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Moving Forward: Chapter 23
🕑 Added 2024-02-12 17:56:05 +0000 UTCPrivet Drive was destroyed. Houses that lined the neighborhood were torn asunder as if wrecked by a multitude of blasting hexes. Smoke, dark and putrid, shrouded the entire area in darkness. The moonlight failed to penetrate the thick veil of fumes, but they did not need to see it to know what night it was.
The Full Moon. A night during which a werewolf’s power was at its pinnacle.
Bloodcurdling screams echoed in the otherwise silent expanse of the night as the hounds from hell wreaked terror on the masses, their movements measured, and their intent murderous. None escaped their sight or smell, and a few that tried were each met with a gruesome fate.
Bellies torn apart for the underlings to feast on. Throats ripped apart for the underlings to feast on. And limbs scattered around… for the underlings to terrorize their future prey with. It was a display of absolute carnage. A scene straight out of someone’s greatest nightmares.
“Spare no one! Feast on the cretins!”
The werewolves howled and Fenrir Greyback smirked. His pack was vicious, and every member revered him. They worshipped the ground he walked on. Such was his prowess that he had succeeded in evolving into a higher being – one that retained its sanity and the ability to communicate even while remaining transformed.
The moment he had heard of the Dark Lord’s return, he had turned westward with his pack. Within weeks, they were across the channel.
It had been an eventful past few weeks, and most of it revolved around one Lucius Malfoy. His former wife and daughter had run away, cutting all ties with him, and if that was not enough, the silly bitch had sullied herself with Potter of all men.
Fenrir would be lying if he said he didn’t have his sights set on both the former matriarch of the Malfoys and her daughter and too many times he had envisioned himself breaking the two bitches in front of his pack. The thought always stirred his loins.
His lord had proposed for him to take the younger bitch for himself now that she was spoiled goods, but he wanted both.
Earlier, such a thought would’ve been a fool’s fantasy. However, recent events changed things. Malfoy’s reputation and his standing in the Dark Lord’s ranks had been left in tatters. No longer was he untouchable. Instead, he was one desperate man vying to do what was asked of him while simultaneously carrying out whatever depraved schemes his mind conjured.
He had been amused when he’d first heard of the proposal, fully knowing his lord wanted his hands on Potter. However, when given the opportunity to enjoy a full feast such as this, even he could not decline. His lord had asked for Potter to not be killed or maimed. He’d not said anything about him being turned.
It was a pleasing thought to turn the child who had thwarted his lord’s plans all those years ago into something the people abhorred. He was positive his lord would be pleased with this act of his and a handsome award would await him once he delivered the scarred form of the Boy-who-lived to his lord.
He knew where Malfoy was coming from. Potter had defiled his daughter – one he had such grandiose plans for. Furthermore, his former wife had also spurred him to go and live with her daughter. His pride would have never allowed for it to stand.
It had been a few hours ago when he had been asked to get it done. The ministerial bitch who had proposed such discriminatory laws against magical creatures over the years, the one who resembled a toad in human clothing, had arrived to discuss certain matters with the Malfoy lord.
When he had first set his sights on her, he had almost given in to his feral instincts and at the moment, he had wanted nothing more than to tear her throat out. However, Malfoy had explained the situation like the slimy politician he was.
Fenrir scoffed to himself. He might have agreed to aid Malfoy and his toad stooge in this little mission of theirs but he had certainly not lost sight of the things he wanted.
They had arrived here a few minutes ago and his hounds had wasted no second. They rained down on the houses like rabid dogs, possessed with the desire to let blood paint the ground red. The screams that rang out in the darkness of the night were music to his ears.
Only one house had been left untouched, and it was the one he had been told Potter lived in.
‘Or used to,’ Fenrir thought as he stepped on the pristine grass, marring it under his footsteps as he approached. His senses were sharp, and he could feel the fear emanating from the residents inside.
Their objective was simple. His pack would feast on the entire neighborhood while he would terrorize Potter’s folks until the brat arrived to save the day. Once he did, they would ambush him and whoever he brought with him. He would turn Potter and haul his arse off to his lord while his pack could have their fun with the others. At least that was what he hoped for.
