Fenrir Greyback (ulfhednar) wrote in fullmoon_rising, @ 2014-03-16 09:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | *complete, c: fenrir greyback |
Who: Fenrir and his pack, NPC!Harry Potter, anyone else who wants to add their reactions
Where: Godric's Hollow
When: 15 March, sunset and afterwards
Summary: Fenrir makes his first move in the game of chaos. By killing Harry Potter. Possibly NSFW depending on how your work considers violence.
Warning: Violence and the biting, maiming, killing and eating of people. Not necessarily in that order. It is fairly minor though. Especially for me.
Fenrir stood in the middle of the excited group of young men and women on a small hill overlooking the outskirts of Godric’s Hollow. His attention wasn’t on the youngsters but on the sun that was rapidly slipping behind the horizon. Tonight was the night. Tonight he was going to show the world what he had done. Tonight he was going to end the complacency. Tonight he was going to bring about the reign of chaos. He didn’t even bother to remove his robes as the sun finally disappeared. He didn’t care about them. Instead he spread his arms wide and started to laugh as the transformation rippled through him and twisted him from man to wolf. Around him, the young men and women went through their own transformation until a pack of wolves stood where the humans had once stood. Fenrir raised his head to the moon and howled. The young wolves joined him, the eerie sound echoing around. Fenrir snarled and shouldered his way through the pack until he could look down on the small wizarding village. In there was his target and the for once the wolf and the man were in agreement. Fenrir howled again and took off at a run, the pack loping along after him. The darted through the houses at the edges of the village, a few of the wolves peeling off to attack whatever poor souls had been foolish enough to come out on the full moon to see what was happening. But Fenrir and the bulk of the pack did not falter. Their target was a small cottage that had once been a pile of ruins. As they approached the cottage, Fenrir saw something that would have made him laugh if he was capable of doing so. His target had come out. No doubt drawn by the intensity of the howling but Fenrir could only laugh internally at the foolishness of the boy. Of all the people in the wizarding world, he would have thought that Harry Potter would know to stay indoors on the full moon. Not that it would have saved him even if he had. Not tonight. Fenrir snarled and the pack spilt, two groups swerving off and darting into the growing darkness. The third group who had stayed with Fenrir put on a burst of speed and rushed in front of him. Potter would have his wand. Fenrir knew that. His young wolves knew that. But none of them had argued with his plans. They’d been willing to take whatever Potter might dish out in order to give Fenrir his chance. Just as Fenrir had planned, the wolves rushing straight at him drew Potter’s attention and he shouted several spells. The young wolves dodged and ducked and largely went unscathed. When they reached Potter, they didn’t bother to bite. Instead they bowled him over and harassed him momentarily, ripping at his robes and snapping in his face, before disappearing into the night. Fenrir had stopped a short distance away, letting the colour of his fur hide him in the shadows until it was time to act. Potter swore as he got to his feet but before he could look around, a second group of wolves darted out of the darkness and ran at him. This time Potter’s hastily cast but still strong spells hit their targets and one of the young wolves dropped after being hit by a stunning spell. The others didn’t stop. They crashed into Potter again and this time they stopped long enough to bit at him, ripping his robes even more and sinking their teeth into the man’s flesh before disappearing into the growing night again. Potter scrambled to his feet for a second time and Fenrir chuffed quietly to see the bleeding wounds his wolves had left behind. It was almost… almost… tempting to let Potter live as a werewolf and watch as the wizarding world turned its back on its Golden Boy but he had his plans and he intended to stick to them. From the scents on the air, Potter knew that he’d been bitten and knew what it meant. Fenrir revelled in his despair even as the third group of wolves ran silently out of the darkness and knocked Potter down for a third time. This time Potter’s wand went flying and instead of harassing Potter, the wolves followed the orders they’d been given and headed in the direction the wand had gone. One of them snatched it up and in one swift move had crunched it into several pieces. The wolf spat the wand out and the group disappeared into the darkness again. Now Fenrir made his move. He paced out of the shadows where he had been hiding. He saw the moment when Potter saw him and then he heard the man’s whispered, "Greyback". Fenrir bared his teeth and growled low in his chest. He waited until Potter had gotten to his feet once again and then he launched himself at the man. He hit Potter square in the chest and they flew backwards. Fenrir snapped at Potter’s throat as Potter grabbed at the fur around his neck and tried to force him back. Fenrir let him think he had a chance, even let him get half a spell out of his mouth, before he lunged forward and his jaws closed around Potter’s shoulder. He bit down hard and then jerked his head hard to the side, ripping loose a chunk of flesh and tendon. Potter howled in pain underneath him then kicked out, his right arm now hanging uselessly at his side. Fenrir let himself be kicked away as he swallowed the mouthful of flesh. He then raised his head and howled. Out of the darkness emerged the pack of young wolves he had built, snarling and all menace. He saw the look of horror, despair and resignation on Potter’s face and exulted. A snarl sent the pack flying at Potter and they jostled and shoved and snapped at each other as they bit and clawed and savaged the hapless wizard. Several times Fenrir heard gasped attempts at spells but they all ended in screams instead of magic. Just as Fenrir had planned. After several minutes, the wolves drew back as if at an unspoken order and Fenrir paced forward. Potter was alive. Barely. Gaping hideous wounds marred his body, blood pooled below him and one of his hands and large chunks of one leg were missing. But he still breathed, horrible gasping rasping bubbling breaths of a man rapidly dying. And far be it for Fenrir to let a man suffer. He moved forward deliberately, letting Potter see him approach. Potter’s mouth opened and blood bubbled out as he tried to say something. Fenrir didn’t care though. He waited for another moment then he lunged forward and ripped Potter’s throat out. The wizarding world’s Golden Boy convulsed once with a great bubbling rasp of a dying breath then he went still. Fenrir stood over his prey and howled his triumph. The rest of the pack joined in, the sound deafening in the small village. As the hideous cacophony finished, the sound of apparition could be heard from various points in the village. Fenrir grinned, his tongue lolling out, then he made a few quick whuffing sounds. The pack coalesced around him and then they leapt into flight, heading into the village. Their task was done and they had no intention of being caught but they did have one last job to do. To that end three of the larger wolves broke away from the pack. They sank their teeth into their unconscious pack member and started dragging her away in the opposite direction from the one the pack had taken. The pack would act as the decoy to allow them to escape and draw the attention of the arriving Aurors. The pack burst onto the common green of the village where the Aurors were gathering, startling them. The spells flew but the pack was moving too fast and it was too dark and though the Aurors tried to follow, the pack soon disappeared into the night, leaving the Aurors to find the gruesome results of their night’s work. |