The Wolf and the Raven

Ch 39 - Crash and Burn

When Branwen returned from Hogsmeade, she swapped her tailored pants and fitted jumper for her oldest and most comfortable pair of corduroys and one of James' old Puddlemere United t-shirts. She curled up in of the over-sized armchairs, hidden from most of the common room by the suit of armour strategically placed beside it. The book Remus had lent her was open in her lap, and she was enjoying it immensely.

There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me."

It was only the sound of Remus' soft voice that drew her from the ardent affairs of Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennett.

"James, don't you think you were a little rough on Branwen back at the pub?"

"Had to be done, mate," Sirius' voice answered. "There's going to be a mess of snogging in here tonight, and little sisters don't exactly set the mood. Besides, you saw how she was with that magazine James brought. Practically a prude about it."

"That was different. I mean, it was pretty outrageous stuff."

"Still," James spoke up, "you want her hanging around while you're trying to get it on with that Hufflepuff, Nina Dawson?"

"Who said anything about any one getting it on with Nina Dawson....or anyone else for that matter?"

"Well, we aren't exactly going to be playing Tiddlywinks in here....unless....." Sirius made a gagging sound. "You don't want to get it on with our little Bon-Bon, do you?"

"Gross! You have a sick mind, Siri!" It was James who objected.

Remus only sighed and said, "I just thought you should apologise for the way you talked to her, that's all."

Branwen listened to their feet cross the common room floor and march up the stairs to their dormitory. Hot tears began to flow down her cheeks. She had never thought as herself as "gross" before. It wasn't that she was interested in any of the them, or anyone at all, she told herself. But to hear her brother talk about her like that in front of their friends and realise that none of them came to her defence....she had never felt so miserably unworthy. She threw her book down and bolted to her room. Throwing the curtains around herself, she collapsed, sobbing, onto her bed.



Having finally composed herself, Branwen took advantage of the pre-party disorder to sneak up to the boys' room. She dug through her brother's trunk and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. A jumper was laying on one of the beds and she grabbed it as well.

Regulus had said that he would be on the pitch at nine o'clock. At 8:55, Branwen threw on both the jumper and the Cloak, grabbed her broom, and crept back through the common room. Able to observe without being seen, she took a moment to glance around the room.

She quickly realised that the boys had used the word "party" with extreme liberalism. Frank Longbottom was playing wizard chess with Kingsley Shacklebolt in front of the fireplace. Nina Dawson and Ivy Morris were there, but they were talking with fellow Hufflepuffs Davey Gudgeon and Tilden Toots. Peter and Mary MacDonald were seated on one of the sofas; they seemed to be hardly speaking, but both had pink-dusted cheeks. Remus was engaged in a lively conversation with Lily while James hung nearby, laughing at all of Lily's jokes and attentively supplying her with butterbeer he had sneaked from the Three Broomsticks. Branwen didn't see Sirius until she realised he was the one in the leather jacket snogging Marlene.

Branwen pulled out her wand. She needed to cause a distraction, and this was as good as any. "Auribus motus." Sirius' ears instantly started twitching back and forth like a startled rabbit. Marlene's eyes opened and she screamed into his face.

Branwen stifled a snicker, then used the din of confusion and laughter as cover to cross the room and slip out the portrait hole. She ran to a dark alcove where no paintings were there to spy on her clandestine escape. She pulled off the Cloak and stuffed it in her pocket. Then, throwing the latch on a window, she tossed her broom into the still air and leaned out to mount. She was immediately grateful for the thick jumper when the chilly night air whipped past as she flew toward the Quidditch pitch.

As she approached the stadium, Branwen saw a lone figure darting through the air like a large bat. She grinned and flew alongside him. "All right, Black."

"Hey Potter. I knew you would show up."

She frowned. "What makes you say that? I thought I told you I was going to the party."

He shrugged. "Those gits you hang out with; I heard the way they talked to you in the pub. They don't appreciate you. Besides," he smirked, "it was only a matter of time before you realised who's the superior Black."