‘And if it’s Malfoy’s little bitches then it’s a feast for me tonight,’ he thought lecherously, blowing the door apart.
A shrill cry reached his ears, quickly drowned in the carnage that was unfolding all around them. Fenrir walked in, flanked by one of his subordinates, and they slowly approached the room where he could smell the fear.
His beady, black eyes fell on the two hippos and he scoffed at the sight of them. The pair was cowering behind a couch and he grinned ferally. His sharp, yellowed teeth ground viciously as their breath hitched in fear.
“Little Potter’s lovely folks, aye?” Fenrir grinned. “Perfect.”
Vernon Dursley was frozen in fear. He had seen the destruction that had been wreaked on the entire neighborhood and heard the screams from their neighbors as they were viciously murdered and mutilated. He had taken only one look at those monsters from the window before he had shut all the doors and windows, locking them.
Alas, it was all for nothing as perhaps the most dangerous monster he had ever seen stood right in the middle of their living room, acting as if he were at home.
He knew that brat was bad news, and taking him in would one day come to bite him and his family in the arse. It seemed the time had come.
He tried to open his mouth to speak. To refute that his family had nothing to do with that freak. However, faced with the monstrous visage of this feral beast, he could muster nothing but a whimper.
His son clung to his shirt, holding the fabric tightly in his fist as he shook in place, while his wife stood behind him, cowering.
“A little stick, aren’t ya, woman?” Greyback grinned. “Too thin to feast on either way. Tell me, hippo, how’d you not crush her?”
Before Vernon could say anything, Fenrir rushed forward and slashed him across the chest. Blood spurted out of the deep wound as Petunia cried out in horror.
“Dudders!”
Dudley screeched and flailed about as he was snatched from his father’s grasp. He sobbed helplessly, his eyes affixed on his mother’s ashen face as she stared at him, hovering over the limp form of his father.
“Now this is some fine meat right here,” Fenrir grinned and slapped Dudley’s fat belly. “Take the appetizer away, Rolfe. Imma bring the big feast.”
Petunia cried out in horror as the monster slammed its fist against her son’s head, knocking him unconscious. The other monster grabbed her precious son by the throat and unceremoniously dragged him to the exit.
“Now then,” Fenrir grinned. “Time to say goodbye, stick.”
Petunia was frozen in place, her unseeing eyes staring at the monster. Fenrir brandished his wand and a malevolent bolt of crimson shot out of it.
“AAAAHHHHHHHH!”
Vernon’s bloodcurdling scream rang out in the air and Petunia shakily looked down. Her wide eyes took in the decapitated limbs of her husband. She could do nothing but sit on her knees, shaking in fear, as her husband bled profusely on the floor.
“Aye stick,” Fenrir called out, grinning cruelly. “You wanna live with the pack? The mutts could use something to play with.”
Petunia heard or saw nothing. Her unseeing eyes were affixed and full of tears, blearily reflecting the pool of crimson all around her. Her senses had long given way to detachment and the fact that her husband had already bled out and died didn’t even register with her.
Fenrir spat to the side and his sharp teeth grinded as he gazed at her. He flicked his wand, and Petunia’s bloodied hands listlessly dropped to her lap as her husband’s corpse and his decapitated limbs shot toward the monster.
“Sit tight, woman. My mutts will be here for you soon.”
With a parting monstrous grin, the werewolf turned around and walked away, leaving nothing but a shock-still widow on the floor, staring at nothingness.
XXXXX
The moment Fenrir Greyback emerged from the house, his eyes took in the sight around him.
His pack was under attack, and he quickly took stock of the situation.
‘The Order, eh?’ he grinned ferally and howled to the heavens. A sudden chill coursed through the entire Order gathered on the street and they looked over with widened eyes.
“It’s Greyback…” Kingsley Shacklebolt whispered in horror, and the werewolves attacked.
Droves of transformed creatures shot forward with lethal intent, their abilities enhanced manifold by the full moonlight.
The Order members were few, but each looked determined to stop the incoming horde of feral creatures at bay.
The mutts, or the bottom-feeders, were at the frontlines, and most of them went down to the barrage of stunners that the ten or so Order members flung at them. It seemed to embolden the wizards and witches while simultaneously enraging the rampaging creatures.
