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Old Friend	By : Prosperosdaughter Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Disclaimer: The Potterverse is owned by JKR.

Wandsong and Idris Lydiard and his pack are all mine.

This chapter dovetails with Chapter 89 of 'You Will Not Kiss Me', but from Idris and Alphard's points of view.

Chapter 12: The Battle of Cadr Idris

Alphard awoke before dawn, Idris's arm still holding him to his body, just as Angharad also curled up to Idris on the other side. It was a place of perfect contentment: warm, comfortable and safe. He rubbed his cheek against Idris's shoulder as he resolved to push himself up.

"So soon?" murmured Idris, grasping Alphard's wrist, surprising him with his wakefulness.

"It's nearly dawn. There's much to do." Alphard kissed Idris briefly and move away but Idris pulled him back, his hand clasping behind Alphard's head.

"I need you today," he murmured to Alphard's ear, making Alphard's breathe in sharply and close his eyes. The night-time was always Angharad's and last night had been, probably unsurprisingly, a passionate night for the pack. Alphard had seen the want – the need - in Idris's eyes since he had escaped and had felt it desperately himself – the need to be as close as nature would allow and immerse themselves in each other until sated. But there was no opportunity to be away from the pack, especially as Lupin and Snape occupied his tent. Alphard had long ago decided he would never displace Angharad for her primacy in standing. He neither sought it nor needed it: but he needed his lover today. Foreheads touching, Idris breathed deeply, Alphard's scent rolling in through his nose and mouth.

Alphard held Idris's face in return, and kissed him more deeply, his body now beginning to heat in anticipation. Even now, Alphard could feel – smell – Idris's impatient desire even as he heard the deep rhythmic breathing and snoring of the pack sleeping.

"Please," Idris murmured deeply into Alphard's neck, nuzzling at the bite there, making the heat in his groin flare brightly even as he made sure the blanket covered them both for Alphard's sensibilities.

He and Idris had never had sex in front of the pack; they had always contrived to be private but his body was burning as Idris's hands began to roam over his skin, trailing bright desire in their wake and his own hands reached back in response as Idris pulled him close to kiss him, deeply and passionately, and then all Alphard's already meagre resistance melted away as Idris's fingers dragged along his spine and downwards to make him ready.

Alphard could think of nothing now but Idris making them both feel so alive after this day of terror and he yielded completely to the questing fingers, stifling his own moans of pleasure against Idris's mouth, even as their hips ground against each other.

It was Idris who broke the kiss, and gently turned Alphard around and spooned himself around him, his hand brushing Alphard's hair from his neck as the other snaked around to the front of Alphard's body to stroke him. Idris tongued his bite as he pushed himself inside and Alphard moaned deeply, trying to stifle it against his own pillow, but the sensations were too intense.

They didn't often make love this way, preferring to face each other, but now Alphard felt so very full, every stroke and deep thrust burning him deliciously, even as the bite heightened every sensation until there was nothing but the draw on his groin and the repeated thrill against his prostate increasing in depth and frequency over and over until the heated brightness crested and broke over them both, Idris biting and Alphard biting on his own knuckles so he did not shout out, but still could not stifle his cry of utter release.

Even as Idris came, he pulled Alphard closer, not relinquishing him, his strong arms holding him tight even as he breathed his name with words of love as Alphard held the arms which held him.

"Never leave me, Alf. Never leave me."

"Not while I breathe, my love."

Finally, Idris released Alphard who cast a cleansing charm over them both and quickly dressed knowing those bright, black eyes followed his every move, even as Alphard felt the deep throb in his body, and welcomed it completely. He just wished he had not had to leave his lover's side so soon.

As Alphard left the warmth of the many bodies in the roundhouse, the frigid, biting air of the mountains burnt his lungs and he beat his arms around himself as he ran to his tent to escape the sharp, hard January air. As quietly as he was able, Alphard entered his own tent, and saw Lupin and Snape tangled together in bed. He couldn't stop himself smiling at their entanglement or the identical intricate tattoos that enmeshed their upper left arms and shoulders that caught his eye. But his smile didn't linger as he saw that Snape seemed to bear considerable cursed scars himself – gouges across his midriff – ones that would have been completely healed by Dittany but for being cursed. Alphard grimaced as his practised eyes caught sight of other silver scars, much smaller and better healed but covering his visible skin. Added to that was the bruising that Snape insisted should not healed. Their bodies were litanies of damage and Alphard, the sad reader.

Alphard Conjured a partition screen around the sleeping pair for their privacy, and set about collecting his medicines and notes for the morning rounds, and then planning on a scrap of parchment for those he would need for an ad hoc field hospital.

Snape moved out from behind the screen and Alphard caught sight of him from the corner of his eye and smiled, apologising for waking him, but Snape seemed more interested in what Alphard was doing than having been woken up.

Alphard told Snape what potions he was using and the ailments for which they would be applied. Then a thought suddenly hit him full-force. Dumbledore had said that a professor of his was responsible for that extraordinary counter-curse to his hand and supplying Spiritus Vitae and his hunch told him that professor was this man. He passed a heavy crystal jar to Snape.

"I've been working on this balm to assist the post-transformation wounds – those inflicted by the wolf form itself. We don't see so many of these as most of the pack runs free at the full moon but our elderly wolves can suffer badly from this as well as age."

