Luck of Nines

16

      "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.