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Yukine and Hiyori - when Yato had found her - were shocked when he told them what happened. Yukine theorised it could be a sign that the prisoner was returning, but as Hiyori pointed out, the prisoner was female.
The Dementors were still guarding the school, their presence not really a bother to Yato now that he had protection. The Daily Prophet made no reports of recent sightings of the prisoner either, which meant either she had gone into hiding, or she was very good at not getting caught.
Yato thought about Madame Kofuku’s prophecy for the rest of term; he even worried about it throughout Easter break despite his friends trying to take his mind off it. The main way they would do this was by taking more interest in Buckbeak and following Yato down to help care for him after class as the light spring weather grew more humid.
The tight buds of daffodils had burst into colour overnight, springing up in sunny clumps on the trail that the trio took to the Hippogriffs’ paddock.
“We have to celebrate your birthday!” Hiyori announced.
Yukine looked back at her, surprised that he had never thought about Yato’s birthday before, and directed his attention at Yato. “When is it?”
“He said he’d tell me on the day,” Hiyori answered for Yato. “He couldn’t last year, since…”
She trailed off. No one needed reminding of the reason why they hadn’t been able to celebrate Yato’s birthday. Either way, Hiyori wanted to do something for him.
“I don’t know my birthday,” Yato answered shortly. That took them by surprise, and then the questions started.
“How could you not know your birthday?” Yukine asked.
“I never celebrated it.”
“But your parents –” Hiyori started, but Yato cut her off abruptly.
“Dead.”
That threw them like a punch. Dead? Why did he never say? Then again, they never asked.
“But...what do you do in the summer?” Hiyori asked. There was a pit in her stomach when she asked the next question. “Where do you go?”
Yato shrugged without turning, his paces getting quicker. “Here and there.”
The conversation seemed to be over as they headed into the glade and the Hippogriffs came into sight.
Yato called them softly with a whistle as Buckbeak came trotting across the paddock. Yato gave a slight bow which went ignored by Buckbeak as he nudged against Yato’s arm and chest, looking for food he didn’t have. Buckbeak stared at him with betrayed eyes.
“Not today, boy,” Yato said softly. His hand grazed the Hippogriff’s smooth bill before stroking the feathers on Buckbeak’s cheek.
Hiyori and Yukine were close behind, a sombre silence settling over them. Clearly Yato didn’t want to talk about his parents, but the least they could do was be there when he was ready. Yukine leaned his arms on the fence whilst Hiyori perched on the stile, watching Yato run his hand through Buckbeak’s downy feathers.
“You know, you can ride Hippogriffs,” Yato said to no one in particular.
Hiyori looked at him doubtfully. She hoped he wouldn't get any ideas. The sound of rustling leaves filled the air, the low sun casting shadowy patterns onto the floor and over the trio and the herd. Summer was nearly here, and Hiyori could only think of where Yato would be.
“What are you doing here?” Yukine’s soft, surprised voice caused Yato and Hiyori to look at who he was talking to.
Yukine’s cat, which he had finally decided to name Snowbell – justifying that its dirty white fur was like the flower – was rubbing itself against Yukine’s leg before slipping between the wooden slats of the fence. Hours of brushing its fur had made it fluffier but no less coarse, its tail swishing in the air before sitting near Hiyori’s feet which swung from where she had perched on the fence.
“Buckbeak might try to eat him,” Yato warned as Buckbeak nudged his head against Yato once more in search of food. Hopefully he wouldn’t mistake Snowbell for a ferret.
“Have you ever ridden Buckbeak?” Hiyori asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
Yato shrugged. “It’s probably no different than riding a broom.”
He stroked his hand over the Hippogriff one last time before pausing, noticing that Buckbeak’s amber eyes had fixated on Hiyori, or rather her feet, where Snowbell glared back, green eyes glowing menacingly.
Shit.
“Yukine,” Yato said slowly, trying to keep any sign of worry from his voice, “you know what I said about Buckbeak eating the cat?”
It happened in a flash. The second Yukine could give a confused ‘eh?’, Buckbeak snapped his beak, charging a few feet forward and knocking Yato to the ground with a furious beat of wings.
He reared into the air with an ear-splitting cry before striking his talons down inches from Hiyori, sending her pitching backwards off the fence with a scream but was caught by Yukine who shouted for Yato to stop Buckbeak.
Yato coughed up dust as he pushed himself back up, catching his breath only to have it stolen away again at the sight of Snowbell hurtling across the courtyard. Buckbeak pursued in a thundering of hooves and screeching, rearing up when he reached the fence, furious that he was unable to give chase to the cat which was now hurtling through the forest.