Snape's expression flickered with interest and he opened the jar, cupping his hands over it so he could smell it before looking at the texture and then taking a dab with his finger. He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to test it on one of his bruises.

"Not only is there the Dittany base of the usual healing balms, with added Essence of Murtlap, I've been working on an incantation to help with the curse element of the wounds to try to lessen the scarring. I'm a proficient Spell-Worker, but not the best." Now was the time to capitalise whilst Snape was so clearly interested. "It would certainly help if I had a Master-Caster to help me."

Snape's expression became blank, but Alphard knew he was schooling his features.

"What makes you think I can Work Spells?" Snape asked, and Alphard fancied he saw some defensiveness in Snape's expression.

"Oh," said Alphard softly. "Anyone who can trap a curse of the malignancy I saw in Dumbledore must be a Master-Caster. I've never seen a counter-curse of such strength and complexity." Alphard watched Snape carefully, as one would watch a snake which might strike, from aggression – or fear. There was so much more to this man, Alphard could tell. "And I think, Seth, you probably know that I come from a family steeped in Dark spell-work to recognise the skill."

Snape nodded curtly and agreed. "It's true that I have invented many spells; many of them Dark. I have, I am sorry to say, an affinity for Dark spells, creating them and now defeating them – if I can. Perhaps, I can copy over your spell-work so far and look at it. Remus is very gifted at Arithmancy too. He could help."

Alphard felt a flutter of excitement. Snape's response confirmed his suspicions: Snape was a Master-Caster, but it did leave one question, considering the curse damage Alphard had seen on the man himself.

"I couldn't help but notice your scars," said Alphard mildly, indicating Snape's abdomen. "I hope you don't mind my saying but it's clear they are also cursed scars. How did it happen?"

"No, not a spell," Snape admitted. "It was Remus - a wound received at the full moon." Alphard couldn't cover his horror quickly enough and Snape hurried to continue. "I had rescued Remus from the Dark Lord but he'd been under the Cruciatus and had had no Wolfsbane. Even though he marked me beforehand, his wolf did not recognise me at first and attacked me. I passed out, but when I came to, the wolf had healed the gouges as you see them."

As Snape talked, relating a tale that clearly caused him anguish, it struck Alphard that medically this should not even be possible: it was the saliva of the transformed werewolf that carried the Lycanthropic curse, after all. Snape should be a werewolf, and yet clearly he was no such thing.

"But this is extraordinary, Seth!" Alphard said, clearly excited. "Although you weren't bitten, saliva was delivered directly into the wounds to heal you! You should have been infected!" Alphard swivelled to his desk and grabbed quill and parchment and insisted Snape sit down and tell him the story again as Alphard scribbled the details down.

And then Alphard knew for sure that this was the professor of whom Dumbledore had spoken with Snape's very next sentence.

"I wonder ... I wonder if the Claiming beforehand works like a Muggle inoculation." Snape breathed deeply and shuffled forward on his chair towards Alphard, stabbing the table for emphasis with his finger. "How else can it be explained?"

Alphard's brow furrowed even as he shifted excitedly in his chair. "An inoculation against Lycanthropy? It might be an avenue to research. We don't tend to look at curses the way Muggles look at their illnesses, so convinced are we that curses have no physical pathology to be tracked." He was sure it was specific, inoculating only Snape as the aggressor's mate, but even so – the implications were extraordinary. He grinned appreciatively at Snape. "Even this short conversation convinces me I'm right to ask you to collaborate with me."

"With the Spell-Working?"

"No, no. More than that. More than that." Alphard chose his research papers and pushed them towards Snape. "This is what I've been working on," he said, unrolling one particular scroll. "Dear Merlin, it nearly got me killed," he said, losing his breath momentarily at his rashness at leaving the camp, "and countless others, if you hadn't been on our side.

"I left the camp to pick up a new ingredient for this. It was beyond careless," he whispered in self-criticism. "I was experimenting with a potion to help the older werewolves. They have no energy or pliability to transform safely. It's all well and good to perfect the balm to treat the injuries, but I want to prevent as many as I can. I've been modifying a potion of my own making and I'm making inroads, but they're slow. I wanted to try a new ingredient that might assist."

Snape moved to look at the research notes more closely as he said, "I have been trying to work on similar research to ease Remus's transformations as he gets older. May I see what you have?"

"Of course!" said Alphard, delighted his guess was right. "Of course! Dumbledore's potions master! Who could ask for more?" Snape spread the scroll and Alphard watched on tenterhooks as Snape scanned his researches, his eyes darting this way and that, and Alphard could tell his eyes sought out only the most pertinent information.

"So, you're looking at a South American solanacae base ... nightshade," he said after a while.

"Yes! I think it's a vegetable base that can be tolerated by the werewolf palette and can handle the antipyretic qualities of the willow bark without destroying it, and transfer it better, but also, with aggregation, it will add pliancy to the joints of patients, making the transformation more like those of a younger werewolf." Alphard was almost tripping over his words in excitement.

"Yes, I see. Of course, you would need to reduce honey and also the goat spleen in equal proportions and possibly extend the brewing time or you won't be able to stabilise the nightshade base properly."

Three things highlighted just in one perusal! Alphard couldn't contain his exhilaration.

"Do you know, before this happened, I had only been thinking that I wish I had a way to contact you? I'm not an Apothecary, although I'm a good brewer ..."