Maniacal yellow eyes glowed malevolently in the darkness and the higher-ranking werewolves took center stage. They stampeded over their stunned comrades, thick hides deflecting the incoming rush of crimson bolts as they closed the distance between them and the witches and wizards who had dared to interrupt their feast.
Howls rang out as they rushed forward, and Kingsley quickly shouted, “Shields!”
At once, the entire line of combatants erected glowing blue barriers and they grunted as the werewolves collided with the shields. A few were sent skidding back a few inches but they did not let up.
Fenrir gazed at them with a smirk and fired a powerful blasting curse straight at one of them.
Elphias Doge, a veteran and one of Dumbledore’s staunchest supporters, held his shield up when suddenly, the shield was blown apart as a blasting curse collided with it. He was sent thrown back on the hard ground as the Order’s defense faltered. The horde of maniacal werewolves filtered through the gap left by Doge and one jumped the old man.
Doge proved he was not a veteran in name only as he quickly cast a banishing hex, sending the werewolf back. The incoming horde stumbled over their banished comrade, giving the Order the much-needed respite to regroup.
Kingsley helped Doge up and they quickly created distance between themselves. As one, the Order cast banishing hexes at the werewolves, sending them crashing against the destroyed houses, metal poles, and tree trunks. While a few went down, most were still standing with defiance and rage in their bulging yellow eyes.
“We need reinforcement, King. It’s full moon. No way we can take down all of them,” Doge muttered as he looked around.
Although the Order had about a dozen members present in Privet Drive right now, most were either new and thus not battle-tested, or they had been out of action for too long to perform at an optimum level right now.
“Shacklebolt,” a growl sounded in the distance and Kingsley looked over. His lips set in a thin line as he laid eyes on the most dangerous werewolf out there.
“Greyback. Didn’t think you’d ever show your face in Britain after last time.”
Fenrir grinned menacingly, the wide scar across his face barely visible in the darkness.
“I’ve yet to repay you for the parting gift you left me with last time,” the werewolf grinned, his intentions clear.
“Take care of the werewolves,” Kingsley instructed as he stepped to the side, squaring off with one of the most feared and evil werewolves in existence. “Is that so? What are you waiting for then?”
Fenrir grinned and fired a powerful bonebreaker straight toward Kingsley who swatted it away. The bolt of angry yellow collided with a metal pole, shattering it upon impact.
“Would’ve been a pain if it’d hit,” Fenrir grinned and began casting a multitude of dark spells at Kingsley who defended himself to the best of his abilities. He could see how dangerous Greyback truly was and although he had scarred him in the past, he did not fancy his chances right now. His adversary was out for kill and had the advantage in numbers as well, while they were fighting to subdue with a handicap.
Once he saw his chance, he cast a powerful banishing hex that sent the werewolf skidding back a few feet. The creature grinned ferally and launched another salvo of bonebreakers, blood-boiling curses, and piercing hexes straight at him.
Off to the side, the Order was working to the best of its abilities in subduing the horde of werewolves, to little success. He chanced a look and a grimace crossed his face. Those guys were not ready at all.
Suddenly, multiple powerful explosions rocked the entire neighborhood. Shocked, both Kingsley and Greyback turned over to where the explosions had taken place and their eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
Chunks of flesh were torn apart, and strewn about across the neighborhood as a dozen werewolves lay dead. Crimson pooled their surroundings and with his yellow eyes pulsing in rage, Fenrir Greyback stared at the carnage alongside all the members of the Order and the remaining werewolves.
“Why don’t you take on someone who’s got no issues in speaking your language, Greyback?”
Kingsley whirled around in surprise as he saw none other than his boss, his former auror partner, three other young women, and none other than Harry Potter walk toward him with their wands held at the ready.
“Auror Shacklebolt,” Amelia Bones said curtly, casting a glance around at the gathered members of the Order. “Take the civilians with you and report to my office first thing in the morning. I shall take it up from here.”
Kingsley, shock still, stared at his boss who raised an expectant eyebrow. He glanced over to Nymphadora who gave him a neutral look. The other women were of no consequence to him and neither was Harry Potter who was not even looking at him.
