HARRY POTTER CONTINUED
Author's note: I was inspired by J.K. Rowling to write this piece.
Werewolves Under No Full Moon“Throw ‘em with the o’er one. He’s back there.”
Ron and Hermione were lifted roughly and tossed into the narrow opening of a cave. There were more werewolves gathered inside the cave, watching with leering eyes at the pair.
Harry was there too. Bound, gagged, and tied, he lay there unmoving. There were bloody streaks covering his face and his arm seemed to be going the wrong way.
“Do I smell…mud…blood…?” A large black haired werewolf sniffed the air and licked his lips, a small golden gleam lighting his dark eyes.
“Ralfe, he said to keep them alive.” A smaller, older werewolf said cautiously.
“He’d better pay us well, then.” Ralfe roared. He muttered something under his breath and suddenly, Ron and Hermione could move again, although they were still tied.
“So…” Ralfe said as he drew nearer to the terrified two. “Are you with…him?” He jerked his thumb rudely to where Harry lay, still unmoving.
“Yeah. We are.” Ron said shortly, not looking up to those hideous yellow eyes and gleaming fangs. He then moved to Hermione, letting the tips of his yellowed claws caress his cheek. His caress drew beads of blood that slowly dripped down her cheek.
Ron struggled against his bindings, his eyes as dark as a stormy sea.
“Get off of her!” Ron roared furiously.
Hermione whimpered, her breath coming in short gasps. “Please…” She whispered.
“Join us.” Ralfe rasped, grinning widely. “Leave the ginger and join us. You’d make a pretty werewolf. Breed many werewolves to continue our generations.” Ralfe laughed, his eyes flashing. Suddenly, his claws clamped down on her leg. Hermione screamed in pain and Ron looked murderous.
“Don’t touch her-” Ron was gagged.
“Knock that one out, Zerir. You’re good at that.” Ralfe sneered.
“JUST DO IT!” Ralfe roared impatiently.
“Yes…uncle.” Zenrir, the youngest of them all, said. He was tall and lean, but extremely thin. He looked a lot like a younger version of Fenrir Greyback. He was really about Ron, Hermione, and Harry’s age.
Zenrir muttered something and Ron instantly blacked out.
“Zenrir, come here.” Ralfe said with a small grin. “Take care of this.” Zenrir’s eyes opened wide, undoubtedly fearful.
“But…uncle…I can’t…I don’t know how to…I don’t…” His eyes locked with Hermione’s and fleeting expression of sadness overcame his facial features.
“You’re becoming…” Ralfe whispered dangerously. “Soft.” Ralfe grinned, but his eyes remained cold and ruthless.
“Kill, Zenrir, kill. It’s what you do best isn’t it?” Ralfe circled the young werewolf as if he was stalking his prey. “Don’t become soft now. Make me proud. Make your ol’ daddy proud. Make our pack proud. Kill. A simple thing. Haven’t you always wanted acceptance? This is your chance. The task will be over soon. Think of the blood…” Ralfe stopped.
“Or maybe you’d like the mudblood as your mate, eh? Breed a few more Greybacks? Is that what you want?”
“No!” Zenrir replied nervously. “I would never…”
“Good. Then take care of them. Only the ginger and the mudblood. Potter goes to the Lord. Leave him here, Zenrir, and take the annoyances in there.” Ralfe pointed to a separate cavern that was connected to the main one. “The Lord will be back soon. I suggest…you…hurry.” Ralfe said slowly and dangerously, licking his lips.
Effortlessly, Zenrir draped Ron and a terrified Hermione over his shoulders and disappeared into the second room.
“Zenrir, please don’t…” Hermione started once the heavy metal door was closed and the three of them were alone.
“Be quiet, mudblood. I shouldn’t be talking to filth like you. My father was right. Witches and wizards are nothing without their wands. Filth.” Though Zenrir was saying these words, Hermione could see that inside he was scared, frightened, and unsure of what to do. After all, he was as young as them.
“Zenrir, at least before you kill us, tell us who you are, why you need Harry and who is your…lord.”
Zenrir looked at Hermione uncertainly. Ron had woken up by now and was staring at Hermione in total shock.
“Hermione what are you…”
“Shut up, Ron!” Hermione hissed quietly.
“Why, mudblood? Why should I tell you anything?”
“She has a name, you dirty werewo-”
“SHUT UP!” Zenrir bellowed, kocking Ron unconscious again. He turned his eyes on Hermione and advanced slowly.
“Uncle is right. Kill. That’s what I have to do. You don’t understand the world I live in, mudblood. Killing is regarded as the highest honor. Ralfe has killed over a thousand people. That’s why he is the leader of our pack. The alpha. And I am beta. You do know that my father was Fenrir Greyback. Your kind killed him. Murdered is more like it-”
“Excuse me but Fenrir Greyback was killing our-” Hermione interrupted.