Yukine sprinted past in a blur, skirting the edge of the paddock and tearing through the underbrush after the animals. Without a second thought Yato bolted after them, hurdling the paddock fence and nearly colliding with Hiyori as she rounded the corner. He caught her hand tightly, so they wouldn’t get separated, delving blindly into the forest.
The daylight left them after a few seconds of running, both Yato and Hiyori hollering Yukine’s name and stumbling over knotted roots until they came to a clearing where they could make out the steep valley – and Yukine clambering after a grey blur in the twilight.
“Yukine!” Hiyori shouted, but he didn’t turn - it looked like the cat was running and Yukine wasn’t going to leave it.
Yato tugged Hiyori along as they started off after him, only separating when they too began climbing over the rocks to the precipice of the valley, grasping at loose roots that crumbled away with the earth. Dirt worked its way under their fingernails, streaks of mud staining Yato’s jacket and grime caking Hiyori’s hands and clothes.
The first thing they saw when they clambered, panting for breath, over the edge was Yukine wrestling with Snowbell, who was scratching Yukine’s face as he held him tight in his arms. The second thing they noticed – and what made them both freeze – was that Yukine was sat right in front of the Whomping Willow.
It began twisting restlessly at the new presence, branches shaking to life as if waking from a deep sleep.
“YUKINE, MOVE!” Yato shouted.
Yukine looked up for second, scrunched eyes blowing wide open and forgetting about the current onslaught he was facing when he saw a figure moving behind the pair.
“YATO!” Yukine screamed, “WOLF!”
A growl behind them had Yato and Hiyori whirling around. Metres away, faintly silhouetted against the darkening sky, a black wolf’s yellow eyes bore down at them.
The Grim.
Yato felt his heart slam against his ribcage, death staring him in the face. This time, there was no escape.
The beast shifted, preparing to jump, and Yato threw himself in front of Hiyori, bracing for the fangs that were bared in a slathering snarl as it launched itself…over their heads.
Straight at Yukine.
Time slowed down. The Grim’s fangs sank into Yukine’s leg and his piercing scream rang through the valley along with Hiyori’s. Complete horror took over as the wolf began dragging Yukine through the underbrush, Snowbell still tucked under an arm despite his yowls and frantic efforts to escape.
The hard earth and stones grazed Yukine’s back as he twisted and screamed, every tug on his leg sending agonising spasms that turned his cries into sobs for help.
Yato threw himself forward, Yukine’s name coming out as a mangled shout as he lunged onto his stomach, desperate fingers clawing for Yukine’s shirt. But it slipped out of reach as he was tugged and hauled further away, the Grim apparently taking him back to its lair beneath the Whomping Willow.
The last thing Yato saw of him as he frantically hauled himself into the hollow was a pair of yellow eyes glaring up at him, and Yukine’s terrified face. In the next second they were gone, the only evidence of what had happened heard in the screams that grew more and more distant. A deafening silence rang in Yato’s ears, blood rushing to his head as he kneeled, not hearing Hiyori scream at him to move.
A skinny branch knocked Yato backward, sending him crashing into Hiyori, who tried to catch him. The tree in front of them shook itself as if brushing dirt from its leaves, branches sighing as it resumed its natural position. The sun had all but sunk into the horizon, leaving the world coloured a dark hue as Yato and Hiyori stared apprehensively at the Whomping Willow.
“We have to go after him,” Yato wheezed, holding his stomach with one arm. Hiyori’s hand found his, giving a firm nod before they quickly but cautiously began running at the willow.
The first branch smashed into the ground on their left, forcing them to stumble and cling to each other as they rushed forward, the skinnier twigs grazing them and trying to catch their legs and trip them up before another trunk-like branch fell just feet in front of them.
Yato threw his arm in front of Hiyori, her hand clinging to his arm as he stopped her from running straight into its path. Neither of them noticed a second branch swinging itself around to their right until it was too late, blindsiding them both with only enough time for Yato to duck and try – and fail – to drag Hiyori down with him.
Her hand slipped through his, and Yato could shout her name as the branch struck Hiyori and wrap itself around her waist, wrenching her from his grasp. Her scream echoed through the air as the willow flung her around, no doubt hanging on for dear life as she was brought back down, and thorn-like twigs scratched her face and hands until she was littered with tiny cuts.
Yato – helpless to do anything but watch in awestruck horror – threw himself out of the way of another branch before looking back for Hiyori.
Shit, shit, shit. Yato didn’t know if he knew a spell that could stop the willow, or if he could avoid hitting Hiyori, but his eyes were momentarily dragged away from the Whomping Willow as he fumbled in his pocket for his wand.
“YATO!” Hiyori’s scream came from behind, far closer than before.
