Just the faintest whiff of blood was enough to set off a chain reaction. Like fireworks bursting in the night, nearby and distant werewolves alike lunged in that direction.
"By dear Merlin," the middle-aged man muttered in astonishment, staring at the unfolding scene. "Is someone really there?"
A voice entered his ear: "Ministry Auror. I'm here to investigate the werewolf gathering."
"And who are you? Why are you here?"
Tonks had disguised her voice, roughening her tone into something more masculine and gravelly—a Metamorphmagus could easily do that.
The man tried hard to identify the voice: male, mature, slightly hoarse as if from injury. A face surfaced in his mind: "Mr. Delix, is that you?"
Tonks raised an eyebrow. "It's me."
Delix wasn't a particularly well-known Auror. Though he had an impressive appearance—stern features, neat gray hair, calm gray-blue eyes—and a respectable résumé with six NEWTs, he was more theory than field. Despite being able to cast a corporeal Patronus under no pressure, even a minor scare would render him helpless.
Scrimgeour and Moody had both said it: a genius in theory, a fool in practice.
Tonks had joined the Ministry later than Delix, but she was confident she could outduel two of him at once.
Most of the time, he handled desk work—only being dispatched when no one else was available and the task wasn't dangerous.
Like years ago, when it involved Hogwarts. Now, even Hogwarts wouldn't take him, not since Harry arrived.
But here was this man recognizing such a low-profile Auror?
"I'm a reporter for the Daily Prophet—Jeff Thomas. We met in the Auror Office," the man rapidly explained. "Thank Merlin you're here. I'm safe now."
"Answer me—why are you here?" Tonks cut him off.
Thomas answered honestly: "Someone told me a massive werewolf gathering would happen here—hundreds of them. It's huge news! Maybe even front page."
"I could become the next big name in magical journalism after Rita Skeeter—the pillar of the Prophet!"
"I even spent over a hundred Galleons on an invisibility cloak. But who could've known—"
He frowned in frustration.
Everything had gone smoothly before the transformation. No one noticed him.
But once they transformed, the cloak failed. It couldn't mask his presence.
Lupin knew this all too well.
Regular invisibility cloaks, made from Demiguise hair, could hide your body, but not your scent—useless against werewolves.
Unlike the Potters' cloak, which could even mask scent. Although… if the wearer couldn't suppress their magical aura, Dumbledore or Snape could still easily spot them.
"Do you have photo records?" Tonks asked.
Thomas nodded eagerly. "Of course I do!"
He proudly raised the camera slung around his neck.
"A camera is a journalist's life!"
"I'd rather be bitten than let this thing get damaged!"
Tonks turned slightly, trying to look at Lupin, but couldn't see him. She lightly tugged his sleeve.
Lupin tugged back in response.
"We'll get you out," Tonks said. "But I need to copy the film first. The Ministry still—"
Suddenly, Lupin's sleeve yanked hard.
She paused and turned.
Lupin's Disillusionment Charm had failed. Fur stood on end, sharp ears sprouted from his skull.
And—
All the scent-blocking charms he'd cast also failed.
"Remus?" Tonks gasped, her real voice slipping through.
"That potion…" Lupin clenched his fists and looked toward the werewolves, now all turning toward him. "It shortened the potion's effectiveness. You need to go. Now."
His transformation was dramatic and noisy, drawing attention from most nearby werewolves.
One immediately pounced.
Lupin crouched, punched the creature's stomach—and midway through his punch, his fist shifted into a claw, disemboweling the beast.
More charged.
Some gnawed on the disemboweled werewolf. Others lunged at Lupin. A few tried to bypass him and attack the still-invisible Tonks.
"Protego Maxima!"
Tonks chanted. Invisible barriers slammed into two werewolves, sending them staggering.
She canceled her Disillusionment.
"I'm an Auror, Remus," Tonks said firmly, shaking her head.
