Fic: The Hour of the Wolf
Title:The Hour of the Wolf
Author: tegdoh
Format & Word Count: fic, 1870 words
Prompt: 29 “There will come a time when believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.” - Louis L’Amour
Warning: angst, swearing
Summary: Three women wait for the end of the world.
Author's Note: Canon compliant up to, let's say, about page 661 of DH.
I'm grateful once again to shield_wolf for her beta read. Any mistakes that remain are completely my own, particularly in light of the fact that I changed the tense at the last minute. Please let me know if you find any glaring mistakes.
May 3, 1998 - 3:00 a.m.
The first thing Tonks knows is that she has a splitting headache, which is followed immediately by a desperate need to be sick. She clenches her teeth and forces herself to take slow, deep breaths until her stomach calms. After a few moments she attempts to sit up, only to groan and collapse back onto the pillow as the room spins.
“Here, drink this. It will help ease the pain and nausea,” offers a vaguely familiar voice. A cool hand lifts her head and pours a thick liquid down her throat, making her retch. But her stomach calms and the pounding in her head subsides to a dull throb.
“Wha ... ” She tries to speak but her throat is sore and parched and the only sound she can manage is a hoarse whisper.
“You’re at Hogwarts, dear, in the hospital wing.” The voice she recognizes at last as belonging to Madame Pomfrey, although it seems unusually strained. Right. Hogwarts, then. She experiences a moment of deja vu as she tries to remember which accident brought her under the matron’s care this time. But something doesn’t seem quite right. She isn’t in school anymore, is she?
She clears her throat and tries again to speak. “What happened?”
“You were hit in the head by one of Sybill Trelawney’s crystal balls.”
Huh. Tonks is sure that will make some sort of sense when her head stops spinning. She certainly can’t remember having done anything to naff off the Divinations professor so badly as to deserve having a crystal ball chucked at her head.
She sits up again, more slowly this time and with more success. Looking to the bed directly across the ward she can see a boy whose legs twitched with the obvious after effects of the tarantallegra curse. Her thoughts are frustratingly sluggish as she tries to piece her memory back together. She remembers smoke and flying curses, the black-robed figure of her aunt looming in front of her. Her mind shies away, not ready to confront that particular image. But she manages to grasp its implication: Death Eaters ... Death Eaters at Hogwarts. All at once the memories fall into place. They have to protect the school, buy time for ... for Harry. Voldemort is coming. Her heart begins to race with remembered adrenaline ... Kingsley’s Patronus ... the battle ... Remus.
She turns quickly towards the matron, ignoring the vertigo induced by such sudden movement. “Remus. Do you know, is Remus ...” Her heart drops into her stomach as she finally focuses fully on the older woman. Madame Pomfrey’s normally placid face is drawn, her piercing grey eyes clouded with grief. “He’s not ...” She can’t make herself finish the thought.
Pomfrey’s eyes widen as she seems to realize what Tonks is asking. “No, no, dear, he’s right here.” She steps out of Tonks’ line of sight and motions towards the adjacent bed where Remus lies. Tonks stands up shakily and lets Pomfrey help her to her husband’s bedside.
“What happened to him?” she whispers. Remus is unnaturally still, prompting Tonks to place a hand on his chest to reassure herself that his heart is still beating. She gently traces an angry red scar from his left temple to the point where it disappears into his hairline. His right hand is clenched tightly at his side as though it still grips his wand.
“There is damage from multiple spells, most of it minor.” Tonks looks up, holding her breath. Pomfrey indicates the scar on his temple. “He took a stunner at close range, directly to the head. It’s akin to what the Muggles might call a stroke, although likely not as severe - we did manage to stop the bleeding before there was too much damage. There may be a slight memory loss, and he will need some therapy to regain full use of his hand.” Pomfrey glances fretfully at the door before continuing. “Given the chance, he should make a full recovery.”
Tonks breathes a sigh of relief as she takes Remus’ injured hand in hers and attempts to rub some warmth into it. Looking around the ward she counts a half dozen or so children, some crying quietly and a few who, like Remus, are all too still. “What’s going on? Is it over, then?”
Her worst fears are confirmed when Pomfrey looks darkly in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. “There was an announcement by ... by You Know Who. We’ve been given an hour. If Harry Potter does not give himself up within that time ...” She shakes her head and continues, “The injured are being brought here for safety. The ones we can help.” Her voice trembles, and Tonks wonders just how many fighters - children, she remembers with a shudder - have been lost.
Pomfrey raises her chin determinedly and continues. “Hogwarts will not go down without a fight, and we will certainly not turn over the Boy Who Lived to that monster.”
