The Master of Death

Chapter38: Sending a Message

Silence dominated the clearing. Shell-shocked faces all around. Greyback was the first to move after a resemblance of life returned to his limbs. Even before he turned around, Harry could sense the magic that rolled off him in furious waves. Harry hadn't paid much attention to it beforehand, more fascinated by the beast beneath the man's skin, but now he took a closer look. It was neither really dark nor was it light and there was an earthiness to it. Like nature was wild and merciless at times so was Greyback. But the hint of decomposing leaves amidst a forest turned into something viler when his eyes focused on Harry. Dark and dripping like rotting meat on the carcass of a deer and his emotions added an acidic aftertaste to it.
"I can always bite new ones," Fenrir said, his expression surprisingly controlled while the beast beneath his skin howled in anguish.

"But," Harry said, just to dig a little further, "it doesn't replace him, does it?" He nodded towards the boy who now possessed about as much life as the mix of pine needles and dead leaves, upon which he was resting. The kid's eyes stared into nothingness; the fear he had felt still imprinted on his bloodless features.

A rough growl broke through Greyback's teeth then, a sound that was mirrored by the members of his pack. Harry snorted amused when his assumption was proved right. A few werewolves crouched down next to the cooling corpse of the boy, but he paid no mind to what they were doing. "It's not like I didn't warn you beforehand," Harry remarked unceremoniously before a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Conall. Harry turned around to face the man with the dreadlocks.

"Anything to add?" Harry asked him sarcastically, recalling that the werewolf had been suspiciously silent while he had dealt with Greyback. Conall simply shook his head. "It's nice to get at least some kind of reaction from you since I came here today to protect your pack," Harry began, "You are lucky that I tend to keep my promises so that even after I saw what was really going on here, I kept to my part of the bargain."
The few members of Conall's pack who heard what was being spoken shifted tensely. The man himself though met Harry's unspoken accusation with a hard expression. Before Conall could reply another voice from his rows spoke up.

"So did we."

Harry's head flung around to find the person. "Excuse you?!" he snapped when he found the man. Four equally jagged scars ran over the speaker's face and he met Harry's gaze with his chin held high.
Harry had forgotten the guy's name, but it was one of the younger members of Conall's pack.

"We never did anything that opposed our agreement," the werewolf with the scars said. Harry's eyes pierced him like daggers.

"Technically? Maybe," Harry said. "But don't bullshit me," he hissed and stalked towards the bloke. Shadows seemed to follow his movements and the scarred werewolf faltered. "Don't you dare to pretend-" Conall stepped forward and blocked Harry's path.

"You seemed to manage pretty well on your own," Conall stated, most likely in an attempt to soothe Harry's temper.

"Well that's bloody obvious now, isn't it?" Harry replied with a dry laugh. "But you probably didn't think so earlier, am I right?"

"I did what was best for the pack," Conall said, now with a hint of steel in his voice. He exposed his teeth a little more than he had to as he spoke and the scar beneath his stubbles wrinkled with the motion. A threat - barely noticeable but there. Some werewolves behind him tensed, preparing to attack if their leader were to demand it.

Harry didn't even think about backing away. "You tried to sell me out," he said coldly. Death smirked at Harry's display of ire. Above them, an icy wind howled and the trees at the edge of the clearing creaked quietly. Harry paused for a moment. "I think we should call our agreement quits; don't you think?" Conall seemed suddenly uneasy with Harry's change of temper.