Yato spun around. There was a blur of motion in front of his face as he felt a sudden tightness on the front of his jacket before he was airborne. Hiyori, clutching him and the branch for dear life, had Yato’s jacket fisted in her hand. Though they were low enough to the ground, Yato still yelled at the sensation of being thrown around like a ragdoll, wind ripping through his hair along with branches and leaves that made his eyes well with the sting of the cool night air.
The sensation soon became reality as the branch whipped back around, Hiyori’s grip slipped, and Yato was thrown to the base of the Whomping Willow where he rolled into the pit they had been trying to reach.
Yato grunted as he fell hard onto solid earth with a sharp thump. He lay still for a second, cheek pressed against crumbs of dirt and stone before lifting his head slightly and trying to get a look at his surroundings. He became aware of Hiyori’s screams growing nearer.
The sudden impact of someone falling on him winded Yato with a choked groan, head smacked back to the ground once more as he felt Hiyori groan on top of him.
“Hiyori,” Yato breathed into the dirt, “heavy.”
“Sorry,” Hiyori said, bracing her arms either side of Yato and gingerly pushing herself off him. Pain shot through Yato’s shoulder and singed his arm as she moved, hissing with a wince.
“Are you okay?” Hiyori asked, reaching a hand to Yato but recoiling it as he shifted, pushing himself to his feet and holding his arm to his side with a grimace.
“Yeah,” Yato looked around. They were in some sort of den, the ceiling laced with hundreds of roots from the Whomping Willow that crossed and knotted over each other, spidering out like a web.
A passage led out from the chamber, the only source of light – and exit – they had aside from the way they had come in.
Hiyori sidled up to Yato. “Where do you think this goes?”
“I don’t know,” Yato answered.
His hand found Hiyori’s, more to comfort himself than her as they walked through the passage cautiously. Eventually, it gave way to worn steps grey with dust. They moved in silence, only their quiet breaths and muted footsteps echoing through the damp trail.
The steps grew steeper and narrower, forcing them to walk single file until the passage ended with a stone wall and a trap door above their heads. Yato felt around, finding a lever that brought the door down with a crash. Hiyori squeaked and clapped her hands over her mouth.
Yato looked at her. He wished he could smile and say it was okay, but how could he when they were about to walk right into an obvious trap?
The floor was low enough for the pair to lift themselves up, Yato going first with some difficulty as he tried to hide the pain in his arm before pulling Hiyori up. They looked around. Wherever they were, it was abandoned.
Old wood creaked all around them, the tense coil wound so tight inside them that it was impossible not to jump at every groan and squeak of floorboards as they paced through the building.
Furniture lay abandoned in the hallways, caked with spiderwebs and dirt. The dusty floor had been streaked clean in some places with dragging marks and pawprints that led from the trapdoor to the staircase.
Yato’s eyes followed the spiral up, and from above, he could hear a voice. Yukine.
Yato beckoned to Hiyori with an outstretched hand which she took quickly, glancing behind her every few seconds as they tried to keep their footsteps quiet on the stairs.
From the dilapidated window they passed on the first floor, Hiyori could see faint lights littering the night, obscured by a mass that allowed a few to twinkle through the dark. Even if she couldn’t see, Hiyori knew where they were.
“Yato,” Hiyori whispered, “I think this is the Shrieking Shack.”
Yato nodded. He knew some of the secret passages that led to Hogsmeade – such as the one he’d used to sneak Yukine into Honeydukes – but he’d never imaged there would be one hidden under the Whomping Willow, or that it would lead here.
His eyes became level with the second floor and Yato paused, peeking his head between the splintered banisters. Of all the doors, only one was ajar, and when Yato craned his neck he could see a shoe in the crack of the doorway.
A hiss pricked Yato’s ears. Snowbell.
Hiyori’s hand slipped from his, and her whisper and footsteps went unheard as Yato barged into the room.
As decrepit as the rest of the Shrieking Shack, the bedroom was covered in a thick layer of dust which had dark streaks marking where something had been dragged, as well as footprints and pawprints creating hundreds of paths in and out of the room. A collapsing four-poster bed was tucked in the far corner next to the smashed window, whereas on the other side of the room were mismatched furnishings…and Yukine.
Propped on something resembling a chaise lounge which had been torn in half, Yukine’s face was pasty, looking like he was about to be sick or pass out. Blood soaked his trouser leg, half shredded by the teeth that had dragged him to this place as bait, yet Snowbell was still held tightly in his arms. His eyes were glazed as he stared at the forms of Yato and Hiyori rushing forward and crouching in front of him.
Yato held Yukine’s arm, trying to bring him back to the present. He said his name a few times, panic rising in his voice, before he got a response for the question he asked.
“Where’s the wolf?!”
Yukine snapped back to reality, eyes looking past Yato to the doorway. His hand shot out to grab Yato’s shoulder, words coming out garbled in his terror.
