"Alright, thank you Miss Withers, your memories and information have been a great help, and we should have no trouble tracking him down..."
Chipper didn't hear anymore, the words fading as it grew too distant and the surrounding sounds too loud for even his hearing to follow the conversation any further. He had been already been running full speed, before Analyse had even finished speaking. He didn't know what else to do. Except...
He slowed down as the crowds thinned somewhat and he reached a sort of residence street for wizards that sat behind the right branch at the end of Diagon Alley.
Except, it didn't matter how much he ran... she was tracking him. He could not hide, he could not run, he could not escape.
It didn't matter how careful he had been, magic, still allowed them to cage him just as the potions master had done, as Muller and John had done, as... as the Dursley's had done.
There was no escape, not so long as he remained amongst humans. It wasn't magic. Magic had given him freedom. Had given him his forms.
It was humans.
All they ever did was take.
He was not sure when he had transformed, but he had, on behalf of his no longer being a cat. He tore off his boot, then his sock, clawing at his heel where the spells had been cast, only a small, neat scar remaining. As if it had been healed for years already. Barely noticeable.
His skin gave under the force of big, brutish canine claws frantically digging at it. He wanted it gone. He wanted it gone. Like a hand grasping tight about his neck or a leash strangling him with every struggle he made it chocked him. He wanted to be free.
He did not notice his panicked breathing and sobs until his hand jerked painfully upon hitting bone. The panic fueled adrenaline hadn't faded yet, but he looked around cautiously, immediately berating himself for failing to pay attention to his surroundings. Slowly he took deep breaths and focused, so long as there wasn't too much, when he concentrated he could tell when there were remenants of a spell somewhere much as he had learned to tell when the rats were poisoned. Many of the shop owners had alerts set about their buildings, and while he couldn't tell much information about the wards, nor could he disable them- excluding weak, already fading charms- he had managed to be able to tell if they were present and where they covered. He just hadn't thought to pay that great attention to his own foot.
There was nothing there, or rather there wasn't anymore, the fading signs of magic still lingered. It had been active then, when he reached this spot. His breath caught as he realized Analyze claimed that the monitoring charm could track him, and had been placed there in case of injury or illness.
He froze realizing his mistake.
It was almost guaranteed to have some sort of warning system in place should he be in pain or distress.
He hadn't been calm about this, will power and intent was important; obliterating the area around where the magic had been cast on was not. He should have stayed calm and focused, like he normally did, that would have at least given him some time before the Aurors intended to search for him using the supposedly faulty charm. They would have waited until that evening most likely and tracked him from there if not catching him right then and there when he showed up as usual.
He'd lost control of himself, a mistake that had cost many others their lives, sometimes even at the mercy of his own claws and fangs. It would not cost him his freedom.
His mind was racing. Heal. He commanded himself, glaring down at the wounded foot. Heal.
Nearly growling, he impulsively threw himself upright as if nothing was wrong. Because nothing was wrong. He insisted to himself. White hot pain filled his mind as his vision went dark, clearing a few minutes later as he found himself gasping and on the ground again.
Appariting. He realized he'd seen it done before. But how?
Take me away. He silently demanded. Away. He squeezed his eyes shut but nothing changed.
Go.
I wish to go to the forest.
Maybe strict intent was important here, he hadn't assumed visualization was too important considering the speed he'd seen others do it with, but maybe that came with practice?
Slowly he began crafting a forest scene in his head. The trees, the smell, the feeling of dirt and leaves paw deep around him. The noise of traffic, blissfully faint, and the air fresher. Birds chirped.
Despite the relaxing scene forming in his head, it didn't help much, his senses constantly straining instead to catch any sign of the Aurors coming.
Crack.
He jumped a bolt of panic struck him, they had arrived, and he desperately wished to be gone, to see the kittens one last time. The scene of the small town where he had left them flashed into his mind just as, not even a second later the second Crack sounded.
Crack.
His stomach twisted violently and he was thrown out upon the ground with a pitiful whimper.
Everything ached, but. He was no longer there. The smells coming to him in a rush as he regained his senses and mind. He was there. He had escaped. For now at least. Closing his eyes, he dragged himself to where he could hear the rustling of a thick bush, careful to keep his tail tight against his injured paw to minimize the blood trail. There wasn't much else he could do.
Just like that, as he curled into the temporary cover, he was out like a light. The blissful embrace of darkness folding itself snugly around him.
The lightening sharp pain in his paw never stopped, not even for a second.
When he awoke it was to quiet talking, the paw had become nothing more than a dull ache. No spells had been cast, he could feel that, instead some type of paste was spread on his foot which was covered with a leaf and tied with vines.
"There, that should keep all the bad sluefluffs away for now." He recognized the smell, although only vaguely, it was the girl who had seen him when he left the kittens. She had smiled and waved then, despite pulling on her mother's sleeve to gain the woman's attention. A surge of bitterness flew through him and he hissed, swiping at her.
"Ow!" It was only a graze, but she made a tiny yelping sound, "Oh, you don't have to worry," she said after a moment, "I'm sure a skinwalker like you has better places to be. I won't keep you. That would be cruel."
He froze, his movements temporarily becoming jerky as he indecisively tried to curl up into himself.
"My papa tried you know, to keep my mum, after... ." The girl paused, there was a part of her that was broken, if not she was completely shattered inside, just scraping together the pieces, he didn't need eyes to feel the hurt that emanated from her. That of loss and betrayal. Deeper than his had been. He had already known better, although sometimes he tried to deceive himself otherwise for brief moments just to feel at peace, but she had been utterly blindsided and couldn't find out how to respond and continue living.
He was not the only one who had lost everything they thought they could trust because of humans.
"I know better than to keep something trapped when it doesn't want to be. I'm happy to just to get to meet a real skinwalker. Have you ever met a Woldinger on your travels before?" She continued, sounding distant and sad, yet attempting for unbothered.
Slowly, he opened his eyes to look at her. She still had pale, white hair, and equally pale eyes which met his own. She gasped as their eyes met and he carefully lifted his head to touch his nose comfortingly to her shoulder.
"Oh.." she spoke again once he lowered his head, flopping back down, exhausted just by that little movement, "Thank you."
His days spent around the girl were short, shorter than he hoped, but one day they both knew it was time for him to go. She smiled, made him promise to tell them about her if he ever met a crumple-horned snorlack, and that was all that needed to be said for goodbye. She placed a final crown of daisies and wine corks upon his head and spoke shortly about how maybe, once her papa had finished his research, she would get to see the world too. And then he left.
There was no knowing if they would ever meet again, but that did not matter. There never was a way to know. He'd searched the surrounding area, but no sign of the kittens could be found, they no longer lived here. Perhaps... after abandoning them at their weakest once they had come to rely on him, he did not deserve to go running back to them, at his, as if they could just go back and pretend that he had not cruelly left them behind on a doorstep for whatever unknown fate awaited them.