Branwen was grateful for the dark of night which concealed the blush that rose to her cheeks. She covered her embarrassment with a jab at sarcasm. "Honestly, I can't even tell the difference between you and your brother. Your heads are certainly the same size – barely big enough to fit your enormous egos. Now, do you have a Snitch ready or are we just going to make girly talk all night?"

Regulus grinned. He reached into his pocket, then tossed the golden orb into the air. The two Seekers spent the better part of an hour soaring around the pitch. Branwen caught the Snitch three times, Regulus twice. Most of their time, though, was spent racing each other. They swirled in loops and rolls and dives for the sheer freedom and pleasure of it.

They finally paused for a break to hover near the goalposts. The cool night air felt good against their sweating skin. A slight breeze rippled through Branwen's moonlit hair and stirred Regulus' cloak. The Black Lake was as still as a mirror, creating two moons and two sets of constellations. Branwen smiled, here eyes fixed on the horizon. "Have you ever flown over the Lake, Black?"

Regulus started. He realised that, while Branwen had been staring at the Lake, he had been staring at her. He coughed, then said, "I haven't. Not until tonight, that is."

Without another word, the two sped toward the expanse of water. It was one of the greatest moments of flying Branwen had ever experienced. She flew so close to the water that her toes dragged across the glossy surface and splashed her knees. She pulled up higher and higher then looped upside down so that she couldn't tell the real moon from its watery twin.

Regulus flew alongside, enjoying his own stunts and sensations. Caught up in his revels, Regulus left the lake body and soared over the Forbidden Forest, dancing and twisting among its high reaching branches.

When Branwen paused to catch her breath, she realised she was alone. She glanced around and saw Regulus' dark form circling the Forest. She leaned forward on her broom and swept toward him. "Hey, Black!"

He pulled to a stop and waited for her to catch up. "I don't think this is such a good idea," she said.

"You're okay with flying over the Lake but not the Forest?" he quirked a brow.

"I know how to swim, I don't know how to survive impalement on a tree."

"Huh," Regulus smirked, "I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. Maybe the Hat sorted you wrong. Unless your whole House is actually full of cowards."

Branwen knew very well he was baiting her, but she rolled her eyes and grinned. "Race to the castle?"

"Deal." As soon as the word was out of his mouth, Regulus leaned forward and took off, Branwen hot on his heels. They were soon shoulder to shoulder. They began a jostle of hip-checking and knocking knees. It was a playful sparring, neither actually trying to unseat the other. So when Branwen fell back, Regulus laughed. "Hey Potter! I don't intend to win by default!"

She didn't answer. He swung around and froze at what he saw.

In the excitement of the race, Branwen had over-estimated her distance from the trees below. Her ankle caught on a twisting limb, and she toppled forward instantly. Gripping her broom, she tried desperately to pull up, but by then her tail-twigs were caught among the branches. The force yanked her backward and she crashed into the trunk of another tree. From there it was a pinball game, with Branwen as the ball. She bounced from tree to tree, smashing boughs all the way down. She landed with a resounding thud and the world went dark.



Branwen knew she was on the ground and that she was outdoors. Everything was still black, but she could feel moist earth beneath her and hear leaves rustling in the breeze. An owl hooted from overhead. Her eyes opened, then squeezed shut again when pain flooded her body. She tried to push herself upright, but found that the exertion sent waves of agony through her ribcage with every breath.

She tried one more time and bit back a scream. A piercing stab in her leg overrode every other sensation. She knew in an instant that it was broken.

Breathing shallowly and moving an inch at a time, she was able to roll onto her back. When she caught her breath once more, she gasped and dug in her pockets. "Wand, wand, where is my – wand!" She breathed a painful sigh of relief when she found the rowan rod. It was intact.

As Branwen lay flat on the ground, she took stock of her situation. The last thing she remembered was....flying with Regulus. Then she fell, somehow. She no idea how long she had been out, but judging from the tiny patch of sky she could see through the towering trees, it was still the deep of night.

