"What should we do then?!" Harry said, frustrated.
Hermione racked her brains, trying to think of a way to alert Vincent without any major interference. As Vincent took cover around a tree, she noticed a small bulge in one of his pocket. Her eyes lit up as she turned to Harry.
"Harry, listen to me," she said urgently.
...
Vincent winced as the tree he was hiding behind had the bottom blow up in a cloud of splinters, scratching his face. He ran as the tree, now unstable, started tilting towards him, crashing into the ground and creating a cloud of dust. Not having any time to rest, Lupin lunged out of the dust cloud, mouth wide open, only to see a small white vial enter it's mouth.
"Sorry Professor," Vincent muttered as he heard the crunch of glass, making the Werewolf stagger from the pain as blood dripped from it's maw. It shook its head, turning to him, baring its teeth, now blood red. "The Sleep potion seems ineffective. Just made it mad."
From his pocket, he felt movement and panicked—thinking that Peter might have woken up and was struggling free. It turned out to just be Blimp as it slithered out and looked to a part of the forest. It seemed to be listening to something.
"Blimp, what—?" Vincent was stopped short as the Werewolf approached, swiping it's claws at him. All he could do was duck and parry with his rods, causing no small amount of strain to his arms. As it once again lunged with it's mouth, Vincent ducked, grabbing it's legs and pulling back hard. The werewolf fell back awkwardly as Vincent used the opportunity to get on top and strike its face with his rods.
SMACK! CRACK! CRACK!
As he continued with his seemingly endless attacks, Blimp made its way, unnoticed, to where it heard something, a strange hissing tone.
...
Harry stopped hissing and looked at Hermione. "Is that enough?"
"That's enough," Hermione held onto Buckbeak's rope tight, her knuckles turning white. She steeled her sight away from Vincent's fight and took a deep breath. "If you want to see who did that patronus, we better go now."
Harry looked towards that swarm of dementors in the lakes direction, where he, Hermione, and Sirius from the present were. Looking back at Vincent, Harry's face had a conflicted expression.
"What about Vincent?" Harry asked concerned
"He'll be fine," said Hermione, seeming like she was trying to convince herself as much as Harry.
Harry just went silent, after some thinking, he nodded and started running towards the lake.
"He'll be fine, right?" Hermione muttered with Buckbeak squawking at her silently. She tugged on the rope to lead it away from the scene. Her eyes furrowed at her final thought. "Where's Arnya?"
Several seconds later, a small pink snake approached the spot, finding nothing but a torn off piece of parchment.
...
Vincent felt his arms burn with the amount of pain they were in from the impact of each strike. The werewolf's face and skull were incredibly tough, making him feel as if he were hitting a stone wall.
"Go to sleep already," Vincent thought with frustration as he felt the werewolf struggle underneath him, flinching at every hit. It's eyes started rolling back, making Vincent feel hope. "Almost there..."
However, it didn't seem like Vincent was getting off that easy. With great difficulty, the werewolf spat at Vincent, blinding him with it's own blood. As Vincent flinched back, the werewolf grabbed Vincent's throat and shakily started to stand up. It staggered with dizziness, trying to regain it's bearing as Vincent started to turn red due to the lack of air. He reached into his pouch to get another potion only for the werewolf to grab it and throw it to the ground,. A low growl came from it's mouth as it looked at him, straight in the eye. Helpless, Vincent watched it open its mouth once again, ready to take a bite out of him.
BANG!
...
Arnya looked down on the forest from the top of Hogwarts, pointing her gun in Vincent's direction. She got ready to shoot again when a voice came through her mind.
"What are you doing?" Its tone was deep and calm.
Arnya stared at Vincent who fell to the ground.
"I'm just observing," she answered.
"As expected," the voice echoed in her mind. "Observe, whether he succeeds or fails, it matters not to you, understand?"
