Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin

Chapter 42: The Hunting of Sirius Black (Even Worse)

The Forbidden Forest
6:48 p.m.

Fenrir Greyback stood nude in a clearing with his clothes and wand nestled under a nearby tree. He looked up through the opening in the forest canopy. High above, he could see Dementors floating almost peacefully in a way that belied their horrific nature. And much higher, far above the Dementors, he could see the Moon. Silvery light bathed the werewolf as he waited for his transformation. He wondered if the Change would still be agonizingly painful while he was under the effects of the Wolfsbane Potion.

It was.

Abruptly, Greyback screamed in agony. In some ways, it was worse than normal. Usually, his awareness receded immediately into the deep recesses of his mind, leaving the Beast to suffer the physical effects of the Change, but the potion apparently made that impossible. It felt as though his skin was on fire from the sensation of rough course animal hair growing speedily out of every follicle. Every single bone in his body broke at once and was instantly mended into a new shape. His ears rang painfully as his hearing improved exponentially, instantly overwhelming him with new sensations.

He fell to the ground, still screaming, and rolled around for several minutes before finally coming to rest. Then, he lay there for a moment, gasping in pain until finally, he opened his eyes to see the Moon still overhead. Slowly, he rose from the ground and looked around in wonder. Carefully, so as not to claw himself, he ran his hands over his body. He'd known that he was powerful and fearsome, but only by reputation, by what others said about him in news reports and interviews with the few survivors he'd left behind.

But now, Greyback could feel the power of this form. The bulging muscles. The heightened senses. The lightning reflexes. He felt like a god. A stuttering growl emanated deep from his chest, growing louder until he realized that he was not growling at all. He was laughing. He threw his head back in delight and howled his delirious joy to the forest. When the laughter finally died away, he sniffed the air experimentally before looking around to get his bearings.

"Kill 'em," he growled deeply with a throat not made for human speech. "Kill 'em all. But leave d'head fer Peter! Heh-heh-heh!"

The werewolf dropped to all fours and bounded off into the night.

Meanwhile, in the Shrieking Shack...

His transformation nearly complete, the thing that had been Remus Lupin howled madly in rage and hunger. Nearby, James struggled desperately to free himself from his bonds, but they were too tight. And with anti-Animagus cuffs on, he didn't know if the transformed Remus would ignore him as a werewolf would a normal Animagus or if the beast would tear him apart ... or indeed, whether Pettigrew's control over his friend would overcome that protection regardless.

Beside him, Harry sprang into action the second Pettigrew Apparated out of the Shack. With a loud grunt, he rolled over onto his stomach and then wriggled his fingers. To James's amazement, Harry's wand flew like a rocket from the next room where Peter had hurled it and snapped into the boy's waiting hand.

"FINITE INCANTATEM!" he yelled, and with a flash, his bonds disappeared. Then, he rolled back over and pointed his wand toward Remus who was racing straight for him and was less than five feet away. Instantly, Harry dilated and tried to figure out what he could possibly do in the seconds before the werewolf ripped him apart.

Thump-thump.

The werewolf's movements slowed, but not nearly as much as Harry had hoped. He had at most two more heartbeats, maybe three, in which to think of a spell that might work to repel the beast. Or more accurately, another spell. Because he already knew one spell that would work because it had been designed for just this situation, but his mind recoiled from using it. He knew and liked this man. Remus Lupin was a victim, just as he and James were. And Harry desperately did not want to harm him, let alone ....