Spellbind

13. Provoke Me

A/N:

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<<<<< = Flashback

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Niyla POV:

I ran so far into the Forest I could hardly see the Black Lake, all my qualms swirled alarmingly around my skull. I caught little of what the others were saying, Moody thinks it was some kind of dark magic that was used to destroy the Goblet. Karkaroff is accusing Harry. Madame Maxime strongly disapproves of Hogwarts having three Champions. I kept coming back to Moody and his suspicions of dark magic being used. Surely if this was true, it couldn't be good for Harry.

It is well-known that people have died in the Triwizard Tournament. I could think of one who truly desires Harry's death: Voldemort. Just thinking his name sent a sharp tremble through me. The sensation traveled to the deepest part of my brain and morphed into complete fear, my heart pounded with the dread and nervousness that I had been feeling all day; that I couldn't quite place why it was, before. This was why.

Voldemort is supposed to be far away, hiding, feeble, and powerless...Alone. Could he have some pathetically unyielding follower still serving him? Who could be so willing to still serve him in his weakened state?

And then it hit me...Peter Pettigrew. He is still alive somewhere out there. I would be foolish to dismiss the possibility he found Voldemort and might have something to do with Harry's name coming out of the Goblet. The trepidation I had been feeling has to be linked to the hidden danger Harry is about to face. It has to be;— why else could this be happening?— If there is even just a single fragment of Voldemort alive, Harry will never be safe.

I came to a halt, my lungs numb from the cold air I was gulping down. My eyes cast around a meadow, the long grass black under the moonless sky, clouds prevented any stars from showing tonight; my silver-gold fur a pale gray in the darkness around me. I took a space near the center of the field, closing my eyes and focusing on the arctic breeze brushing through my coat. I was vaguely aware of everything else around me, despite my enhanced hearing in my direwolf form.

I knew I was going to have to speak with Harry, the struggle would be finding him alone or getting Ron to let me have a few minutes privately with Harry. I would ask him what he thought of Moody's accusation of someone using dark magic and about his scar. Sirius mentioned something about Harry and his scar in one of his letters, but I never got a chance to ask him what Sirius meant by it.

In a swift moment, my mind was on a seemingly trivial topic, compared to everything else. My breathing slowed and I grimaced internally. Suddenly George's voice was just as clear as I heard it a moment ago, when he called out to me as we were dismissed from the Hall. If I'd known I'd be thrust into a killer game maybe I would have given things with George a second thought; reconsidered it all.

I tapped the hand— or should I say paw— that I had used to hold his in Potions, once frustratedly on the dry dirt under me. Wishing the motion had the ability to ground me, compose my thoughts; calm me even just a bit to be able to phase back to my human form and head back to the castle.

Being in my wolf form somehow made me feel safest when under stress, I don't know why; it just always has. I opened my eyes, looking downward at my enormous paw, digging my nails into the dirt. Focusing only on that.— The damp soil and my pale gray fur digging into it. It was with great difficulty to block everything out; convincing myself the real danger— the kind that kills— was far away. That, Harry, is the safest at Hogwarts because Dumbledore is within reach.