"... I should say you are to have got this far ..."

"But I know my limitations, Seth. But with your expertise, we could crack this!" exclaimed Alphard, slapping one fist into the palm of his other hand excitedly. "We could! What do you say? Will you work with me? Collaborate? We could exchange notes by owl ..." Alphard was sure he would say yes – he could see the ideas catch like kindling in the lights of Snape's eyes.

"Yes," Snape resolved firmly. "Yes, I will, Alphard."

"Marvellous!" Alphard cried, a little too loudly as they heard Lupin snore in disturbance. Alphard knew he had spent too much time talking, but it was worth it! He took his leave of Snape, taking his satchel full of balms and medicines and his notes and set about his morning rounds, just as the werewolves were stirring in the roundhouse and the surrounding tents and fires were being lit to cook breakfast and the watch was being changed by Idris.

As Alphard set up a main table for supplies he expected to need for battle injuries, under his direction, the young teenagers started to clear the floor of everything but bedding in case there were injuries requiring bed rest.

AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL

Idris took reports from the fifteen watch wolves as his sons and their parties returned – with prisoners. Seven of Greyback's pack had attempted to locate the encampment from incomplete directions given by the three traitors but had been captured, none too gently, by Iolo and Medwyn and their men.

Idris marched the captives to the tent where the wizard Snape had called Scabior was held and there they were shoved in and bound together on the floor. One had injuries that Idris thought Alphard should see – not that he cared, and he was more than prepared to hurt anyone who hurt his own – but they were his captives now and he wouldn't stoop to Greyback's level.

"Give 'em water, and get Alf to look at that one," he growled, pointing to the werewolf whose eye was so badly cut and bleeding that the lid had swollen completely, wiping his hands on his robes as if soiled by contact with them.

"Where's Snape? Have you done 'im in?" Scabior asked, his spine pressing back into the chair on which he remained bound, now soiled and stinking. Idris spun to him and grabbed his collar.

"Never ye mind what I've done to him," Idris growled, nose to nose. He smiled nastily as he smelt the man's fear and fresh urine. "Be grateful yer not in his shoes."

Alphard was brought to the tent by Medwyn and healed the cut over the werewolf's eye without any of the comfort he had offered to either Lupin or Snape, and gave the others a cursory once-over, before Angharad called them to breakfast.

"Can I ... can we ... have something to eat?" Scabior ventured, licking his dry lips. Idris squashed down a violent urge to lay into the wizard who had connived in the capture of his Alphard.

"Did yer see my mate had food or even water?" Idris yelled, his fists clenching. The wizard cowed in his seat, but suddenly Alphard's hand had taken one of Idris's fists, although he said nothing, but Idris understood Alphard's pacifying gesture. Still angry but holding on to his temper, Idris slashed his wand and all the prisoners were gagged. Alphard left them then.

"Only ungag them to drink," he ordered. "I don't wantta hear another word from the jackals."

Idris left the tent, carefully warding it as Geraint and his men appeared, panting for breath.

"Da!" Geraint gasped. "There's wizards come! Seven of 'em Apparated into their camp!"

"Jus' seven? And you're sure they're not wolfkind?" asked Idris. His son nodded. "Right then. We'll need to see if Seth Moore knows who they be."

Idris strode through into the tent with his sons as Angharad served breakfast and Alphard was telling Lupin and Snape about their captives. Idris told them Greyback had reinforcements and Snape listened intently to the descriptions.

"They're no more than decent fighters, all of them," said Snape. "But the witch, she is powerful and skilful, but it isn't enough. They think they've stolen a march on you, but they're still woefully short of wand-power. I don't think I need to remind you that these wizards, as well as the werewolves you're about to face, think nothing of casting a Killing Curse, or a Torture Curse. Give them no quarter. Kill if you have to."

"If'n I have to?" Idris repeated, with a snort of laughter. "I'll be hard-pressed not to."

It was then that Snape turned to Alphard, and Alphard's stomach sank as he saw sympathy in Snape's gaze. "Do you know who the witch is?"

"I think I can take an educated guess," replied Alphard quietly, his face paling as if he wouldn't recognise her description. "My niece, Bella." And the killer of her own cousin, Alphard thought bitterly.

"It's probably best you stay here to run the field hospital," Snape suggested.

"No! I will fight with the pack. It's my family now," responded Alphard. He would not desert his adopted family to hide from the family who had stolen his life from him!

Then Snape produced a miniature flask from his cloak and enlarged it and then passed it to Alphard advising him to take it before the battle.

"Polyjuice? But why?"

"So you cannot be identified," said Snape impatiently. "Bellatrix will surely recognise you if she sees you. I promise you, if the Dark Lord or any of his Death Eaters find out that Alphard Black is the mate of a werewolf then he himself will come for you! You would be quite the prize," said Snape slowly and unpleasantly for emphasis. "Then this battle will all have been in vain. We want him to think this pack is too much trouble and not look to this mountain again. A blood traitor of your stature will be more than he can resist. He will want to make an example of you."

"Why you ..." Idris started forward, his fists clenched at the insult hurled at his mate.

"No, Idris! He's right," Alphard said quickly, interposing himself in front of Idris. "He's only saying what they will think, that's all."

Idris's glare narrowed as he looked at Alphard, and then stood away, still angry and muttering. Alphard reassured him quickly. He understood what Snape was trying to impart - the ferocity of prejudice that there would be against him.