“It’s a trap, she’s the wolf, she’s an Animagus!”
They spun around at the sound of a broken latch hitting the door frame with a rattled thump. Hidden, waiting for them and blocking any escape, was the prisoner of Azkaban.
Every inch of her was covered in dirt, her skin tinted with a brown hue that made it look like she had been living in a swamp for a year – perhaps she had. Clothes loosely hung from her sunken frame, sleeves dangling past her wrists and the neckline so torn that it looked like the rag that covered her was about to fall off at any moment. Her long hair resembled a bird’s nest, so dirty and matted it hung in clumps around the back of her head whilst greasy rat tails slipped down to frame her face.
In that moment everything clicked. The Grim, the dog he kept seeing; they were one and the same. They were Sakura.
Yato’s eyes fixed on hers. They would have been beautiful – warm and deep like melted chocolate – if it weren’t for the haunted, unhinged glaze they had. They slid over Hiyori, alighting on her prize as he stumbled to his feet: Yato.
Hiyori’s hand gripped Yato’s arm as she stood to join him, shielding Yukine behind them.
“If you want to kill Yato you’ll have to kill us too!” Hiyori’s grip tightened as she spoke, but the weight of her words outweighed the pain that shot up Yato’s arm.
Yato pushed Hiyori behind him, ignoring how his arm seized up as he did so, forcing it to drop to his side. Yato could feel Hiyori holding onto the back of his jacket, a futile attempt at keeping him away from Sakura.
The odd calmness in Sakura’s voice took them aback, but her words reaffirmed their fears: “Only one will die tonight.”
“Then it’ll be you!” Yato shouted.
Without a thought, he tore himself from Hiyori’s grasp and flung himself at Sakura. The scorching pain blinding his left side and stinging his arm didn’t deter Yato from tackling Sakura to the ground, pinning her beneath him. He dug for his wand.
The instant he procured it from his pocket, it was knocked out of his hand, clattering a few feet away, above Sakura’s head. She grasped for it desperately. Yato pinned her wrists to the hard floorboards, nails digging in painfully in the hope it would stop her from struggling. It did.
“You killed my family, you bitch,” Yato spat.
“I am your family!”
Yato glared at her. Lies, it’s just lies, my family’s dead, my parents are dead, Father said -.
Father. Yato had never trusted Father's words - could it be that he did actually have family he could go back to? Uncertainty wracked Yato. What if everything he knew was a lie?
Sakura could see the doubt in his eyes; his grip remained firm on her slack wrists. “Did they ever tell you why I went to Azkaban?”
Yato glared at her. “Because you’re a Death Eater. You’re with the Sorcerer.”
“I joined them so I could get you back,” Sakura replied. “I did whatever I could to get you out of there, but it was too late.”
“What was too late?”
“To stop him from taking you away from me.”
By ‘he’ Yato could only assume Sakura meant Father, but it made no sense. He had no recollection of family, or of her being a part of it. Only that she was the one who…
Before Yato could ask what the hell she meant, the door burst open and a flash of blue light lit up the room. As it dissipated Yato could see a stocky form blocking the door, wand brandished and aimed at them. Professor Daikoku.
The interruption was all Sakura needed. Yato’s grip had loosened on her in his surprise at the unexpected newcomer, allowing her to strike him under the chin hard enough to knock him off her. Sakura grabbed Yato’s fallen wand and in one fell swoop aimed it straight at Professor Daikoku as he rounded on her.
“Anakatus!”
Yato covered his head as red sparks shot out of the tip of the wand, flashing against the Professor’s chest and throwing him through the door in a shower of splinters. A crack followed as his head connected with the opposing wall, knocking him out cold in the landing.
“Yato!”
Yukine’s warning shout to Yato caused him to look up just in time for him to see Hiyori, wand aimed at Sakura, blasted back as she tried to cover him and Yukine. With a flick of her wrist, Sakura threw Hiyori across the room and onto the four-poster bed, which promptly collapsed on top of her in a heap of drapes and bed frame.
“Hiyori!” Yato shouted. The drapes shifted after a second with a muffled noise, proving that Hiyori was okay but effectively trapped under the wreckage.
Yato’s head snapped back to Sakura as he fumbled to reach Yukine. Unarmed, he could do nothing but stand in front of him and shield him, which proved to be futile as Sakura swept him out of her path with a wordless spell.
Yato groaned, slumped against the wall, his arm burning. Through the fogginess that clouded his vision, he could see Professor Daikoku stirring in the hallway. Hiyori’s shouting for Yato to get up rang in his ears as she freed herself from under the wreckage, snapping Yato back into the room. They were too late. He was too late.
His eyes swam back to Sakura, who was standing above Yukine, Yato’s own wand in her hand about to deliver whatever curse she had in mind.
