2. Maktub

Thanks to my wonderful beta Another for his insights in this chapter.

Chapter 2: Maktub

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Garou Village

Deep Within the Forbidden Forest

1530 A.D.

“My sweet child, what are you dreaming of? You are smiling…,” the woman whispered lovingly to the small boy in her arms. She giggled when her baby reached up with his little hands and, still sleeping, grabbed a strand of her fiery red hair.

Caressing the side of his face with her finger, she kept on speaking in hush whispers, “Are you dreaming of running through the forest? Chasing rabbits and birds and butterflies?”

A beautiful wolf, his fur the color of silver, appeared in the entrance to her hut. The animal was holding three dead rabbits in his jaws as he slowly stepped inside.

He stopped walking when his amber eyes chanced upon the woman and her child.

She was sitting on the straw bed in the far corner of the hut, naked from the waist up, her legs crossed under her. Her beautiful red hair reached her waist, with a single braid tied with a leather string adorning her already breathtaking beauty. Her skin was pale, and she had a fading scar on her left shoulder that, instead of marring her beauty, only increased it.

And those beautiful viridian eyes…he could spend hours staring into those enchanting eyes.

She was holding her baby in one arm, while she used the other one to caress the side of her child's face. Smiling down at her baby, the female continued her one-sided conversation, unaware she was being observed, “Are you dreaming of your future, Lupa? Of the one that will make you feel as happy, as loved, and as saved as your father makes me feel? Your Lupa's out there, my son…and you two will soon be together.”

A loud thud informed the woman that she was no longer alone with her child. She looked at the entrance to her hut to find the silver wolf looking at her, the meal lying on the ground in front of him like an offering to a deity.

She positively beamed.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked him. The wolf lowered his head and slowly walked toward her. When the wolf reached her side, she reached with her hand and cupped the wolf's face.

What was once a wolf transformed into a man, his body lean and muscled and glistening with sweat, light-skinned, his raven black hair sticking up in playful wisps, and his now hazel eyes full of love.

“Long enough,” he mumbled, his voice a feral growl as he nuzzled her hand. He walked closer to her, still moving with incredible gracefulness in all fours, and nuzzled her neck, trailing kisses up her collarbone. He finally found her lips, capturing them in a kiss full of passion and tenderness.

When they broke apart, the man turned his attention to the baby in her arms. “How's my child?” he asked softly, lowering his head and nuzzling the child's face. Still asleep, the baby stirred and moved his hand up, catching a chunk of his father's hair on his small hand and tugging at it.

“He's been a handful. He's going to be quite the troublemaker when he grows older,” the woman said with a smile as she looked at her baby. “Just like his father,” she added, turning her attention back to her loving mate with a bright smile. He was about to kiss her one more time when a child's voice interrupted them.

“Elder Lily?” the child called, hesitating slightly. Lily and her husband looked toward the entrance to find little Charlie, a seven year old cub whose father was also a member of the tribe's Elder council, standing a few feet away from them.

“What is it, Charlie?” Lily asked, frowning slightly. As the village's Praeceptor, she worked very closely with the young children, and she knew Charlie well. Although Charlie's father was strict and demanding, the young cub was a natural leader. It was a strange sight to see him acting so nervous.

“Elder Remus asked me to come get you. He requests your presence in the Hall of Spirits,” Charlie spoke softly, not quite meeting their eyes.

“Thank you, Charlie,” Lily said curtly, bowing her head slightly. Charlie bowed back and left. Lily looked back at her husband, the tribe's elite warrior and a personal friend of their Alpha, Remus.

“Do you have any idea what this is about, James?” Lily asked, her frown deepening. The tribe's meetings were usually held on the nights where a Holy Ahuron was celebrated. But tonight was a night like any other, when most of them were out hunting for food, patrolling the forest or engaged in family affairs.

James had the same look of concern his wife possessed. “No idea, love. But you better go now,” he said, gently taking the sleeping baby from her arms and holding him against his body.

“I'll be back soon,” Lily whispered, planting a kiss in the back of her child's head. Rising on tiptoe, she gently kissed James' lips before walking out of the hut and toward the Hall of Spirits.

Turning his attention back to his child, James smiled.

“Looks like it's just you and me, my dear Harry.”

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As Lily walked toward the Hall of Spirits, she noticed that there was an unusual silence in the air that night. Her sharpened hearing could not even detect the chirping of the crickets, or the croaking of toads, or the wind as it flew through the leaves. It filled her with unexpected dread, goose bumps running down her back. She had been so happy with Harry in her home that she had not realized how truly eerie tonight was.

On the way to the meeting place, Lily encountered her old friend Arthur. Like herself, Arthur was an elder, in charge of affairs with other garou villages, and even with some of the muggles that knew of their existence. He was also the proud father of four cubs, among them a bright-eyed happy redhead boy by the name of Ronald, who was just a few months older than her Harry.

“Salve, Arthur. Do you know why Remus has called this meeting?” Lily asked Arthur, falling into step next to him.

The older man shook his head hesitantly, saying, “Salve, Lily…I'm…I'm not sure.”

“What do you mean?” Lily asked.

“Molly told me today that Alice had a seizure this afternoon, and that she had been very agitated, and had begged Molly to call her brother for her. Remus walked into Alice's hut, and when he came out, he called the meeting,” Arthur elaborated, sounding rather nervous himself.

Lily chewed her lip anxiously as they continued walking in silence. Alice was Remus' twin sister, and was the village's shaman and spiritual leader. She had fallen ill after giving birth to her only child, Neville, on the same night Lily had brought Harry into this world. She hardly left her home, and the village's women took turns to take care of her, her husband Frank, and her young child. What could have gotten her in such a ruddy state was beyond Lily.

They reached the Hall of Spirits, which was nothing but a perfectly circular clearing on the outskirts of the village's territory, with a burning pyre in the center of the clearing. Two werewolves in full crinos form were standing by the entrance, guarding that only elders and those who had been called entered the holy ground. The guards bowed to the elders respectfully, and Arthur and Lily finally stepped inside the circle.

The other 10 elders were already assembled, and were sitting around the clearing, some in human form, some in werewolf form, and others somewhere in between. Among them was Frank, the village's doctor and Alice's mate, and Severus, the Philodox, in charge of the warriors among them, including her husband James.

To Lily's surprise, Alice was also in the clearing. She looked pale, thin, and small, with large black circles under her eyes and trembling hands. She was sitting to the right of her twin brother and pack's Alpha, Remus. His eyes, which usually had a happy glint to them, were troubled, and the mouth that usually beamed with a smile was set hard, with no trace of amusement in his handsome face.

Arthur took the space next to Frank, while Lily sat in her place next to Severus, and waited. After what seemed like an eternity, Remus took a deep breath and finally looked up.

“My brothers and sisters, I have dire news to share with you,” Remus spoke, “This afternoon, my sister had a vision. What she saw confirmed that a prophecy made 500 years ago had been fulfilled.”

“Lily, are you familiar with the prophecies of Albus Dumbledore?” Remus asked, turning his attention to Lily. Lily, as the village historian, teacher and storyteller, nodded. Albus Dumbledore was a celebrated human of many talents: he was an alchemist, a painter, an architect, a poet, and inventor…and a prophet.

“I've read some of them, yes,” Lily replied curtly, trying to bring back to memory what she had once read about him. The truth was that Lily had never believed in prophecies; she thought that our destiny was determined by the choices we made, and didn't believe that there were things that were preordained.

“Are you familiar with the prophecy of the Accursed one?” Remus pressed. Lily nodded, wondering the reason why Remus was asking her these things. Remus was a highly educated werewolf, a lover of knowledge as much as he loved the night. She would think that he knew more about this obscure prophecy than she did.

“This is the prophecy that speaks of a child that will be born with the power to bring forth what Albus called The Forbidden Race…and which others call the Children of the Kindred,” Lily replied. A murmur arose amongst the council members.

Kindred, known to other creatures as vampires or nosferatu, were the werewolves' natural enemy, servants of the Wyrm, the spirits of the dark that opposed Gaia, the spirit of the Earth and the werewolves' spiritual guide. A constant war has been raged between the two species for as long as they could remember, and since the accession of the new vampire Prince, the werewolves were on the losing side.

“She's been born. I've seen her,” Alice whispered in a trembling voice, looking down at the ground in front of her. But her feverish voice had carried, and she now held the attention of the assembly. Slowly, Alice raised her eyes from the ground and looked at her fellows, trying to push back from her mind the dread she had been feeling since she received her vision from Gaia.

“By the white mountains of the east, she has been born from the womb of a menschlich. She's just a child…a very small child with a rose-shaped birthmark in her hand…,” Alice continued in a whisper, fighting the tremors that ran through her frail body.

“But this is a prophecy made by a HUMAN,” Severus sneered, “How can you trust them to be speaking the truth? Gaia would never—”

“I SAW HER!” Alice interrupted with uncharacteristic fierceness. She tried to stand up, but her brother gently placed his hand on her shoulder in a request for her to save her energy.

Severus sneered at Alice, but said nothing. Lily knew why Severus refused to believe it could be true; he had trouble believing other creatures were as worthy to Gaia as the garou were, and he despised humans almost as much as he hated the kindred. Thankfully, most of the werewolves had evolved pass this rotten belief.

“I felt what awaits her…the pain…the suffering…a life of destruction…of heartache…she's cursed,” Alice whispered hoarsely, her voice trembling with emotion.

Arthur spoke next, his voice grave, “If Gaia has chosen Alice to reveal this…is because she wants us to do something about this child.”

“But what can we do?” Frank asked softly, rubbing his temple with his fingers as if he were trying to push all the confusion out of the way and have a clear answer. Lily stole a glance at Remus, and her breath caught in her throat. She now understood the reason why Remus's eyes were filled with such sadness. Lily was about to beg for them to stop and consider the possibility that the prophecy might be wrong when Severus spoke out loud.

“There's only one thing we can do…the girl needs to be destroyed…before is too late,” Severus words ringed in her ears. Lily gasped, not only because of the proposition she knew was coming, but because most of the council members were nodding in agreement. She hurriedly stood up from her spot and looked around.

“No…you don't understand…the…the prophecy says the girl has two paths ahead of her…she may bring the Forbidden Race, but she may also…she may also…I don't know what's going to happen to this girl! And no one else here knows for sure either! Not even Albus knew! He could have been wrong for Gaia's sake!” Lily said, looking around for support. Alice nodded weakly before buying her head in her hands.

“Lily's right. We don't know for sure…,” Remus said, taking a step toward her, looking up and locking those eyes full of sadness with hers. They heard someone sigh audibly, and turned toward the sound, only to find Arthur looking at them with anguish in his eyes.

“I think there's something you two are forgetting…if Alice knows…then surely, Narcissa knows,” Arthur said, lowering his head in shame. Narcissa was the vampire Prince's right-hand woman, a powerful vampire witch with white hair that not only looked like a ghost…she possessed the heart of one. Her name was whispered with more fear than even the Dark Prince's name.

“And if Narcissa knows, Prince Sirius knows…and he won't hesitate in looking for her…and fulfilling the prophecy,” Severus added sternly. Again, panic arose in Lily when she saw most of the assembly was agreeing with Severus' words.

Prince Sirius had that affect on people. Cold, ruthless and deadly, Sirius was the substance nightmares were made of. More werewolves and fairies had died under his rule on the last five years than in the last 500 years under other vampire rulers combined. He seemed to be hell bent in drowning the world in the blood of his enemies…and the prophecy would certainly give him the means to do just that.

Nevertheless, the thought that her fellow garou were even considering going after the girl filled Lily's heart with terror. “You can't be serious! This is a CHILD we are talking about!” she said fiercely. Turning her attention to Arthur, she hissed, “Your wife bore you a cub not too long ago, Arthur. Tell me, if this so called prophecy involved your child, will you be willing to sacrifice Ronald so easily?”

Arthur closed his eyes and lowered his head shamefully, but didn't say anything to back her up. She looked around at the assembly, and realized she was not getting through to them. Lily couldn't understand why! They were soldiers for Gaia, guardians of the Earth…but murderers?

Lily looked over her shoulder and her eyes fell on her best friend. She could read those eyes like she could read her husband's. The sadness in those eyes was unmistakable, and could only be attributed to one reason.

“Don't do this, Remus,” Lily spoke, turning around and slowly walking toward her best friend and pack leader, “You are not a parent, but I know you love your nephew Neville the way I love my Harry. If Neville was the child this oracle was speaking about…would you hunt him down? Would you use your claw to slice his throat? Would you let his blood flow until he was no more?” There was no mistaking the tears that were glistening in Remus' eyes.

“Beautiful words, praeceptor, but they have no weight in what we are discussing. The truth is that this child, if she fell into the hands of the Dark Prince, will bring forth children that could destroy everything we garou stand for. Would you be willing to let Gaia be stained with our blood? Humans? Fairies? Elves?” Severus said in a slow, calculating voice

“We don't know that, Severus! Since you chose to believe in the oracle's words, let me make something clear to you. The prophecy states that there are TWO paths in front of this girl…and we just don't know if one of those paths leads to salvation!” Lily replied forcefully. Severus stood up, a growl deep within his chest, and she knew he would not hesitate to transform into his werewolf form and attack her.

