Written in the Stars - From the Shadows (Part One)

From the Shadows (Part One)

“Crucio!” the Dark Lord spat, revelling in the screams of agony he tore from Lucius.

The man cowered on the floor, trembling uncontrollably. Even when Voldemort ended the curse, Lucius continued to whimper.

“You have become rather useless to me,” the Dark Lord sighed as he stepped around the prone form of his follower. “You failed to secure the prophecy, and now you cannot even rig an election. Tell me, Lucius, what purpose do you serve?”

“My Lord, Potter…”

“CRUCIO!”

Lucius’s words were replaced with another offering of screams and pleading for mercy.

“I am not interested in Potter!” Voldemort seethed. “The boy has been involved in politics for all of five minutes, and you cannot even stifle his efforts. Now, we have a Minister who is not sympathetic to our cause and has already undone all of your work.”

The Dark Lord threw to copy of The Daily Prophet to the floor.

Cassiopeia Black had been in office for less than a day and she had already repealed the Magical Registration Act, vowing to destroy all records that had been gathered thus far.

It would only be the beginning, and though he had hoped to conduct most of his takeover from the shadows, it would no longer be possible.

Politically, he had been castrated, and the only hope the Dark Lord had for success was to destroy his enemies until they cowered before him, pleading for their lives, just as Lucius was doing now.

“Pathetic,” Voldemort muttered. “Get out of my sight, Lucius, and think yourself fortunate that you find yourself able to do so.”

Lucius all but scrambled from the room as quickly as his tortured body would allow him, and the Dark Lord took his seat and a few calming breaths.

There was nothing for it.

No matter how much he pondered his predicament, he reached the same conclusion.

It was inevitable that he would have to make his presence known.

“Macnair?”

“Yes, My Lord?” the man asked as he entered the room.

“I have received word that Greyback will reach the coast of France tomorrow. See that he and his pack reach England without being detected.”

“Of course, My Lord,” Macnair complied immediately.

“Do not let me down, Walden,” Voldemort warned. “There have been too many failings recently, and no more will be tolerated.”

Macnair swallowed deeply before nodding and taking his leave of the room.

Even since Potter had returned to England, the Dark Lord’s efforts were amounting to little, and now, the boy had managed to manipulate the Wizengamot into doing his bidding.

He would need to be dealt with.

As young as he was, Potter was proving to be his greatest threat, and as they did whenever his thoughts drifted to the boy, the prophecy was soon his point of focus.

He had still failed to obtain it, and the more Potter proved himself a worthy foe, the more the need grew to hear it in full.

Nodding to himself, Voldemort concocted a plan, one that would not only test the limits of the prophecy, but one that would get the attention of Britain as a whole.

(Break)

Cassiopeia scowled as Gellert laughed uproariously, his eyes watering with glee as he was doubled over from the amusement he felt.

“Are you done?” she huffed irritably.

It took several moments for the man to compose himself, and he wiped a tear from his eye as he did his best not to succumb to another bout of laughter.

“He made you Minister of Magic?”

Cassiopeia nodded, glaring at Gellert, daring him to laugh again.

“I’m sorry, but this is the best thing he has ever done,” he declared triumphantly. “The boy should be given a medal for that accomplishment.”

“It is not funny!” Cassiopeia growled. “I could honestly throttle him for this.”

Gellert chuckled once more before holding up his hands placatingly.

“Who else would he trust with something so important?” he asked. “Come on, my dear, you are perfect for the position. You are incorruptible, you come from a powerful family, and you will do what is necessary.”

Cassiopeia hated when Gellert was right about anything involving Harry, but she could not deny he had made good points.

“I don’t know if I am up to it,” she sighed.

“Of course you are,” Gellert returned simply. “You just need to surround yourself with those that share your interests and be rid of the rest.”

“Bones said the same thing,” Cassie muttered.

She had taken Harry’s advice and met with the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before any other, and though they would never become friends, Amelia Bones seemed willing to help Cassie find her feet in her new position.

Already, she had fired four of Fudge’s team and would be replacing them soon enough, amongst the other seemingly endless tasks she had to complete.

“Then you should have every faith in yourself that Harry does,” Gellert advised. “You will be fantastic at this, Cassie; better than you think you will be. Harry would not have done what he has if he didn’t feel it necessary. He trusts you with his life, and to do what needs to be done.”

Cassiopeia nodded reluctantly.

“Any advice?” she snorted.

