Harry Potter : Bloodraven-Chapter 121: The Moon’s Remedy (I) (CH - 141)

It was a clear night beneath a half-moon. The sky glowed silver and still, the stars drowned beneath the pale sheen of moonlight. Deep within a dense, forgotten forest in northern England, the trees rose like silent sentinels, their shadows long and watchful across the carpet of fallen leaves.

It could have been a beautiful night, if not for the thick, bloodthirsty air clinging to the branches like a curse, turning the moonlight cold as ice.

Whoosh. Whoosh.

Footsteps thundered through the undergrowth. some were heavy and booted while others were swift and unnatural. Branches snapped. Leaves scattered. Bursts of red light tore through the trees, searing the darkness. Screams followed—shrill, raw, and echoing—ripping through the stillness.

The darkness lit up with bursts of spellfire, throwing strange, shaky shadows across the trees. For a second at a time, faces came into view looking tense, focused, but not afraid.

In the middle of a small clearing, five Aurors stood close together, backs facing each other. They wore deep blue robes lined with protective spells, and the golden Ministry emblem shone on their chests. They held their wands, gripped tightly and glowing with heat, ready for anything—but they were badly outnumbered.

Closing in around them were thirty, maybe forty figures. Their clothes were mismatched with bits of leather, torn cloaks, and a few with bare chests despite the chill. They looked like wild savages, moving like hunters with eyes glinting in the dim light, ready to strike at any moment.

One of the Aurors, a tall, bald, dark-skinned man with a steady, commanding air, swept his eyes around the clearing.

"Damn it," he muttered. "It's an ambush."

His name was Kingsley Shacklebolt, and his wand didn't tremble as he turned in a slow circle, scanning the ring of enemies.

"Is the operation compromised?" the only woman in the group asked steadily despite the tension.

Her name was Amelia Bones. She had a fair, sharp face, grey eyes hidden behind square glasses, and black hair pulled back tightly. Her wand was gripped firmly in her hand. She didn't seem rattled, but her eyes darted around, taking in every movement.

"What else could it be?" said another voice. Rufus Scrimgeour, rough-looking with a tawny mane of greying hair and fierce eyes, kept his wand pointed straight ahead.

"Has to be one of those half-brained inbreds..." huffed the man behind her. His heavy frame tensed as he planted his feet more firmly. "We should've moved without—"

Their conversation broke off at the sound of footsteps coming from the dense trees in one direction. They were slow, heavy, unhurried—steady thuds that grew louder and closer, as if someone was approaching with all the time in the world.

The men who had been sneering and closing in from the direction of the sound suddenly stepped aside, parting without a word as something massive moved between them.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Before the moonlight even touched the figure, the five Ministry Aurors saw the glowing eyes—deep orange, like burning coals. Then came the growl, low and rumbling, like thunder rolling through stone.

It was massive. Grey fur. Clawed limbs. A werewolf.

The creature snarled, then, with a ripple of sickening magic, its shape twisted. Fur melted into skin, limbs contorted, claws retracted, and the warewolf's monstrous form shrank.

In a flash, the beast was gone. Where it had stood, a man now towered, looking tall, broad-shouldered, and covered in grime. A wild beard clung to his scarred jaw, and his eyes burned with madness.

Fenrir Greyback grinned, revealing his sharp, yellowed teeth, then took a deep breath, as if savoring the scent of fear. His grin widened, twisted, and he let out a low chuckle.

"Well, well," he muttered, voice rough and dripping with contempt. "Shacklebolt. Scrimgeour. Proudfoot. Savage. And... Lady Bones herself... all for little old me?"

His eyes sparkled with sadistic amusement as he sized them up, savoring the tension.

No one answered, until Kingsley stepped forward. He raised his wand, pointing it directly at the werewolf leader.

"Greyback," he locked eyes with the massive man. "Surrender. Reinforcements are on the way."

The men around them broke into loud, mocking laughter, like they'd just heard the punchline of a brilliant joke.

"Surrender?" Greyback scoffed. "You really are full of yourselves." He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Thought you'd creep in while I was out, did you? Quiet little raid, clean little arrest?" He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Who do you think told you where to find my pack?"

The Aurors stayed silent. They didn't need to answer, as they had already put the pieces together. This had been a trap from the start.