But a voice stopped the altercation before it ever began.

“I'm afraid Severus might be right,” the voice said somewhere in between a growl and a whisper. Both Lily and Remus looked toward the spot to Frank's left, which was occupied by non other than Alastor, the pack's previous Alpha. Alastor was a man of few words, and when he spoke, people listened. Even Alice raised her head from her hands and paid close attention to the wise elder.

“It hurts me to think of doing such a thing to a child… but the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…or the one. If no outcome is clear, then it is better if we tip the scales to our favor…before it's too late…before Sirius himself finds her and fulfills the prophecy,” Alastor said softly. When he saw both Lily and Alice about to protest, Alastor raised his hand, effectively silencing them both.

“I know you two are mothers of young cubs yourselves, and that it pains you to even consider the possibility of being responsible for this child's life. But think about this…if we don't act now, thousands could lose their lives! Are you willing to risk this?” Alastor continued in a maddeningly patient tone. Alice lowered her head, but Lily returned his gaze with intensity.

“I refuse to be responsible for ending one innocent life, Alastor…. This girl has a choice! She may well choose to be a servant of Gaia…who knows? Maybe she's the key to ending this war with the kindred once and for all!” Lily whispered fiercely.

“It is not your choice to make, Lily. I think a vote is in order,” Severus said, looking around at the other council members. Lily did not understand. Vote? What vote? Remus was the Alpha…what to do about the girl was his choice and his choice alone.

Reading the confusion in her eyes, Remus whispered, “I told the elders before you came that I couldn't make the decision on my own. I can't think with my head on this, Lily. This is too…too painful for me.”

Lily's hand fell on Remus' arm, her nails digging slightly into his skin. Green met gray as Lily whispered, “Don't do this, my friend. Sometimes thinking with your heart is the only way to go.” Remus opened his mouth to reply, but another voice broke the silence.

“All in favor of destroying the cursed being, raise your hand,” Severus said in a booming voice, raising his own hand. Slowly but surely, more hands followed: Amos, Karkarov, Ludo, Susan, Arthur, Alastor, and Rita.

There was no need to ask who were in opposition to that action…the majority had already won. Frank crawled toward his wife and hugged her to his body as Alice started sobbing against his chest. Lily remained silent and still, her eyes on Remus' profile.

Remus gulped audibly, and took a deep breath before speaking, “The council has spoken…Lily, please call James into the circle.” He refused to meet her eyes; he couldn't bear to see the disappointment in them.

“Remus, you are our Alpha. What you say is our law! Stop this madness!” Lily hissed, digging her nails into his skin hard enough to draw blood. She was trying to wake him up, to open his eyes and force him to understand the horror he had just agreed to inflict upon an innocent.

“It is out of my hands, love. Call your mate into the circle,” Remus said, still refusing to meet her eyes. Weak from defeat, Lily finally released her grip on him. Turning her back on him, she walked to the edge of the circle and looked up into the moon. Tears now flowing freely down her cheeks, Lily howled. It was a deep howl, full of anguish and heartache, and intended for just one man.

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James's ears perked up at the sound of the familiar howl. It was Lily's call, reserved for him and him alone. He was being called into the Hall of Spirits. Why? What was going on down there?

He looked down at the form of his sleeping child. James had placed Harry a few minutes ago in the small feather bed that was his crib. The child was still sleeping, a small smile tugging at the corners of his delicate lips. James kissed the messy mop of hair that belonged to his son, and slowly stood up.

Tiptoeing out of the hut, James looked around the village. James spotted little Charlie playing around the campfire with a few of his friends. “Charlie!” James called. The boy immediately looked up and smiled broadly; it was no secret that James was Charlie's hero, something that annoyed Severus greatly. When James waved at Charlie to come to him, the boy didn't hesitate to leave his playmates and run toward the older wolf.

“I need to go and see Lily. Can you keep an eye on Harry for me? I'll be back as soon as I can,” James said, bowing slightly so he could see Charlie eye to eye. The younger boy beamed, happy that a warrior like James would trust him with something so important.

“I'll guard him with my life,” Charlie said, clenching his right hand into a fist and hitting his chest in traditional warrior protocol. James hid the smile that Charlie's innocence provoked in him, setting for ruffling the redhead's hair.

In the next instant, James transformed into a silver wolf and ran down the village and toward the sacred clearing. He slowed into a walk when he was 20 feet away from the sacred grounds. The warriors that guarded the entrance to the Hall of Spirits nodded respectfully at James and parted, allowing the wolf to enter the place that non-elders could only enter by invitation.

As soon as he stepped into the clearing, he noticed the electricity in the air. His lupa was standing close to him, but didn't look at him when he walked past her. James did not miss the tears in her cheeks and the look of anguish in her face. Whatever the reason he had been called into the council, James knew Lily didn't agree. His heart ached; he desired nothing else than to hold her in his arms and console her. But he had been called here not as Lily's mate, but as the village's warrior, and he had no choice but to wait and see.

He slowly walked into the middle of the clearing and stood in front of his Alpha and friend, Remus. Remus was almost a mirror image of his beloved Lily. He refused to meet James' eyes, instead focusing on the ground. His gray eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and James could have sworn his best friend had aged 10 years since the last time he saw him.

James slowly shifted into the form of a man, kneeling in front of his Alpha with one fist pressed against the moist ground in warrior protocol. It was humbling position, but James didn't mind one bit. Remus was a good man with an honest heart, and if anyone deserved respect, it was him. “James,” Remus said softly as he placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, his voice so strained it sounded like the voice of another man.

James stood up slowly next to Remus, keeping his head bowed. He had to be careful to follow protocol in front of the other elders, particularly Severus, for fear that his friend will be accused of favoring James above them.

“The council has a mission for you, my dear friend. You are to travel to the menschlich village by the foot of the white mountains of the East…and you are to find a child, no older than four moons, with a rose-shaped birthmark in her right hand,” Remus said softly, pausing at the end with a sigh. James looked at Remus' face out of the corner of his eyes; there was a struggle behind those gray eyes that James had never seen before.

A heavy silence followed, and James could only frown. He was confused by the obvious distress his friend was in. In a respectful voice, he said, “Alpha, once I find this child. What do I do?”

“Kill her…,” Severus answered before Remus could. Forgetting all sense of protocol, James looked sharply over his shoulder at Severus. Most of the members of the council were looking down at the ground, but Severus was calmly returning his gaze, his arms crossed over his thin chest. Before James could ask if they were playing a joke on him, Remus found his voice.

“He's right. The council has decided this child is to be eliminated. She presents a threat to Gaia and her children. She needs to be sacrificed to ensure the safety of all that is sacred,” Remus said, sounding as if he were speaking to himself rather than to James.

James was horrified as the pieces of the puzzle came together. The strange request certainly explained his lupa's emotional state, and the evident sorrow in the Alpha's eyes. But James couldn't do this! He was a warrior! He killed those whose evil deeds threatened his pack, but to kill an innocent child? His thoughts immediately shifted to the smiling face of his baby boy and tears threatened to come down his cheeks.

“You can't ask this of me, my friend,” James whispered pleadingly, putting his hand in the spot where Lily's hand had been moments before. Remus met his friend's gaze, and with a heavy heart shook his head.

“Are you refusing a direct order from the council, James?” James heard Severus sneer. He looked over his shoulder and could not mistake the twisted smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. James knew he wasn't one of Severus favorite people, and he knew that it was killing him that, when the time came to retire, it will be James the one who will take Severus place in the council. But he had never even considered that the elder might take pleasure in watching James' suffer.

“And if I am?” James said defiantly, turning around and facing his chief.

Severus took several steps toward James, the anger making him tremble slightly, and whispered menacingly, “Then you know the consequences. You will be bound…you will be punished…and you will be taken from your family until you learn to respect this council.”

James looked over Severus' shoulder at Lily. She had turned around and was now looking at him with pleading eyes, her hands in front of her heart in silent prayer. They both knew just how atrocious Severus' idea of punishment was, and they both knew that the elder would not hesitate in submitting James to it. And yet, James would gladly suffer physical torture to save this girl.

But there was only one thing he couldn't stand the thought of…

…Being taken away from his beloved lupa and son.

“What will it be, James? Should I call the other warriors and have them drag you away?” Severus hissed, taking another step toward James until he was less than a foot away.

Looking back at his adored Lily one more time, James had his answer.

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I apologize for taking so long in writing this, and I promise I'll do my best to post the next chapter sooner. Some points to clarify:

Arthur and Molly only have four children: Bill, Fred & George, and Ron.
Charlie is Arthur's nephew, the child of Arthur's sister Guinevere and Severus.
Alice is Remus' twin sister. Therefore, Neville is his nephew.
Kindred = Nosferatu = Vampire.
The werewolf language is a combination of Latin, German, Arabic and Spanish. Words introduced are:
1. Menschlich = human
2. Praeceptor = teacher
3. Salve = greeting.
4. Lupa = wife/soul mate.
5. Philodox = Judge
6. Maktub = “It is written”
The Elder council consists of 12 respectable garou, among them: Remus (Alpha), Lily, Severus, Arthur, Frank, Alice, Alastor “Mad Eye”, Amos, Susan, Karkarof, Ludo, and Rita.

Would love to know what you think!

Peace,

Anasazi

PS. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! I know this may get slightly confusing, but I'll do my best to answer all your questions (without giving anything away, of course!).

PPS: Brownie points to whoever can say where the line “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few… or the one” comes from!

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3. Moira's Lullaby

Chapter 3: Moira's Lullaby

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“I shall do as the my Alpha commands.”

The simple sentence spoken by James was enough to make all eyes in the Hall of Spirits turned toward Remus. Neither James nor Lily had ever seen their friend so lost, so torn, so disturbed.

“The council has spoken, and I will follow the council's wish. The girl will die,” Remus whispered with such sorrow that broke James' heart, even if some part of him hated what his friend had just sentenced him to do.

James looked at his wife and sighed. Lily was still standing with her back to them, but he could read the tension in her shoulders, the way her body trembled with anger. How could she look at him knowing what he was about to do?

Severus was the first to speak, “Very well. You'll leave tomorrow sunrise. You are dismissed.” James gave a tiny nod, not to the council, but to his friend Remus, trying to reassure the leader that he didn't hold against him what had happened tonight. But something told James that it was in vain, and that he wasn't going to be the only one tormented by his conscience.

James slowly stepped out of the circle, his whole body shaking with every step he took. He looked at Lily out of the corner of his eyes when he passed by her, and he could see the tears flowing freely down her cheeks, twinkling by the light of the moon. When he reached the edge of the village, James found he couldn't go home… not when he was feeling so unclean and tormented. Transforming into the form of the silver wolf, James released an anguished howl before running into the depths of the forest.

Remus closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wishing he could do the same as James. “The meeting is over,” he whispered when he opened his eyes. All the council members stood up from their places, except for Alice, who was rocking in the arms of her beloved Frank as she sobbed for the faith of the innocent child.

Lily looked over her shoulder at Remus with such emotion in her eyes that the Alpha could feel his stomach doing violent somersaults. In an instant, she closed the distance between them and, without warning, slapped her hand hard across his face, leaving a red and burning mark behind that did no justice to the wound she left in his heart.

Everybody but Remus was horrified by what they saw, but it was Severus who spoke first, “How dare you disrespect our Alpha? You will pay for this!” But before he could take a step toward the woman who was still standing defiantly with her hand raised, Remus looked at Snape over his shoulder, his eyes flashing in what was unmistakably the golden brown color of the beast.

“No, she won't,” Remus commanded, his voice leaving no doubt that his will in this matter will be obeyed, or there will be consequences to be faced. His face softened visibly when he turned his attention toward the imposing sight that was Lily, even if his eyes still reflected the beast lurking inside.

“Lily, please, you have to…”

“Let the child's blood be over the heads of the council… and not over my husband's,” Lily whispered in a strained, but menacing voice. The redhead finally lowered her hand, and without another word, turned around and left the sacred ground. The council members shared a knowing look among them, but wisely didn't say anything for fear of being the ones to release Remus' beast.

Severus, however, was not one to particularly care. He strode toward the Alpha until he was standing next to Remus and hissed, “Lily has broken pack law by attacking you in the Hall of Spirits. She needs to be punished, for the others can…”

“I don't care what the others think,” Remus said, raising his head and locking his eyes with Severus', “You dare touch a hair in her head, and I promise you, Severus, Elder or not, I will have your heart for dinner.”

The expression is Severus' face was one of pure hatred, his whole body shaking with the desire to attack. But he remained silent and sill until the tremors had subsided, his eyes never leaving Remus' face. The silence was broken only when Severus whispered, “Your love for her has made you weak, Alpha… Be careful. You don't want someone out there to exploit that weakness.”

And with a mocking bow, Severus walked away from Remus, leaving the pack leader alone with his conscience.

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Midnight had fallen over the village by the time James came out of the forest. Shape shifting into the form of man, he dragged his tired body to the place he now felt he didn't deserve.