"I know," said Alphard softly. "Seth is just trying to make me understand." He turned to Snape. "And I do." He nodded at Snape. "I do now."

As much as it may have wounded him to be considered a prize for blood supremacists, he had to go along with Snape's plan. Like it or not, he had found out years ago that what his family valued in blood was little to do with family.

"Polyjuice lasts an hour. Is that long enough?"

"This is an enhanced version," said Snape. "It will last approximately three hours."

"Another of your designs?" asked Alphard but apparently it was not.

AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL

It was Idris who chose the werewolves for Alphard and Snape's Polyjuice. They had to be ones who would not be in the main group so their opponents would not suspect Polyjuice and become curious. Joel was a young werewolf, tall and stocky, quite unlike Snape physically, but healthy and athletic. He hoped the body would be able to move as he had seen Snape move when he had duelled him before. For Alphard, he chose a werewolf called Bran, middle-aged but still slim like Alphard himself. Bran was a trusted friend of Medwyn who would also be out of the main pack in the pincer movement. Alphard collected the hairs in two phials and then returned to the tent where Snape and Lupin awaited.

Snape measured out the Polyjuice into two separate beakers and added the hairs to each. The potions hissed and frothed. Bran's Polyjuice became a pale blue as Joel's turned a dull orange. Alphard grimaced. He had only ever tried Polyjuice once, back at Hogwarts when he had brewed it for his NEWT examination. As part of the exam, they had had to test their own brew with a hair from a fellow examinee. As he recalled, he Polyjuiced into Josiah Crouch and it had been foul. It didn't seem to worry Snape though, who downed the dose without a second thought, even though he began to retch almost immediately.

There was no point in watching. It would only put him off, so he downed his dose too and his stomach revolted immediately, followed quickly by his knees giving way. Snape had already stabilised himself against the table, but both of them were gasping for breath as their skin bubbled as their joints began to shift in shape and size. Just as Alphard thought he would vomit, it all stopped and he began to breathe more easily again in the body of a younger man, feeling the utter strangeness of controlling someone else's body looking at a man who not seconds earlier had been slim and dark now stocky and auburn.

"Salazar's teeth, that is awful," gasped Alphard, but stood slowly, feeling the vigour of the younger limbs and the utter strangeness of being a different shape. He smiled weakly at Snape, who returned a tight smile, as he found his wand and performed a few simple charms, frowning at what Alphard assumed was a lack of dexterity.

"Interesting, is it not, how much muscle memory accounts for our reactions?" observed Alphard.

"Indeed," replied Snape. "It's why I prefer a Glamour or Transfiguration if I'm to duel. But we have no choice. Either of us."

With that, and Snape still practising wand movements, the three of them left the tent to join the assembling werewolves in the clearing, where the atmosphere was palpable with fear and energy as the werewolves milled, talking to each other, expectation in their voices and stances, feeling the battle drawing ever closer.

As Idris instructed his five adult sons to surround the battle clearing in a pincer movement, leaving a small exit for any escapees, Angharad and Alphard took Stacy to one side. Stacy had no problem realising who Alphard was, recognising his scent immediately. Angharad set out Idris's plan.

"You wan' Stacy to become wolf?" the large man said slowly, his overlarge brow furrowed in concentration.

"Yes, Stacy," said Angharad gently. "All the pack would be so grateful."

Stacy looked between his two trusted friends in wonder.

"All the pack wan' Stacy's wolf?" Angharad nodded encouragingly. "Won' be scared of Stacy?"

"No, Stacy," Alphard added softly. "We all want you to become the wolf so you can scare the bad wolves for us."

Stacy frowned as he thought on this.

"What if Stacy hurts bad wolves? Then Stacy a bad wolf?" His voice was plaintive, his fear plain.

"This is a battle, Stacy," Alphard said. "We will all be trying to hurt the bad wolves to drive them from our mountain, and your wolf will be able to help us win a great victory!"

Stacy puffed out his chest importantly, a gesture that would have been sweet on a child, but it hurt Angharad to see it.

"Will Stacy be ... be ... a hero?" he asked, his childlike smile on an otherwise vacant face.

"Oh yes, Stacy. You'll be a great hero."

Stacy smiled as if in rapture, and nodded vigorously and then followed Angharad to prepare. He returned in a matter of minutes and stood by Idris's side in a full cloak. Idris patted his shoulder then met Snape's incredulous look, knowing this wizard would surely be terrified by what he was about to see.

"Just be prepared, Seth, be prepared," Idris rumbled cryptically.

Lupin told them he expected the Dementors to be summoned as soon as the pack left the protective enchantments and then he rose his voice to tell the pack of the Dark curses that Greyback's pack would use and the type of evasive action they should take, all whilst Angharad organised the stretcher-bearers, who would follow the main pack.

It was time.

Idris walked to stand at the centre of the clearing, adrenaline beginning to pound through him so that his hands and legs trembled with the surge, but he gritted his teeth and turned slowly until all the pack fell silent.

"The werewolves we go to fight may look like our kind!" snarled Idris. "They may smell like our kind!" Idris declaimed, turning slowly to look his fighters and catching the fire in their eyes.

"But don't ye be mistaken!" he growled menacingly. "These are not our kind!"