Sakura’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Yukine. He shifted backward with one arm, whimpering as his leg caught and he balanced precariously on the edge of his seat with nowhere to run and no one to save him. Snowbell spat furiously, face contorted in complete malice under Sakura’s piercing glare.
“Give me the cat.”
Yukine blinked in surprise, not comprehending her words. Yet he wasn’t quick enough to stop Sakura from grabbing Snowbell by the scruff of the neck and walking back into the centre of the room. Yukine shouted, trying to haul himself to his feet but collapsed once more in a pained cry. Sakura raised the wand.
“Don’t move.”
The room froze. Professor Daikoku, blood running down the side of his face, stood in the doorway with his wand aimed squarely at the Sakura’s back.
The stillness of the room seemed unreal, broken by Snowbell’s yowling and thrashing as Sakura kept her fist on his scruff. Hiyori, now standing next to the bed with her wand by her side, exchanged a look with Yato.
If he kills her, I’ll never know the truth.
Yato took a careful step forward, and Professor Daikoku’s eyes darted to him. “Any of you.”
Yato stopped, feeling small under the thunderous look that had taken over the professor’s face. The room was quiet once more; the creaking of the shack faded as if bearing witness to the unfolding events.
“This is an Animagus,” Sakura said quite calmly, yet venom dripped from her words. “I believe you know who he is.”
Very slowly, Sakura tapped the wand on top of Snowbell’s head and dropped him. The scraping of claws on wood as the cat skidded across the room and as far away from Sakura as possible turned into heavier thumps.
Everyone watched as an old-fashioned lamp was knocked over, nearly hitting Yukine. Then there was an almighty crash of china from behind the tapestries that had been flung over the boxes on the far side of the room. A much larger shape than a cat emerged from behind the furniture, hands clawing at his face with pained cries.
Thick locks of grey hair hung around his shoulders, matching the off-white poncho that covered his vanishing tail and mutating hands which retracted their claws but still left scratch marks down his face.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” Yato breathed.
“Professor Kugaha?” Yukine whispered.
Stunned silence filled the room. Hiyori looked at him, agape, whilst Professor Daikoku’s eyes had narrowed and his wand, along with Sakura’s, was now trained on Kugaha.
“I recognised him in Hogsmeade,” Sakura said, slowly circling around to the left. “I’d know that filthy fur anywhere.”
Kugaha spat at her, feline instinct still present. Over a year of living as a fugitive – and in an Animagus state – had taken its toll. Yukine looked like he was going to be sick. The cat he’d rescued, fed, groomed, slept with, was his former teacher.
“He’s been spying on you this whole time,” Sakura continued. She paused by the window, blocking the exit Kugaha had been eyeing. He wouldn’t be able to transform back into a cat, but she didn’t doubt that he would throw himself out of the window if he had the chance.
“Aren’t we the brightest witch of her age?” Kugaha spat before shrinking back from the quick motions of wands being waved at him threateningly. A manic smile found its way onto his face, ludicrous as he chuckled at the turn of events. “Neither of us are leaving here alive, my dear.”
Yato looked equally as astounded as his friends. He knew Kugaha was in allegiance with Father – he’d discovered that the previous year – but if Sakura knew the Sorcerer and Kugaha, there must have been some connection between the three of them and Father. How, Yato didn’t know. The only tie was Kugaha spying on them, as a way for Father to keep an eye on him.
“Enough,” Professor Daikoku growled before Yato could ask any of the burning questions he had. “You’re both coming back to the castle.”
Yato’s blood ran cold when Professor Daikoku wrapped bonds around both Kugaha’s and Sakura’s wrists. His eyes darted to Sakura, who returned the look before flicking the wand back to Yato. She was still a fugitive, and as far as Professor Daikoku was concerned, he’d caught two of the Ministry’s most wanted dark wizards.
“Professor -!” Hiyori interjected, but she was cut off immediately.
“Move.” Professor Daikoku flicked his wand towards the door, motioning for both Kugaha and Sakura to lead the way.
Yato looked back at Yukine helplessly, finding Hiyori was already in the process of helping him stand on his mangled leg. Yato wrapped Yukine’s arm around his shoulders, and together he and Hiyori helped him limp out of the Shrieking Shack.
The walk back through the secret tunnel took twice as long as the first time and was just as quiet. Sakura called an apology to Yukine for biting him, saying that she had intended to rip Kugaha’s throat out but decided it would be better if they talked first.
Yukine muttered that he was bleeding to death, shock from the whole ordeal of being dragged underground by a wolf and then having his pet turn into a human being far too much for him to handle in one day.
The path gave way to the exit beneath the Whomping Willow, though it made no attempt to crush them as Professor Daikoku cast a suspension spell that made its branches relax. He was the first to leave, followed by Kugaha and Sakura.
