Those who do not create must destroy. It's as old as the world itself. The psychology of juvenile criminals. © Ray Bradbury
***— Drive them in, drive them in!
"Wild hunt, bitches, it's a wild hunt!
"Lyal, right!
"Run, you bastards, run to Daddy!
"No!
"Avada Kedavra!!!
As soon as I appeared at the designated spot, I was plunged into a cacophony of explosions, shouts of spells, choice curses and moans. Pain, fear, death — all of this filled the space between the crowns of the huge trees, forcing me to instantly wrap myself in every shield I knew, the air a few centimetres away from me trembling from the amount of magic poured into the spells. For a few seconds, the flashes of magic subsided, leaving only a palpable silence behind.
"Gomenum revelio maxima..." The spell swept through the surrounding space like a large radar wave, returning with disappointing information. Ten mages of average strength, three more weaklings, and a dozen objects identified by the spell as magical creatures. Apparently werewolves. The full moon was supposed to appear in a day, but the spell could already detect the changes it would bring. The accumulated drowsiness was instantly lifted, and my brain feverishly began to think of ways to retreat. I certainly wasn't going to fight such a crowd.
"What the **** is that?!" A hoarse male voice came through the defence, having previously shouted the third unforgivable word. "Richard, why the **** did the client show up so early?!"
"This isn't the client, ****, no one was supposed to be here, take him down, ****! Bombarda!!!" At least five spells struck the shields, cutting off my retreat. I couldn't apparate out from behind the shields I had put up. I had been too cautious and had put up everything I had recently remembered with great effort, and removing the resulting structure now would be suicide. So I'd backed myself into a corner, you idiot. I couldn't escape, spells couldn't pass through material barriers in either direction, and I couldn't even see who I'd run into. All that was left was... hmm.
***
"Even Avada doesn't work on this ***** wall, what do we do, boss?!" Rat squeaked, turning to the figure in the spiked bone mask. His voice was clearly tinged with panic. However, he had always stood out from the rest of the team for his cowardice, which, strangely enough, only made him more despicable and cruel. Even by Richard's standards, who was not known for his moral qualities. Richard Rotten had always disliked this group of six, who had only joined his team thanks to their influential father, one of the ministry officials. The latter, being one of the deputies of the head of the Department of Magical Population Control, regularly leaked the locations of werewolf hideouts, receiving a nice percentage of the sale of valuable reagents, which his team was responsible for obtaining.
Yes, the team... Richard had started putting it together back in school. For a Muggle-born who had been immersed in the magical world of Hogwarts, everything seemed like a fairy tale. For a former street urchin who suddenly found food and shelter, his previous life seemed like hell. And school was paradise. Initially sceptical, Richard never tired of thanking God for the opportunity he had been given. However, in his first year, his rose-tinted glasses were shattered by the harsh reality when he had to return to hell after Hogwarts.
Orphanage children were never merciful. Returning in new clothes, well-fed after school dinners, the blond boy immediately became the target of bullying and ridicule. And he disappeared. After months of fierce battles for the right to live, he returned to Hogwarts — Richard Rotten. Knowing exactly what he wanted from life and what he was willing to do to get it.
He harbours a burning hatred for everyone who has been smiled upon by life more than he has, especially the spoiled children of the "aristocrats" who have everything Richard himself so desperately desires. Money, parents, power, and magical abilities. Even at Hogwarts, it became apparent that some spells came much more easily to him and other Muggle-borns than to these mama's boys, who never lifted a finger to achieve any of it. Richard will never forget how they laughed at him when he challenged the aristocrat who had insulted him to a duel. He lost miserably and spent half the night choking on slugs coming out of his oesophagus. However, as it turned out, magical power is not decisive when you are outnumbered several times over.
After leaving school, Richard was thrown out onto the streets, where he and a couple of friends found a decent part-time job in Lutno. There was always a need for free hands unburdened by excessive morals. A few years later, having made useful connections among the shady side of the magical world, he and several friends left Veselchak's gang and started their own. With help from his father, Rat, they were able to take over one of the most profitable niches — trading ingredients — with virtually no effort. Due to the rarity and illegality of the latter, even a single raid was enough to live comfortably for several years. However, money was always needed.
Today's job was supposed to provide the mage with the missing amount to buy his dream — a mansion he had long coveted, once belonging to the family of that very "aristocrat." The house was put up for auction due to the sudden death of both the young man and his elderly father. Richard never forgave humiliation. This was the first lesson he learned in the orphanage.