“You do not need it, my dear,” Gellert offered comfortingly. “You know what to do, and I have no doubt that you will do it well. How is Harry? I have not seen him for some time.”

“Busy,” Cassiopeia snorted. “He still feels the need to take on the world, but he seems to be doing better since his friends arrived.”

“They are loyal to him,” Gellert pointed out with a smile. “He has a way of inspiring loyalty, and it will serve him well. You seem to have your concerns.”

Cassie released a deep breath.

“He seems to be rather taken with one of them; a vampire.”

“I see,” Gellert murmured. “You were hoping that he would marry a pureblood.”

“I can’t say that I wasn’t under that impression,” Cassie sighed. “He knows his responsibilities, Gellert.”

“But this is something you could not enforce,” Gellert pointed out.

“No, and it isn’t that I dislike the girl, but what kind of future can they have together? She is an immortal creature, and he is…”

“Harry,” Gellert broke in. “Powerful wizards live for a long time, my dear. With every choice Harry has had taken from him, do you not think he should have at least this one?”

“He should,” Cassiopeia agreed. “Bones mentioned discussing a contract for her niece. I do not believe it to be her trying to obtain any influence, but more to preserve her line. Amelia and the girl are all that is left.”

Gellert shook his head.

“Harry will never agree to it out of principle. His parents did not have a contract, and I expect it will be one of the things he wishes to emulate.”

“Can vampires even have children?” Cassie asked curiously.

“They can,” Gellert replied thoughtfully. “It is rare for such a thing to happen, but it is not impossible. Perhaps you should discuss it with them if you believe they are intent on one another.”

Cassiopeia snorted.

“They both need their heads banging together,” she grumbled. “They dance around each other, but you cannot miss the way she looks at him. It goes both ways, Gellert. He is besotted with her, even if he won’t admit it to himself.”

“Then you should give them time.”

Cassiopeia hummed.

She did not quite understand the dynamic between Harry and Lucinda.

Everyone who lived in Grimmauld Place knew that their relationship was physical, but there seemed to be something preventing either of them discussing what they felt for one another.

It was frustrating to say the least, and Cassie thought it was perhaps Harry struggling to choose between what he truly wanted, and his responsibilities.

Regardless, they would need to figure things out on their own.

Cassiopeia had more pressing matters to focus on, after all.

(Break)

“Smell it, you bitch!” Fenrir commanded, ramming the woman’s face into the ground as he held on to a handful of her hair. “That is the smell of your boy! He has taken my prisoner!”

“Cain would never,” the woman protested weakly.

“He is a traitor,” Fenrir snapped, pulling the woman to her feet before striking her with the back of his hand. “I WANT HIM FOUND, NOW!”

“Please, there must be some kind of mistake,” the woman pleaded. “He loves you, Fenrir. He would never do this!”

Fenrir spat on the woman before stomping away.

“I WANT LUPIN ALIVE! THE BOY IS YOURS TO DO WITH AS YOU PLEASE!”

The pack quickly worked themselves into a frenzy as they broke up into hunting parties, and Fenrir grinned to himself.

They wouldn’t get far, not with his pack tracking them down.

(Break)

Cain did not know how many miles he had walked, but he had pressed on towards the smell of the sea, until his legs could no longer carry him and he was forced to stop.

“I think you’re as mad as Harry,” Remus croaked.

The man had regained consciousness a few hours after the sun had risen, and though his condition was already improving, he was still in no fit state to walk.

Not knowing what else Cain could do for him, he had heavily bandaged his healing legs, and fed him another cocktail of potions.

It wouldn’t be enough to heal Remus fully, but it would help.

“I’ve spent too much time around him,” Cain snorted. “The world would be a much better place with more people like him in it.”

“He’s made quite the impression on you. There’s not many who would turn away from the safety of such a large pack.”

Cain merely shrugged as he picked at some grass.

“Why aren’t you part of a pack?” he asked curiously.

“I was,” Remus replied sadly, “but it all fell apart the night James and Lily died. Sirius, Peter, and James were my pack, just like Harry and your friends are yours.”

Cain smiled at the thought of the others.

They were his pack, more than Greyback and the rest of the werewolves ever had been.

“We’re not going to make it to safety before the sun sets,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. “They’ll already be looking for us, and they cover more ground.”

Remus nodded his agreement.

“Then you should go,” he urged. “There’s no point in both of us dying.”