Suddenly the doors at the end of the ward crash open and three stretchers levitate into the room under the direction of Professor Sinistra. The astronomy professor is leaning heavily on a crutch. “Poppy, you’d better have a look at this one.”
Tonks follows the matron as she hurries over to the injured students. On the first stretcher is a young girl, perhaps Harry’s age. Her long blonde hair is matted with dirt and blood, and she is whimpering in pain. Tonks swallows back the bile that rises in her throat as Pomfrey carefully peels the girl’s robes away from her twisted and bloodied leg. With a sickening realization Tonks pictures Bill Weasley lying in this same ward less than a year ago. Greyback.
“Asclepius help us. Aurora, levitate her on to the bed. Now, can you see to the other two?” Her attention turns immediately to Tonks. “Nymphadora, there is a flask of sleep-ing draught on the shelf in my office. And a vial of Murtlap essence. You know what it looks like? Good, go and fetch both at once.”
When Tonks returns with the potions Madame Pomfrey is stroking the girl’s long hair, whispering to her gently. She takes the sleeping draught and pours a large measure into a glass. “Here child, drink this.” The girl settles almost immediately into a deep sleep. Tonks holds the girl’s hand as Pomfrey begins cleaning the wound and dabbing it with the Murtlap essence. The gesture is as much for her own comfort as for that of the now unconscious child’s.
After long minutes the older woman sags into a chair next to the bed. “I’ve cleaned the wound and set the bones. There’s not much more I can do for her here. She needs to get to St. Mungo’s as soon as possible if the leg is to be saved.” Her attention turns to the astronomy professor, who is limping back towards the entrance to the ward.
“Aurora, you need to keep weight off that leg.”
Sinistra shakes her head. “There are still several more students out there with serious injuries, Poppy. I have to go - ”
Whatever argument she had been about to make is drowned out by the amplified voice of Lord Voldemort. Tonks suppresses a shudder as the unearthly voice echoes through the wing.
“Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.”
A muffled wail rises up from the castle grounds as Tonks feels an icy weight settle in her stomach. ‘Merlin, no, not Harry.’
“The battle is won. You have lost half your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family ... ”
Tonks makes her way numbly towards Remus’ bedside, the disembodied voice replaced by the ringing in her ears. She prays her Mum had enough sense to escape the country with Teddy, and then chokes back a sob as she pictures her three-week-old son sleeping peacefully in his cot. Her breasts feel heavy and tight as her milk lets down. ‘Oh God, Teddy, I’m so sorry, sweetheart.’
As she reaches Remus’ side she takes his hand, willing him to wake so that she can see his eyes one more time.
“...and you shall join me in the new world we shall build together.”
“Not bloody likely, you fucking bastard!”
Sinistra’s sudden fury shocks Tonks out of her trance. She meets the older woman’s eye and with unspoken agreement they begin to set up a defense, moving the injured children to the back of the ward as far as possible from the door. Pomfrey hovers from bed to bed among them, tears trickling silently down her face.
Tonks casts every protective charm she can remember and then sits at the foot of her husband’s bed to wait. Sinistra smiles at her grimly from across the ward where she also sits, her leg propped up against a chair. They will not go gentle into the night.
Tonks pulls her knees up under her chin and grasps her wand tightly, unable to stop shivering, suddenly cold. Time seems to slow to a standstill. The sound and fury of the battle echoes through the halls and windows and into the ward. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, fighting nausea and the pounding in her skull.
There is a sudden silence, followed by a great shout. Outside the walls they can hear more shouting coming from the direction of Hogsmeade. Sinistra sits up straighter as the sound of running footsteps echoes in the hallway outside the wing. Tonks quickly wipes her face on her sleeve then turns to face the door, grateful in a way that it is almost over.
The door to the ward flies open, admitting a tall, dark-skinned boy wearing the robes of Gryffindor. He is bleeding from a cut on his face but his eyes are bright and he is smiling. “It’s over! Harry’s done it! He’s done it! Voldemort is dead!”
A single bark of laughter escapes Sinistra as she stares at the boy in disbelief. “Merlin be praised!” shouts Madame Pomfrey from the back of the ward. She rushes forward and pulls the boy into a fierce hug, much to his obvious embarrassment. Almost immediately she draws back and begins healing the cut above his eye.
Tonks’ wand clatters to the floor as the words sink in. It’s over. It’s bloody over. She doesn’t know whether the numbness she feels is relief or shock. She crawls along the mattress and lays her head on Remus’ shoulder, absently stroking his injured hand. As she falls asleep her last thoughts are of their son. “We’re coming home, Teddy. Mummy and Daddy are coming home.”