"Calm down, stop it," Richard said, emerging from his flood of memories. The sudden appearance of a witness was a threat to his plans, which meant he had to disappear. Judging by the spells he didn't recognise, he was clearly another "aristocrat" who had decided to play the hero but had overestimated his strength. Appearing out of nowhere, the stranger immediately surrounded himself with a wild mixture of transfiguration and protective magic, apparently fuelled by a family artefact. And he trapped himself. The dark sphere that surrounded the mage like a cocoon did not let through even the most powerful spells known to the Hogwarts graduate. But this worked both ways: to get out, the loser had to remove his protection. That meant he couldn't go anywhere. Just in case, Roten's gang had purchased a special anti-apparition artefact. It was only a matter of time before they pried him out of there.
"Boss... a couple of creatures escaped," one of his henchmen, Ambal, croaked in a hoarse voice. This weak mage, almost a Squib, was not known for his sharp mind, but he could match many in physical strength, and some even whispered that his mother had sinned with a troll. To be honest, looking at his square face, which was quite distinctive, no one dared to say such a thing.
"Right, you two," Richard said, after counting among the bound and stunned prisoners and finding that two were missing. He pointed first at Bald and then at Sparrow, two of the strongest mages who made up the firepower of his gang. "Grab the brooms and go after the fugitives. Be careful not to damage the goods. Big guy, you keep an eye on the rest. Everyone..."
"Richard, let me help you catch them, in case they can't handle it," Rat said, licking his lips hastily. "And it'll be easier to transport them with three of us."
Richard grimaced contemptuously inside. Even without looking at the lecherous eyes of the skinny mage, he could say with certainty that there was no hint of mutual assistance in his offer. Most likely, he was not averse to having some fun with the only beautiful girl here. Remembering the young werewolf, he understood why. Even despite her unpleasant scars, she was quite pretty. She had also managed to kick Rat in a sensitive place, for which he had almost attacked her.
"Yes, you can go... help, Jerry," the mage said after a moment's thought. After all, it wasn't a good idea to quarrel with Jerry's father, as Rat was known in the world. And the idea of having some fun and dressing up in Wild Hunt costumes was a good one. Those creatures almost shit themselves when his gang showed up at their hangout. Although the girl was pretty, he wouldn't have minded her himself... All right. Now it was time to take care of the mage. Two fugitives without magic wands had practically no chance against real mages. Now it was time to deal with the stranger.
"The rest of you, on my command, on the count of three, use the Bombards in the centre of the sphere. That should overload the defences. Then, when ready, use the stun spells. Let's see who decided to show up here! So, one... two...
***
Ambert ran as fast as she could. The enchanted forest, which until recently had seemed like her home, sheltering her and her brother from all adversity and providing them with food and clothing, had now turned into their worst enemy. The branches of the trees that appeared in her path tore her naked body, clad only in a T-shirt, to shreds. The thick tree roots seemed to be trying to trip her up. The moss springing up under her feet now seemed like a slowing quagmire. If she had been running alone, it would not have seemed like much of an obstacle, but being a werewolf, which at first seemed like a curse, had its advantages. If it weren't for her increased endurance and strength, Embert would never have been able to run with such a burden on her shoulders. But she didn't even think of abandoning her brother.
Her lungs burned from the long run, and the girl greedily gulped the cold air with her parched lips, taking one big leap after another. The weight of the unconscious body behind her pressed the girl to the ground, and angry tears welled up in her eyes. Memories flashed before her eyes. They were memories of many things. Of how happy she was when she found out she was going to a school of magic. How happy she was when her parents had a son, and she had a little brother. Life at Hogwarts, her best friends, and her first love. And also how her life had fallen apart.
Stumbling upon the Kin family's home during a full moon, a werewolf turned the world of the Hogwarts senior upside down in an instant. The Muggle-born father of the family, who worked as an ordinary secretary at the Ministry of Magic, was unable to fight off the werewolf that had broken into the house.
Neither could her mother, a simple Muggle English housewife who moonlighted as a German translator. They were torn to pieces. The same fate could have befallen Embert and her little brother, who had come home for the Christmas holidays, but the beast only managed to slightly injure the schoolgirl, who, shaking with fear and tears, cast the most powerful spell she knew.
Bombarda did not kill the werewolf, only tearing off one of its limbs and forcing it to retreat. However, even a few drops of infected blood or saliva were enough to ruin her entire future. After the arrival of the Aurors, who, as it turned out, were chasing the werewolf who had escaped from voluntary isolation, she and little William were taken to Mungo's, where the wizards diagnosed another case of lycanthropy. It was already the third case that ill-fated night. The other victims were not so lucky; they turned out to be ordinary Muggles. The poison flowing in the blood of the transformed wolf killed them within a few days. Embert survived. But was that a happy ending?
