The Other Potter

Wolves

TW: Greyback being creepy/predatory, mentions of non-con. This chapter is skip-able if these subjects trigger you.

It was early morning when he had finally tracked down the Greyback and his pack, creeping deep into the depths of the a forest just south of Snowdonia. He had brought his wand but he knew he wasn't allowed to use it without getting another call to the Ministry for underage use of magic, but the werewolves didn't know that, did they? In any case, he had a silver dagger and a letter from Voldemort.

It didn't take him long to follow the tracks of the werewolves or the scent (thanks to his animagi instincts). There were camped out in an abandoned Bed and Breakfast nestled near a waterfall and an hours drive from the nearest village. The iron gates rusting and ivy had all but taken over the outside of the building, creeping its way inside broken windows.

Everything inside of him was warning him not to go inside, but he didn't have a choice. Both Dumbledore and Voldemort wanted him here.

He climbed up the four steps to the navy door and used the heavy brass knocker to announce his arrival. He could hear movement inside but no one approached the front door. Slowly he twisted the doorknob and stepped inside.

"Hello?" he called, stepping over an empty bottle of vodka and squinting to see through the darkness.

There was no answer, but he knew they were here. He could hear the quiet shuffles of bodies around the abandoned home. He gripped his wand tightly, nerves starting to sink in.

"Come on, I know you're here. I've been instructed to deliver a message to Greyback." He mustered, trying to sound much braver than he felt in that moment.

There was movement behind him, the shadow of someone small drifted across the rotting wooden floorboards, they had scurried out of sight by the time he turned around.

"And who is the message from little bird?" A deep voice echoed from behind him.

He felt his heart drop. Fuck. He wasn't sure why he felt so scared, he'd faced worse than Greyback, no? Perhaps it was the stories of the werewolf that made him feel this way, or perhaps it was the fact that he knew he wouldn't be able to talk himself out of death if the werewolf decided to kill him.

"Lost your voice?"

Swallowing thickly he turned back around, finally facing the werewolf, "The message is from Voldemort."

Greyback was a large man, with matted greying dark hair and whiskers. He appeared to be more wolf than man in the face, it was as if he was stuck mid transformation.

"Is it? Sent me a little treat with his message did he?" The man hummed, stepping closer to Elijah, before stretching out a large hand and gripping the boy by his chin, long yellow nails dug into the pale skin.

His heart was thudding in his chest, and he knew Greyback would be able to hear it. It was probably why he was smirking so wickedly down at him.

"What's your name, boy?"

"Does it matter? I'm just here to deliver-"

The hand tightened and the nails dug deeper, "You are here to do what I tell you... Now be a good boy and tell me your name."

Elijah squeezed his eyes shut, "Elijah."

"No second name, Elijah?"

"Lupin-Black."

The werewolf paused, before his grin grew. "Lupin? That rings a bell."