With difficulty, Yato pulled Yukine behind him, with Hiyori pushing from the back and apologising at every grunt Yukine made as his leg dragged.
Yato and Hiyori gently set Yukine down on a rock a safe distance away from the Whomping Willow. Hiyori gently rolled up his trouser leg, examining the injury with a soothing voice. She produced her wand from her pocket and got to work.
Healing spells were proving to be her speciality. She ordered Yato stay still, knowing that his arm was injured (which was her fault for landing on top of him) and that he needed help. She touched her wand to Yato’s shoulder before he could brush it away, and in a matter of seconds the numbness left his arm. Yato gave Hiyori a small smile which went unnoticed as she turned her attention back to Yukine.
Yato paced to Sakura’s side.
“Why were you sent to Azkaban?” The question was blunt, but in the limited time they had, Yato wanted – no, needed – answers.
Sakura looked at him briefly before letting out a sigh, eyes trailing away to look up across the valley as she spoke.
“I was betrayed by Father when they found out what I was going to do,” Sakura said softly. The memory seemed fresh in her mind as she gazed up at the distant shadow of Hogwarts.
“He had powerful friends, friends that shouldn’t be his friends, that worked their magic and sent me to Azkaban.” She chuckled at her joke, amused eyes finding Yato watching her with a sense of relief.
“So you’re not a real Death Eater?”
“Do I look like a total whacko to you?!” Sakura said indignantly, shaking her tied arms so her sleeve fell to reveal dirty, but tattoo-less skin.
Yato smiled.
“Yato, I hope you know… a Death Eater has no place in this world, even a falsely accused one,” Sakura said, her tone serious. “I don’t know what will happen to me when we get in there, Yato, but–”
“Then run,” Yato pleaded in a low whisper. She looked at him in surprise. “You can take him easily, I saw you, you could escape -”
“I’m tired of running.” Sakura smiled sadly. “I’m staying right here.”
Yato fell silent. That was a blatant lie. The only family he had was going to be taken away, and these were the only few moments he would have with her.
“How are you my family?” Yato asked. He hated that he didn’t know. “Sister? Cousin?”
“We’re not blood-related,” Sakura admitted. “But you’re like my baby brother.”
“Oh.”
They stood in silence, profiles illuminated by faint silvery moonlight that shifted over their faces. Yato took another glance at her, trying to see her as family rather than a stranger. Pale light showed how worn her face had become. Dirt and raggedness and tragic circumstance had taken their toll, but it made her no less beautiful as she stared at the spots of stars in between broken clouds.
“Can I ask you something?”
Sakura looked at Yato, amused. “Yes?”
“Why did you try to break into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin?”
Sakura seemed surprised at the question, but the corners of her lips turned upwards. “I thought you’d be in the good house.”
Yato looked crestfallen. Good house, evil house, smart house, nice house – things that characterised everyone based on what colour they wore.
Sakura caught the long silence and Yato’s eyes dropping to the floor.
“I don’t mean it like that, you know what people think of Slytherin.”
“It’s okay.” Yato tried to brush it off.
Sakura nudged her shoulder against Yato. “I’m happy you’re okay.”
“Well, I have people looking out for me now.” Yato turned his head as he said this, looking back at Hiyori and Yukine. It looked like she was nearly done with his leg; Professor Daikoku stood ready with his wand. “They can’t get rid of me.”
“I don’t think they want to.”
Yato smiled. He hoped they didn’t. More questions bubbled under his tongue, but he held them back, hoping there would be time after tonight to ask them.
“Professor!” Hiyori’s shout jolted Yato and Sakura out of their peaceful silence, spinning around to see her crouched on the ground beside Yukine. At that moment Yato noticed the silvery ties that had kept Kugaha and Sakura tethered to Professor Daikoku shimmer and burst into particles.
Professor Daikoku’s head had rolled back and to the side, transfixed by the moonlight breaking over the valley. His hand dropped to his side, wand falling into the grass. His pupils had dilated, face turning deathly white as tremors began to wrack his body.
Yato and Sakura ran forward, horrified witnesses of the sudden transformation he was undergoing. Out of the corner of his eye Yato spotted Kugaha lunge forward into the grass, picking up a thin object and pointing it at his own head.
“Expelliarmus!” Yato disarmed Professor’s Daikoku’s wand and it flew out of Kugaha’s hand, but it was too late. He transformed, growing fur and his triumphant eyes turning almond-shaped and vanishing through the neck of his poncho.
Yato moved to give chase but felt a tug on his jacket pulling him back. They could only watch as the poncho shifted and a streak of grey took off down the valley, and turn in horror to witness the transformation of their teacher being completed.