The voice faded from her mind. She closed her eyes to calm her thoughts before opening them again, lowering her gun. Her scarlet eyes seemed lifeless, holding no will of their own.
Just like the time when she met Vincent.
...
Vincent ran, grabbing the dropped pouch and leaving the werewolf behind to nurse it's wounded hand. Soon enough, Vincent couldn't hear the whining anymore.
He rubbed his throat, sore from the grab before as he looked at his pouch, torn from the werewolf's claws.
"It's not working right anymore," Vincent muttered as he looked in the empty pouch. He couldn't pull anything out of it, leaving him with only his rods as a final means of defense.
"There's no time, I have to help Sirius," Vincent got up, only to feel a little dizzy. He fell to his knee as he held his head. A loud static like sound went through his head, causing no small amounts of pain as he gritted his teeth. "Come on, don't let this stop you."
Vincent tried to get up again, only fail. He sat with his back to the tree as he waited for the headache to pass.
"Why didn't Arnya fire again—" Vincent muttered unconsciously before stopping. He just remembered what Arnya looked like during the holidays, after saving Vincent from Roden. Confused, unsure of herself, Vincent could guess why.
"What the hell am I doing?" he chuckled as he looked up at the night sky.
He tried to get up, using the tree to steady himself before something soft smacked into the back of his head, making him fall.
"What the—? Blimp?" Vincent muttered as the sound faded from his head. He spotted Blimp holding a ripped piece of parchment between it's teeth. "What's this?"
Sitting against the tree again, he looked at the parchment, feeling thankful for his night vision to still be in effect as he read through the note.
"Hermione's handwriting?" he thought with a frown as he read each word.
"Sirius captured...tower...bring Peter there at this time..."
"This is..." Vincent's mind was fuzzy, still recovering from the headache from before. He couldn't think straight, as he tried to piece together how and why Hermione sent this letter to him. "Why is everything so confusing?"
Before Vincent could come to an answer, Blimp snatched and turned the parchment, showing a few words on the back:
"Don't think too much about it, just trust me."
Vincent went silent as he read the note. After a while of thinking, he tapped his pocket. "Nyx, how much longer till I have to save Sirius?"
Nyx flew out, taking a look at the parchment. A small light lit up at it's fingers as it wrote on it.
"A bit over half hour eh? That should be fine," said Vincent. He tapped the parchment. "Nyx, can you write something else for me?"
...
"—?"
Arnya stiffened as a flicker of blue burst into her vision, a tiny pixie darting straight toward her.
"Nyx?"
The pixie barely slowed, dropping a folded scrap of parchment into Arnya's lap before zipping away again. Frowning, Arnya picked it up.
"Hermione's handwriting…?" Her brows knit. "Why would Vincent send this here?"
She turned the parchment over.
Beneath Hermione's neat, urgent Trust me was a second line—messier, unmistakably Vincent's.
I'll be fine. What do you want for breakfast when I get back?
Arnya stared at the words for a long moment. Slowly, something eased in her chest, a faint warmth returning to her eyes. She looked up again, toward the distant figure of Vincent—now pushing himself upright, a crooked, almost apologetic smile on his face, as though he knew she was watching.
"…Pancakes would be nice," she murmured.
Her guns lowered, tension bleeding from her stance as she watched him rise to meet the oncoming werewolf.
And so, the Observer watches.
Watches as the young Muggle takes his stand against the approaching monster.
"This feeling… " she wondered, quiet and unfamiliar. "Is this what they call faith?"
...
Vincent took a deep breath as he got up. "Trusting you Hermione. Piece of cake, right?"
Hearing a crunch, he glanced to the side, spotting a wolf like man approaching him with one of its arms drenched in blood. It glared at him with an intense look of hunger as it moved forward, step by step.
"Guess you're not letting me off that easy," Vincent said under his breath and he readied his rods. He checked his pocket to make sure Peter was still there before facing the werewolf. "Professor, if you can hear me, sorry, but I'm going to beat the crap out of you."