He turned again, his dark eyes aflame, his mighty hands clenched, his blood coursing through his veins as the adrenaline pumped harder, desperate for his pack to understand the evil that they faced – those werewolves so like themselves, but who let the beast within win!

"These are the worst of us! They will fight like cowards with Killin' Curses an' trickery. These are the reason we have to live in these mountains! Why we are despised! These are the beasts that give us that name!" Idris roared.

He waited to hear the angry shouts, ever the leader, knowing when his pack was beginning to engage, and now some were shaking their fists and brandishing glinting knives as well as wands. The coup de grâce so they would fully understand came now. Idris's eyes narrowed and his voice became low, reverberating in its depth.

"They will rape your mates and defile your cubs!"

Angry shouts and violent protestations met this last, all the pack knowing what had befallen Bronwen at Greyback's hands and they yelled and hollered in fury knowing the battle must be won to avoid the same fate for their own.

"Scavengers and jackals, all! An' we surrender to no jackals!"

The pack's roar of assent went up and Idris strode out as the pack ranged out about him.

"MOVE OUT!"

With grim determination, Idris led the extended pack out to march them around the mountain to the theatre of war to restrain their wildest impulses and force them to focus on the battle ahead. He inhaled deeply to keep his head clear – or at least as clear as he could, knowing he would face Bronwen's murderer.

As they ranged along the clearing, facing Greyback and his pack, as he had known, their opponents were blinded by the low winter sun but then, even what little cheer the sun could give gave way to an unnatural mist which descended and darkened the noon, as a chill crept into Idris's bones and mind as he vividly recalled the desecrated body of Bronwen mixing with the ferocious voice of his Da driving him away from his home with piercing clarity ...

The Dementors were gliding down from the skies towards them.

"Hold your positions and wait for me!" Idris commanded, shaken to his very soul, but knowing they must wait until all the Dementors were close before they unleashed the pack.

The Dementors glided lower and lower, some of them beginning to swoop in anticipation as they neared where the pack stood.

"You can't deny the Dark Lord for long!" Greyback shouted, a leer plastered on his face. "Come with me now and give me Snape, and your pack will be spared!"

Spared like Bronwen was spared, Idris thought, the hollow, aching remembrance the Dementors brought with them fired his fury once more and he growled like the wolf.

"I was named for this mountain. AND HERE I WILL STAY!" Idris bellowed, then raised his wand. "Now, my pack!"

As one, the pack cast and roared, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The pack cast their Patronuses at the Dementors and, as the forms ran bounded forward, the mass of silver wolves, one giant shepherd dog and a doe coalesced into one huge pack, reverberating almost painfully with the pack's magic, that chased the Dementors down, enveloped them – and extinguished them as a crashing wave would extinguish a campfire – the Dementors hissed out of existence under the force of gorging on so much Light magic, leaving the ragged band of Greyback's werewolves and wizards exposed before them, circled by the luminescent forms.

Idris was well-pleased. "Because we are pack," he growled, as each werewolf and two wizards recalled their Patronuses and stood their ground.

"Wands at the ready," Idris snarled, his gaze locking with Greyback, never doubting they would be victorious. "Hold your stance. This is our mountain. We give away nothing!"

Then he whispered to Stacy, "It's time, Stacy, for your wolf to help us." Stacy seemed to need nothing further. He lumbered forward in front of the pack, uncatching his cloak. Idris heard the guffawing in Greyback's pack and the mad laughter of the witch, and smirked. His narrowed his eyes as he focused on Greyback – he wanted to see his reaction to Stacy. Greyback would know – he would understand what Stacy was – the Wolf Unbound! Just like Vargulf, as much Greyback's sire as he was Idris's. Idris wanted to see the fear in Greyback's eyes.

Then Stacy's cloak fell to the ground to reveal his huge wolf form in one smooth transition. It snarled, its lips pulled over its vicious teeth as it strode in front of its pack mates protectively, head lowered looking directly at Greyback's pack.

Idris leant forward, his eyes boring into Greyback's, seeing the horror in his expression and - yes! there it was – the primal fear. The scent of terror wafted to him in the harsh crystalline air of the mountain, and even though it was acrid, it was so sweet to him.

Faint cries of fear could be heard and the Jake, Uriah and Jude Disapparated. Idris couldn't help but smile unpleasantly.

Now, each werewolf now picked his adversary, like Idris, locking eyes with them. Alphard regarded Bellatrix with something like horror. She had been so like Andromeda when they were young – such beautiful women, yet watching her there, twitching and cackling, her looks ravaged, no doubt partly by her time in Azkaban but also by the soul-destroying Dark magic in which she so clearly revelled, part of him was glad that Snape and Lupin had marked her as their own.

"STAND UP!" Idris's battle roar went up and the pack began to run heavily towards Greyback's band as the wolf bounded forward, snarling and snapping its jaws.

Immediately, jets of green began flying towards the wolf, accompanied by the wild cackles of Bellatrix, but with preternatural speed, the wolf seemed to dodge them all, some rebounding from the impenetrable hide of the Dark creature he had become. It was enough to have some of their enemies hopping with panic at the sight of the wolf and so many other werewolves. In just a few minutes, another three had Disapparated to Greyback's indignant howls of "STAND FAST! YOU BASTARDS, FIGHT!"

"To the right is Nero," Lupin shouted, "and the left is Aidan and Jared is behind! Take them out!"