“Fuck that,” Cain chuckled humourlessly as he stood and began pulling a protesting Remus back onto his shoulders. “I came here to get you, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. Come on, we can’t just give up yet. Harry wouldn’t.”

Again, despite the exhaustion, he walked.

Every step was a battle in itself, but the smell of the sea was growing stronger.

He did not know what he would do when and if he reached the coast of France, but the thought of doing so was what kept him going.

It was an hour or so later that Cain had to stop once more.

If he listened hard enough, he was certain he could hear the lapping of the waves in the distance.

“I don’t know if I can go any further,” he panted.

He could no longer feel his legs, and his shoes had filled with blood from his efforts.

“You could without me,” Remus huffed.

“I already told you I’m not leaving you behind!” Cain snapped irritably. “Sorry,” he added. “The full moon.”

Remus nodded his understanding.

“It gets a little easier the more you experience it,” he comforted.

“Thanks to Harry, I’ve not had to,” Cain snorted, “but it does raise a problem.”

“What problem?”

“How are we going to react to each other when we transform, if we can avoid the pack before that happens?”

Remus swallowed deeply.

“I don’t know,” he said gravely. “We do not see each other as packmates…”

Cain rubbed his eyes tiredly.

It was another thing he had not considered before rescuing Remus, but the more the afternoon past them by, the more of a reality it became.

Nodding to himself, he cast a numbing charm on his feet and lifted Remus from the ground.

“What are you doing?” the man demanded.

Cain could only shake his head in response as he ploughed forward, knowing he would pay the price for his stubbornness if they made it out of this alive.

“I need to find somewhere to hide you, so that you will be safe,” he answered.

“What do you mean?”

Cain said nothing else on the matter, choosing to focus his efforts on to doing just as he’d explained.

Much to his relief, his assumption that they were close to the coast proved to be correct, and in only a couple of hours more struggling at a much slower pace than he would have liked, they reached the beach.

“In there,” Cain declared, nodding towards a small cave that was tucked in between some protruding rocks.

“We will be pinned down in there,” Remus said worriedly.

“But you will be safe,” Cain returned.

With much effort, he managed to slide Remus into the crevice.

It was a tight fit, but once he was through, there was a little more room so that he would be able to remain comfortable for the duration.

“This won’t keep me in,” Remus sighed. “I’ll be able to break out of this.”

Cain shook his head as he removed his trunk from his pocket.

Having resized it, he removed a single vial of smoking potion.

“Wolfsbain!”

Cain nodded before handing it to Remus.

“It will keep you in if you are not trying to break out,” he explained.

“But it won’t keep anything out.”

Cain merely offered him a pointed look, and Remus frowned at the potion, his gaze shifting towards Cain in realisation.

“What about you?”

“It will be up to me to act as a distraction,” Cain explained. “They’re coming. I can smell them getting closer.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Remus grumbled as he tried to move, yelping in pain.

“Well, it’s not like you can do it,” Cain snorted. “Here,” he said, offering the older werewolf his wand. “Take the potion and barricade yourself in as best you can. I’ll do my best to keep them away from you.”

Remus shook his head.

“No, I can’t do…”

“Yes you can!” Cain snapped, his temper getting the better of him. “Now isn’t the time to be a noble fool. Just do as I say. I have a much better chance of getting away from them than you.”

It was clear that Remus wanted nothing more than for Cain to take his place, but the boy was stubborn and would have none of it.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agreed, “but only because I think you might actually be able to pull it off.”

With little more than a nod, Cain turned his back on Remus and walked for a while across the breadth of the beach.

He had never been to the coast before, and if he was to die here tonight, he couldn’t think of a more beautiful place to meet his end.

He watched as the sky shifted through various shades of blue, pink and orange as the sun set, and when it eventually disappeared over the horizon and took the final vestiges of what little warmth it gave with it, Cain felt a chill set in.

It wasn’t the cold that bothered him, but the distant screams and howls that sounded an inordinate amount of time later.

The pack was close.

With a howl of his own, he collapsed on all fours as the agony began tearing through him, and the last thing he remembered before his mind was consumed by his inner wolf was the smell of the salt he had quickly grown fond of.

(Break)

Lucinda hadn’t known what to think when Harry had returned from the Wizengamot meeting, announced that somehow Cassiopeia was now the Minister of Magic, and that he wished for her and the others to act as her personal guard.

At first, she had thought he had done so to put some distance between them.

