The Secret's In The Telling by Sakuri

chapter 41

He darted from one hiding place onto the next as soon as he was sure he wouldn't be seen, looking for his next destination. Ron and Hermione slunk from one shop building to the next across from him on the other side of the cobbled street, peering into the frosted windows when they could afford to in an attempt to spot the missing werewolf. He mirrored their movements as best he could, but it was difficult to search effectively while trying not to be seen.

Ahead of him, one of the masked figures was fending off the haphazard attacks of a civilian with ease. A few flicks of his wand sent the other man's spells spinning off in random directions – much in the same way Draco did to his opponents, Harry thought, before realising he really had to try and put the Slytherin out of his head. Then, as the Gryffindor looked on, the Death Eater calmly flicked his wand and sent his victim spinning through the air. Harry bit his lip and cringed as the wizard landed hard, his fall somewhat pillowed by the snow.

He'd already aimed his wand, expecting to hear the first syllables of the Killing Curse and ready to try and stop it, before he realised the Death Eater had lost interest and was already turning away. He backtracked hurriedly, ducking out of sight behind the corner of the nearest building.

What had happened there? Why hadn't the masked wizard cast Avadka Kadavra, instead of simply leaving his opponent where he was and allowing him the chance to recover...?

Automatically, he checked the position of the sun, and in doing so answered his own question.

In a flash of Hermione-like intuition, he knew why they're brought Remus here. They were going to set him on the villagers – not just to kill and do their job for them, but to turn as many as he could. Harry blanched. Voldemort wanted werewolves, and Remus was going to unwillingly create them for him. The Death Eaters weren't killing anyone because they were waiting for the moon to rise. After all, dead people couldn't be infected by a werewolf bite, now could they...?

Harry shivered, repulsed by the idea. Immediately, his urgency to find the wolf increased tenfold, and he looked around wildly. All around him, he now noticed that whatever curses were being thrown, however hazardous, however malicious, none of them were lethal.

He found himself turning one way and then another, losing any sense of a plan he might have started out with. His mind spun in circles. Where were the other Order members? Why hadn't they stopped this yet? Where had Snape disappeared to? Were Ron and Hermione still okay? He couldn't see them. Oh God, what about Draco? What if someone found him up there, alone and trapped by the compulsion that had been placed upon him...? What if–

Stop.

He realised suddenly that his panicked thoughts had carried him away entirely. He'd stepped forward, away from his hiding place, with some half-formed intent of desperately finding Remus there and then.

Now, returning to relative sanity, he hurriedly whirled back around, remembering the importance of staying out of sight.

Too late. Looming in black robes and haunting white mask, a Death Eater had stepped into place behind him, blocking his escape route. Harry stopped dead, stunned by how fast he'd made such a stupid mistake. Automatically, he raised his wand, but something stopped the spell on the tip of his tongue.

White blonde. Harry blinked, oddly uncomprehending for a moment, simply unable to relate the familiar shade with the danger he was looking at.

Finally, though, realisation dawned.

Lucius Malfoy was stood before him. Harry knew it was him, though the pale mask covered his face. He recognised the white blonde hair that escaped the concealment of his hood, and there was no mistaking the eyes that pinned him furiously, or the familiar, serpent-headed wand that was currently pointed his way.