He was not a fool. He already knew his boss had sided with Harry Potter and had even given him permission to use lethal spells against the Death Eaters, and as such, she was not his ally. Alas, it was clear to him that there was nothing he could do here.
Taking a deep breath, he nodded curtly and turned away toward the Order who stared at the spectacle.
“You cannot kill them, Madam Bones,” he said without turning around.
“I asked you all to leave,” Amelia Bones said firmly. “This matter is under my jurisdiction now. If you want to say anything, save it until the meeting tomorrow.”
A part of Kingsley Shacklebolt was explicitly forbidding him from leaving, but logic prevailed. He could not raise his wand against the Head of the DMLE. Furthermore, he could not land the innocent men and women of the Order into more trouble. He knew the methods Harry Potter and his new faction would employ, but there was nothing they could do about it right now. Their time would come soon.
The Order looked ready to protest but he ordered them to retreat before the battle could resume.
Fenrir Greyback stared in mounting rage at his pack that had been halved in no time. All the mutts and a few experienced wolves had been killed by that salvo of exploding curses, leaving him with less than a dozen.
With a feral glare, he turned back to the new arrivals.
“Good thing you arrived, as predicted, brat,” he snarled. “You’re coming with me.”
The werewolves, still transformed and even more enraged, prowled forward with murderous intent.
Harry cast a glance around him. Nym and Fleur stood side by side to his left, their wands at the ready, and Daphne was with Cassie to his right on Amelia’s other side, poised to strike.
“But before that, is that Malfoy’s bitch I see there?” Fenrir continued, grinning menacingly. “Ah, what a bloody feast I’ve got here! Two brats and four toys for me and my pack! You cunts will pay for what you’ve done!”
“Handle the werewolves. I’ll take care of this overgrown pup,” Harry said calmly, and the women obeyed immediately. Greyback raised his wand but had to immediately dodge as a bolt of green passed right through where he had been. His eyes wide, he stared at Harry.
“The Killing Curse, brat?” He growled. “You dare!”
Harry batted away the bonebreaker that was aimed at his arm and retaliated with a blood-freezing curse. The spell hit true, but to his immense surprise, it ricocheted off the creature’s thick hide with a powerful hiss.
“A wolf’s blood runs as hot as lava, brat,” Fenrir snarled and started to fling spells around violently, uncaring of who he hit. A couple took down the rushing werewolves whom the women were dealing with, very admirably so.
Fleur and Nym, for all their bickering, were a force to be reckoned with. While the former shielded, the latter chipped away at the werewolves with piercing hexes and cutting curses. Most of the spells bounced off without doing much damage but a few did draw blood.
On the other end, Daphne and Cassie aided Amelia similarly in taking down the remainder of the werewolves. The head of the DMLE showed why her transition into a desk worker had done nothing to chip away at her ability to fight. Her exploding curses rained down violently on the werewolves without mercy. The creatures were not amateurs though and they proved their battle prowess as they jumped long distances with perfect ease, dodging the explosions. A few did get caught during Harry’s fight with Greyback and met the same fate those mutts did.
“I’m going to break all those women in front of you, Potter,” Fenrir snarled. “Starting with Malfoy’s little thing.”
“You talk too much for a dog who’s soon to be dead,” Harry replied as he swatted another spell aside. He did notice something though. Greyback might be using lethal spells but they were by no means targeted at his vitals. He also seemed to be actively avoiding the killing curse even though he had used it already.
Harry’s eyes narrowed as the werewolf conjured a flame whip and slammed it down on him, and he cast a powerful golden shield that absorbed the impact, exploding the whip.
Fenrir gritted his fangs in rage as none of his spells could even touch the brat. He needed to subdue him. Those women were nuisances as well, and they were effectively chipping away at the remaining werewolves he had at his disposal.
When he had accepted this assignment, he had thought that he would be taking Potter away from the pacifist Order if he was lucky, or simply cause mayhem and leave. After all, he had no idea what Malfoy and that toad’s idea was if Potter never showed up. Not even in his wildest dreams had he expected that Potter would arrive with other allies, including Amelia Bones, or that they would use lethal spells against his mutts. He had expected to lose none of his pack today, but he had already lost most of them and looked to be on the verge of losing them all.
