ᴅɪsᴘᴇʟ ᴍʏ ʙᴏʀᴇᴅᴏᴍ | ᴍᴀʀᴀᴅᴇᴜʀs' ᴇʀᴀ

Chapter 31: Werewolves attack

Hogwarts neighborhood, the full moon

When Beata was seven, Gwendolyn came up to her and in an unusually affectionate and soothing tone said that it was time for Beata to learn something about the mistakes of her ancestors. Beata remembered that day very well, the interest that flared in her and the terrible truth that struck her afterward.

Gwendolyn led Beata into a zone forbidden for children younger than seven years old. There were some more familiar boys and girls. All of them looked surprised and extremely intrigued. They were told a story about dangerous werewolves generated by human greed, and that it was time to learn some precautions.

The children were expecting a practical lesson, but instead they were led to the crate enveloped in Protective Charms. Haggard, weak animals wandered slowly inside it.

"Why wolfy walks so funny?" asked one girl named Greta and silly laughed. Beata still believed that even the incredible beauty of Gretel was not able to compensate for the lack of brains that she showed in her growing up.

'Wolfy', hearing the laughter, raised its head and looked at the children with cloudy eyes. Fear, hopelessness and incredible fatigue were frozen in them.

Gwendolyn then said that these terrible and dangerous monsters should be destroyed at every opportunity.

"If, of course, you are confident in your abilities. Don't foolishly sacrifice yourself," she added condescendingly.

Then, the witch easily waved her hand and the werewolf bent, sadly whimpering. It was a nightmare. There was no scarlet blood or a crunch of breaking bones, there was no convulsion or painful howl, but these unthinkable obedience and humility of a free by nature animal were imprinted in Beata's mind forever.

An exhausted wolf, no longer believing that it would be saved, lost all hope. He lay on dirty earth and wept softly.

It was early morning, which meant that Gwendolyn used one of her many spells to forcibly transform werewolf into bestial form. But in fact, albeit in part, he was human. Maybe Beata even knew him.

Also Sprinkles clearly remembered the look of one of the animals in the crate. This wolf hasn't yet reconciled to his fate. He quietly grumbled and looked at perplexed children with so obvious rage and hatred that Beata desperately wanted to escape.

She believed he memorized her face, so that someday later, when he would finally break free, take revenge. On everyone who mocked him, humiliated him, who despised him. Revenge on those sorcerers whose ancestors created his kind and tormented them, not wanting to admit their guilt.

Beata didn't doubt that he'll break free. In his eyes was true freedom, that can't be taken away even by putting him in a cage. Freedom that grows from within, from the heart, and dies only with its owner.

And now, when Sprinkles was walking with her relatives and three Aurors to the Forbidden Forest, she was afraid to meet that werewolf. Let it be stupid and illogical fear, but Beata knew, she would meet him in the Forest and she would have nothing to oppose him. Because that werewolf had the right to hate. He had the right to take revenge.

If only Black were here, a thought flashed through her mind and immediately was crushed by consciousness.

The night smelled of pine needles, fresh coolness and barely perceptible danger. Beata walked hard and loudly, stepping on dry branches, continually catching displeased glances of Aurors on herself whose footsteps were inaudible and almost floating. Beata couldn't walk like them, she didn't see the point. Any werewolf will feel them without difficulty.

"Are you afraid, Miss Sprinkles?" Diggle wheezed over Beata's ear. The man was unexpectedly tall, closing a good piece of the sky along with the cheese-yellow moon frozen on it.