Home.

Standing in the doorway of his hut, James looked at the still figures of his family, bathed by the silvery glow of moonlight. His son, Harry, was sleeping soundly in the throw his grandmother had knitted for him, that always-present smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The sounds of his breathing were nothing short of a sweet lullaby to James' ears. He gave a silent prayer to Gaia for the blessing that was his child.

His eyes drifted to the woman lying on her side on the straw bed. Lily's hair was fawned over his side of the bed, the moonlight caressing every curve and crevice of her naked figure. And by the way her chest swelled with her breathing, James knew she was not asleep. It was an inviting sight, one that usually filled him with unbridled desire, but that did nothing but fill him with sorrow tonight.

It would not do to turn around and leave, for he knew she had heard him approach before he ever stepped inside the cottage.

“You must hate me…”

“Don't speak.”

She raised her hand high in the air and beckoned for him to join her.

“I don't deserve to…”

“Don't speak.”

She looked at him over her shoulder; his breath caught in his throat when he saw the pain in her emerald eyes. How could he have thought of turning away from her when she needed him as much as he needed her?

James reached the bed and took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers as he laid himself next to her. His arm draped over her waist, still locked with hers as James pulled his wife to him, her soft curves pressed against his sharp lines. He took a sharp intake of breath when he felt his desire pressed against her deliciously round bottom. How he could want her so much when there was so much hurt in his heart was beyond comprehension.

His lips found the scar on her shoulder, the bite mark that signaled for the entire world to see that Lily was his and his alone. He suckled on her skin, reveling in the salty flavor of it as she gripped his hand tighter in hers. His mouth traveled from her shoulder to her collarbone, to her neck, settling on the spot where her hair meets the back of her neck. Her breath quickened, and she bit her lip, reveling in his reverent ministrations.

James took her earlobe between his teeth and nipped at it, and then used his tongue to drink the drop of blood that she had shed, making her bite her lip harder as a small groan escaped her.

“Why?” he whispered, his free hand setting on her hip and slowly moving downwards, slowly kneading her flesh.

Lily twisted around in his arms until she was face to face with him. A tear escaped ran down his cheek at the unconcealed pain reflected in her lovely. And he understood why she had called to him the way she did.

She was feeling nothing but pain, and she wanted, needed, for him to make her forget what had occurred on this fateful day. She wanted deliverance, and James ached for the temporary release of his own heartache.

They moved until he was on top of her, her soft breasts pressed against his masculine chest, sending shivers down his spine. She wrapped her long legs around him, while his hands cradled her face, gently caressing her glowing skin. She was so beautiful it sometimes caught him by surprise, like a creature carved by Gaia's own hand.

He suckled on her bottom lip as if he were tasting the sweetest fruit in the entire forest. Her hands traveled down his shoulders to his back, making him feel as if he was on fire. He returned the deed by moving his calloused hands sensuously down her sides, caressing every exposed inch of her skin.

He slowly kissed his way down to the hollow of her neck, nipping at the spot that always elicited a moan from his beloved. And he was rewarded with one as she laced her hands in his wild hair and forced him to get closer still, until there was no inch of their bodies pressing against each other.

“Are you sure?” he breathed against her sweaty skin, flicking his tongue to taste her one more time.

“Please, James. Make me forget,” Lily whispered, using her grip on his hair to guide him until she crushed her lips on his in a desperate kiss.

James couldn't hold on any longer, and he dove into the warmth he so desired. They feverishly made love to each other, seeking to feel something other than guilt, seeking to forget.

Seeking oblivion.

He swallowed her scream with his fervent kisses, and he released himself inside of her with a low moan. For one moment, there was nothing else in the world but the woman that was joined with him in the most intimate of ways, his in body, mind and soul.

“Ich Bin Ihr” he whispered, resting his sweat-laden forehead on hers. He went to move out of her, but she just locked her legs tightly around his body.

“Stay,” Lily pleaded, a tone of desperation in her husky voice, nuzzling his neck lovingly. She had told him many times that he smelled of forest and pinewood, and that it relaxed her to no end.

James was about to argue that he was too heavy for her, and that he didn't want to crush her, but the look on her face told him that she needed this as much as he did.

So James just nodded and captured her lips one more time in a sweet kiss, and rested on top of Lily's body until he heard her breathing softly, tickling his skin, signaling she was asleep.

But sleep did not come to James, for what he needed was something no one but Gaia could provide.

Absolution.

-------------------------------

The morning after

When Lily opened her eyes, she found herself alone in her marital bed, facing the window. She turned around to find James standing in the middle of room, her back to her, rocking their child in his hands lovingly. Harry had awoken and could be heard making contended noises as he grabbed a handful of his father's hair in his little hand.

Lily stood up and stretched languidly before slowly making her way toward James and Harry. A soft almost imperceptible sound reached her ears, and her heart tightened immediately. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his back, not needing to look him in the face to know he was crying.

After a few minutes, James broke the silence, “How can I do this, Lily? How can I take a child like my Harry and… and…?” Lily wrapped her arms tighter around his waist and planted a kiss on his shoulder as Harry laid his head on the crook of his father's neck.

“How can I come back to my child? How can I ever hold him in my arms knowing what I've done?” James whispered, cradling his child to his body as if this were the last time he would see him.

“Harry forgives you, love,” Lily said, one hand resting on his shoulder as the other played with Harry's hair, “and so do I.” She kissed the side of his neck before adding, “And I'll pray for Gaia to forgive us all.”

James wiped his tears with the back of his hand before turning around and handing Harry to his wife. “He must be hungry. He woke up almost an hour ago.” He planted a quick kiss on Harry's head before saying, “I'll be back in 14 moons.”

James was already at the door when Lily grabbed him by the wrist and stopped him from leaving. He looked over his shoulder at his wife, looking like a man that has been sentenced to his death.

“May Gaia show you the way, love,” Lily whispered, the tears that were coming down her cheeks falling on top of her child's head. James turned around and closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss before kissing his son's forehead.

And with that, James left his beloved wife and son, and headed to the meinslich village at the bottom of the mountains of the east.

Little did James know that he was about to fulfill his destiny.

------------------------

It wasn't till the seventh day that James reached the village at the bottom of the White Mountains, otherwise known as Godric's Town. From the safety of the forest, the wolf watched the village for hours. He had memorized the outline of the village by heart, and had mentally traced the route he would have to take in his mission to search for the accursed one.

James had forced himself not to think of what he was going to do once he found her, and had tried pushing into his head that this child, as innocent as she might be now, would one day bring forth the destruction of Gaia's children, and had told himself again and again that he was doing this for the good of all those who walk on this earth.

He just hoped it would be enough when the moment of truth finally arrives.

Godric's Town was a lively place, full of music and laughter and wine. It wasn't a wealthy place; by far, most of the houses were rather poorly constructed and made out of rotten wood, mud, and straw, and the villagers were dressed in heavily mended garments. And yet, there seemed to be an air of contentment all around them as they gathered in the town's square, laughing merrily at the tall tales an old man was telling them and the children played games near the town's well.

It was the perfect place to raise a child.

“But she won't ever get a chance to know that,” James whispered with a sigh, sitting down against a yew tree and closing his eyes. He thought about Lily and Harry, about how at this moment she was most likely teaching the young cubs of the garou village, and how Harry must likely was babbling happily at the sound of his mother's heartwarming voice. A sad smile appeared at the corners of James mouth.

Finally, darkness fell over Godric's Town, and the seventh moon appeared behind the mountains. With a tight heart, James watched as the people of Godric's Hollow went inside their houses, settling for the night.

Only a few village watchmen remained outside when James shifted into the form of the silver wolf, and left the protection of the woods, striding silently toward the village.

It was time to find the accursed.

The silver wolf walked near the shabby houses to glance inside. He encountered many pictures of families sitting by the fire, knitting, eating, reading, telling stories, and doing any of the mundane things every family does and never realize how special they are.

And then, he found her.

It was in one of the houses that were made out of mud and straw that he saw her. One of the walls had a small opening in it, probably made by an animal that had sneaked inside. The silver wolf used the opening to peer into the hut, and he stifled the urge to howl at the moon with what he saw.

Flowers of every kind covered the walls of the room: lilies, daisies, sunflowers, and roses… flowers in all the colors of the rainbow. There was handmade wooden crib at the far corner, beautifully decorated with a hand knitted quilt not unlike the one favored by his Harry. But James' attention was not held by the room, but by its two present occupants.

A woman was sitting in a handmade rocking chair with a small child cradled in her arms, singing a soft tune under her breath. The child had a hand up in the air and was wriggling her fingers happily, obviously enjoying the sound of her mother's voice. James had seen this picture dozens of times, but only with his beloved lupa and son.

The woman had wrinkles of happiness around her lovely brown eyes, and gazed at her baby with such love that it made James' insides squirm. `Gaia, please, don't let this child be the one,' he thought as the mother continued with her verse…

“Sleep, sleep, my little angel
May God be always with you!
May He keep you away from harm,
and blessings bring on your life.”

The baby reached up with her other hand to grab a strand of her mother's golden brown curls, and that's when James saw it! On that delicately little hand, one that he would have loved to plan tiny kisses on, was a birthmark.

The shadow of the blossoming rose.

So, this was the child he had been sent to kill. The little girl that stared happily at her mother, without a care in the world, was the girl that could bring the end of days.

But before James could even contemplate what his next course of action was going to be, the hard galloping of hooves reached his sensitive ears. The sound was coming from the valley between the mountains, and it was coming nearer with every second that went by.

It was a sound that filled James with dread as an unfamiliar scent reached his lupine nostrils.

It smelled of death.

It smelled of destruction and decay.

It smelled like vampires.

He growled instinctively and ran down the road in the direction the galloping was coming from. James heard the town's watchtower cry out “INTRUDERS”, and the town woke up around him as the men of Godric's Town ran from their homes and toward the intruders, some wielding swords and axes and some wielding shovels and pickaxes.

Run, James thought, take your wives and your children and run! He knew there was no way this people could stand against a kindred army.

James reached the end of the village, and knew things were much more worst than he originally thought. It was not just an army; it was a crashing wave of dark figures in armor, all mounted in what looked like the black shadows of winged skeletal horses. At least 300 hundred soldiers of the Dark Lord entered the boundaries of the village, all weaving their broadswords and obsidian shields emblazoned with the symbol of Prince Sirius, the Flammeus Draco.

There was no use running now.

The events that came next became a blur in James' mind. All thought of the girl he was sent to kill abandoned, James transformed into his Crinos form, and stood eight feet tall amongst the Kindred. With his claws and teeth, he bit and slashed his way through the younger kindred, trying to buy time for the women and children of Godric's Town to run to safety.

The villagers were surprised by his presence at first, but more surprised when they realized he was fighting for their side, and the wolf's presence seemed to strengthen their resolve to fight for their loved ones.

James was gifted in battle, and he was able to sense a pattern in the Kindred's strategy. They would hack and slash their way through the men and women of the village, but whenever they encountered a woman with a bundle in her arms, they would jump from their demonic horses to kill her and take the bundle from her hands, inspecting the baby inside. James had watched, unable to do anything to stop them, as they killed the child and threw the little bundle into the pyre.

It didn't take a genius to know that Prince Sirius had found out about the girl's location, and had sent his personal army to find her.

James heard the distinctive whooshing sound of a flying arrow, coming closer and closer, until he felt the burning projectile piercing his thigh. He howled in pain as he broke the tip of the arrow off and pulled the arrow from his body. He fixed his gaze on the kindred that had sent the arrow his way, and it wasn't long before the vampire was still on the ground, his head lying a few feet away from his body.

When dawn crept in, a bruised and bloody James finally collapsed from exhaustion after decapitating the last of the vampires that were sent to stop him. He felt himself transforming into his human form as the smell of burnt wood and flesh and blood and sweat crept into his nostrils.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture his Lily and their son. She would surely have awoken by now, probably feeding the little cub before going down to the river to bathe. He imagined the drops of water glinting from her skin; the way Harry grabs a handful of her hair and tugs at it, giggling at his mother's infectious laugh. The way Lily would ruffle his hair before planting a sound kiss in his tummy.

When his time on Gaia's earth comes to an end, he could not think of a better image to take with him to his grave. But he knew his time had not come yet. Applying pressure to the deep wound on his side, James stood up from the ground and took a look around.

Godric's Town was on fire… there was not a house, barn or cart that was not up in flames. He was surrounded by the burning bodies of men and kindred alike, some burnt beyond recognition, others still twitching and jerking as only a body that hadn't realized it was dead could.

He dragged his battered body through the now empty streets of the town, looking for any survivors that might yet be saved. He found none. He could hear the distant voices of the dozens of Kindred that were alive as they moved through the homes, searching for the accursed child. Somehow, they had been unable to find her yet. Had the mother been able to run away from the village? He hadn't seen any horses leaving the town, and the safety of the forest was a bit out of the way for a woman with a small child.