His mind was in turmoil. The beast wanted to go all out, to kill this bastard and defile his bitches. However, he knew it was not his place. His lord would be livid if someone else took a piece of Potter, and he was not a lunatic to enrage the Dark Lord.
However, if he did nothing, then not only would his pack be wiped out, but if his instincts were on point, his demise was written for sure.
The beast had recognized the danger he was in with his handicap, and he had learned long ago to trust the beast.
“You’re not trying to kill me, are you?” Harry asked in slight amusement as he stared at the werewolf who gazed back at him with rage simmering in its eyes. “I can tell you’re not. You’ve not done anything to kill me so far. What’s the matter?”
Fenrir stared at Harry for a few seconds, having already accepted the fate of his pack as he tuned out their howls and snarls as they fought and died.
“You have surprised me today, Potter,” he growled. “I never expected you to be able to kill. You’re right. I’m not trying to kill you. That right is not mine.”
Harry raised an eyebrow as Fenrir looked up and snarled, “But the bitches are fair game, eh?”
Before he could move, a massive fire serpent emerged from Greyback’s wand with a violent hiss. His eyes shot open as Fenrir threw something at him before being swallowed by a vortex, vanishing out of thin air. Quickly, Harry shot a blasting hex at whatever the werewolf had thrown at him, and the object exploded mid-air.
‘A portkey? Sneaky bastard,’ Harry thought as he swiped his wand in the air, sending the serpent away from his girls who quickly darted toward him.
They watched the massive fire serpent as it shot forward to incinerate everything in sight. Consuming the wood and debris of all the houses in Privet Drive only fueled it further and it moved at a furious pace, intent on devouring everything in sight.
“Fiendfyre,” Amelia muttered. “Nothing’s left now.”
Harry knew the people he was related to must’ve died long before their arrival, but even if they were not, it was impossible for anything to escape the rampage of the serpent. The creature made up of flames from the deepest pits of hell continued its rampage, diverting its course straight toward them.
Their skin prickled as the serpent drew closer and together, they swiped their wands, pushing it back. As the women kept it at bay with everything they had at their disposal, Harry asserted his will over Greyback’s and the serpent’s, trying to subdue the flames.
Sweat dripped down his forehead as Harry, with gritted teeth, tried with all his might to bring the creature under control.
The flaming serpent hissed violently, flailing about as it struggled under the mental assault, and they watched as it slowly shrunk in size until it was nothing but a small flaming ball. Harry grunted, and the ball of flame vanished in a puff of smoke.
Exhausted after such an ordeal, they stared around at the carnage wrought upon a quiet neighborhood. Harry’s eyes though were affixed at where #4 used to be. Nothing but charred soil remained now, everything having been consumed by the rage of Greyback’s Fiendfyre.
“You okay?” Daphne asked in concern as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Harry reached up and placed his hand atop hers, squeezing gently. He glanced behind himself and nodded.
“We should leave now,” he said.
“That would be for the best,” Amelia nodded.
Harry turned to the redhead and gave her a small smile.
“Until next time, Amelia.”
Amelia Bones gazed up at him and nodded. She smiled at him as he stood with the other four women and watched as they all vanished, leaving her standing alone in the middle of a charred battlefield. She looked around and sighed. A lot of work needed to be done to take care of this incident, and she could already see Fudge’s tantrum coming.
She promptly sent a message directly to the auror office to coordinate with the requisite departments to take care of the matter at hand.
XXXXX
Everyone was waiting for them when they arrived back in the Black Townhouse. Wide-eyed, they took in their fatigued selves.
“Fiendfyre,” Harry muttered as he walked toward the exit. “Don’t worry, no one’s hurt.”
“And the werewolves?”
“Greyback escaped,” Harry sighed. “Bastard tried to take me with him. The rest are dead.”
“And the muggles?”
“Dead long before we even knew there was an attack. We need to improve.”
Solemn nods were shared around the living room as Harry stood by the door.
“So I take it the Dursleys are dead too?” Sirius asked with pursed lips, earning a nod from Harry.
“The entire area is a graveyard now. A charred graveyard,” he replied. “I don’t care what happened to them. It’s just… the other people had no business getting involved with all this. They didn’t do anything.”