Author: tegdoh
Format & Word Count: fic, 1870 words
Prompt: 29 “There will come a time when believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.” - Louis L’Amour
Warning: angst, swearing
Summary: Three women wait for the end of the world.
Author's Note: Canon compliant up to, let's say, about page 661 of DH.
I'm grateful once again to shield_wolf for her beta read. Any mistakes that remain are completely my own, particularly in light of the fact that I changed the tense at the last minute. Please let me know if you find any glaring mistakes.
May 3, 1998 - 3:00 a.m.
The first thing Tonks knows is that she has a splitting headache, which is followed immediately by a desperate need to be sick. She clenches her teeth and forces herself to take slow, deep breaths until her stomach calms. After a few moments she attempts to sit up, only to groan and collapse back onto the pillow as the room spins.
“Here, drink this. It will help ease the pain and nausea,” offers a vaguely familiar voice. A cool hand lifts her head and pours a thick liquid down her throat, making her retch. But her stomach calms and the pounding in her head subsides to a dull throb.
“Wha ... ” She tries to speak but her throat is sore and parched and the only sound she can manage is a hoarse whisper.
“You’re at Hogwarts, dear, in the hospital wing.” The voice she recognizes at last as belonging to Madame Pomfrey, although it seems unusually strained. Right. Hogwarts, then. She experiences a moment of deja vu as she tries to remember which accident brought her under the matron’s care this time. But something doesn’t seem quite right. She isn’t in school anymore, is she?
She clears her throat and tries again to speak. “What happened?”
“You were hit in the head by one of Sybill Trelawney’s crystal balls.”
Huh. Tonks is sure that will make some sort of sense when her head stops spinning. She certainly can’t remember having done anything to naff off the Divinations professor so badly as to deserve having a crystal ball chucked at her head.
She sits up again, more slowly this time and with more success. Looking to the bed directly across the ward she can see a boy whose legs twitched with the obvious after effects of the tarantallegra curse. Her thoughts are frustratingly sluggish as she tries to piece her memory back together. She remembers smoke and flying curses, the black-robed figure of her aunt looming in front of her. Her mind shies away, not ready to confront that particular image. But she manages to grasp its implication: Death Eaters ... Death Eaters at Hogwarts. All at once the memories fall into place. They have to protect the school, buy time for ... for Harry. Voldemort is coming. Her heart begins to race with remembered adrenaline ... Kingsley’s Patronus ... the battle ... Remus.
She turns quickly towards the matron, ignoring the vertigo induced by such sudden movement. “Remus. Do you know, is Remus ...” Her heart drops into her stomach as she finally focuses fully on the older woman. Madame Pomfrey’s normally placid face is drawn, her piercing grey eyes clouded with grief. “He’s not ...” She can’t make herself finish the thought.
Pomfrey’s eyes widen as she seems to realize what Tonks is asking. “No, no, dear, he’s right here.” She steps out of Tonks’ line of sight and motions towards the adjacent bed where Remus lies. Tonks stands up shakily and lets Pomfrey help her to her husband’s bedside.
“What happened to him?” she whispers. Remus is unnaturally still, prompting Tonks to place a hand on his chest to reassure herself that his heart is still beating. She gently traces an angry red scar from his left temple to the point where it disappears into his hairline. His right hand is clenched tightly at his side as though it still grips his wand.
“There is damage from multiple spells, most of it minor.” Tonks looks up, holding her breath. Pomfrey indicates the scar on his temple. “He took a stunner at close range, directly to the head. It’s akin to what the Muggles might call a stroke, although likely not as severe - we did manage to stop the bleeding before there was too much damage. There may be a slight memory loss, and he will need some therapy to regain full use of his hand.” Pomfrey glances fretfully at the door before continuing. “Given the chance, he should make a full recovery.”
Tonks breathes a sigh of relief as she takes Remus’ injured hand in hers and attempts to rub some warmth into it. Looking around the ward she counts a half dozen or so children, some crying quietly and a few who, like Remus, are all too still. “What’s going on? Is it over, then?”
Her worst fears are confirmed when Pomfrey looks darkly in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. “There was an announcement by ... by You Know Who. We’ve been given an hour. If Harry Potter does not give himself up within that time ...” She shakes her head and continues, “The injured are being brought here for safety. The ones we can help.” Her voice trembles, and Tonks wonders just how many fighters - children, she remembers with a shudder - have been lost.
Pomfrey raises her chin determinedly and continues. “Hogwarts will not go down without a fight, and we will certainly not turn over the Boy Who Lived to that monster.”