His feet took him toward the place where the girl's house had once stood. His knees gave in, and James found himself kneeling in front of the ruins, tears coming down his dusty cheeks. Had the girl and her mother been inside? Had the baby he was sent to kill met her end at the hands of the people that had intended to use her? Had a twisted turn of fate spared James of becoming a cold-blooded murderer?

A soft voice reached his ears, and he immediately recognized it. It was the voice he had heard hours ago, when the woman sang a beautiful lullaby to her child. Were his ears deceiving him? Was she still singing, or was it just a torturous memory being replayed in his head?

He looked slightly to his right, and his eyes locked on something rather incongruous… a sunflower. It was one of the flowers he had seen inside the girl's room, now red with drying blood. His eyes continued their journey in the ground, and more flowers came into view, and it suddenly struck him as if they were arranged in a trail, meant for someone to follow them.

So he did. He pushed himself from the ground and followed the path made by the flowers, his wounds forgotten as a sudden sense of peace and calm invaded his body.

A whimper.

There was no mistaking what that sound was… it was the crying of a child.

James ran toward the source of the sound. It was coming from behind a stone well 30 meters away from the village's boundary, and it grew louder with every step he took. He had to reach it first, or the ever-closer kindred would become aware of the child's presence.

He reached the well, and circled around it. He fell to his knees one more time at the sight that awaited him. There she was… the lovely woman with the brown eyes and golden brown hair… singing softly under her breath, even when the blood was trailing from the corner of her mouth and from the edge of the two arrows that were stuck firmly between her chest… and her child, the Accursed one, crying pitiably at the top of her lungs, the caking blood of her mother matting her pale skin.

The woman was dying. There was nothing anyone could do about it.

Already blinded by the loss of blood, the woman raised her head slightly at the direction where James laid. “Please… please don't hurt my child,” she pleaded with a pained whisper, fresh tears falling down her now hollowed cheeks.

“I am… a friend,” were the words that came out of James' mouth. He knew he was wasting precious time, but he didn't have the heart to let this woman know what fate awaited her child.

Surprisingly, at the sound of James' voice, the little girl stopped crying. The mother seemed to notice this too, for she used what little strength remained in her body to pull her baby closer, and dropped a fleeting kiss on her forehead.

“My name is Moira. What's yours?” the woman whispered.

“James. My name is James,” James answered. His ears had already picked the sounds of the approaching steps of kindred soldiers.

“James, I have something to ask of you,” the woman said, choking slightly at the end due to the thick blood already gathered on her lungs.

“Anything, my lady,” James whispered reverently. He couldn't explain the respect, the admiration and the love he felt for this stranger at this moment. He instinctively knew he would do anything she asked of him.

“Take care of my child. Take her away… keep her safe…” Moira pleaded, her whisper echoing loudly inside his head.

James looked at the beautiful child in her arms. This was the child he had been sent to destroy. This was the child that could bring the destruction of every creature on Earth. He knew the consequences of not destroying the girl before it was too late.

At that instant, James remembered his lupa's parting words -“May Gaia show you the way.” There had to be a reason why the kindred had reached the village on the same night he had, there had to be a reason why he had found the woman and her child before they did.

And with dizzying clarity, James realized he had found his destiny.

“Till my dying breath, my sweet Moira… till my dying breath,” he whispered, taking her hand gently and planting a soft kiss on her pasty skin. Moira smiled at him, before turning her attention back to her daughter.

“And you… always remember that your mum loved you with all of her heart. Be happy, be loved, and be alive, my sweet child. We will meet again… when the time is right,” Moira whispered, kissing the top of her daughter's head. The little girl giggled, and reached up with her hand until she touched her mother's nose.

And amidst the pain, the blood, and the tears, Moira smiled.

“Remember… I'll be with you… always,” she whispered before placing the baby in the waiting arms of the werewolf. James looked at the beautiful little face that was smiling up at him, and a sad smile appeared at the corner of his lips. With the tip of his finger, he traced the outline of the girl's face, delighted by the way she moved her little hand and wrapped it around his calloused finger.

“What's her name?” James asked, his eyes still locked on the little girl.

“Hermione… her name is Hermione,” Moira whispered. James finally looked up and knew her time had come. She had been holding onto life to keep her daughter safe, but now, she sought release from her pain. James reached up and gently cupped the woman's cheek.

“Close your eyes, Moira. It's time to go to sleep,” James whispered. With a shaky breath, Moira smiled and closed her eyes.

It was the last smile she would ever give.

“Your sacrifice won't be in vain,” James whispered. He became aware of the approaching sounds of the soldiers. He didn't have much time.

Planting a small kiss on the top on her forehead, he bundled the child tightly on the bloody rags and, transforming into a wolf, took the rags on his jaws and ran toward the forest with dizzying speed, his only goal to get this girl to safety.

Finally, the sights, sounds and smells of Godric's Town were nothing but a memory.

He didn't stop running until he reached a small creek. Placing the bundle on the ground, he transformed into the form of man. This girl amazed him; she had not cried once during the journey, as if she knew the urgency of their getaway and the danger involved if they were to be discovered. Taking her out of the bundle of clothes and cradling her against his body, he walked toward the creek and washed her mother's blood from her body. The girl giggled, and he found himself smiling genuinely for the first time in a week.

“Now, what to do with you?” he whispered at the child in his arms. He knew he couldn't take her back to the garou village for two reasons: first, Snape would make sure he would be shamed, dishonored and punished for his refusal to fulfill the mission, and second, the Elders would probably kill the child themselves.

He couldn't let any of them know about this. He wished Lily were there with him, for she would surely know what to do. But he couldn't let her know either. If she were aware of what he just did and the Elders found out, Lily would be punished right along with him. He would never let any harm fall to her.

A simple thought fleeted into his head. In Hogsmeade, a village located at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, merely a two-day journey from his own home, lived a man called Robert Granger. They had met six years ago, when Robert, a blacksmith, had ventured into the forest looking for a special tree from which to take wood to make a proper axe handle. The poor man had encountered a baby basilisk, and would have found his death if James had not been hunting nearby. James saved him, thus revealing the secret of his werewolf heritage. Sworn to secrecy, a grateful Robert returned home, and they had remained in contact for the last six years, James venturing from time to time to the meinslich village in order to exchange supplies and stories with his now good friend.

There had been one constant in many of the conversations he had shared with Robert: the human wanted a child. His wife, Jane, seemed unable to conceive one. When James had told Robert that his Lily had given him a son, Robert had looked up at him and said, “You are blessed, my friend, for having so easily what I so desire.”

`Robert, you are in for a surprise.'

A boyish grin appeared in James' face as he moved the little girl closer to his face. She went to grab the tip of his nose, but he kissed her hand away before she could reach it.

“Child, I have found you a new mommy and a new daddy. They'll take care of you. I promise,” James whispered soothingly, kissing her cheek.

A voice echoed in his head, and his mouth formed the words the voice whispered.

“Hermione… her name is Hermione.”

-------------------------------

Hello, everyone! This chapter was long overdue, and I'm sorry for it. It was kind of stuck on the beta stage for more than a month, so I decided to post it without beta-ing. If anyone knows of someone that can beta this story (Another seems to be MIA), let me know!

I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for the kind reviews. I know this story is unusual, but I'm hoping to make it worthwhile.

Some food for the brain:

1. Moira: according to Greek mythology, she was the deity assigned to give to every man his lot. Thought it was fitting name.

2. Flammeus Draco: Latin for flaming dragon.

Yours truly,

Anasazi

PS. I worked on a little fanflick this weekend. If you are interested, check it out - http://www.livejournal.com/community/harryhermione/420820.html

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4. The Sixteenth Day

Chapter 4: The Sixteenth Day

------------------------------

Sixteen years later

Garou Village

“It's time,” Lily whispered as she looked up into the eyes of her only son. The young Harry, who was by now taller than his mother, with his father's unruly mop of raven hair and his mother's iridescent eyes, kissed his mother's forehead.

“I'll be back before you have time to miss me,” he replied with an impish grin. His father, who was standing proudly next to Lily, squeezed his shoulder tenderly.

“You be careful, boy. Don't do anything rash,” counseled James, years of experience backing his advice.

“Don't worry, dad. It's just a basilisk,” said Harry, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. His mother became instantly alarmed.

“Just a basilisk? Just a BASILISK? May I remind you that…” said Lily, but stopped when she saw Harry and James' bemused expressions. Her boy was pulling her leg… again. Taking a deep breath, Lily placed her hand on Harry's chest before she continued, “Just promise me you'll take care of yourself. Listen to Charlie. And work as a team.”

“I will, mum. Don't worry,” Harry replied, feeling very confident of his abilities. It was that confidence that worried his mother to no end.

James reached into the leather pouch he carried around his waist and pulled a small wooden object. He offered it to Harry and said, “This might help you on your journey.”

Harry took the object in his hand, his fingers moving swiftly over the surface. A small wooden figure of a woman stared back at him. It was Gaia, the spirit of the Earth, mother and protector of all garou, carved by the hand of his father.

“I'm not allowed to go with you on the hunt. That doesn't mean I'll let you go by your lonesome self,” whispered James, petting his son's cheek. Against his will, Harry's eyes filled with tears; he was deeply touched by his father's gift. Sometimes, he forgot how lucky he was to have both of them in his life.

“Thank you,” the young man whispered, the emotions in his voice betraying his cool exterior. Silent tears ran down Lily's cheeks as she hugged her son around the waist, resting her forehead over his heart. James' heart swelled at the scene, but he kept his wish to join in check. When Lily finally let go of her son and took a step back, that smug grin had returned to Harry's face.

James held his wife by the waist and looked up at his son with a wry smile on his face, “Now, can we walk you to threshold or are you too big to be seen by aging folks like us?”

“That you can, old man… that you can.”

----------------------

“Look at you! You could already be a philodox! Instead, you've been reduced to guarding cubs,” Severus hissed under his breath as he walked toward the village's threshold. His son walked just one step behind, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth, biting back the words he truly wanted to say.

Instead, Charlie took a deep breath and said, “The Rite of Erwachsensein is very important for our people, father. I am proud of being their Führer.”

“Yes, Charles… settle,” Severus sneered, “That's the only thing you've ever been good at.”

Charlie was getting tired of this, “If you are so against this, why don't you go back home?”

His father stopped dead in his tracks, almost prompting Charlie to collide with him. The young werewolf deftly avoided hitting his father, but couldn't elude his father's beady eyes as the elder rounded his fury on his son, “You know damn well why! It's tradition for us to come say goodbye to the initiates. I don't want the other elders to think I'm neglecting my duties.”

“Why do you care what others think?” asked Charlie, truly making an attempt to try and understand his father.

“Why don't you?” Severus spat with nothing but contempt in his reddened eyes.

“Father?” a delicate female voice interrupted the impending confrontation. Both Severus and his son looked to the side to find Parvati coming their way. The look in her eyes told Charlie that she knew that her father and him had been fighting once again, and that it was time to step back before making a scene.

“What is it?” Severus asked, the tone of his voice softening just slightly when his youngest finally reached them.

“I made this for Charlie,” the beautiful Parvati said as she showed them the brand new water pouch on her hand. Charlie had seen her working on it during the last week, but he had no idea it was for him. The gesture touched him deeply, and he could only smile as his little sister handed him her gift.

“Thank you, love,” he said, hugging her close and kissing the top of her head. Just then, Karkarof, Severus' fellow Elder, approached them.

“Salve, Severus. May I have a word with you in private?” Karkarof asked in a hushed voice. Severus seemed to think about it for a moment before finally nodding.

He was about to turn around and follow Karkarof when Charlie, his sister still resting her forehead on his chin, turned to him and asked, “Aren't you going to wish me luck, Father?”

Charlie bit back a grin when he noticed his father's eyes on his sister. Severus may not have a problem treating his son like waste, but he seemed reluctant to do it in front of Parvati. A forced smile graced the corners of the Elder's mouth as he said, “Have a safe journey son.” He then turned around and followed Karkarof until they were out of earshot from the congregated garou.

The young werewolf moved away from his sister and, with his arm still draped over her shoulders, started walking toward the threshold. He didn't miss the look of worry on her young face, and he thought he had a pretty good idea why she was so troubled. “You look like you have something on your mind, little sister,” Charlie said, offering to listen.

“Oh Charlie,” whispered Parvati, her hand going up to wipe an errand tear that had escaped her eye, “promise me you'll take care of him. You know he's not a very good fighter.”

“You don't have to ask,” her brother assured her, squeezing her shoulder tenderly to drive the point home. He couldn't help but add with a small smile, “Besides, I think Neville could kick my behind any day of the week.”

That got his little sister to laugh genuinely. He thought it was sweet. Parvati had always had a soft spot for the gentle Neville, and that affection had grown considerably as the years passed. Although Severus definitely didn't approve of their friendship, Charlie didn't thought there was anything that could keep Neville and Parvati from soon coming together. And now that Neville was about to undertake the rite that would officially declared him a grown werewolf, Charlie knew it was only a matter of time before he asked Severus to allow Parvati to become his lupa.