“If I were you I’d shut my trap before I kill you. You want to know who our lord is? A wizard. He’s the only wizard my uncle has looked up to. Nobody knows why but I think the Lord has some sort of control over Ralfe. Everytime he comes here, Ralfe becomes a whole different person. It’s almost like…almost like he’s under some sort of wizard spell that would make him…” Zenrir trailed off.
“But, never mind. Our Lord wanted someone named Potter. I’ve only heard the elders speak of him. Said he’s the only wizard that could ever defeat Lord Voldemort. I was only a pup when Voldemort was in power. My father served under him as a Snatcher. And now Ralfe…”
“Um…who is your Lord exactly?”
Zenrir quickly glanced around the room.
“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you since I’m about to kill you. Our Lord…our Lord…well none of us is supposed to know his name but I’ve heard Ralfe talk in his sleep one night. He said the Lord’s name is some thing like…Lestrange.”
Hermione sucked in a quick breath and she looked at Ron, who was now awake and glaring at Zenrir again. She shot him a look and he nodded ever so slightly.
“Zenrir, do you like it here?” Hermione asked.
Zenrir was taken aback by the question. “I-yeah, I like it here. What’s not to like?” Zenrir’s eyes looked shifty. “I-I- love it here.”
“You like working under that filthy, low-life murderer who’s been giving you a bunch of-”
“Don’t talk about uncle like that.” Zenrir said fiercely, yet undoubtedly half-hearted.
“Come with us. The wizarding world will accept you-no honor you if you come join us.”
“The wizarding world.” Zenrir scoffed. But, there was a hopeful note in his voice.
Hermione stood confidently. “Zenrir, listen to me. You’ll be admired and praised out there. You’ll be known as the one werewolf who stood up against the others and saved the most famous wizard, Harry Potter. Haven’t you always wanted that? Wanted to stand out because you did something admiring instead of just because you’re Fenrir Greyback’s son? Don’t you want to be known because of other things? Aren’t you tired of Ralfe making you do all the dirty work while he takes all the credit with the Lord? Ralfe shuns you to a corner when he’s around the Lord, yet when he’s alone, he taunts you to do all the work yourself without the credit. Have you noticed that he never asks anybody else to do all the work? Only you?”
“How do you know all this?” Zenrir said uneasily.
“It’s not hard to see, Zenrir.” Hermione said quietly and tenderly.
A million emotions seemed to flit across Zenrir’s face. He started to say something, then closed his mouth. He looked at the floor, thinking hard. Suddenly, he didn’t seem to look at all like his murderous father. He just seemed like a lost, confused young werewolf.
“What’s the plan?” Zenrir decided at last.
Hermione broke into a huge smile and whispered to Ron and Zenrir the plan.
Blood spattered and slightly disheveled, Zenrir walked out of the room.
“Uncle, the deed is done. They put up quite a fight but they’re gone.” Zenrir said nervously, not meting Ralfe’s eyes.
“Ah, the girl’s blood smells delicious. What a waste, what a terrible waste.” Ralfe said with a smile. Harry was now awake and looked in anguish at the young werewolf.
“YOU KILLED THEM? YOU KILLED BOTH OF-” Ralfe knocked him across the face and he lay unmoving.
“Uncle, you have taught me great lesson. You know how I am always afraid to…kill anyone? How I am always uncertain of my future? Well, uncle, I finally know.”
Ralfe looked at Zenrir as if he were his own son. He looked on proudly.
“My nephew, you have grown up. I am very pleased with you. Tell me how to reward you.”
“Anything, my young wolf. Name it.”
“I want to kill Harry Potter.”
Ralfe looked stricken. Then, he glared. “You know very well that I need to bring Potter to the Lord-”
“Uncle listen! You know how my father died. At the hands of Potter and his company. I want to avenge my father’s death. I want to see the blood. I want to cut Potter up into little pieces and-”
“Zenrir…I-I think you’ve turned into a fine werewolf. You finally know the feelings of revenge. So…go on. Kill him. You deserve it.” Ralfe stepped back and let Zenrir through.
“Uncle let me kill him somewhere else. The method I choose…it might be too horrible for the female werewolves to watch. Let me go to the same room where I disposed his filthy friends. Then, before he takes his last breath, he shall see the blood splattered walls. His friend’s blood.”
Looking on proudly, Ralfe watched Zenrir drag Harry into the room and bolt the door.
Once they were alone in the room, Zenrir faced Harry.
“I didn’t kill your friends.” He said quietly.
“What? Where are they? What do you mean-”
“Just-I’ll explain later. You need to disapparate. The mudblood and the rehead are waiting for you, and, well, me. She told me to tell you I had to use side-along apparation.”
“Hurry up, we haven’t got much time.”
Harry looked apprehensive. “Is there some trick…”
“No!” Zenrir said exasperated. “Hurry or Ralfe will come in to see why this took so long. He already wanted to give you to Lestrange but the mudblood told me to-”
“Yeah, our Lord. I’ll explain everything-”
“Later. Right, yeah. Okay, let’s go.” Harry said quickly. He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.