Even as Alphard fixed his sights on the Beta to Greyback's right, Nero, it was clear that Stacy already had Aidan marked for prey. Idris recognised the scent of the wolf with its prey's scent. Even as Aidan postured to meet Lupin in battle, he realised that the wolf had targeted him, but too late. The wolf sprang high and was on him, at his neck, snarling and shaking as he bit in a frenzy – the spray of blood catching those around him, but none could assist – they all knew it was too late even as Aidan's screams gurgled away to nothing.

The lifeless body was thrown around, as Idris gained on Greyback, whose attention flitted between him and the slavering wolf who had just savaged his Beta. Capitalising on Greyback's distraction, Idris unleashed a volley of battering curses in wide slashing motions, taking his opponent by surprise with his ferocity, unbalancing him as he tottered absurdly. Neither Alpha raised a Shield Charm but counted on the freedom to fire at will instead to overwhelm the other as vicious Battering and Whipping Hexes were exchanged, each man taking violent body blows from the other, neither caring for finesse or subtlety.

As Idris and Greyback's mighty battle raged, Alphard's Shield Charm was raised in one swift motion as Nero sent a powerful Stunner to him, and Alphard undercut with a return Stunner and a Whipping Hex that caught Nero off-guard, but he righted himself quickly and returned with a Blasting Curse that rebounded from Alphard's powerful shield and knocked its caster backwards. As Nero hurtled backwards, he unleashed a Killing Curse, but the jet of green missed Alphard as he quickly side-stepped the curse and shot Whipping Hex after Whipping Hex in wide arcing angry movements, catching Nero across his face, opening up the flesh. Nero cried out in pain but was on his feet, returning the curses with equal fervour, his teeth gritted in a rictus of rage. Alphard could see that Stacy had taken down another werewolf and, without a doubt, Greyback's lesser werewolves were losing their nerve and, with it, their will to fight. From the corner of his eye, he saw another couple Disapparate, just as he saw Snape duelling violently with Bella.

In the instant that Alphard noticed this, Nero cast Incarcerous that caught Snape's ankles so liberating Bella, but even as Snape stumbled, Lupin was suddenly there, duelling in his place in front of him. Alphard heard his niece cackle and insult Lupin but Alphard Whipped Nero's attention back to himself. They traded hefty body blows then another werewolf joined Nero against Alphard.

"Hold this one, Strephon!" growled Nero. "I gotta job to do so her nibs ain't took by them. If he loses another, he'll kill us all!" Strephon, young and fast, held Alphard with a series of wild Killing Curses as Nero tried to advance stealthily again. This time, Snape Stupefied Nero and he went down hard. As Nero fell, so Alphard's Stunner hit Strephon and Alphard bound him quickly as he saw the pincer movement werewolves now move in, curses flying, from the sides, completely overwhelming those left standing and in that same instant he heard an unknown curse screech from his niece's lips:

"SECTUMSEMPRA!"

It hit Lupin full force, and Alphard saw Lupin fall in agony, blood spurting from lacerations opening in his chest.

Alphard heard Snape's terrified yell and Alphard stepped in to block Bellatrix with a Shield Charm of his own as she repeated the curse and he drew Bellatrix away from Snape, recalling Sirius as he battled her fury, revenge of his own spurring him on, duelling as he had never had to duel before, even though her madness was truly evident in the malevolent glint in her eyes.

The pace at which she cast curse after curse was scorching and Alphard understood why Snape and Lupin had agreed to duel her together. Even as he formed the thought, a powerful Expulso knocked him back followed by and a Stunning spell and he knew no more until he was awoken by Snape. He quickly shook himself back to action and rolled away as he heard Stacy's wolf whining and thrashing on the ground and he scrambled to him as Snape began to duel her furiously once more.

Alphard cast his wand over Stacy, finding only that his eyes were swollen shut, weeping pus, but how Stacy cried in pain. He tried all the healing incantations he could think of but nothing seemed to have an effect on whatever curse had been cast against him. He was aware that Bella had been blasted backwards by Snape. Trusting that the rest of the pack would watch his back, he carried on casting charms to try to ease Stacy's pain as he heard Bella Disapparate.

He cast a heavy sleeping charm on Stacy so he could no longer feel the pain and called the stretcher bearers over, just as he saw Idris slam bodily in Greyback taking his feet from under him. Idris grunted with the physical effort and jammed his elbow sharply into Greyback's windpipe to take his breath away. Greyback rolled on the ground, gasping for air as Idris kicked him in the ribs then stood over him, his own breath sharp in his lungs.

Merlin help him, it was everything Idris could do not to kill Greyback as the jackal rolled on the floor. He could take the dagger he carried in his belt and slit his throat from ear to ear. He wanted to! How he wanted to - for Bronwen. Idris stood over him, his fists clenched so hard that his own nails dug into his palms and drew blood as he reigned in his own blood lust. He was not Greyback, he told himself. He was not a beast. Greyback would be his messenger to Riddle – Riddle who had taken everything from him, so Idris would tell him he would take no more!