Neither had mentioned the conversation they’d shared the night before they had left to meet with the coven.

Harry had been busy since, and Lucinda understood, but she could feel an unresolved tension between them.

She didn’t expect anything from Harry, though she wished he would say something on the matter.

Often, it appeared as though he would, but as he would open his mouth to speak, he would prevent himself from doing so.

Did he want to keep her away from him after she had poured her heart out?

If that was so, he had a strange way of showing it.

Ever since he had asked for her to help protect Cassiopeia whenever she was at the Ministry, he too had been there for the most part, even if he did have other things occupying his mind.

He was quieter than usual, and he shot furtive glances towards the clock.

Lucinda was worried about him, but as ever, he did not share what was evidently bothering him.

Not that she needed him to.

He was worried for Cain.

The werewolf had been gone for almost four days now, and there had been no word from him.

“What is it now?” Cassiopeia huffed as a knock sounded at the door to her new office. “Come in?”

Lucinda’s grip on her wand relaxed as the man that entered was one she recognised.

“You have my apologies for disturbing you, Minister,” Amos Diggory said respectfully, “but I have just received a report from my French counterpart informing me the country has gone into magical lockdown due to a large werewolf pack they have been tracking through the country.”

“Large werewolf pack?” Harry interjected.

Diggory nodded.

“According to the report, they have reached the northern coast, and with the full moon being tonight, they have taken the measure to keep their citizens safe. The aurors there are on high alert, but they will not act unless necessary. I believe the French are under the impression that the pack only wishes to cross into England, so they will not intervene.”

“Useless bastards,” Harry grumbled, his worried gaze shifting towards the clock once more. “The full moon,” he added to himself.

“Thank you, Diggory,” Cassiopeia said dismissively.

With a nod, the man took his leave of the office.

“Cain is out there,” Harry murmured and Lucinda felt herself filled with dread.

“You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?” she huffed. “I know that look, Harry.”

“I can’t leave him out there on his own.”

“You can’t take on an entire werewolf pack!” Lucinda returned heatedly.

Harry frowned unhappily before a grin tugged at his lips.

“Who says I need to,” he replied cryptically.

“What are you playing at?” Cassie demanded. “Do not be stupid, Harry!”

“I’m not,” Harry sighed before kissing her on the cheek. “I will be back as soon as I can be. I’m the reason Cain is out there. I need to make sure he is okay. I will be fine,” he added firmly before following in Diggory’s footsteps and leaving the office.

“He’s going to do something monumentally stupid, isn’t he?” Cassie asked.

Lucinda wished she could dispute the observation, but she knew she couldn’t.

If Harry found that Cain was in danger, he would undoubtedly do whatever was necessary to help him.

“How have you not had a heart attack?” Lucinda questioned the older woman.

“I don’t bloody know,” Cassie muttered.

The two sat in silence for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts before an alarm sounded.

“What is that?” Lucinda asked, stepping in front of the desk to shield Cassie from anyone who may enter the office.

“Minister!” a voice sounded from the fireplace.

Lucinda turned to see the head of Amelia Bones floating with in the flames.

“There is an attack taking place in Hogsmeade! Albus is already assembling his group, what would you have me do?”

“Send every person we have available,” Cassiopeia instructed.

With only a nod, Bones vanished from the fireplace and Cassiopeia turned towards Lucinda.

“Come along dear, let’s not leave the fun for everyone else.”

“You can’t,” Lucinda returned with a frown. “I told Harry I would keep you safe.”

“Then you had better be as handy with your wand as I hope,” Cassiopeia said with a grin. “If you want to protect me, you will have to do so whilst we are fighting.”

“Harry will hit the roof.”

“Harry is not here,” Cassiopeia pointed out. “They need everyone capable out there to help them.”

Lucinda worried her lower lip as Cassie pulled on her jacket and drew her wand.

“Oh, this is going to be bad.”

She wanted to help, wanted to do something more useful than guarding Cassie, but Harry would not like that she allowed his Aunt to put herself in such danger.

Nevertheless, the woman was capable of making her own decisions, and it was not as though anything Lucinda said would deter her.

She was just as stubborn as Harry.

“Stay with me!” Lucinda said firmly.

Cassiopeia merely grinned.

“It will be just like the old days,” she replied whimsically.

(Break)

“What are we expecting, Albus?” Arthur Weasley asked as the assembled members of the Order marched out of the gates of Hogwarts and towards the village.

