Ember. It means fire. Ember was never safe. Even before she was born she was coverted. Hunted. She's the last of her kind. Once there were many. Once there were four. Four families. One for each element. Air. Water. Earth. Fire. Every other family e...
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Harry looked around at the other three, now mere outlines in the darkness. He saw Hermione point her wand, not toward the outside, but into his face; there was a bang, a burst of white light, and he buckled in agony, unable to see. He could feel his face swelling rapidly under his hands as heavy footfalls surrounded him.
She quickly did it to Ember, who yelped as she clutched her own face.
"Get up, vermin."
Unknown hands dragged Harry roughly off the ground. Before he could stop them, someone had rummaged through his pockets and removed his wand. Harry clutched at his excruciatingly painful face, which felt unrecognizable beneath his fingers, tight, swollen, and puffy as though he had suffered some violent allergic reaction. His eyes had been reduced to slits through which he could barely see; his glasses fell off as he was bundled out of the tent; all he could make out were the blurred shapes of four or five people wrestling Ron, Ember, and Hermione outside too.
"Get — off — her!" Ron shouted.
There was the unmistakable sound of knuckles hitting flesh: Ron grunted in pain and Hermione screamed, "No! Leave him alone, leave him alone!"
Ember debated whether to just flame up as they had taken her wand too.
"Your boyfriend's going to have worse than that done to him if he's on my list," said the horribly familiar, rasping voice. "Delicious girl . . . What a treat . . . I do enjoy the softness of the skin. . . ."
Ember's heart stopped. She knew that voice. Another name that was on her list.
Harry's stomach turned over. He knew who this was: Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who was permitted to wear Death Eater robes in return for his hired savagery.
"Search the tent!" said another voice.
Harry was thrown facedown onto the ground. A thud told him that Ron had been cast down beside him. Hermione and Ember where still been held. They could hear footsteps and crashes; the men were pushing over chairs inside the tent as they searched.
Ember thanked God that she had put the Elemental books back in Hermione's beaded bag. Hermione and Ember glanced at each other and Hermione shook her head at Ember. Ember knew this was her saying don't start throwing fireballs. Ember grit her teeth but she knew why. If she flamed up they'd know who she was and in turn, know they had caught Harry Potter.
"Now, let's see who we've got," said Greyback's gloating voice from overhead, and Harry was rolled over onto his back. A beam of wandlight fell into his face and Greyback laughed.
"I'll be needing butterbeer to wash this one down. What happened to you, ugly?"
Harry did not answer immediately.
"I said," repeated Greyback, and Harry received a blow to the diaphragm that made him double over in pain, "what happened to you?"
"Stung," Harry muttered. "Been stung."
"Yeah, looks like it," said a second voice, the man holding Ember. "Looks like girly over here has too."
Greyback looked at Ember before looking back at Harry.
"What's your name?" snarled Greyback.
"Dudley," said Harry.
"And your first name?"
"I — Vernon. Vernon Dudley."
"Check the list, Scabior," said Greyback, and Harry heard him move sideways to look down at Ron, instead. "And what about you, ginger?"
"Stan Shunpike," said Ron.
"Like 'ell you are," said the man called Scabior. "We know Stan Shunpike, 'e's put a bit of work our way."
There was another thud.
"I'b Bardy," said Ron, and Harry could tell that his mouth was full of blood. "Bardy Weadley."
"A Weasley?" rasped Greyback. "So you're related to blood traitors even if you're not a Mudblood. And lastly, your pretty little friends . . ." The relish in his voice made Harry's flesh crawl.
"Easy, Greyback," said Scabior over the jeering of the others.
"Oh, I'm not going to bite just yet. We'll see if they remember their names a bit quicker than Barny. Who are you, girly?" Greyback said to Hermione.
