Harry Potter and the Berserker

Chapter 53

Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.

He could feel it. It was a feeling he knew all too well and despised all the same. He had hated when he first felt it as a child, knowing what was happening but being powerless all the same to stop it or even control himself when it did happen. The looks of sheer terror his parents had given him the morning after and the talk of pulling him before he could even get a Hogwarts letter. He had agreed with them, of course, he could be as polite a man as possible, but there was no stopping the beast within when the time came.

But Dumbledore had insisted, saying that Hogwarts was welcome to accept students of all backgrounds and that no student with a magical talent should ever be turned away from the gates. The Whomping Willow had been planted because of him, an entrance to the now famous Shrieking Shack, again, because of him. His seven years at Hogwarts had fed the legend of that house being one of the haunted places in the country.

Being what he was, he knew that he would never be able to experience a regular semester at Hogwarts, but there had been a silver lining to all of it; James and Sirius, and yes, even Peter before he turned traitor had been the three best friends he could have ever asked for. They had not judged him for being a monster, they had even gone to the extreme of becoming unregistered animagi just to keep him company when he transformed once every month. He could not recall most of what happened those times, but Sirius and James always managed to tell a very vivid story by the next morning, filling him in on the times they had to keep him in check when in their animal forms. They really were the best friends he could have ever asked for.

He wanted to keep thinking about that, when he was a young schoolboy with his pack of friends, the good times. He wanted to focus on thoughts of Harry when he was just a baby and how he had tried teaching him to say, "Uncle Moony," before Sirius could teach him to say, "Padfoot." Lily had intervened only when she became worried Harry's first word was going to be "Quidditch" on account of James' fascination with the sport and tried to get Harry to say her name instead.

Yes, just keep thinking about thoughts like that. He had to, he had to stay focused. The gut-wrenching feeling was growing worse with each passing second. He stifled a cough, feeling like his tongue was becoming longer and wider within his mouth, rubbing against teeth that were much too sharp and threatening to pierce his tongue should he suddenly clamp his jaws shut.

Keep thinking about Harry; think about the good times, he had to think of something, anything to keep his mind sane.

There was the time he had gone to both Dumbledore to try and get him to allow custody of Harry over to him after James and Lily passed and Sirius was thrown into Azkaban Prison without a trial. Dumbledore agreed that he was more than capable and responsible to handle it, but because of his hairy condition, he was unable to fully take responsibility. And because of that, Harry was forced to stay at Lily's awful sister's place, probably the single worst environment for him to grow up in.

If only Greyback hadn't attacked him that night. He wouldn't have been forced to spend nights in the Shrieking Shack, he wouldn't have scared his parents out of their minds, he wouldn't have almost killed Snape as a result of one of Sirius' pranks. And above all, he would have been able to take Harry in after that god awful Halloween night. If not for Greyback, maybe Harry wouldn't have been whisked away to that other world, that... Midland. He could have grown up here, made friends at Hogwarts, studied how James and Lily would have wanted him to.

It was all because of-,

No! What are these thoughts? He wasn't calming himself down, he was working himself up, his thoughts were becoming angrier, primitive like a beast. And he just had to look out the window to figure out why that was.