Already, the spell fire could be seen in the distance, and the sounds of raucous shouting mingled with screams carried all the way to the school.

With a deft flick of his wand and a muttered incantation, the school was sealed behind them and Albus stalked towards the village.

“I do not know,” he answered gravely. “Kingsley’s message was vague and hurried.”

That in itself was not a positive omen, and as the village came into view, Albus was left in no doubt that it would be a long and difficult night.

Catching sight of a masked figure a short distance away pursuing an almost naked local, the headmaster wielded his wand in a similar manner to an angler, and his invisible line caught the Death Eater around the neck.

The man was jerked back suddenly with a scream, and his head bounced off the pavement.

Albus did not have time to check on his condition as he was immediately set upon by another trio of Tom’s followers.

“IT’S DUMBLEDORE!” one yelled in warning.

With practiced ease, Albus deflected a series of spells sent towards him, acutely aware that the members of the Order had joined the fray around him.

With a twirling of his wand, a loud bang echoed across the village, and the three opponents he faced found themselves falling into the crevice he had created.

Having dispatched of them, Albus frowned as he realised that no attempt to keep anyone in nor out had been made, and it was then that the realisation hit him.

This wasn’t merely an attack.

The Death Eaters wanted either the Order, the Ministry, or both to intervene, but with the warnings having been sent and the battle very much underway, there was little that could be done to backtrack now.

Moving quickly, belying his advanced years, Albus side-stepped out of the path of a particularly nasty rupturing curse and engaged another attacker, his thoughts drifting to what had inspired such a bold move.

It could simply be a retaliation to Cassiopeia Black being named Minister of Magic, but Albus knew his former student well enough to know that Tom would not do something so brazen for mere retaliation.

No, there was much more to it than that.

Shielding himself from a blasting curse and returning fire with a well-placed bludgeoning hex that sent his opponent sprawling and gasping for breath, Albus was not sure if he felt a wave of relief wash over him or a deep concern as he spotted Amelia Bones and scores of aurors arriving on the scene.

What certainly concerned him, however, was the appearance of Cassiopeia Black who was flanked by the vampire, and Harry’s other friends who were currently residing at Grimmauld Place.

Such an observation raised only one more question for Albus.

Amongst all of the ensuing chaos, where was Harry?

Before he could ponder that very thing, he was once more pulled from his thoughts as a bright, green effigy of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth filled the night sky, and Albus again felt a sense of dread wash over him.

Although he could not see him, there was no doubt in his mind that Tom was here.

He knew the man’s magic quite intimately by now, and as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the ring he wore on his blackened hand, it reminded him of just how intimate his relationship with it had become.

It may not be tonight or even in the coming days and weeks, but Albus would die by Voldemort’s hand.

“I should have known you would not be able to hide in the shadows forever, Tom,” he murmured in greeting, his gaze falling upon what he could only describe as an abomination to humanity.

The figure standing before him was impossibly pale, his head hairless, and his red eyes and slits for nostrils giving him a serpent-like appearance.

Whatever Tom had done to regain his body could only have involved delving into magicks of a despicable nature.

“Why allow my Death Eaters all the fun?” Voldemort replied with a smirk, his elongated fingers gripping his wand in anticipation for the impending duel. “Are you prepared to die, Dumbledore?”

The Dark Lord could not possibly fathom just how prepared Albus was, a thought that offered the headmaster little comfort.

“Death is nothing more than the beginning of our next great adventure, Tom. It is a shame that you fail to understand this,” Albus sighed. “I truly hope you do before you face your demise.”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed in fury as he brought his wand to bear, unleashing a barrage of curses in lieu of offering a response.

For the first time in a decade and a half, Albus was reminded of the power Tom Riddle wielded, and though he knew he could not hope to emerge victorious from this fight, he had to try to hold the Dark Lord off at the very least.

(Break)

It had taken Harry only a matter of minutes from leaving the Ministry before he found himself flying above the northern coast of France on his Firebolt.

Apparating into another country in such a way was not strictly legal, but with the French having placed themselves under magical lockdown, Harry doubted that anyone was going to come and investigate his arrival even if it had been detected.

He had much more pressing matters on his mind, to say the least, than upsetting a foreign government.

Cain was here somewhere alone, and Harry needed to see for himself that he was okay.

France was no small country, and the location he had been given was vague at best.

Still, he was here, and being atop his broom coupled with the sharp hearing of his Animagus form would help him locate his wayward friend.