Professor Daikoku had doubled over, spine curving hideously and tearing through his clothes until they were nothing more than rags hanging from a painfully thin frame. Bones gave sickening cracks, marking the transition of human to beast. His legs became digitigrade as they thinned, claws tearing his leather shoes to pieces.
His hands had morphed and cracked, fingers too long to be human as the nails turned black and elongated, ripping at his hair which shed and grew wispily over his entire body. The groans and cries morphed into snarls and growls, and when he raised his head, Hiyori screamed.
His face, oh god, his face, deformed like it had been hit at full force as the bone and cartilage broke and rearranged themselves into a snout, mouth splitting with sharp canines and ears pointed backward. He let out a final, pained cry before his head dropped forward, body heaving with the force of the transformation.
The world stopped, bearing witness to the monster in front of them: a werewolf.
Yato took a step forward, but Sakura – who had remained in front of them -put her arm out to stop him. He called out to the creature. “Professor Daikoku?”
The name seemed wrong to say, even though Yato had witnessed his transformation. This wasn’t Professor Daikoku. Yato could see he was gone when he looked up at the yellow eyes filled with animalistic malice, and a sharp-toothed snarl that promised to rip him apart.
Yato tensed up, legs reduced to concrete blocks as he stumbled back. His arms splayed to keep Hiyori and Yukine behind him as the werewolf threw its head back and gave a high, longing howl to the moon.
Its slathering jaws turned back on the group, lanky arm raised high with its claws ready to strike down at Yato.
The blur was too quick to catch as Sakura transformed, a wolf racing in front of them and lunging straight at the werewolf’s throat.
Each of them let out furious snarls and snaps, the sound of clashing of jaws and the thuds of bodies hitting the ground jarring the trio as they looked on in horror. Sakura and the werewolf circled each other, with the former standing in front of him protectively.
The werewolf moved first, eyes wild and charging at the smaller wolf which lunged once again, only for her attack to be deflected and herself tossed over the werewolf’s head with a yelp and hard thump.
The werewolf turned back on the trio but was dragged back by Sakura’s fangs clamping on its skinny arm and thrashing it around as hard as she could. The werewolf roared, and Sakura let go, enticing the wolf to follow her in a game of cat and mouse to take its attention away from the cowering teens.
It worked; the werewolf tore after the lithe wolf, running beyond the Whomping Willow and vanishing down the side of the steep valley.
“Sakura!” Yato shouted. He abandoned all common sense and sprinted after their retreating forms. Evergreen tree branches lashed his face as he ran blindly until he emerged in a clearing, just in time to see the werewolf pick up Sakura and throw her down on a jagged bedrock.
The pained yowl that followed make the pit of Yato’s stomach drop, and the claws about to land the final blow made adrenaline race through him. Yato dropped to the ground, hand fumbling for a rock large enough to throw, and it found its target on the back of the werewolf’s head.
It growled and lowered its hand, glare poisonous as it redirected its attention from Sakura to Yato. It reared higher on its hindquarters, reaching Yato within a few steps. Its claw raised once more, and Yato’s wand failed him when he tried to think of a spell to save himself.
A high-pitched howl beyond the valley rang out, echoing in the werewolf’s ears and taking his entire attention. It came again. The wolf looked at Yato, then back in the caller’s direction. Making its decision, it dropped to all fours and took off through the underbrush, its own howl joining its companions’.
Yato let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
The soft whines and whimpers led him in the direction of Sakura, but before he could call out to her, he saw her form stumble and crash back to the ground. A second later Sakura emerged – human this time – stumbling down the valley.
“Yato!”
He turned, finding Hiyori calling his name, stumbling through thorns and bushes to reach him, followed by Yukine, who was struggling to keep up on his half-healed leg.
Yato looked back toward the valley. Sakura was gone. Cold swept over him, panic setting in as his eyes desperately scanned for any sign of her in the pale moonlight. He looked back at Hiyori and Yukine. They couldn’t come with him - Yukine could barely walk, and the werewolf was still out there - but he needed to find Sakura.
“Wait here!”
Yato could hear Hiyori shouting for him to come back, but he tore through the forest, nearly tripping over twisted roots and his own feet at the speed which he fled through the forest in a desperate search for Sakura.
Dragging marks and ominous dark trails lit his way through the thick trunks of ancient oaks, the steepness levelling out until he was at ground level, calling for Sakura and weaving between the sparser trees until he reached a clearing.
There.
A small lake hidden by the evergreen forest lay in front of him, and on its pebbled shore, Sakura lay unconscious.
The rocks shifted as Yato sprinted to her side, dropping to his knees and shaking her shoulders frantically.
“Sakura, wake up!” Yato called. His alarm only grew as he noticed new injuries on her body.