After the diagnosis, several days of rehabilitation, and a meeting of the Department for the Regulation of Magical Populations, it was decided to expel the young witch from Hogwarts and break her wand. A thin man in a black robe, with a rat-like face and shifty eyes, explained the decision to her, her entry into the official register, and the rules for her future existence. From now on, she could not appear in places where children gathered, study, or use her magic wand.
She couldn't even live in her own house, as it was located near a large wizarding settlement and didn't have a room for isolation during the full moon. At the same time, she was kindly provided with a list of official reservations for werewolves, offered "sincere" apologies in a dry, expressionless tone, and given a modest allowance as a victim of the dark creature.
The magical world, like the ordinary world, was now closed to Embert. The only thing she was able to achieve after months of complaints and appeals to the ministry was custody of her underage brother. Fortunately, the girl had recently turned seventeen.
Her parents' house had to be sold. Her only remaining friend helped convince the officials that Embert was already of age. All her other friends and acquaintances turned away from her as if she were a leper, expressing sympathy but shyly averting their eyes. She desperately wanted to cry, but she had shed her last tear at her parents' grave. Now a fierce fire of determination burned within her. She would survive at any cost and ensure a better life for her brother.
On the advice of a friend, the girl converted the money for the house into Galleons, took some with her, and put the rest in a magical bank account in her brother's name. And on his advice, she did not choose anything from the list provided, instead contacting one of the unregistered communities of werewolves who gathered herbs and other magical ingredients in the enchanted forest.
Of course, she had to pay for her place. However, many of the former magicians sympathised with the girl's fate, providing her with a place to live and teaching her how to live with her inner beast. Ambert had been here for several years now. It was difficult, but the hardships only strengthened the young wolf's character. There was no trace left of the former insecure and timid girl. It seemed that now, when the dark period was over, life had dealt her another blow. From which evil tears reappeared in her eyes...
"There you are, you creature!" A nasty, vaguely familiar voice came from somewhere above her. Something pushed her in the back, causing her to stumble. One step — and the ground suddenly began to approach at the speed of a meteor.
***
"That was easy," said two figures in black robes with skull masks made of bone standing over the girl's motionless body on the moss. Next to her lay an unconscious boy of about eight with his straw-coloured hair tousled from the fall. There was a bloody gash on the back of his head; he had caught on a tree root sticking out of the ground when he fell.
"Pack it up and let's go, the boss doesn't like to wait," said the man in the skull mask, taking out a stick and pointing it at the figures on the ground.
"Stop, stop, stop, stop...," another mage held the speaker by the elbow. He wore a helmet-shaped mask, the visor of which was now tilted back. From there, a thin guy of about nineteen years old stared at the girl's body with greasy eyes. His face was covered with freckles, his thin nose contrasted sharply with his fleshy lips the colour of raw meat, and his small black eyes darted from side to side, lingering on the exposed parts of the captive's body. "We still have time, and I haven't paid this bitch for the insult she gave me.
"Is that what you call a kick in the balls?" another member of Rotten's gang growled. His voice sounded particularly hollow from under his mask. "Or is it because they're your substitute, Rat?
"I told you to call me by my name!" The man in question flew into a rage. "At least my head doesn't look like a chicken egg, Baldie..."
"Calm down," interrupted the magician, who had frozen with his hand raised, brushing Jerry's fingers off his forearm with a slight gesture of disgust. "You have fifteen minutes, Jerry. Don't damage the goods. The customer wants them alive."
"He'll manage it in three, right, Jerry..." Baldie said mockingly.
"Yes, I will!!!
"I said shut up," Sparrow interrupted the brawlers again. "We'll be nearby. Let's go, Bon. I saw a rowan grove nearby, we can chop down a couple more Galleons to add to our fee.
With these words, the two figures took their brooms out of their cases and disappeared into the darkness of the forest.
After his accomplices had left, Rat waited another minute, tying up the boy and dragging him a little to the side, then turned to the body sprawled on the moss and turned it onto its back.
"Well, we meet again, my dear," the mage licked his parched lips, staring at the face frozen like a stone statue.
Despite the spell that prevented her from moving, the girl's brown eyes were filled with horror and disgust.
***
The entire story has already been written at:
patreon.com/posts/reborn-as-sirius-142654970