She looked to Thomas. "You need to run. Can you cast a Disillusionment Charm?"
Thomas stammered and shook his head. "Sorry, Miss Tonks, I can't."
If he could, he wouldn't have spent a small fortune on an invisibility cloak.
Most of his surprise now came from realizing who she was. Female Aurors were rare—and Tonks was one of the best. A Metamorphmagus, too, capable of changing appearance at will.
Tonks raised her wand.
Incendio!
Bright orange flames leapt up. Beasts fear fire—werewolves included. They scattered, terrified.
"Run," Tonks said softly. "Get past the marsh—you should be able to Apparate. Then send an owl to Hogwarts. Tell Harry what happened."
Thomas nodded.
He couldn't cast Disillusionment, but he could Apparate.
"Tell Harry? Harry Potter?" He paused, confused. Shouldn't they notify the Ministry?
"Yes—don't tell the Ministry. Tell Harry," Tonks confirmed. As she spoke, she joined Lupin in taking down another werewolf.
Thomas didn't ask more. The werewolves were closing in.
He bolted without hesitation.
Lupin growled through his wolfish snout, side-eyeing Tonks. "You shouldn't have stayed."
"I told you—I'm an Auror," Tonks replied seriously. "Protecting every wizard is my duty."
"Even if you're a werewolf."
"I don't discriminate."
Lupin wasn't afraid of injury. Tonks supported him with spells.
They had magic—and more importantly, brains.
The werewolves only had beast-driven instincts. Though they overwhelmed in numbers—over two hundred strong—they couldn't break the duo's defense easily. But every time they downed one, two or three more would leap over their fallen comrade.
"So this is what two hundred looks like?" Half an hour later, Tonks exhaled, pale and winded.
Lupin pushed away two werewolves. His strength had waned—he only knocked them back a few steps. "You can still leave."
"I'm glad I stayed," Tonks replied, glancing at his body.
Dozens of gruesome wounds—bites, claw marks—all from werewolves.
If she hadn't been here…
Those wounds would be in more vital places.
She raised her wand. A piece of dittany flew from her pocket—aimed at Lupin. But then, her motion froze. She paled, looking down.
Lupin had kept watch on her through his peripheral vision. He turned to see—
A werewolf, crippled, was biting her lower leg. Blood seeped through her pants, staining the beast's snout red.
It had broken legs, dragging itself by its arms—evident from the long trail behind it.
"Tonks!" Lupin lunged, slamming his fist into the werewolf's jaw. It yelped, releasing its grip.
Tonks remained calm, sighing. "Well. That's bad. I've been bitten."
Fur began to sprout along her distorted features.
"You should've listened… You should've left!" Lupin growled, newfound strength surging. He shoved back more werewolves and dragged Tonks beneath him.
"You need to think of yourself!" he snapped.
"I am thinking of myself," Tonks shook her head. Her hair suddenly shifted to a pale pink hue. "If I'd left, you wouldn't have lasted this long."
"Don't talk." Lupin reached into his magically expanded pouch, searching.
Tonks raised her wand, still able to cast: "No. Let me speak—while I still can."
"I have the potion Harry gave me. It'll keep your mind intact." Lupin was frantic.
"Remus, I've always wanted to say this—but you never let me." Tonks' tone was steady. A blast of magic sent another werewolf flying—stronger than even her earlier spells.
"You're too hung up on being a werewolf. You think that means you don't deserve anything."
"You treat everything you have as if it's a fluke."
"But you deserve it."
"I've hinted so many times—you kept dodging. Luckily, Sirius and Harry were on my side, or you'd have never given me a shot."
"I even considered—maybe if I got bitten, you'd finally accept me."
"Of course, I never actually tried to."
"But now I have been bitten. I really will become a werewolf. Remus, would you still want me then?"
Her voice was soft but resolute. Her eyes began shifting to those of a wolf—but they were clear, unwavering.
Lupin pulled the potion from his bag.
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Powerstones?
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