Small cuts on her face and across her nose showed where the werewolf’s fangs had grazed her, along with deep punctures that Yato could see beneath her torn shirt that darkened the faded material. Three slashes across her chest, dangerously deep and bright with blood seemed to be the worst one, yet she was still breathing – just about.
Yato startled when he saw the short pants of breath that escaped Sakura’s lips turn white, and noticed his own breath fogging in front of him. The sound of soft cracks and pops snapped his attention to the lake.
Ice spread out in all directions, the surface crystallising and freezing solid in a matter of seconds with the sudden change in temperate that sunk into Yato’s skin in a horribly familiar way. Before he could even look around he could see the dark shadows gliding across the ice, a ghostly presence as Yato caught sight of the first Dementor gliding across the surface of the lake. Straight at them.
Its breath became louder as it approached, starting to feed on Sakura, who gave an agonised scream despite her unconscious state.
Yato fell back, grabbing his wand and aiming it at the air. He bellowed the spell as loudly as he could: “Expecto Patronum!”
A familiar silvery web floated from Yato’s wand, spreading and pooling into a shield that covered both him and Sakura. He couldn’t see the Dementors through it, but he could feel them rebound off the positive energy, kept at bay by the charm – until it grew dimmer and sparkled into nothing.
The black, masked face of a Dementor greeted Yato the moment his eyes adjusted to the gloom, the full moon long gone and leaving only shreds of light in its wake, just enough to see the visage of death embrace him.
The scream he let out and the splitting chill that filled his lungs with ice left him staggering backward, but something sturdy yet smaller than him caught him. His ears heard a voice, one that was shouting his name so loudly it was ringing like a bell by the time he came to.
He found his arm draped around Hiyori’s shoulders, one of her hands gripping his arm tightly as she tried to keep him on his feet. Her eyes frantically looked from his face to the wave of Dementors coming for their next meal.
“Hiyori?” Yato slurred. He blinked a few times before realising that it really was her, and that Yukine was nowhere in sight when he looked, rather unfocused, behind her.
“Yato, we have to go!” she pleaded.
“We can’t…!” Yato said. His vision cleared and snapped back to Sakura, who had fallen deathly silent as the Dementors took turns on her, body convulsing with every piece of her soul they chipped away.
New energy surged through Yato, pulling his arm from Hiyori’s shoulders. He wouldn’t let her die. He wouldn’t let anyone die.
“Hiyori, think of something happy!” Yato raised his own wand. “Expecto Patronum!”
The look of sheer determination that met Hiyori when she looked at his profile had her own fear replaced by courage, an unwavering decision to stand by Yato. Her own wand, already in hand, raised level with Yato’s.
“Expecto Patronum!” they chanted at the same time, yet only Yato was able to cast the charm. Hiyori repeated the spell, more forcefully this time, her face twisted in panicked concentration.
“Keep going!” Yato encouraged her. Dementors broke down his shield again, but not as quickly as he put it back up. He could hold them off, but not forever.
“Expecto Patro… Expecto…”
Yato could hear Hiyori’s voice growing weaker. A frantic glance at her showed that she was fading, body wracked with tremors that shook her so violently her grip loosened on her wand and it fell into the bracken.
A Dementor seized the opportunity and caressed her with its hand, drawing a breath that had her scream in pain before her consciousness faltered. Her weight nearly took Yato down as he caught her keeling body, shouting her name and alternating from brandishing his wand at the Dementors and trying to keep Hiyori awake.
It was a losing battle. Hiyori’s eyes rolled under closed eyelids, slipping further out of Yato’s grasp until he couldn’t keep her up any longer and she hit the ground with a soft thud.
A chill swept over Yato, and he felt a Dementor’s breath graze the back of his neck.
No…
His hand shook, the spell dying on his lips as he looked up in time to see another Dementor glide past him and draw a rattling breath that blackened the corners of Yato’s vision. He fell to his knees, unable to feel anything or summon the strength to raise his wand.
“Expecto… Expecto…” he choked, but the words were useless without a happy memory. It didn’t matter; the spell was constantly stolen by the Dementors as they took their time feeding on him and the fading souls in front of him.
It’s dark… Yato whimpered. The forms of Hiyori and Sakura dimmed until they were distant shapes, until Yato couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed.
Every despaired emotion leaked through the chink the Dementors had created in Yato’s armour. Every powerless moment Yato had ever lived resurfaced and threatened to drown him with the crushing weight of his own failure.
Yukine… Sakura… Hiyori…
White pierced his vision, claiming his senses in a serene light that flooded everything both around and inside of him, making the wetness on his cheeks feel like the remnants of a bad dream. The thundering rush of blood to his head left in an instant, and with no strength left to comprehend the source of the fading light, he fell into an abyss.