“That’s what always happens. It’s the innocents who suffer,” Nat whispered as she walked over, placing her hands on his shoulders and squeezing affectionately. “Come, you all. I’ll patch you up, even though you don’t seem to need any.”
Everyone watched Harry leave with Nat, Nym, Fleur, Daphne, and Cassie. Narcissa, Andromeda, and Evelyn exchanged a glance with each other and sighed.
The war had only just begun. It was fortunate that no one had suffered any injuries or anything else.
XXXXX
“I told you we’re all fine, Nat,” Harry said gently as they arrived in his room.
“And I told you I’d like to look everyone over. Come on, sit down,” she retorted and shut the door.
Harry sighed, and so did the others, but they obliged once subjected to Nat’s healer stare. The blonde started to wave her wand in intricate motions, muttering under her breath for a few seconds, before she nodded and whispered an incantation.
Everyone felt their fatigue disappear, leaving them as good as they had been. Their slightly slumped shoulders straightened and they stretched, feeling completely rejuvenated.
“So… your first fight together. How did it go, truly?” Nat asked as she put her wand away and started undressing. It was already late and time for bed.
As was normal for them now, Harry and the others followed suit, taking their clothes off. In no time, they were all naked and climbed onto the bed that magically enlarged to accommodate everyone.
“Not much happened, to be honest,” Nym replied. “We did kill off those werewolves though.”
Fleur nodded.
“You two work well together,” Harry interjected. “And so do you two,” he added, looking at Daphne and Cassie who smiled.
He took his spot in the middle, and they all scooted close. Naked, Harry found himself being pressed between the voluptuous forms of Fleur on one side and Daphne on the other. Nym curled up against the lovely veela, spooning her from behind while Cassie did the same with Daphne. Meanwhile, Nat crawled over him on her hands and knees and pressed herself on top of him.
“Think you can handle it all night long?” She asked with a teasing grin.
Harry chuckled as he reached behind and cupped her plump rear. His slowly hardening cock was right between her legs, and it was already poking her entrance. He maneuvered her so that her lips rested right on top of the underside of his cock.
“Don’t worry, magic will take care of it all,” he replied. “I can’t guarantee nothing’s gonna happen during the night though. I’m a bit overstimulated right now, as you all can clearly see.”
“I don’t see you complaining,” Fleur retorted with a smirk, pressing herself closer.
“I’d be a moron if I did,” he replied, smirking, as he rested his hands on Nat’s rear. “And as much as I’d like to take full advantage of this situation, I’d prefer to have a few hours of sleep at least.”
“This is what happens when you spoil them,” Cassie remarked with a teasing grin. “Everything’s on offer and mister here ain’t taking ‘em. Few hours of sleep, he says.”
Harry rolled his eyes as everyone chuckled.
“Don’t worry, love. I’ll make sure to take care of you second.”
“Second? Why not first?” Cassie asked with a small pout.
Harry gazed into Nat’s ethereal blue orbs and grinned as she ground herself against him.
“I’m afraid someone’s already reserved a spot,” he replied.
Nat smiled and buried her face in the crook of his neck. To either side of him, Daphne and Fleur mirrored her actions as the lamps dimmed. In no time, everyone was fast asleep… but not for long.
To be continued…
Comments
Coady
Well. The wards around the house that Dumbledore was always so concerned about certainly didn't do much to protect the house or the Dursleys.
Krish
Yeah, that is one of the future plot points I'm heading toward.
Robert
Great update! Well done battle scene. I don’t understand Kingsley though. He fought in the first war against Greyback and knows how dangerous he is and what the him and the rest of his pack were doing. Why would he not use lethal magic to defend himself? Isn’t he a DMLE member first still? They knew they couldn’t do anything against the werewolves successfully why would they even try and intervene. I think there is a lack of logic in some of this. I don’t think Dumbledore would actually rather have his Order members die than kill in self defense. Just something I think you should make clear. I don’t think Dumbledore would be able to keep up the order if he was sending them into situations where they could die repeatedly without being able to defend themselves similarly. It isn’t like Dumbledore never killed in the Great War against Grindelwald previously. The effects of the ritual are interesting here. Dumbledore was neutral towards Harry prior to it and Kingsley seems to be inheriting a negative view towards Harry now. Excited to see how this develops. Cheers!