Suddenly the doors at the end of the ward crash open and three stretchers levitate into the room under the direction of Professor Sinistra. The astronomy professor is leaning heavily on a crutch. “Poppy, you’d better have a look at this one.”
Tonks follows the matron as she hurries over to the injured students. On the first stretcher is a young girl, perhaps Harry’s age. Her long blonde hair is matted with dirt and blood, and she is whimpering in pain. Tonks swallows back the bile that rises in her throat as Pomfrey carefully peels the girl’s robes away from her twisted and bloodied leg. With a sickening realization Tonks pictures Bill Weasley lying in this same ward less than a year ago. Greyback.
“Asclepius help us. Aurora, levitate her on to the bed. Now, can you see to the other two?” Her attention turns immediately to Tonks. “Nymphadora, there is a flask of sleep-ing draught on the shelf in my office. And a vial of Murtlap essence. You know what it looks like? Good, go and fetch both at once.”
When Tonks returns with the potions Madame Pomfrey is stroking the girl’s long hair, whispering to her gently. She takes the sleeping draught and pours a large measure into a glass. “Here child, drink this.” The girl settles almost immediately into a deep sleep. Tonks holds the girl’s hand as Pomfrey begins cleaning the wound and dabbing it with the Murtlap essence. The gesture is as much for her own comfort as for that of the now unconscious child’s.
After long minutes the older woman sags into a chair next to the bed. “I’ve cleaned the wound and set the bones. There’s not much more I can do for her here. She needs to get to St. Mungo’s as soon as possible if the leg is to be saved.” Her attention turns to the astronomy professor, who is limping back towards the entrance to the ward.
“Aurora, you need to keep weight off that leg.”
Sinistra shakes her head. “There are still several more students out there with serious injuries, Poppy. I have to go - ”
Whatever argument she had been about to make is drowned out by the amplified voice of Lord Voldemort. Tonks suppresses a shudder as the unearthly voice echoes through the wing.
“Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.”
A muffled wail rises up from the castle grounds as Tonks feels an icy weight settle in her stomach. ‘Merlin, no, not Harry.’
“The battle is won. You have lost half your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family ... ”
Tonks makes her way numbly towards Remus’ bedside, the disembodied voice replaced by the ringing in her ears. She prays her Mum had enough sense to escape the country with Teddy, and then chokes back a sob as she pictures her three-week-old son sleeping peacefully in his cot. Her breasts feel heavy and tight as her milk lets down. ‘Oh God, Teddy, I’m so sorry, sweetheart.’
As she reaches Remus’ side she takes his hand, willing him to wake so that she can see his eyes one more time.
“...and you shall join me in the new world we shall build together.”
“Not bloody likely, you fucking bastard!”
Sinistra’s sudden fury shocks Tonks out of her trance. She meets the older woman’s eye and with unspoken agreement they begin to set up a defense, moving the injured children to the back of the ward as far as possible from the door. Pomfrey hovers from bed to bed among them, tears trickling silently down her face.
Tonks casts every protective charm she can remember and then sits at the foot of her husband’s bed to wait. Sinistra smiles at her grimly from across the ward where she also sits, her leg propped up against a chair. They will not go gentle into the night.
Tonks pulls her knees up under her chin and grasps her wand tightly, unable to stop shivering, suddenly cold. Time seems to slow to a standstill. The sound and fury of the battle echoes through the halls and windows and into the ward. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, fighting nausea and the pounding in her skull.
There is a sudden silence, followed by a great shout. Outside the walls they can hear more shouting coming from the direction of Hogsmeade. Sinistra sits up straighter as the sound of running footsteps echoes in the hallway outside the wing. Tonks quickly wipes her face on her sleeve then turns to face the door, grateful in a way that it is almost over.
The door to the ward flies open, admitting a tall, dark-skinned boy wearing the robes of Gryffindor. He is bleeding from a cut on his face but his eyes are bright and he is smiling. “It’s over! Harry’s done it! He’s done it! Voldemort is dead!”
A single bark of laughter escapes Sinistra as she stares at the boy in disbelief. “Merlin be praised!” shouts Madame Pomfrey from the back of the ward. She rushes forward and pulls the boy into a fierce hug, much to his obvious embarrassment. Almost immediately she draws back and begins healing the cut above his eye.
Tonks’ wand clatters to the floor as the words sink in. It’s over. It’s bloody over. She doesn’t know whether the numbness she feels is relief or shock. She crawls along the mattress and lays her head on Remus’ shoulder, absently stroking his injured hand. As she falls asleep her last thoughts are of their son. “We’re coming home, Teddy. Mummy and Daddy are coming home.”