8 ~ Aquila

The stone beneath me was cold, yet colder still was the thought that fate had already decided how this story would end.

     Panting, I ran through countless corridors. They were all empty, except for the talking portraits that shouted at me not to run through the halls. I did not listen to them.     Pain dominated my body. With every step my left thigh throbbed. Warmth rose into my neck, then into my head. My feet and hands grew icy cold.     I told myself that it would soon end, yet it was useless. I had never had luck; it had always gone downhill.     My head pounded, my legs stopped obeying me. They began to tingle strangely and grow numb. I became slower and slower and my breathing came in sharp bursts over my dust-dry lips. Black spots danced before my eyes, mocking me.          I fell.     Pain surged through me. The air I needed to breathe was denied to me. I had struck the stone floor face first and something warm, wet ran over my left eyebrow. I failed to push myself upright, for my feet gave way beneath my weight once again. This time I landed on my knees.          My right hand found its way to my forehead.     I flinched and a groan of pain slipped from my lips. Upon my hand glistened a red, sticky liquid. Everything spun around me and the corridor threatened to disappear. I had left the stairs behind me, yet here as well no exit was in sight.

"Do not give up. Get up, damn you, or they will come for you."

     I gathered all my remaining strength and staggered to my feet. The soles of my bare feet touched the cold, grey stone floor.      Because of the cold, goosebumps spread over my entire body in an instant. Trembling, I moved slowly forward, careful to notice every tiny, harmless-sounding noise around me.

"Survive."

     The voice in my head had never been wrong. I had to fight or die. There was nothing in between.     Once more I fell to my knees, sensed that they were already bruised; the thin grey trousers offered no padding. A dry cough tore through my body and made it tremble.

I cannot go on.Once again I have failed...

     At last I lay on the ground and drifted away. My cursed fate had won, forced me to my knees. My eyelids grew heavy, all pain fading away.

Remus' POV:

     Lost in my thoughts, I followed after her, my friends directly behind me. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey had joined us from the third staircase onward and were already engaged in a heated discussion about how the girl had managed to slip past them unnoticed from the Hospital Wing.           The girl with the fiery red hair.     She had fled to the third floor. Fear drove her onward. Understandable, when one awoke in a completely unfamiliar place. I did not want to imagine it.     I knew only the feeling after full moon. Waking and not knowing what had happened. Unbearable pain plagued you and you needed several moments before your mind felt ordered again.      For the girl it had to be similar. Only that nearly a week had passed since full moon - only not for her.     Even I felt with every step how my injuries began to ache again. Yet I did not stop, although Dumbledore and Pomfrey had everything under control. In the end I blamed myself that she was here.     When she had crashed into me, I had not been able to comprehend it at first. Her ocean-blue eyes - so alive - had drilled straight into mine. I had wanted to do something, yet I had not been capable of it. It had been like a bad dream. Frozen in place, I had lain on my back.     My friends had fared no differently.

No one had done anything.

     We turned the next corner. When we entered another corridor, we all stopped. It seemed as if some force had halted us at once, to show us the sight before us. A slender figure lay ahead. The girl seemed to have fallen and fainted.     "Oh dear, by Merlin's will!" Madam Pomfrey was clearly shocked and ran towards the girl, dropping to her knees beside her, her dress rustling softly.      Dumbledore and the rest of us did the same and we approached the girl. With an uneasy feeling in my stomach, I watched Madam Pomfrey as she examined the unconscious child.     Yet Hogwarts' nurse breathed out in relief. With still startled eyes she looked at the Headmaster of Hogwarts and raised her voice: "It appears that she collapsed only from exhaustion. I feared that she might have sustained further injuries and worsened the others. Yet she seems stable, aside from a small cut upon her forehead."     Relief washed through me and I exhaled almost silently.          I must have been holding my breath the entire time.     It did not take long before the first gawking witches and wizards appeared in the corridor. Not only we had chased after the girl, but more had joined when they saw the agitated Headmaster and Pomfrey.

Everyone loves drama...The thought passed bitterly through my mind.

     Dumbledore, today in a light blue robe with silver stars and a matching hat, looked over his half-moon spectacles and raised his powerful voice: "Move along, there is nothing to see here!" A tone rang within his voice that left no room for argument. "The next lesson will begin soon, off with all of you to class!"     The gathered students obeyed, though not without loud whispering. When they had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to us: "One might think that you four are truly magnets for every excitement within this school, my gentlemen," he said, his eyes sparkling. "Now then, you also return to your lessons. However, Mister Lupin, you will assist in carrying the girl back to the Hospital Wing. Missing one lesson will harm you the least."     And once he finished speaking, youthful mischief glittered in Dumbledore's eyes, which caused my friends a moment to process that the Headmaster had just indirectly insulted them. Sirius, James and Peter followed the wizard's instructions, yet I remained with Dumbledore and Pomfrey.     Of course I knew that Dumbledore wished to speak with me. He would likely ask how I was feeling.     It would be just like him.

