. I was being serious."

"So were we," replied Alastor, pretending to be gravely offended. "Well, at least about the thestrals. Never seen one myself of course, but I'm told they're hereabouts."

Minerva seemed willing to accept this explanation, thankfully. Leaves crunched underfoot, twigs snapping as the trio reached a small clearing. They were now quite a long way from the castle, Alastor realized, though the thought did not concern him nearly as much as it probably should have. Patches of the sky could be seen through gaps in the tree branches, dim stars visible far overhead. Tiberius paused for a moment, bending over to inspect something on the ground, and Minerva took the opportunity to seat herself on a fallen tree. She looked very pretty in the starlight and shadow, and Alastor had just about worked up the nerve to tell her so when a howl ripped through the silence. Minerva was back on her feet in an instant, face grim and wand levelled at the trees. Tiberius stumbled backward, and Alastor swore under his breath. The three of them stood back to back, wands raised and ready. Another howl followed the first, and Alastor was unsure whether his mind was merely playing tricks on him or if the second howl had been closer. Either way, his heart was certainly pounding, adrenaline bursting through him and setting his nerves on edge.

"Wouldnae happen ta be a full moon tonight, would it?" Tiberius asked quietly, glancing skyward. The trees effectively blocked much more than the handful of stars that were already barely visible. Seeing the moon this early in the night was entirely out of the question.

"I thought werewolves in the forest was only a rumor," Minerva said.

"You can tell that to whatever's howling," Alastor muttered. Leaves rustled, far too close for comfort, branches snapping in quick succession as something moved with great speed through the forest. A third howl echoed through the night, this one very definitely closer, and suddenly Minerva's hand clutched around Alastor's. His chest tightened in the now-familiar ache, and he glanced down for a split second, just long enough to make sure she actually had grabbed his hand and that he was not imagining things.

Tiberius gasped, and Alastor redirected his attention to glower at his friend, intending to inform him that now was not the time to be gasping about anyone holding hands. Until of course, Alastor realized what exactly Tiberius had been looking at. At the edge of the clearing, an unpleasantly large wolf had emerged from the darkness of the forest, growling menacingly. The light was not quite bright enough to tell whether the creature was an actual werewolf or not, but either way the wolf did not seem particularly happy to see them. Slowly, as if extensions of the shadows themselves, more wolves began to creep into the clearing, hackles raised and teeth bared. Minerva's hand quite suddenly tightened around his, and at any other time Alastor would have been rather pleased. At present, trapped in the middle of the Forbidden Forest by a pack of potential werewolves, Alastor could not quite manage to be too highly excited.

"Well. This might be a problem," Tiberius murmured, backing up a step or two and bumping into Alastor.

"Just a slight one," Minerva agreed, her fingers now wrapped a bit painfully around Alastor's own. "Perhaps this wasn't one of our better ideas."

"I imagine we've figured out what killed the roosters," Alastor grumbled. Tiberius offered a wan smile, as did Minerva, but neither took their attention off the present situation. The wolves had begun to close in now, staying just beyond the edges of the wand light. Alastor's heart really was pounding now, his palms sweating in the cool night air. He glanced left and right, hoping for some escape route to present itself, swinging his wand in a wide arc threateningly. Unfortunately, none of the wolves seemed at all intimidated, and no way out of the clearing seemed to be at all safe. They were quite effectively surrounded.