They stopped walking when they reached a shaded spot just a few feet from the two opposite beech trees that signaled the exit of their village. The air was buzzing with the conversations of all the garou that had already gathered to wish the young initiates Godspeed. Leaning closer to his sister so the others wouldn't hear, Charlie whispered, “Don't worry, okay? I'll take care of him for you.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Parvati beamed, hugging him by the waist with such strength that she knocked the breath out of him. He hugged her back protectively, content to spend the last minutes before the rite began in silence with the being he loved the most in the world safely secured in his arms.

It was Parvati who broke the silence when she said, “I think our cousin doesn't know just how lucky he is.” Her honest statement intrigued Charlie, for he did not know the reason why… until he caught sight of what had captured his sister's attention.

Their aunt Molly was fussing over her son Ronald, trying in vain to straighten his flaming red hair. Ron was obviously holding back the wish to tell her that he was getting too old for these displays of motherly concern, and just rolled his eyes when he was sure she couldn't see him.

Charlie knew the hidden meaning behind Parvati's words: she would have given everything to have a mother to fuss over her.

“Oh, he knows, little sister… he knows.”

----------

“And don't go into the water! You were ill two weeks ago… don't want you to fall sick again,” a dizzyingly worried Molly whispered, inspecting a forgotten scratch on her son's forehead. The young man just rolled his eyes as his father chuckled silently behind Molly's back, amused by the blush on Ron's cheeks.

“Yes, Mum. I won't go into the water unless it is absolutely necessary,” mumbled Ron, ignoring how two young warriors were snickering just a few feet away, saying that his mother was going to follow them into the forest so just she could keep her Ronniekins safe.

“Oh, and speaking about water… Do you have enough water to drink? The provisions I prepared for you?” asked Molly.

“Yes, Mum…” the redhead replied, holding back the “I won't be gone long enough to need them” he wanted to add.

“Do you have your staff? You are so terribly good defending yourself with it!” Molly spoke. Ron couldn't help but smile as he pointed at the six-foot tall wooden staff fastened to his back. Molly must be out of her mind to have missed that.

“Oh, right… then… do you remember the spells Remus taught you? I can get him for you and you can go over them again if you think you need to -”

“No, Mum. Thanks, but… I remember them just fine.”

Arthur decided to show some compassion over his youngest son, “Molly, give him some room to breathe. Ronald is a responsible youngster. He will do just fine.”

“I know, Arthur. I know,” whispered Molly, more to himself than to her mate. Noticing for the first time the strange looks from the garou gathered around them, she added to Ron, “And I'm sorry for acting like a crazy banshee, Ronnie.” A lone tear came down her cheek, one she wiped with a trembling hand, “It's just that… that after what happened to your… your - ”

Other tears follow, until Molly choked on her words and was unable to continue, her body trembling with every sob that escaped her parted lips. Arthur sighed sadly and was about to comfort his lupa when Ron beat him to it, wrapping his long arms about his mother's figure and hugging her close. His blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears, but he held them back and just stared into his father's saddened face over his mother's shoulder.

“Mum, it's going to be okay. I promise you… nothing's going to happen to me. I'll come back,” Ron whispered soothingly, kissing his mother's cheek and leaning back just enough so he could look into Molly's reddened eyes.

“I can't lose you too” his mother simply stated, the emotion in her voice serving as proof of the honesty of her words.

The young wolf cupped his mother's cheeks and wiped the tears with his roughened fingers, his eyes fixed on hers. And he smiled that smile that was just like hers before saying, “You won't.” He soon found himself being hugged by both his parents, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't mind the others were watching.

--------------

“Remember son, don't look at the beast straight in the eye. Formulate a plan and attack from all sides. The hide is very thick, so the best place to strike a killing blow is on the soft flesh underneath the neck. Don't use your fangs! That's too close for comfort, and you definitely don't want to get anywhere near its poison. Use your claws! That way, you can deal damage and keep a respectable distance. Are you listening?” Remus spoke hurriedly to the young wolf walking next to him.

“Yes, Uncle,” Neville nodded respectfully, holding his hands behind his back. A small smile grazed his lips as he added, “Although I've already heard what you are saying before.”

“I've told you before, haven't I?” Remus returned the smile rather timidly.

Neville pretended to think about it for a moment before answering, “About three dozen times.” His uncle laughed heartedly, petting his niece on the back affectionately.

“Oh, I'm sorry, Neville. I must be getting old,” confessed the Alpha, only half-joking. He gave Neville another nervous smile before returning his attention to path they were walking.

His uncle had been acting a bit anxious since Neville had announced his intention to undergo the Rite of Erwachsensein on this Holy Auhron. The young wolf wondered why. Didn't he have faith in his niece? “Why are you so nervous, Uncle?” Neville decided to ask, “Don't you think I'll be able to do this?”

Remus' gray eyes went wide. The idea that his niece might think he thinks less of him was downright appalling. “No! Not at all! It's just… This is a rather dangerous trial. I promised my sister I would take care of you. It makes me nervous to know I can't go with you.”

“But I won't be by myself. I'll be with my best friends, Harry and Ron. We'll take care of each other,” Neville replied with certainty.

“That you will,” Remus said, draping his arm over Neville's shoulders. He took a deep breath before adding, “Did you know I also went through the rite with my two best friends?”

“Really?” asked Neville with interest. And he had thought Ron, Harry and himself had an original idea when they had decided to go through the rite together.

“Oh, yes. We made a great team. Me… your father, Frank… and James,” Remus finished, his voice dropping to a whisper at the mention of James' name. Although many years had passed since that fateful night when Remus had ordered James to kill that girl, things had never been the quite the same between James, Lily and himself. They were amicable toward each other, frequently conversing about pack business and Harry and Neville's shared adventures, but something had been lost that night. Something Remus had been unable to find back.

“Dad,” Neville mumbled, trying to bring back into his mind an image of his father, but failing. He had been barely five years old when Frank was killed by a band of vampires while patrolling the forest. His mother had died from her strange illness just three years before Frank's death, and with his father gone, Remus was entrusted with the task of raising Neville. The young man had no complains about his uncle, but he sometimes couldn't help but think of his life if his parents would still be alive. “Do you think he and mom are watching me right now?” he asked.

Remus smiled that smile that Lily often reminded him was just like Alice's, “Oh, yes. They wouldn't miss this! Believe me, Neville, your mother and your father are watching over you from the heavens.”

“Do you think they are proud of me?” the round-faced boy questioned.

“I do,” his uncle answered with absolutely certainty. He stopped, having reached their destination, and turned to his side so he could look at his niece's face. Cupping the young man's cheek, Remus added, “And they are not the only ones.”

“Alpha,” Severus approached, interrupting the candid moment, “it is time to begin. There are those of us who have to go back to their duties.” Neville bit back a laugh when Remus' rolled his eyes before turning around to face Severus and nodding. He then continued to walk forward until he was standing at the threshold. Turning around, he prepared to address his people.

“Salve, my brothers and sisters,” Remus started, his voice commanding authority and respect, “today is a very special day. A Holy Auhron will loom over us tonight, bringing to us the light, the warmth and the blessings of our mother Gaia.”

“This is the day three young cubs have chosen to leave the village as children… and come back as adults. It is their time to pass through the trial and come back to take their rightful place amongst our people.”

“Harry. Ronald. Neville. Please, approach the threshold,” ordered Remus. He watched as the young Ronald disentangled himself from his parent's arms before approaching him. Harry kissed his mother's cheek and hugged his father before joining Ronald. Neville also walked to the exit into the forest, stopping just for a second when he heard Parvati's voice saying “Gaia be with you.” He stole a glance at her out of the corner of his eye and smiled reassuringly before turning his attention back to his Uncle and Alpha.

“Charlie. Approach the threshold,” Remus continued. Charlie gave his little sister one last hug before walking directly toward the pack's leader. “Charlie, you've been chosen as Führer. Are you willing to act as their guide, companion and protector on this journey?” Charlie nodded with reverence, feeling extremely proud at having been chosen by James and Remus for this task.

“Young wolves, our prayers go with you,'” Remus continued, looking at each one in turn, “May Gaia guide you on your journey and bless us with your safe return, for in our blood, our people will find death… only to be reborn stronger than before. It is written.”

“Endymions, is it time,” Charlie said, kneeling in front of Remus and the threshold with one fist on the ground. Harry, Ron and Neville did the same. After a few moments, they all transformed into their wolf forms, their minds and spirits ready for the hunt.

“May the Rite of Erwachsensein begin.”

The wolf that was Charlie howled before running straight into the forest, the others hot on his trail. Everybody stood on their spots until the travelers could no longer be heard.

“Now, we just wait…” Lily whispered, turning around and seeking comfort in her mate's strong arms. It wasn't easy to know that your son was off to fight a basilisk, but it was reassuring to know he was to undertake this perilous journey in the company of his best friends. Just like his father did before him.

James kissed Lily's forehead before saying, “I have to leave for Hogsmeade.” His wife leaned back and looked at him quizzically. James' visits to Hogsmeade were not that uncommon, but he had sure picked a strange day to go. Lily had figured they would both wait in the Hall of Spirits for Harry's return.

James reached into his pouch and took out a wooden figure identical to the one he had given to his son. Showing it to his lupa, he explained, “It's a birthday present.”

“Robert?” Lily asked. James just shook his head in reply, and that was all the answer Lily needed. The only other person of interest to James in Hogsmeade was Hermione, Robert's young daughter. James had taken a special liking to the girl, and every couple of months went to the human village to visit them. Lily had failed to give James a daughter, and she was grateful that this young girl had somehow filled that void.

James offered his hand to Lily, and led her away from the others when she grasped it. “Do you have the menschlich clothing?” Lily asked. He nodded; Robert had given him some of his old clothes a long time ago, and they still fit, which was good, because the last thing he wanted to do while in the human village was to stand out.

“How long will you be gone?” his lupa wondered. She knew that he was leading toward the other end of the village, where he will be able to sneak away without anybody else noticing it.

“Just a couple of hours. I'll be back before Harry does,” James promised.

“You are really nice to Robert.”

“He's my friend.”

“A garou elder that calls a menschlich a friend,” she reflected, “Severus would have a fit.”

James looked at her over his shoulder and quipped, “And the downside?” His wife could only shake her head and pretend that she wasn't completely amused by the image of seeing Severus red with fury.

They reached the place James used to sneak off from the village. He turned around and kissed his lupa's knuckles with tenderness. “Just be careful,” whispered Lily before leaning into him and kissing him fully on the lips. Her hand settled on his chest, and trailing down with her fingers until she reached the pouch tied around his waist. “You really care about this girl, don't you?” she said, more a statement than a question.

“She's… special,” was the only answer James could give her without betraying his dirty little secret. The crease in Lily's forehead at his enigmatic statement made known that it was time to change the subject, “Can you believe our baby is 16 years old?”

“It seems like yesterday when he was still sleeping between us,” she replied with a wistful smile on her lips.

“I think it was yesterday,” James kidded, wincing when his wife nudged him playfully on the ribs.

His hand landed on her shoulder, his thumb tracing the now familiar path of the scar his teeth had left on her delicate skin. It was almost imperceptible by now, and it was that minor detail that made him realize how much time had passed since he and his lupa joined for the first time, since he waited with anxiousness outside their hut while Lily gave birth, since he had helped his young cub to take his first steps, to shapeshift for the first time, to hunt and to play like the beasts in the forest.

It had been sixteen years filled with adventure, discovery, sadness for the state of the world and the loss of the righteous, fear for the safety of his loved ones… but most of all, boundless joy.

If given the chance, James wouldn't hesitate to live them all over again.

“Our child will return an adult, Lily. Soon, he'll be anointed a warrior… he'll find his lupa… and he'll start a family of his own,” whispered the seasoned warrior with uncharacteristic reverence. He didn't miss the sadness that fell for a moment over Lily's magnificent green eyes, and was puzzled by it. “What is it?” he questioned.

“Nothing,” Lily answered, her eyes drifting to the edge of the clearing, lost in thought. She remained silent, her brow creased as she attempted to put her thoughts into the right words, “I just pray everyday for Gaia to bless our boy.”

“Why wouldn't she?” wondered James, trying to give her a comforting smile.

“I don't know,” his lupa answered, shaking her head in frustration. An errand tear escaped her eye, and she wiped it away before he had a chance to. James moved his hands to cup her cheeks, and gently persuaded her to look him in the eye. She was definitely troubled, fearful, like a person bestowed of a knowledge that was beyond her comprehension. Her face softened as she looked up at her partner, and she knew she couldn't keep it inside for much longer. “Sometimes… sometimes I get this feeling. It's hard to explain, but it makes me afraid,” she whispered.

“Of what?” prodded tenderly James.

“Of the path our Harry has been chosen to take,” Lily answered cryptically. James gave her a small, comforting smile, one of his hands threading through her hair and down her back soothingly. All parents worried for their children's fate. Didn't she know this? Well, he could see why she would be more affected by this than others; after all, Harry was their only child. But James had fought all his life to keep his child safe, and he wasn't about to give up now.

“Whatever the path Gaia has chosen for him, I can assure you, love… he won't travel it alone,” he said, his eyes fixed on her well-known face, adding with a gentle whisper, “We will be with him. Always.”

