Who: Fenrir Greyback What: Another full moon in captivity and Fenrir is not happy. Where: Azkaban When: 13 December 1979 Rating: R for language Status: Complete
Fenrir lay huddled under his blanket, shivering with both the cold and the aftermath of a second full moon in captivity. His body ached and was streaked with blood and wounds underneath the rags of the costume he'd worn to the Masquerade. But his eyes glittered angrily in the dim light and a low, almost inaudible growl rumbled through his chest.
His mind was full of rage and fury and he was distracting himself from the pain by imagining what he would do to his enemies when he got out. And he was going to get out. This was it, the last full moon he would tolerate here, caged and confined. He had no idea how he was going to get out but he was. He was not going to do this for the rest of his life.
And where the fuck were the Death Eaters? Surely the Dark Lord didn't intend to leave them in here?
The growl increased in intensity as the thought wondered through his mind that maybe the Dark Lord had done something and had left him here. He better not have. If he got out and found out that the others had been rescued while he was left behind, the Dark Lord was going to discover what it was like to have a furious werewolf after him and his followers.
But he was sure that could not have happened. Alecto wouldn't leave him here. She was one hell of a girl after all. And Rodolphus wouldn't either. Yeah, they'd have made sure he was released and if they didn't his army sure as hell would. He trusted them.
He shoved the blanket aside and gingerly rolled onto his feet, growling and swearing as pain rippled through him. If he wanted to escape he needed a plan. Some kind of plan to get someone to open the god-damned fucking sealed door so that he could use them to get the fuck out of here.
He slowly started to limp back and forth across his cell, still growling low in his chest as he desperately tried to think.