"A messenger, yes. A wizard's lap-dog – that's all you are. Well, get up! GET UP, I SAY!" Idris bellowed as he grabbed the wand that had fallen from Greyback's grasp. Slowly, Greyback crawled onto all fours and as he managed to catch his breath his stood, shakily and trying to carry himself with a shred of dignity, but he could barely balance. The now lone werewolf stood, bent over, with his hands on his knees, rasping for breath, half his pack strewn about him, dead or injured, as the mountain Alpha towered over him, his face as mask of revulsion and hatred, ignoring the blood dripping from his own mouth and nose, his fingers straining as they held Greyback's wand.

The song the wand told was one of cruelty and dissonance. Idris wanted to snap it so a beast such a Greyback couldn't channel his magic that way at least. But it was pointless: Riddle would just get his pet another wand.

"You go to your precious Dark Lord, Fenrir," growled Idris menacingly. "And you tell him what waits for you both here if you dare return. Death will always wait for you here – on my mountain."

Idris kicked the werewolf hard, knocking him down once more to add insult to injury as Greyback scrambled to his feet once more and staggered a few steps backwards, anger and fear warring in his features, then Idris tossed Greyback's wand to him and, with his own roar of impotent rage, he Disapparated.

The pack's roar went up as their prisoners were hauled to their feet, or Levitated if too badly injured, awaiting Idris's orders. Snape left quickly to follow Lupin with a nod to Alphard, but Idris stood in the centre of the battlefield, his adrenaline still running high. He cast his eye over their captives: four wizards, two of Greyback's Betas and another eight unnamed werewolves. He and Alphard went to inspect the dead.

Stacy accounted for four dead bodies, ripped to shreds. He looked at the bodies of another three, killed with knives. They were not innocents. He had not invited them here. Idris regretted nothing; nothing except this: four of his own pack, without a mark on them. The Killing Curse.

"Collect all of their wands and bring them to me!" he said. "Bury their dead," he added softly, "but bring ours home."

AB~IL~ AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL

Alphard made his way directly to the roundhouse to tend the wounded. Most of the injured Angharad had already dealt with: broken bones and gashes and scratches. There was some greater spell damage that Alphard reversed, Angharad looking on to learn what she could.

Stacy was brought in, still in his wolf form. Alphard suspected that changing whilst his eyes were so badly cursed would be detrimental, so he encouraged him to stay transformed. No matter what counter-curses he performed, he could not reduce the swelling to Stacy's eyes. The pitiful keening of the wolf even in his sleep upset him. Perhaps, Snape would know. Conway sat at Stacy's side, murmuring soothing nothings to the wolf and stroking his crest as Alphard gave him a poultice to help the swelling.

As he drew up to tend to another patient, the Polyjuice began to wear off, and he was once again taken with nausea and the distension of his bones and joints. It seems to wear off quickly this time, and he was, once more himself.

Idris then joined them, right glad to see Alphard in his true form once more. Angharad cast Episkey to his broken nose, healed his split lip and siphoned away the blood as quickly as she could as he was impatient to see all those who had been injured in their fight. He waved away bruise balm: there would be time enough later for that and he visited each werewolf who still remained in the field hospital. Most would be on their feet the next day, one had serious chest wounds that Alphard said would take days of bed rest and blood replenishing potion, and of course there was Stacy as well.

Their dead had been laid out in one of the tents and their mates now stayed with them to mourn their loss. Later that evening, they would build the ceremonial pyres on Cadr Idris. Good-byes must be made before a drop was drunk.

Idris and Angharad made their way to see Lupin and Snape to check on them as well. They let themselves in just as the men were discussing their plan to pretend to free Snape. Just a quick look at the pair told Idris that Lupin had come very close to death, and Snape's whole posture showed that he knew it, but he listened to their animated plans.

"We say then that you slip me my wand or deliberately leave it where I can get it once the victory celebrations start. I'll take those wizards with me but I'll leave the werewolves, if that's all right with you," he added with a smirk to Idris. "The Dark Lord will not expect me to save werewolves, even Greyback's companions."

Idris guffawed. "Aye. They need some learnin' before I let them go."

Alphard then strode in, looking flustered as he set down his satchels of potions and balms and made his way over to Lupin, as pale as a man could be.

"Seth has healed the worst of it," Lupin said, breathily. "And Angharad has given me Dittany."

"Oh yes, I heard Seth's counter-curse," said Alphard. "I covered him as he cast it. I've never heard that curse before. Is it a Death Eater speciality? Is that how you know the counter-curse?" Alphard Summoned a blood replenishing potion and helped Lupin up to drink it.

"Yes, a Death Eater speciality," Snape replied, never taking his eyes from Lupin's.

"Will you teach the counter-curse to me later?" asked Alphard as he held Lupin's wrist for his pulse and then checked the most recent wounds, pulled together by Snape's incantations.

Snape agreed, as Alphard once again surveyed Lupin's extensive scarring.

"I wondered if perhaps you know what curse was used on Stacy," Alphard continued. "All the curses Bella used rebounded from Stacy in his Dark creature state, except one that has caused his eye lids to swell painfully – he's in terrible pain. I've tried everything, but I don't recognise the curse."

Snape knew. In fact, it seemed to distress him quite as much as the Cutting Curse used on Lupin. "It sounds like the Conjunctivitis curse used against dragons because their hides are impenetrable. Try Oculos draco, ecce! with this movement." Snape showed them an elongated figure of eight, and Angharad nodded, thanked him quickly and sped away, but Alphard remained.

"Are all these from your transformations?" asked Alphard. When Lupin confirmed it, Alphard frowned. "So much damage. Why so much?"