His lupa gave him a soft smile, placing her hand over his and squeezing softly. He didn't know if she believed him or not, but he was sure of one thing… she wanted to believe. They remained like that, surrounded by whispering wind of the forest, for some time, just seeking and finding comfort in each other's arms as they had done since they were children.

It was Lily who broke the silence, “You better go now if you want to come back before Harry does.”

“Don't worry,” James assured her, giving her the same lopsided smile she insisted Harry had inherited, “In the words of our boy, I'll be back before you have time to miss me.”

------------------------

Five hours later…

Outskirts of Hogsmeade Village

“Do you ever wish you could leave Hogsmeade?” Dean heard his companion ask. His arm stopped moving prematurely, the rock he had been trying to skip over the surface of the river falling just a few feet away from him. He looked at his friend with a slight frown; it was an odd question coming from her.

“Never thought about it,” answered Dean, picking another rock from the floor and throwing it over the surface of the water. He seemed to think about it for a few moments before adding, “But I'm probably going to live in Aberdeen once I marry.”

“And that would be to Susan, right?” Hermione said with a lopsided smile, looking at her childhood buddy out of the corner of her eye. She didn't miss the way his cheeks blushed at the name-dropping.

“Yes, that would be Susan,” he smiled in spite of himself, “I haven't met her yet, but my mother tells me she's a very good girl, hard-working, delicate… she loves her. And she says I'll also learn to love her.”

“And here I thought your mother wanted you to marry me. I'm so disappointed,” Hermione kidded, rolling her eyes dramatically. It wasn't exactly a secret that Dean's mother was afraid of the close friendship the youngsters had shared since they were kids. Having been raised alone by her father since the age of six, Hermione didn't know much about cooking, or knitting, or raising children, but she did know about fighting, dancing, swearing, and iron smiting. Not really wife material, but then, Mrs. Thomas never had anything to worry about; Hermione and Dean were like brother and sister.

“Deep inside, my mother loves you and you know it,” Dean smirked, throwing another pebble into the river, “How about you? Do you want to leave Hogsmeade?”

Hermione didn't know what to answer. Hogsmeade was the place she had called home since the day she was born. It wasn't a big town, only sixty families or so, but it was a lively place, festive, full of song and dance and stories. She had never been unhappy here, even after the death of her mother. She also knew her father would never leave Hogsmeade, and she hated the thought of leaving her father. And yet…

“I don't know. Its just- ” she answered with a sigh, bending down and picking a shiny white pebble from the ground. She rubbed it between her fingers almost wistfully, and continued, “- I got this feeling… that something's waiting for me out there… outside of Hogsmeade… something big.”

Before Dean could reply, she heard her father's familiar voice calling her name. She looked over her shoulder at her house - the one nearest to the edge of the forest - and found Robert standing on the doorway, waving at her to come home.

“Want me to go with you?” asked Dean.

“Nah, it's okay,” the girl replied, shaking her auburn locks away from her face, “I'll meet you tonight at the inn for the party. You better have a gift for me!” After sticking her tongue out playfully at him, she ran all the way toward her home. Her father was waiting for her under the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes brimming with happiness. Hermione reached him and kissed his cheek soundly before asking, “What is it?”

“Look in your room,” Robert said, moving away from the door to let her pass, “there's a birthday present waiting for you.” Hermione whooped, running past her father and going straight for her room, hoping to find a book, a quill and ink set, a cloak or, if Mrs. Thomas had managed to convince her father, a dress. But when she went inside, she found nothing of the sort. Everything was just the way she had left it.

That is, until a pair of strong hands covered her eyes from behind. She enclosed those hands with her own, grasping them, recognizing the familiar roughness and contour, and released an uncharacteristically squeal of happiness.

“Uncle James!” she called, turning around as soon as he allowed her to. She found a handsome man with jet-black hair and hazel eyes dressed in worn leather pants and a slightly mended blue shirt, and jumped on him in a bone-crushing hug. The werewolf would have fallen to the floor if the wall had not been there to support him, but couldn't do anything but laugh at her heartfelt greeting, returning her hug eagerly.

“Hey sunshine. How are you?” James asked, leaning back just enough so he could look her in the face. It had been almost a year since he had last seen her, and he was surprised at how much she had grown. Her body was no longer lanky like that of a child, but the curves of womanhood were already blooming. The bushy hair that had been cut just below her ears was now falling in wild but graceful curls down her back. The specks of gold in her brown eyes gave her a unique sparkle, and her smile… For Gaia's grace, her smile was just like the smile of Moira.

“I'm good! I'm good!” Hermione answered, holding onto his arms as if afraid he was going to vanish at any moment, “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like? I came to wish you a happy birthday!” said James, ruffling her hair playfully. It wasn't really her birthday; nobody knew the day she had actually been born. But it was the anniversary of the night he had brought her into Hogsmeade and had left her in Robert's arms. Considering she was supposed to die before that, it was as close to the beginning of a life as anyone could hope to get.

James reached into left pocket and produced his gift. Hermione looked at the figure in her uncle's hand, and, although she didn't know what it was, she felt it was of great importance. She took it from his hand with reverence, and brought it closer to her face. It was the wooden figure of a beautiful woman, dressed only in the green leaves of the forest, a snake draped over her shoulders, a lotus flower in one hand, and a bolt of thunder in the other.

“Who is she?” Hermione asked with something close to awe in her voice.

“Her name's Gaia,” James answered, thinking of how to put it in terms Hermione could understand, “she's… she's the patron saint of my village. She watches and protects over her people, and now… now she'll watch and protect you too.”

Hermione rubbed the figure in her hands with tenderness, barely aware of the warm energy it emanated. She looked up into the handsome face of her uncle. She had always found the tales of her uncle's village fascinating, and had often asked her father if he knew how to get there so they could drop for a surprise visit. But her father had always objected to the idea, and Hermione had resigned herself to being ignorant of the world outside her village. But now, to have her uncle give her this, to have him be the one that wanted her to have a part of his life… well, that just made her love him even more.

“Thank you, Uncle,” she whispered, moving closer again and hugging him tightly. His arms went around her as he brought her closer still, his eyes closing of their own accord as the memory of holding this child for the first time some sixteen years ago came back to him. He had fallen in love with her that moment, and he loved her still.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Robert, who had been looking at his extended family from the living room, said, “Hermione, dear, would you mind making us a cup of tea? James must be wanting something to drink after such a long trip.”

Hermione had been told that James's village was on the other side of the Forbidden Forest, a good five-day walk instead of the four hours it actually took. So she never thought the tea was just a tactic of her father to have a private chat with his good friend. “Of course,” she replied, reluctantly disentangling herself from the arms of her uncle, who dropped a kiss on her forehead before she walked into the kitchen.

“She's gotten so big,” James whispered, leaning against the doorframe and watching as she busied herself around the small kitchen.

“Well, she's a young lady now. A great one if I may say so myself,” Robert moved closer to James, giving him a brotherly pat on the shoulder, “How about your life? How's Lily? And the kid?”

“Oh, they are both quite well. Harry is on a quest today- a rite of adulthood- if you want to call it that. My boy will officially become a grown werewolf tonight,” said James with obvious pride.

“Your boy a man and my girl a lady… too bad they can't meet. Then we could be one big happy family,” Robert ribbed in good nature.

“If they didn't kill each other first. Gaia knows they both are quite temperamental,” replied James with a laugh. He turned his attention from Hermione to Robert, and noticed for the first time since he had come here that Robert looked tired, uneasy. “You seem troubled, old friend. What is it?” he asked.

The smile tugging at the corner of Robert's lips disappeared, replaced with a stony expression, “Nothing really. Well… I'm just worried.”

“I can imagine,” whispered James, “It must be really hard to have raised a young girl for so long by yourself.”

“It's not that,” Robert answered, “Hermione's a sweetheart; she has never given me any trouble except for the occasional fight. I couldn't have asked for a better girl.”

“Then what is it?” inquired James.

Robert sighed deeply, his eyes lost on the image of his daughter. After a while, he said, “I've noticed things lately… strange things.”

“Like what?” James whispered, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He had told Robert sixteen years ago that the girl he was leaving with him was special, but how or why they had never spoken, mainly because James thought it would safer if everyone thought the Accursed One was dead, and also because James didn't know any more than the true identity of the girl.

“Three weeks ago,” Robert started to explain, “Hermione found a griffin on top of a tree by the edge of your forest. That tree must have been like… I don't know… around 35 meters. She called me up, excited. And before my very eyes, she ran all the way to the tree… and… I don't even know how to describe this… but she climbed that tree with such speed that… it was inhuman… like a leopard.” James swallowed hard; he didn't know what to make of this. Robert continued, “I have never… ever… seen anyone or anything move like that. Not even your own people.”

“Well,” James interjected, not really knowing what to say but knowing he was expected to say something, “I did tell you she was… special.”

“But how?” Robert said between clenched teeth. He took a deep breath before he continued, “On Wednesday, I asked her to help me move a granite rock I use to pound my swords against. I was just going to move it one or two inches, and I asked her to help me push it. That thing must weight about two times what I weigh! And you know what happened? I turned around for just one second to put on my gloves, and when I looked back, she had the boulder in her arms! She had lifted it up clean from the floor and was carrying it as she carries a bundle of clothes. How can she do these things?”

James' heart went out to Robert; he could imagine how desperate for answers the man must feel. Two bad the only thing he could tell him was the truth, “I don't know how.”

“But… but can't you ask your people? Your wife is a teacher right. Maybe she knows!” Robert pleaded.

James felt as if a bucket of iced water had been poured over him. His hands clenched into fists, and his teeth gritted in an unconscious gesture. That could never happen. He saw the look of surprise in Robert's eyes at the change in James demeanor, and he knew that the flicker of the beast was now evident in his eyes.

James forced himself to calm down, and finally replied, “My people can't know about Hermione.”

“But why?” Robert questioned.

“That, I can't tell you,” James answered truthfully, knowing that it was forbidden to tell anyone outside of the pack about garou affairs, and the price for breaking that law was too high to pay, “for your own good.”

“When you first brought her to me,” his friend said, taking a step toward James and looking him straight in the eye, “you told me that she needed to be protected. That she needed to be kept safe. How can I do that if I don't know what she is?

“She's your daughter, Robert. That's all you need to know,” the werewolf simply answered. Robert sighed, reaching with his hand to rub the bridge of his nose. His eyes drifted toward the kitchen, and James followed suit. The two men watched in silence at the girl they both considered their daughter, standing guard over the boiling water. One thanked the other for bringing this girl into his life; the other thanked the one for welcoming her into his loving arms.

Hermione looked up at that moment and realized she was being watched. A blush crept into her cheeks as she gave them a lopsided smile.

Both prayed to their respective Supreme Beings for this girl to always have a reason to smile.

It came time for James to ask the question he always asked and dreaded to hear answered, “Have you seen any strange men around the village? At night?”

Robert scoffed disbelievingly, “Your infamous vampires?”

“The fact that you don't believe in them does not mean they don't exist,” the werewolf answered, crossing his arms over his chest and turning slightly, “In fact, you didn't believe my people existed either until I saved your skin.”

“And you've been rubbing that on my face for the last twenty years,” Robert said with a slight smile, shaking his head. His eyes searched again his old friend, and his smile dropped slightly when he realized how serious James considered his question. Sighing, he finally said, “To answer your question, no. No strange men around Hogsmeade.”

“That's good to hear,” James whispered. Before the conversation could go any further, they heard Hermione calling from the living room.

“The tea is ready.”

James followed Robert into the small living room where Hermione had laid the old cups with the steaming hot liquid. This was one of the things he most liked about the humans: their tea. He sat by the table next to Hermione and took the cup she offered in his own hands. He brought it to his face, his eyes closing as he realized that she had remembered what his favorite tea flavor was.

Hermione just watched the two most important men in her life as they enjoyed their drinks and engaged in casual conversation.

Her father had told her that James had been exiled from Hogsmeade long before she was born, and that he could be severely punished if anyone sees him or hears of his visits.

She had missed James terribly, and although she knew her uncle took great risks whenever he came into Hogmeade, she always felt like it wasn't enough.

“Hermione,” her uncle said, turning his attention back to her, “your father's been telling me about your… feats.”

Hermione sighed; she wasn't about to waste their precious time together being preached to, “If you are going to stress the importance of not doing it front of others, save it. My father has already lectured me enough.”

James couldn't help but laugh as Robert shot his daughter a very dirty look. Hermione and Harry truly shared the same temper.

Ignoring her father's reproach, Hermione continued, “But to tell you the truth, uncle, I don't see what the big deal is. I mean, won't the others welcome my… abilities? After all, I would use them to help them!”

James shook his head slightly. He had seen with his own eyes how prone were humans to welcome those who were different. “Don't be so sure about that, love,” he cautioned, “People fear what they don't understand. And they might not understand… you.”

“You make me sound like a monster,” Hermione said with a slight smile. She had meant it as a joke, but both James and Robert seemed alarmed by her words.

“Don't ever say that, Mione,” Robert whispered, a pleading tone in his words. She immediately felt guilty and, rising from her chair, walked toward her father, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him to her.