     In the Hospital Wing my suspicion proved correct, for once the girl lay back in her bed, Pomfrey and Dumbledore asked how I was.      I spoke with Dumbledore about fate and about the concept of guilt, that I would rather have fled. I would have liked to tell him to his face that I understood the girl. Like her, I would have run.     While Dumbledore spoke with Pomfrey, I used the opportunity and went to the girl's bed. It was only a matter of time before Dumbledore would send me back to class.     When I reached the bed, I noticed that the girl was no longer unconscious. Her eyes were closed, yet her mind was awake, since she slept restlessly. A long, thin scar upon her right cheek marked her face.          Not the mark of claws, more as if a knife had been used.     It became clear to me that this girl would likely be the greatest mystery I would ever encounter in my life.

Unknown POV:

     The snow was cold beneath me, yet I barely felt it. Everything roared - my blood, my breath, my heartbeats. The snapping of twigs and branches was too loud, far too loud.     Before me he stood, a threat. A shadow, dark eyes, almost green. Furious, like flames.          We circled one another.     My family was with me. They shouted, snarled and wanted him gone. This was not his home, not his forest. It did not belong to him, yet why was I so weak? Why did I not attack him?     My muscles burned, my throat vibrated with a growl, yet there was no emptiness within me. I knew what I was doing. I knew what I was. And that frightened me more than the teeth that snapped at me.     Blood sprayed, fur scattered. A pain in my side.          This was my end, I knew it.

     The images shattered and I gasped desperately for air. My heart raced and I trembled.     Blinking, I recognised where I was. I lay once more in that bed, in that strange room within the castle.          And I was not alone.     When I jerked upright, he was there. His eyes were no longer black; now they were green. He was no longer the shadow, but the boy upon whom I had fallen. The reason why I was here.          He was like me.     The images in my mind blurred again, yet that was nothing new. I would first have to grow used to my condition once more.     The strange boy seemed to notice my tension, for he quickly disappeared around the corner. I fell back into my pillow and let the events replay in my mind. Another escape seemed impossible at that moment.          So I stared at the curved ceiling, yet with my keen hearing I could hear what the boy said to someone: "Madam Pomfrey, she is awake!"     A few seconds later the woman hurried in. The boy walked beside her, and when the woman I recognised tried to examine the cut upon my forehead, I flinched. In a flash I seized her wrist.          She froze.     We remained like that for a moment, until suddenly an old man with a long white beard and half-moon spectacles upon his nose appeared around the same corner. His blue robe swept across the floor, his bright eyes studied me. His gaze met mine and I hesitated. He radiated authority.     Slowly I released the woman's wrist and sat upright, yet remained cautious.

"Never be powerless."

     The old man smiled gently at me and his gaze rested upon me, yet everything unsettled me. The woman disappeared, greeting the old man beforehand with a slight nod.          "Professor Dumbledore," the boy addressed the man.     "Mister Lupin," the man replied, then he looked towards me and continued: "Ah, I nearly forgot to introduce myself. My name is Albus Dumbledore. And what is your name, if I may ask? I am sorry for what has happened to you. It should have happened differently. That is entirely my fault."          A smile played about his lips.     I was confused and pulled the blanket closer around me, using it as a shield. I had not expected to be greeted so kindly. After all, these were the people who lived in this castle.          I did not want to answer them.     "I know that you are upset," this Dumbledore continued, "yet your name is important information. I am aware that you do not know where you are at this moment. I will explain it to you, but in the meantime I could contact your relatives."     My family was gone.

Now there is only me.

     I looked down at my hands. Still I did not want to answer. I did not want to remember my name, wanted all of this to be nothing more than a dream.          But it was not.          I could not change the past, would have to live with it.     So I looked into the bright eyes of the old man. Something stirred within me, for a moment my fear faded and I did something I had not done in a long time; I raised my voice.          "Phil..." it was rough and barely more than a whisper, yet the two of them understood me.     "An interesting name for an interesting girl, though surely that is not your full name, is it?" The man, Dumbledore, raised his right brow and he was correct. I bit my lower lip, yet now I had already spoken, which meant there was no turning back.          "M-my name..." I began, "Philomela A-Aquila..." I murmured with a stutter and a knowing expression appeared upon Dumbledore's face.     "I suspected as much, an Aquila," he seemed to know something that was denied to me. "Well then. Welcome, Phil, to Hogwarts, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And remember - names are like stars. Some shine brightly, some have long faded, yet their light still reaches us. Whether they guide us or lead us astray is not decided by the star, but by the traveller who follows it."