Casting a warming charm on himself, he began flying towards the more remote areas of the coastline.

Greyback would be banking on entering England quietly, so he would avoid populated areas, even if it was just for one turning of the moon.

Cain too would not place himself anywhere near where he might encounter others, so the desolate areas were where Harry was mostly likely to encounter the werewolves.

Much to his surprise, it didn’t take him long to hear the distant sounds of howling that could only be made by werewolves, and with eight hundred of them in the vicinity, it took little time for Harry to find the enormous pack.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled as he saw them running pell-mell through a woodland area that would take them to the beach.

Despite being high up on his broom and far out of their reach, it was undeniably quite the frightening sight to behold.

The pack simply could not be allowed to make it to England.

Harry frowned as he tracked the path of the stampeding pack, squinting through the darkness to see what had gotten them in such a frenzy.

It was then that he realised that they were not running aimlessly.

They were pursuing another of their kind and Harry’s heart sank as he realised it could be only one person.

Lying flat on his broom, he urged it forwards as quickly as it could carry him, when he realised that Cain had nowhere else to go.

In only a matter of seconds, he would be surrounded by the pack on one side, and the sea on the other.

Could werewolves even swim?

Harry shook his head of the thought as he dropped into a deep dive, conjuring a large wall of fire between Cain and his approaching pack, when he was near enough to do so.

It would not keep them at bay for long, but it would give Harry a much-needed moment to do what he intended.

Continuing his dive, he made his way towards his friend, only to evade a swipe of Cain’s claws.

“It’s me, you prat!” Harry called.

Cain paid him no heed as he bounded towards Harry, the look in his eyes as feral as it had been the night he had transformed in their dorm room.

He hadn’t taken his potion.

Why he had chosen not to, Harry knew not, and he took to the sky once more, adding another layer of fire to keep the pack away a moment longer.

With a shake of his head, he took in the situation below him.

For now, the werewolves were cowering from the heat of the flames, but it wouldn’t last and Cain would be torn limb from limb if Harry didn’t do something.

Heading towards the ground once more, he hovered just out of range from Cain’s claws.

“Are we really going to have to do this again?” Harry growled.

Cain lunged at him, and Harry barely avoided another attack as he skirted around the werewolf who had landed in the shallows of the sea but stood immediately and shook his sodden fur.

Still not knowing what to do, Harry’s mind was seemingly made up for him as something heavy impacted against his back, and he felt the flesh around his shoulder torn open as he too was deposited into the water.

Hissing in agony, he stumbled back to his feet and felt the warmth of his own blood trickling steadily down his back, but it was not this he was focused on.

Only half a dozen feet away stood a werewolf that made Cain look as though he was a mere pup.

This had to be Greyback.

The monster unleashed a howl before launching himself at Harry, his bared fangs promising nothing but an agonising death.

Fortunately, Harry managed to duck beneath him without further harm to himself, and as Greyback fought to right himself, it gave Harry a much-needed reprieve to prepare himself.

Greyback proved to be as relentless as he expected.

Without delay, he bounded towards Harry once more only to halt as a whip made of flame snapped towards.

Still, it did not deter the beast and Harry was forced to take evasive action again as Greyback persevered, despite the searing the flesh on his neck as he attacked.

“Shit!” Harry cursed as he spotted Cain out of the corner of his eye running towards him.

Turning on the spot, Harry vanished and appeared a short distance away to see his friend being thrown aside by Greyback.

Cain whimpered pathetically on the ground as blood poured from his muzzle. One of his rear legs was twisted grotesquely.

In the few seconds it had taken for Harry to apparate, the damage had been done and Greyback was now focused on Harry once more.

The werewolf’s paws thudded against the sand as he broke into a run and Harry nodded to himself as an idea began to form.

With a flick of his wand, a bolt of lightning crackled towards Greyback and struck him in the chest.

The alpha wolf was fast and undoubtedly strong, but he was still a feral beast with his mind focused on one thing.

Greyback howled in pain as he flailed back to his feet and bound towards Harry again.

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise.

The bolt of lightning he’d conjured should have killed the werewolf, but not only had it barely caused any damage, Greyback was still intent on killing him, and was certainly more than capable of doing so.

Seeing that the flames that were keeping the rest of the pack at bay were dwindling, Harry banished them towards the werewolves before whipping his wand back in Greyback’s direction, hissing as he did so.