“I'm sorry, Daddy,” she replied, kissing the top of his head. It was on these moments where she truly didn't understand her family's obsession with her wellbeing.

Seeing daughter and the father in such an intimate moment, James felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He truly had made the right choice sixteen years ago by giving this baby to Robert; they loved each other as he thought only flesh and blood could.

His eyes wandered to the little window by the door, and he realized that the sun had begun to set behind the mountains. It was time for him to go, or he wouldn't reach the village in time to receive his son and complete the ritual ceremony. “I have to leave now,” James announced, setting his cup on the table and rising from the wooden chair.

“So soon?” Hermione complained, disentangling her arms from around her father's shoulders and taking a step toward James, “Won't you be staying for the party tonight?

Both men looked at Hermione as if she already knew the answer to that question… which she did.

“Well, it was worth a try,” she whispered, disappointment clearly evident in her voice. James couldn't help but close the distance between them and throw his arms around her frame, hugging her tightly.

“I'm sorry, darling. I have to get back home before nightfall,” he said when he felt her wrap her arms around his waist and clutch handfuls of his shirt in her hands as if trying to capture some of his essence, “But I promise I'll visit again soon.”

“Thanks for the gift, Uncle,” he heard her say, her voice breaking slightly. He leaned back to look at her face one more time, and was not surprised to find her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. She always cried whenever it was time to say goodbye, and it never got any easier.

James cupped her cheeks in his hands, his thumb wiping the trail of a lone tear from her cheek. “I love you, pumpkin,” he whispered, leaning in and kissing her forehead tenderly. When he moved back, he added, “Take care of your old man for me.”

“Who you calling an old man?” Robert asked in mock anger, making both James and Hermione laugh in spite of the mood. Giving the young girl one last smile, James let go of her and turned around. He walked toward the door and opened it a little, peeking out to confirm there was no one around. When he made sure the coast was clear, he winked at Hermione over his shoulder and ran out, soon to be lost in the shadows of the forest.

Hermione remained by the door watching the spot where he had disappeared into the tress until she felt her father's arm over her shoulders. He pulled her to him and gave her a small kiss on the top of her head, rubbing her arm soothingly like his wife did when she was little. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, all the while thinking about what the future might have in store for her, and if he will always be able to be there by her side.

But he remembered that today was not a day to suffer for what was yet to come… today was a day to celebrate, for sixteen years ago, life had given him the greatest gift of all.

His Hermione.

There would be time to worry over such things later.

“Let's go,” Robert smiled when his daughter looked up at him, “we have a party to attend to.”

--------------------------------

Forbidden Forest

Night

1-Hour East from Garou Village

“I'm bored… Let's go and find another basilisk!” Harry complained after he finished tying the head of the beast they had just killed between two oak poles. Ron and Neville replied tired grunts, while Charlie could only shake his head and smile.

They had accomplished their goal just two hours ago. When they had reached this clearing, Charlie had instructed Ron to light a fire, while Harry and Neville gathered what they needed to prepare the basilisk for the journey home. Now, the four friends sat around the campfire, talking about the training they were going to undertake once they were declared adults.

Ron, being the only one that had trained in his magical abilities (with the help of Remus), wanted to be a shaman. Neville wanted to be a Praeceptor, a teacher, and had already asked Lily to be his master. Harry had decided ages ago that he was going to follow in his father's footsteps and become a warrior; he always said that warriors had more fun.

“Come on! Wasn't that exciting?” Harry asked with a grin. He could still remember how great it had felt when he had jumped onto the basilisk and had dug his claws so deep into the creature's massive neck he had almost decapitated the beast.

“If you think being tailed-whipped and landing on a piercing bush is fun, be my guest,” Neville interjected, his hand absently rubbing his bum.

“Don't be such a crybaby, Neville,” Harry kidded, ignoring the dirty look his friend shot his way, “At least you weren't bitten.”

“Or turned into stone,” Ron added absently.

“Now you are taking his side?” Neville said, turning his attention to the redhead sitting next to him, “May I remind you that the reason I got my butt whipped is because I stood between you and his tail so you could finish casting the fireball?”

“And I am ever so grateful,” Ron replied, a tired smile on his face, “Besides, I'm not taking Harry's side. I don't want to find another basilisk… I want to go home, drink the blood of the elders, finish the rite, eat, take a swim in the pond to wash this blood and… urgh… whatever this is… and sleep for a day or two… or at least till my bones stop aching.”

“As if your mother will ever let you go swimming after eating,” Harry joked, giving him a lopsided smile.

“Hey, I am an adult now. She can't stop me!” Ron countered angrily, not really getting the fact that his best friend was just playing.

“No you are not,” Charlie interjected before the two friends could get into one of their infamous arguments, “At least, not until the ceremony tonight.” Turning his attention to Harry, he continued, “And I suggest you relax. We are not going to go find another target. The goal of this test is to bring back to the village the head of a basilisk as proof you have reached your potential, and we already have it.” Charlie pointed absently to the eyeless head of the beast before turning his attention back to the initiates and instructing, “Now, pick up your things. We have to be back by midnight.” He heard a grumble of complaint coming from Harry mixed with the sighs of relief from the other initiates. He bit back his grin; he had never seen a garou so affected by the moon as James' son. He walked over to the young man and rested his hand on Harry's shoulder, “Mate, you are feeling like this because tonight is a Holy Auhron.” Giving his shoulder a light squeeze, he added, “Tomorrow, you'll be happy we didn't risk our hides looking for a thrill.”

Harry had his head bowed, but when he looked up at Charlie, the Führer could see the acceptance in his viridian eyes. Harry nodded before turning around and walking away to help his other friends lift their trophy.

They had already put out the fire and were about to begin their journey back home, Charlie in the lead, Ron in the rear, and Neville and Harry carrying the head of the basilisk between them, when an unexpected sound reached their ears.

It was the hooting of an owl, but that was not what was unexpected about it; after all, owls were nocturnal. It was the way it hooted, a series of long, mournful cries followed by a loud shriek. The garou, closer to their animal instinct than humans could ever hope to be, knew what that strange hooting meant, for they often used them to alert of intruders into the forest.

Someone or something was near… someone or something that did not belong here.

“Stay here,” Charlie ordered, his voice a cautious whisper. The three initiates watched him transform into the shape of a wolf before running into the trees in the direction of the crying owl.

For around five minutes, nothing happened. The three young werewolves could do nothing but share worried glances. Harry could hardly stand not knowing what was going on, and was about to run in the direction Charlie had disappeared to when their leader returned.

Charlie transformed back into the shape of man and, without wasting one second, started walking in the opposite direction, “Come on! We have to get back.”

“What was it?” Neville asked, not oblivious to Charlie's bleak mood.

“Vampires,” Charlie sighed, “Three of them.”

“Vampires?” Ron whispered, sounding slightly alarmed, “So close to the village?”

“Yes,” Charlie answered with impatience, “Now let's go. We have to tell the warriors so we can come back and take care of them.”

All of them followed Charlie… that is, all of them except for Harry. Charlie took three steps forward before he noticed Harry was not following him, and looked over his shoulder at the young man, thoroughly annoyed at him. Now was not the time to play games.

“We can take care of them… right here… right now,” Harry answered in response to Charlie's unasked question.

“No, we can't,” Charlie said, closing the distance between himself and Harry, fighting the urge to shake some sense into him, “My job was to take you to the basilisk's cave, and bring you back safely, not to lead you into a fight with the kindred.”

“You may lose track of them by the time you return with the other warriors,” Harry replied coolly.

“You are not ready!” Charlie hissed, grabbing Harry by the arms and literarily shaking him.

Harry's eyes shone with such determination that it was almost scary as he said, “We are… and you know it.”

“Why are you doing this?!”

Charlie could see the beast struggling for release behind Harry's eyes while the young wolf spoke between clenched teeth, “Because I want to avenge what those cursed kindred did to Ron's brothers… to Neville's father… and to countless others that have been unfortunate to cross their paths.”

Harry's passionate answer caught him off-guard, mainly because he realized that he was being completely honest. Charlie quickly composed and tried another line of reasoning, “You are willing to risk your two best friends for the sake of revenge?”

“I want my revenge too,” he heard Ron say from behind them. Charlie looked over his shoulder at Ron, who looked as resolute as Harry. He followed Ron's gaze as they both landed on Neville, whose jaw was set as he nodded in consent.

Charlie didn't know what to do. They were rising in mutiny against him for what they felt was right, and it both angered and made him proud.

“My brother, you are finishing your training as warrior,” Neville suddenly spoke, looking directly at Charlie, “What is the oath of a garou warrior?”

For a few moments, Charlie remained silent, not because he didn't know the answer, but because he knew where this was going. “To protect and serve Gaia's children… no matter the cost,” he finally breathed.

“Harry's right, Charlie,” his cousin spoke, “You may lose track of them if we don't attack them now.” There was a tone of desperation in the redhead's voice; of the four of them, he was the one that had lost the most at the hands of the kindred, “You really want to risk them finding our village before you find them?”

Charlie breathed deeply, and remained silent, his eyes moving back and forth over the young men. They were young and inexperienced, but what they lacked in experience they made up for with their strength, their passion, and their drive to prove their worth. Harry was right; from what Charlie had seen in their fight against the basilisk, the three young werewolves could battle the three kindred he had seen. If they didn't act now, they may not be able to act later.

When he thought about that it that way, there really was no choice to make.

“Neville, you stay by Ronald's side,” Charlie started giving out instructions, trying to ignore the excited grins on the young faces, “Make sure he's protected while he casts his spells. Harry, there is a female vampire among the three. She's doesn't seem that strong, but from what I saw, she's as fast as a cheetah, so be careful. I'll take the big guy.”

His audience nodded, already feeling the quickening of their hearts that always preceded a battle.

“Now, I don't want any of you taking unnecessary risks,” Charlie continued, “No heroics. If you are having any problems, just run away. We'll reconvene by the entrance to the Emerald cave before going home. Got it?””

Once again, the young werewolves nodded. Charlie looked from one determined face to the other, then clenched his right hand into a fist and hit his chest just above his heart in traditional warrior greeting. “May Gaia's will be done,” he whispered. The others returned the salute, their faces shining with anticipation.

Both Charlie and Harry transformed into their Crinos form, Charlie towering almost eight feet tall while Harry reached a very respectable six. Neville opted for his wolf form, while Ron, who needed to speak to use the spells that seemed to be his strong suit, used a two-handed grip on his wooden staff. A low grunt came from deep within Charlie's throat before he dashed toward the vampires, the young warriors close behind.

It wasn't long before they found the kindred. As Charlie had said, there were three of them, sitting around a magical fire. One of them was big, around six and a half feet tall, bald and dark skinned like one of the gypsy people. The other two were lithe, blond and pale, identical except for the fact one was a female and the other was a male. The boys knew that their fair appearance was not to be confused with weakness, for the kindred were among the strongest, fastest, and deadliest foes one could ever encounter.

The big one was the one who stood up first, but when he saw the huge werewolf that was now Charlie approaching him with such ferocity, the vampire just retreated into the forest, obviously hoping to lose his attacker among the shadows of the trees. Charlie didn't lose a beat and follow him straight into the darkness.

The blond male follow the big guy's lead, and immediately rose to his feet and ran on the opposite direction as the other vampire. This time, it was Ron and Neville who followed him.

That left Harry alone with the beautiful young woman. Excitement coursed through every vein in his body as he locked eyes with the deadly vampire. He could feel his muscles tensing as the woman smiled at him maliciously and whispered, “Doggy want to play?”

Harry growled in what he thought was a threatening manner, but the woman just gave a hearty laugh and gracefully stood up. “Oh, child… you better start praying to your goddess for mercy, because I won't be showing you any.”

The next thing Harry saw was a white blur coming his way. He felt as something tackled him to the ground, and he raised his arms protectively over his chest in time to grab something by the arms. It took him a second to realize that the white blur that had knocked him to the ground was indeed the lithe vampire, who was now straddling him on the ground, her fangs bared to the night, not leaving to the imagination just what her plans were for him.

“You came just in time, pup,” the vampire hissed, lowering herself until he could feel her breath on his lips, “I was just telling my brother how hungry I was.”

Harry used the fact that he weighted twice as much as her to kick his legs from the ground, flipping her over his head. She landed on her back with a loud thud and he used the opportunity to stand up and turn around to face her, moving into a classic battle stance.

She was already up and facing him by the time he turned around. Charlie had been right; she may not be the strongest of the bunch, but she was definitely the fastest creature Harry had ever encountered. Again, she smiled at him as if she were a cat that had just found a canary to play with. “Oh, you are a fighter… I like that…” she purred.

Harry thought about what his next move might be. Running was out the question; this nosferatu could easily outrun him. He could attack first, but he had the feeling that she would see his attack long before it came. Or… he could wait. Let her strike first… let her be lured into a false sense of security… let her make a mistake.