Remus' POV:

     After this eventful day, I was certainly not the only one at Hogwarts who had too many questions about the mysterious girl, yet I was the only one who was racking his brain over it to such an extent.     Unfortunately, I was a person haunted by all kinds of thoughts, just as in this very moment. It was the evening of that same day and we were sitting in the Gryffindor common room around the fireplace.      Prongs and Padfoot were playing Wizard Snap, while Peter was reading through his Transfiguration essay, in which I had marked my suggestions for improvement. The somewhat chubby boy ran a hand through his hair and nodded after reading through the essay.          "Yes, that makes more sense," he murmured, "Thanks, Remus."     "No problem," I replied and while Wormtail set to work rewriting his essay, which he would have to hand in tomorrow, I once more thought about the girl. Her escape through Hogwarts had drawn much attention, yet even more than that, her surname interested me.

Aquila?

     It meant nothing to me, unlike for Dumbledore. As a half-blood, I had not been raised in a way that taught me much about the family names of the wizarding world. I could have thought about it until collapsing from exhaustion.      Luckily for me, among my friends were two pure-bloods, and Padfoot had certainly been forced as a child to know everything about the most important families. James also knew a great deal.          "What does the family name Aquila tell you?" I asked in the next moment.     At once Sirius' house of cards collapsed. He did not even flinch, for his grey eyes were fixed upon me. James also looked at me as if I were mad to even ask such a question.           I did not know why I should not have asked it.      The two boys were lit from the side by the glow of the fireplace, and after exchanging a glance with one another, they looked back at me with raised brows.     "Wait, you mean that seriously, don't you?" Sirius asked.          "Otherwise I would not have asked the question, would I?" I sighed. Sirius let himself drop onto his backside and pulled his legs into a cross-legged position.     "Padfoot asked because, well, yes..." James tried to find the right words.     "Ethan J. Aquila was, perhaps still is, the accomplice of Fenrir Greyback," Sirius explained quietly, and at the mention of Greyback everything inside me tightened.     "Accomplice? More like the head of that dreadful group, more of a sect," James corrected, "at least that is what my parents taught me, but we thought, erm, that you surely knew, because you, erm, you know-"          "Yes, because Greyback bit me, I know," I sighed and since no one was near us, I had spoken it aloud, of course only in a whisper.     "Yes, exactly." Padfoot nodded.          I let myself fall back into the sofa. For a moment it was quiet and the crackling of the fire in the hearth could be heard more clearly. It was already late, yet since tomorrow was Friday, we did not care.          "No, I do not know who this Ethan J. Aquila is. My father never spoke about such matters, for the well-known reasons," I said and looked down at my legs.      My feet were crossed and my arms folded in front of my chest. I was still wearing my uniform, though I had already taken off my cloak and tie.     For a moment I thought about my father and how much he tried to avoid the subject of my being a werewolf. I knew that my father, who worked at the Ministry, had wished nothing but a living death upon werewolves, Greyback in particular, and likely still did, and that I had therefore been bitten in revenge.      In that way my father had been confronted with what he hated. Because of that, the subject of my lycanthropy infection was avoided. That the atmosphere at home was the best imaginable was clear, clearly in a sarcastic sense.

My parents act as if I were a normal boy.Ridiculous...

     "So who is this Aquila now? Is there more information?" I continued, looking up from my feet. James was shuffling the cards again and Sirius answered me: "It is known that he was a werewolf and that he founded a group with Greyback to create more werewolves until the Wizarding World would recognise them as equals. Ethan J. Aquila was and perhaps still is their leader."          "Why perhaps?"     "Because no one has heard anything of him for almost exactly fifteen years. He vanished and many assume that he is dead, perhaps killed by Greyback because he wanted power in his place."     "There are many rumours about him."          "And those would be?" I looked at James, who continued speaking: "As Padfoot said, he was a werewolf, yet according to reports, he seems to have been able to transform at any time."     "Stupid rumours, that is what my parents called them, and they labelled Ethan J. Aquila a lunatic and the others madmen who believed in such things," Sirius scoffed. "How could he possibly have done that?"     "Through some potions and spells, dark rituals," James continued unconcerned, "although there may be something to your words. The sources that speak of it also said other illogical things; such as that Aquila was a world-walker or that he eats newborns for breakfast."     "Yes, illogical, but that is unimportant. Why did you ask at all, Moony?" Sirius looked at me and Peter also glanced up briefly.          I sighed. "When I was in the hospital wing today, the girl spoke briefly with Dumbledore and told him her name. Her name is Philomela Aquila."     "No bloody way?!" was James' first reaction.          I rolled my eyes. "No, you know, I just made that up especially for you."     "Now it makes sense at least," Sirius said, "if she is related to that Aquila, perhaps his daughter, then that explains why she is at least a werewolf. Either since birth or bitten by her father, because he was a psychopath."          "Yes, that explains those questions, but not why the girl has a pack at full moon and looks as if she has never been in civilisation before." I looked at all of them and my friends fell silent.     No one knew what lay behind this Phil, yet I knew that she had not only awakened my own interest. This girl was like me, and already I was aware that much would happen in the near future.      And I was right.