The Lost Wolf (a Harry Potter Fanfiction)

A Reminder

Cassandra was not the kind of girl who spent 5 days per week thinking about what to wear on Saturday night, but no one could say that she was a hermit either. Actually, the girl was a true street spirit: she loved wandering through the streets of London late at night, not to get drunk and forget her miserable life, but to observe, listen, and dance.

She observed the other spirits, who managed to make London heart beat even when most of its citizen were asleep in their beds or unconscious on the ground.

She listened to the melodies and songs which echoed in the dark alleys.

She danced. Break-danced, to be precise. God knows how much the girl loved to twist, jump, fall, feeling her muscle stretch and her junctures crack slightly when the movement was too rash. She loved the rhythm and the adrenaline that spread in her organism every time the music started. Breakdance fixed her heart when she was twelve and saved her life when she was fifteen.

Now a wolf had eaten her ability to dance, but Cassandra still had eyes and ears, and London heart kept beating in the darkness. So, on a wonderful Saturday night, the young woman got dressed, put a bit of make-up on her scarred face, and limped out of her tiny apartment.

She sat on the bonnet of an old car, trying to absorb the life which surrounded her. Everything was so perfect, and for a few minutes she felt like her old self again. Soon, however, something broke the equilibrium. A whimper. A soft, almost imperceptible whimper, coming from what seemed to be the shadow of a black stray dog.

Cassandra loved animals, sometimes even more than human beings. That was the main reason she didn't immediately try to kill the wolf on that fateful night. She just couldn't even conceive the idea of harming such pure and innocent creatures. And so, Cassandra Lupin, a hair-trigger soldier with a broken heart and a cold soul, melted in front of a poor lost puppy and found herself holding an unconscious dog in the middle of a dark alley.

What the hell am I going to do now?

The girl looked around frantically, searching for anyone who could help her carrying the canine. In fact, she knew only a veterinary who would have welcomed the animal at that time of the night, but he lived far away from that part of London, and Cassandra didn't own a car. Actually, she didn't even have enough money to hire a taxi.

"Ok, Cassie. You are a soldier. You have carried men twice your size with mines exploding all around you. Walking to the vet while holding a dog will be easier than eat a piece of cake..."

Yeah, you wish. Cassandra reached for her crutch, only to realize that the only way to carry the dog implied the use of both hands. Damn.

With a grunt the girl got up from the floor, her right leg already complaining rather loudly.

"Ok. I've got you doggie. Now you'll have to be patient, all right? Well, you don't look too worried, do you?"

Cassandra kept talking to the sleeping form she held tightly in her arms, trying to ignore the pain and the fatigue. A step at a time, she walked past the first block of flats, then the second, then the third. Sometimes she had to stop and sit for a while, not only because of the prosthesis but also because of her battered heart, not used to bearing such great exertions anymore. After a while, she started feeling a hot liquid soaking her large colorful trousers.

The wound has reopened. Shit. shitshitshit.

The pain was almost unbearable, but that poor creature needed her. Gritting her teeth and sweating visibly, Cassandra kept limping towards the vet, praying to find him at home. With an almost 90-year-old lad you can never be sure.