The woman did not disappoint him. She lunged herself at him, trying to push him back into the ground, but this time, he braced himself for the impact. Her hands reached up and were about to wrap themselves around his neck when he seized her by the wrists and pulled her toward him, crashing his head against her nose with all his strength. A sickening crunching sound reached his ears before he heard the vampire let out a shrilly wail.

She staggered back, her hands clutching her nose as the blood trailed down her face and into the ground. “Dute in pizda mata,” she cursed him in a language he did not recognized, Her eyes were filled with more hatred than Harry would think possible. She knew she had made a mistake, and was unlikely to commit it again. What could be his next step?

He didn't have time to think as the vampire's nails grew in length until they were nine inches long. She slashed forward, but he managed to move out of the way at the very last second, but not before feeling the sting of the razor-sharp nails as they scratched him in the chest.

It was while they were returning to their attack positions that Harry realized that he might have found a clean way out of this one.

The fire… the magical fire that was still burning just a few feet behind him. If there was one thing he learned as a child about his people's natural enemies it was the fact that, because of their un-holiness, the kindred were very susceptible to light… and to fire.

Feeling bold, he raised his hand in front of his body and made a “come on” gesture with it that, unbelievably, managed to anger the vampire even more. The woman hissed unnaturally and once more lunged herself at Harry, intent on knocking him and burying her fangs in his muscled neck. But this time, he was more than ready. Before she made contact with him, he threw himself on the ground on his back and kicked her body away, throwing her over his body and making her land on her back… and directly on the fire.

A loud and skin-chilling shriek echoed on the forest as the once beautiful vampire went up in flames. The stench of burning flesh and hair reached his nostrils with such force that, for a moment, he thought he might throw up. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she finally stopped struggling. Her flesh, now black as coal, fell from her bones, until he could not distinguish between the logs that had fed the fire and her body except for the blackened skull that was being licked by the bluish flames.

Harry didn't know how to describe what he was feeling now. He knew he should have felt ecstatic at the defeat of his first true enemy. But he wasn't. He felt strangely numb and hollow, her screams still ringing in his ears.

It was then that he saw it.

If he would have asked to describe what he saw out of the corner of his eye, he would have said that it was a shadow against a tree, tall and broad and almost liquid in nature. It moved, disappearing into the forest in the general direction Ron and Neville had taken just a few minutes ago. Temporarily forgetting about the still burning vampire, Harry walked toward the spot where he had seen the shadow and crouched on the ground, moving the small plants growing around the tree trunk, looking for something to explain what he just saw.

He gasped when he saw the clear imprint of a footprint, for he realized that Charlie had made a mistake.

There was one vampire unaccounted for.

-------------------------

Meanwhile…

Neville and Ron made a great team. The redhead had already cast two lightning bolts on the vampire as Neville, still in his wolf form, defended him from any counterattack. The vampire was visibly weakened, his movements were sluggish, blinking continuously as if he found it difficult to keep his eyes opened.

Neville lunged onto the vampire, sinking his teeth deeply into the vampire's thigh. The vampire screamed, cursing in his native language, but instead of trying to kick Neville away, he reached for the pouch he carried around his neck. In one swift movement, the vampire hit Neville on the face with his pouch. Ron became slightly alarmed when he watched as a small white cloud formed around the pouch. Neville released the man's flesh and staggered back, looking confused and sluggish, until he collapsed onto the ground.

As soon as he realized Neville was injured, Ron pointed his staff at the vampire and screamed, “Incendia!” A huge fireball emerged from the tip of his staff and flew straight at the vampire, hitting him squarely on his chest. The next moment, the vampire burst into flames.

Ron didn't waste any more time on his defeated enemy as he made his way toward his fallen friend. He crouched next to Neville and patted him soothingly between his shoulders, “Nev? Are you okay? Can you hear me?” The wolf moaned pitifully, but slowly transformed into the body of a man.

“I can't… I can't see… my eyes… my eyes are burning,” Neville whispered, still laying on the ground with his eyes pressed together.

“Open your eyes,” Ron instructed, “Let me see them.”

Slowly, Neville did as told. His eyes were an awful shade of red, the skin around them puffed and suppurating, his pupils dilated until they had almost disappeared.

“You can't see me, can you?” Ron asked.

“No,” Neville whispered, trying to control the trembling of his voice. Ron could imagine how scared his friend was at the moment, but he remembered the strange white powder that the vampire had kept on his pouch.

“Crushed white mushroom,” Ron mumbled to himself, remembering one of his many lessons at the hands of their Alpha, “There's nothing to worry about, Nev. I think that the vampire hit you with a pouch filled with crushed white mushroom… the poisonous type. Your uncle told me that it caused blindness, but that it is reversible. Don't worry, okay? Remus will fix you right up.”

Neville smiled, nodding appreciatively. Ron was about to compliment Neville's fighting skills until he heard the snapping of a twig behind them.

“I think you have more important things to worry about than temporary blindness.”

Ron looked over his shoulder just in time to see a massive seven-foot tall vampire, his shirtless chest and arms covered in tribal tattoos, his ears and lips pierced with silver spikes. He recognized the tribal tattoos as those belonging to the Assamites, the cursed kindred from the East.

An Assamite was particularly hard foe, for the Assamites were the only one of his kind who survived by drinking the blood of their own. The powerful blood of their fellow kindred gave them powers and abilities other vampires didn't posses. It was rumored that Prince Sirius personal army consisted solely of Assamites, under the command of his stepson and personal bodyguard.

“Ron, who's - who's that?”

The shaman-in-training realized he was in way over his head, for he recognized the skin the assamite's trousers were made of.

Werewolf skin.

With a burst of speed, Ron stood up and was beginning to transform into his lupine form when the vampire swung his arm and struck Ron on his side with such strength that the redhead was airborne for a good couple of seconds before landing with a sickening crush against a nearby tree trunk. By the time Ron slid into the ground and passed out from the sheer pain his internal injuries were causing him, the Assamite had already shifted his attention to the young man kneeling just a few feet away from him.

“Now,” the Assamite said in a low and hungry growl, “I think is time for you and I to have a little fun.”

Taking a step toward Neville, he grabbed him by his hair and roughly pulled him up, until the feet that belonged to the whimpering young wolf no longer touched the ground. Baring his fangs, the nosferatu was about to sink his teeth into the werewolf's neck when something big collided against his side, pushing him into the ground. He immediately let go of Neville and jumped back up, unsheathing the scimitar from its scabbard and turning around to face his attacker.

He was surprised to find a young werewolf in his Crinos form, a werewolf that Neville recognized by his scent as his friend Harry.

“You kids don't give up, do you?” the Assamite said, letting out a hollow laugh. The vampire took a step toward Harry, his sword on his side as if he didn't intend to pose a threat.

Harry knew that he needed to steer this foe away from his wounded friends, for they were out of the fight. So he decided to turn around, crouch on the floor and run on all fours straight into the heavy foliage of the forest, twisting and turning at every conceivable place, making enough noise to keep the vampire's interest but keeping enough distance to actually lose him among the trees.

After a couple of minutes of this pursuit, Harry finally arrived to a small clearing. Seeing as he couldn't hear the vampire behind him anymore and the fact that he was out of breath and his leg muscles were burning as if they were on fire, he quickly hid behind the trunk of an ancient beech tree. He only needed a few moments to catch his breath, and to get the feeling back into his legs before making sure he had indeed lost the Assamite and return to his wounded friends.

He closed his eyes and sighed, wanting to stop thinking about what might have happened to his best friends if he had not decided to go after them. He concentrated on listening to the sounds of the forest. The woods were unusually quiet; no footsteps or running steps or slithering sounds reached his sensitive ears.

He sighed, not from tiredness but from utter relief. He had managed to outsmart an Assamite. He smiled; he couldn't wait to go home and tell his father about it.

A sudden whooshing sound sliced through the air, and before he could register what was going on, he felt pain as he had never felt before in his life. It seemed to concentrate on the pit of his stomach before spreading to the rest of his body. His sight clouded, his breath grew ragged, and his knees gave out under him.

It was only then that he chanced to look down… only to find the tip of a silvery blade protruding from his stomach.

Before the full implications of what was going on hit him, he heard a low growl just above the shell of his ear, “Looking for me?”. Harry turned his head around slowly, until his eyes spotted something that could only be described as a blur of darkness standing next to him. From that shadow emerged the smirking face of the Assamite, who licked his lips in anticipation before withdrawing the blade that had been sharp enough to cut straight through the beech tree.

Harry staggered forward, his knees almost giving out completely. He watched as the blood poured from the gashing wound, his weakened body found itself unable to hold on to his crinos form, and he reverted to his natural form. Clutching at his stomach to try and delay the bleeding, Harry slowly turned around, feeling vulnerable, exposed and defeated by this kindred assassin.

The Assamite reached up with his scimitar and licked the blade clean off Harry's blood. “You taste good,” he murmured. Harry back stepped, inadvertently stumbling on a log and falling back on the ground. The assailant gave him an appraising look, and Harry watched in horror as the unfamiliar glint of animalistic lust appeared in the vampire's eyes when he mumbled, “You look good.”

The vampire rubbed his crotch purposely, leaving no doubt as to what his plans were for Harry, “I bet you'll feel even better.”

Harry tried to incorporate himself and run away, but he was loosing too much blood, and he stumbled once more, this time on his stomach. The vampire jumped on him like a lion jumps on his prey, pushing him further into the ground as he straddled the lower part of Harry's body.

Harry felt the ground for something, anything, to use against the vampire. His hands closed on a jagged rock, and he tried to twist underneath the vampire so he could hit him on the head, but the vampire saw what he was up to, and he quickly used one hand to pin Harry's arms behind his back, while the other one weaved itself into Harry's raven locks in order to push the werewolf's face into the ground.

“Shh, relax boy,” the Assamite said as if speaking to a young child, “Angelus will take good care of you.”

A sob escaped Harry's parted lips as fresh tears started to fall freely from his eyes. He could feel the life slipping from him with every drop of blood that soaked the ground, but if he was indeed right and the vampire was going to have his way with him, he couldn't die soon enough.

Clouded by an overwhelming lust, Angelus released Harry's arm so he could free himself from his trousers. He also let go of Harry's head in order to rip Harry's loincloth from his body, leaving the werewolf completely naked and exposed.

It was ironic that in that state of complete and utter exposure, Harry saw a window of opportunity for his salvation.

With more speed than he thought he was capable of in his weakened state, Harry twisted his upper body around, the hand that had been clutching the jagged rock going up and colliding with a horrible crack against Angelus' face. The vampire screamed, his hands going up to cover his now bleeding face, allowing Harry to slide from under him and stand up.

Without wasting a moment, Harry started limping away from the screaming vampire, moving as fast as his wounded body allowed him to. But it didn't seem to be fast enough, and he soon heard Angelus rising behind him. Absently grasping the leather pouch that still hung from around his neck and hid the carved figure of his goddess, Harry muttered, “Gaia… help me… please…”

Without really knowing how, Harry started to put some distance between the vampire and him. He didn't know which direction he was going; by now, he could hardly see. His breathing came in shallow gasps, the wound on his stomach felt like it was on fire, and yet, he kept on going, never looking back.

For a moment, the kid thought he might actually get out of this mess he had landed himself in.

That is, until he realized he had just run straight to the edge of a cliff. He stopped abruptly, managing to fall back before the momentum pushed him over the edge.

Harry stood on the rim and peered down, trying to catch his breath. In the darkness, he distinguished the shape of a wild river flowing on the valley about fifty meters beneath him.

Just then, he heard the violent rustling of leaves behind him.

“I'll show you the true meaning of pain, boy.”

Harry turned around slowly to face his pursuer. Half of Angelus face was dark with the blood that still flowed from his wound, down his shoulders, chest and back. A dark fleshy hole now stood on the spot where his left eye should have been. Angelus's smiled a deformed smile, one that promised to make all of Harry's nightmares come true.

The young werewolf never wondered if he would survive the fifty-meter drop, because frankly, he didn't care.

Harry's arms went perpendicular to his body and, before Angelus realized what was going on, he took a step back and fell… and continued falling… and falling… and falling… until he hit the ice cold water with such force it knocked the little strength he had left.

The last thing he thought before he passed out was that, for the first time, he had broken a promise to his mother.

He was never going to return.

The unconscious werewolf did not realize that his body was not traveling further into the forest, but in the opposite direction.

He was being carried away from the world he knew…

And toward the world he was meant to live in.

------------------------

All right, please forgive me for not updating in so long, but as you can see, this chapter is massive. I think is the longest chapter I've ever written for any of my stories. I'm exhausted! And yet, it was great fun. I also have to apologize because once again I had to upload without a beta. My bad!

Thanks to all that commented on this story so far. It's for you that I keep writing it. Let me know what you think of this chapter!

Now, for a nugget of knowledge:

Erwachsensein = german for Adulthood
Endymion = name taken from a greek tale of a Sheppard boy that the moon goddess fell in love with. Here is used as “one who is loved by the moon”
Dute in pizda mata: Romanian for “CENSORED your mother CENSORED”

Thanks for everything,

Anasazi

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The Accursed

1. The Prophecy

2. Maktub

3. Moira's Lullaby

4. The Sixteenth Day