As the enormous werewolf launched towards him, he was intercepted by the striking serpent Harry had conjured from sand.

Greyback yelped as he struggled within the maw of the snake, but the more he did so, the tighter it held onto him.

Harry approached the pinned werewolf, wincing from the pain of his wound.

Although he was very much at Harry’s mercy now, Greyback continued to snarl in fury and attempt to bite him, yelping as the sand-snake followed suit.

With a muttered curse, Harry conjured an axe and swung it with all his might.

The sound of steel thudding into the thick neck of the werewolf was morbid, dull, and yet, one swing was not enough to remove Greyback’s head.

Again, Harry swung, repeating the action until his wound would no longer allow him to lift the axe, and he released a deep breath as the werewolf fell limp, the gaping wound of his neck jagged and unclean where it had been severed.

“Bastard,” Harry grumbled breathily as he picked up the head, taking no small amount of joy of the agonised expression Fenrir Greyback had worn in his final throes of life.

With the threat seemingly dealt with, he turned his attention to the still whimpering Cain who had been crawling towards him.

“Are you finished?” Harry snorted humourlessly.

Cain growled in response, baring his teeth.

Harry shook his head before binding his friend with thick chains, ensuring his feet and mouth were firmly secured.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Tapping a nearby pebble with the tip of his wand, Harry bent down to retrieve it, only for his focus to snap towards the sound of nearby howling.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned as the pack of werewolves charged towards him once more.

Holding Greyback’s head aloft, his wand crackled with bolts of lightning as his own anger surfaced.

He’d had enough for one night.

He was bleeding, Cain was injured, and he’d already fought and killed Greyback.

What more did he have to do to deter them from attacking him?

With only a flick of his wand, most of the werewolves stopped in their tracks, and the rest followed when a number of them were struck by lightning.

The smell of scorched flesh and fur filled the air as Harry stared them down.

“He’s dead!” he growled irritably. “Go home or the rest of you will join him.”

One of the braver members of the pack lunged forward but was caught in the chest by a curse that reduced him to little more than a few scattered limbs and a smear of blood in the sand.

“Go home!” Harry commanded before shifting into his own wolf form and snarling in fury.

The werewolves maybe did not understand English, or even that Harry could kill them much more easily than they could him. They did, however, seemingly understand the threat of another wolf, and they took a final look at Greyback’s severed head before retreating, much to Harry’s relief.

Once he was certain they were indeed gone, he reverted back to his human form and retrieved the pebble he had turned into a portkey.

“Oh, shut up,” he muttered to the growling Cain, grimacing from to damage to his shoulder as he raised his wand for what he hoped would be the final time this evening. “Accio Firebolt!”

Harry snatched his broom from the air and shrunk it before placing it in his pocket with his trunk.

Ensuring he had not left anything behind, he seized one of the chains he had used to subdue his friend and activated the portkey, breathing heavily as they landed in front of the fireplace in the study of Grimmauld Place.

“Lord Black is hurt!” the voice of Kreacher greeted him a moment later.

“I’m fine,” Harry said dismissively. “Can you put Cain in a cage until he turns back?”

With a click of the elf’s fingers, Cain was suitably housed for the rest of the night, and Harry sat up.

“Lord Black is bleeding,” Kreacher pointed out.

Harry chuckled as he nodded.

“Can you send for Ana?” he requested. “She’ll be able to help me.”

“Elf lady is not here, Lord Black.”

“Who is here?” Harry asked with a frown.

“No one is here, Master. They all went to the village.”

“The village?”

“The magic village.”

“Hogsmeade?”

Kreacher nodded.

“They is fighting the man who hurt Master Regulus?”

Harry’s blood ran cold at the revelation.

“Voldemort is there?”

“He is,” Kreacher confirmed darkly.

Whatever pain, tiredness, and discomfort Harry felt had all but evaporated as he stood.

He did not know what had been happening in his absence, but not a single one of them could hope to beat Voldemort.

Only Harry could do that, but as he readied himself to throw himself into another fray, a worrying thought crossed his mind.

“Kreacher, where is Cassie?”

“Mistress is there too.”

Harry did not need to hear another word from the elf.

With only a whistle, the thunderbird appeared in the room.

“I might just need you tonight, girl,” Harry murmured.

The bird merely trilled in response before vanishing in a crash of thunder, and Harry turned on the spot, taking his leave of Grimmauld Place sooner than he’d hoped after how the night had unfolded thus far.