It was cool and pleasant in the trees after suffering through the heat of a Hogsmeade afternoon. Rita had not wanted to go into the Three Broomsticks or the Hog's Head, though there were surely valuable sources about the Hogwarts scandals in both those establishments; Rosmerta hadn't been acting quite like herself lately, evading Rita's friendly
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Comments 28
His anger was building with each passing night, as the moon grew. He was just so angry with Remus, with Lucius, with himself, with everyone.
Someone would get themself killed, sooner or later.
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"Hello, Fenrir," she said brightly. "Rita Skeeter, The Daily Prophet. Visiting friends?"
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Fenrir had to think about it, the face was familiar but he didn't twig who it was until she spoke.
Journalist. Oh great. Just what he needed for Voldemort to take his revenge on an idiot who got himself captured.
"Go. Away." He growled.
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"There are stories that you escaped during the raid on Azkaban," she pressed, sounding admiring. "Was it the Ministry you were running from, or the Death Eaters who brought you there? How do you feel about the Ministry's latest actions?"
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Dolohov's charm kept their progress (or rather, lack of it) unheard, which proved to be a minor blessing - Walden's tirade of abuse cut off by an urgent 'shh!' and a hand on his arm, pulling him back.
...Voices?
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Curious as this was, the woman was none of Dolohov's concern. The entire wizarding world already knew they were out. What more could she do?
Their goal was to retrieve Greyback. Alive. That was what they would do. Nothing more and nothing less.
Still mostly obscured by a tree, Dolohov nodded at Macnair and aimed a Stunning spell at Greyback. He knew that wouldn’t be enough to take the man down, but they had to start somewhere.
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Snarling, he shouted across the clearing. "You can tell him, I'll come back when I'm good and ready and not before. I'm not his servant!"
There was no-one behind him. No Death Eaters, no Centaurs, no Ministry.
He fled.
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