"He is a werewolf who tries to live with wizards. He denies his wolf," Idris said sadly, knowing instinctively what had caused such damage.

"You are not scarred like this?" Snape asked him.

"I have some scarring, but nothing like this and I am much older."

"Remus used to imprison himself to keep others safe and the wolf sought prey," said Snape. "It found itself."

Idris swore under his breath and Alphard looked appalled, the picture of a transformed wolf turning on itself forming in their minds.

"That's the difference," said Alphard, sadly. "The werewolves here have no bites other than their Turning bites; only breaks, tears and the like."

"It is better with Wolfsbane, and before the war, we could run at the moon, and there were no more injuries. But recently ... I haven't been able to be with him and it has become painful for him again."

"What keeps you from your mate, Seth Moore? Dumbledore told us Riddle keeps you at the moon," Idris asked. He knew how a mate could be driven mad and sick by his mate's absence. He still did not understand how they could bear to be parted. It seemed to take a great deal of will on Snape's part to speak, but eventually he did.

"The Dark Lord requires a potion to sharpen his wits. He requires me to brew it for him. It is called the Acutor potion and it must be freshly brewed and ingested at the zenith of the full moon and requires the brewer's blood." He inhaled deeply, his shame in the blood magic he performed undisguised.

"Dumbledore told us you provided Riddle a service ... but this ..." Idris shook his head with sadness, but Alphard felt a flutter of excitement.

"But wait, Seth," said Alphard, a conspiratorial half smile forming on his lips. "Don't you realise what this means." Alphard started to chuckle as the implications played out in his mind.

"Your blood? Your Lycanthropic blood!" With that, Alphard roared with laughter and clapped his hands. "It's too good! Your blood fizzes with your mate's Lycanthropy and the lord of blood purity imbibes it freely, the bloody cannibal!"

Snape's eyes widened comically slowly and understanding dawned on Lupin's face as Alphard excitedly told Lupin and Idris of his and Snape's discussion that morning, although Idris barely followed it.

"But this is it!" gasped Snape. "This is how I escape at the moon, Remus! I say I was injured by one of the werewolves and my blood is now unworthy ..."

"It's too risky, Severus!" Lupin disagreed. "He could kill you."

"No," Snape reassured Lupin. "I'm convinced it will work. I will have rescued the Dark Lord's wizards, have injuries as my proof, and I still have the trust of the Order's very own werewolf as well as Albus! No other Death Eater can give him that! Merlin and Nimue, Remus! It's perfect!"

Then Snape asked Lupin to describe his state after Lupin's wolf had gouged him. Idris was startled by this and Alphard quickly and quietly explained, watching Lupin's horror at the recollection. Idris could only imagine how he would feel if he injured Alphard that way.

Lupin had become quite ashen at the recollection, and he seemed unable to speak. Then, haltingly, his voice thick with emotion, he said, "The wolf's healing had closed the wounds completely. They were already silver, but the edges were raised and angry." His voice seemed to fade away. "That's the only difference," he finished in a whisper.

"Shirt off, Seth!" commanded Alphard. "I have just the thing to make that reaction on a Lycanthropic scar." He retrieved an Aconite root from a heavily sealed pot and cut it length-wise so it would release its juices.

"This will sting the scar a lot," advised Alphard simply, "but the surrounding human skin will be unaffected." Snape nodded. Alphard pressed the cut Aconite root into and across the scars to Snape's clear discomfort.

"There," said Alphard, as he wiped the residue of sap-like substance from Snape's scars. "Like new." He smiled brightly, trying to make light of something so appalling. "If you don't treat those Aconite burns with ordinary burn salve, those welts will remain. As soon as you can, get them treated. They'll clear up straightway."

Then they watched as Snape grab his shirt and cast a spell to rent the garment as if caught by claws, cut himself and siphon some blood and replicate it with a charm to drench the shreds of his shirt, still with his back to Lupin and then pulled it back on. The effect was indeed quite horrific, but Snape quickly pulled on his robe so Lupin wouldn't see.

"I'll need more injuries," said Snape suddenly.

"What?" blustered Lupin, clearly startled.

"A black eye or a split lip – very visible bruising, blood ... for when the Dark Lord sees me. Will you hit me?" Snape asked Idris, matter-of-factly.

"How hard, boy?" growled Idris, with smile of admiration, disregarding Lupin's objection as Alphard looked askance at them both. Idris made sure he obscured Lupin's view and, before Snape could answer, swung into Snape's face. There was a sickening crunch and Snape fell to the floor from the fierce blow as Lupin tried to leave the bed, but Alphard held him back.

"That hard," rasped Snape as he held his own cheek. "'Xactly that."

Alphard Summoned a phial of pain reliever and proffered it to Snape as he helped him up and then back to sit on Lupin's bed, not even offering to help the now shattered cheek. Part of him was angry that the man felt this self-abuse was necessary, but the other part could only admire the attention to detail and the courage the man displayed, but it shouldn't be this easy to acquiesce in one's own battery. It spoke to Alphard that this man was used to it – far too used to it.

As Snape rushed to reassure his mate, Idris watched them intently, admiring their bravery and their ingenuity and thinking that perhaps his world – the world of his pack – was a damn sight safer than theirs.

Next chapter: Their worlds begin to diverge once more.
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