It was the cold of night too. The forest floor was damp, a thick layer of fallen leaves releasing what little moisture they had left in icy drops. A stiff breeze wound its way through the maze of trees, straight into Branwen's bones.

She shivered, but was grateful again for the thick jumper she had grabbed. She knew that without it, she would likely be frozen stiff by now. Even with it, though, her muscles were beginning to lock up and she knew she had to move.

Grasping a low-hanging bough, she pulled herself up. Cold tears flowed freely as she grunted, groaned, and gasped. When she finally had her back to the tree, she let go all the way, sobbing in pain and desperation.

Realisation dawned on her that she was in a forest that stretched on for miles, a forest that was nearly impossible to navigate from either ground or sky. The thought gripped her that she may never be found. She would die of starvation or thirst or cold and her body would rot away without ever being found.

But her sobs were cut off abruptly when she glanced up once more. From the darkness, between the trees, a pair of yellow eyes was fixed on her. They grew larger as the animal to which they belonged crept toward her on silent feet.

Branwen held her breath as the beast approached. With her gaze on the animal in front of her, it was a moment before she realised she was surrounded by the glowing eyes. They were within feet of her before she could distinguish their shape in the darkness. Five enormous wolves materialised from the shadows.

She had never seen a wolf in real life before, so she had no frame of reference, but these seemed far too large to be average wild animals. The one that first approached, which she assumed to be the leader, towered above her from where she sat. She knew now that her death wouldn't come from cold or hunger.

But as the moments stretched on, the wolves made no aggressive moves. In fact, as the alpha moved toward her, it was with gentle, quiet steps, as though he were afraid of spooking her. His head lowered in submission. He continued until he was mere inches away. She could feel his warm breath, see it puffing in the cold air. Then he did something even more unexpected; he lay down.

Branwen acted on instinct. After all, what does one do when a dog lays down and looks at you like that? She raised her hand to pet him. Gently, she stroked the thick scruff of the animal. The fur was much softer than she had expected and much thicker. Her fingers sunk into the warm hair. The wolf watched her through lowered eyes.

"Well, at least I won't die alone," Branwen smiled.

But the wolf stood suddenly, and Branwen jerked her hand back. He turned to the others who were watching their leader with soft curiosity. Turning to a light grey female, the alpha gave a low, guttural bark. The grey wolf nodded (nodded?! Branwen wondered if this was normal wolf behaviour or if she had finally succumbed to madness), and ran off into the forest.

The alpha then approached Branwen once more, moving closer this time. He nuzzled her shoulder, then settled himself beside her, resting his head on her lap. The others gathered nearer as well. The warmth of their bodies was nearly as good as a fire on a hearth; it seeped through her and stilled the shivers that had racked her body.

She was so comfortable, leaning against the soft wolf fur, that she almost forgot about the grey female that had run off. Branwen heard the wolf approach this time. She must have been carrying something large, for she crashed through the undergrowth with uncharacteristic noise. When she broke into their tiny clearing, Branwen gasped. Between the female's gentle teeth was the Nimbus 1001. The tail twigs were terribly bent out of shape, but it was in one piece. The female laid the broom at Branwen's feet.

She started to reach for the broom, but hissed as the pain in her ribs renewed. She wasn't sure she would even be able to mount it anyway. She leaned back against the tree and resumed petting the large canine. "This may be the weirdest thing to ever happen to me."

A/N:

According to Pottermore, there is a pack of semi-werewolves living in the Forbidden Forest; it is this pack that visits Branwen:
One curious feature of the condition is that if two werewolves meet and mate at the full moon (a highly unlikely contingency which is known to have occurred only twice) the result of the mating will be wolf cubs which resemble true wolves in everything except their abnormally high intelligence. They are not more aggressive than normal wolves and do not single out humans for attack. Such a litter was once set free, under conditions of extreme secrecy, in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, with the kind permission of Albus Dumbledore. The cubs grew into beautiful and unusually intelligent wolves and some of them live there still, which has given rise to the stories about 'werewolves' in the Forest.