Greyback relished what he believed was already his victory as a crooked smile curled on his lips.

"You lot really thought you could drag your best into my woods... hunt my pack... and just walk away?" He shook his head, laughing darkly. "Just because it's not a full moon, you thought we'd be easy prey?"

He spread his arms wide, letting the moonlight highlight the twisted, grinning faces of his followers who circled them like vultures.

The Aurors didn't budge, but their grips on their wands tightened, like the calm before a storm.

For a moment, there was a heavy silence, and then Kingsley's voice broke through the tension. "Who sold us out, Greyback?"

Greyback let out another loud, mocking laugh. "Is that your dying wish, Shacklebolt? A name?"

Rufus Scrimgeour, standing beside Kingsley, retorted defiantly at Grayback before Kingsley could respond. "Don't get cocky just because you've got numbers, Lycan dog."

It was as if a switch had been flipped, and Greyback's grin vanished in an instant. His eyes narrowed dangerously at Scrimgeour, as though the Auror had said something that had crossed an unspoken line.

"Kill them," the werewolf leader ordered coldly, and with those two words, all semblance of order shattered. Chaos erupted in an instant.

Spells flew in every direction—red, blue, green and gold. The forest lit up as though it were daytime. Branches exploded. Dirt flew. Screams filled the air.

Greyback did not act immediately. Instead, he stepped back, and his followers moved with him, closing in around him and two other men, forming a wall of bodies. While spells exploded through the air, the three men exchanged a silent nod, then dropped to all fours in unison.

Their bodies convulsed violently—bones cracking, limbs twisting unnaturally. Skin split as thick fur tore through, and jaws stretched into grotesque snouts. Hands transformed into vicious claws, each one snapping with the promise of death.

In seconds, the men were gone.

In their place stood three monstrous wolves. Greyback's beast form towered above the two, larger, more savage, eyes burning with bloodlust.

Unlike the typical werewolf, they did not lose all sense of control. They remained eerily conscious, their eyes sharp and calculating. With another nod of their beastly heads, they disappeared into the forest, blending with the shadows.

The Aurors did not notice what had just happened, as they were now being overwhelmed from all sides.

Boom!

Kingsley fired a stunning spell that sent one man crashing into a tree. Scrimgeour conjured a wall of flames, forcing two others to retreat. Amelia's spells were sharp and precise, each flick of her wand taking down another attacker in quick succession.

It was not easy.

Proudfoot was knocked down and barely rolled away in time. Savage took a cutting hex across the shoulder, but gritted his teeth and kept fighting.

Spells flew in every direction, lighting up the night with streaks of red, blue, and green.

Scrimgeour dove behind a jagged wall of stone he conjured just in time. A Killing Curse slammed into it with a deafening blast, shattering the surface and throwing sparks into the air.

"We can't take all of them!" he shouted as he raised his wand again. Another wave of curses struck his shield with bone-jarring force. "One of us has to go... get reinforcements!"

Boom. Boom.

The ground trembled with each impact, and the trees seemed to shudder with it.

"Kingsley!" Amelia Bones shouted from behind the trunk of a fallen tree. She blasted a disarming spell that sent an enemy's wand spinning into the undergrowth. "We'll cover you... go!"

But Kingsley didn't move. He blocked two hexes in quick succession, then called back through gritted teeth, "No. You go, Amelia! You've got direct access to Minerva's Floo Point... go to Dumbled—"

Awoooooo...

Their restless exchange was cut short by a loud, eerie howl.

Awoooooo...

Awoooooo...

Two more followed, their howls blending together, echoing through the forest like a warning from the wild.

The Aurors froze for half a second, their heads turning toward the sound.

"They've transformed," Scrimgeour muttered grimly. "Lycans!" He turned sharply to Amelia. "We don't have time! You need to leave!"

"You'll never hold them off until I get back!" she said, her voice rising with panic.

"Leave, damn it!" Scrimgeour snapped. "That's an order!"

Without hesitation, the four men formed a protective barrier around Amelia. Scrimgeour, Kingsley, Proudfoot, and Savage stood back-to-back, their wands raised as they cast shielding charms, blocking the curses that rained down from every direction. Trees splintered under the impact. Flames flickered through the darkness. The ground trembled again, shuddering from the force of the magical onslaught.

Aaarrrrrrr!

Amelia yelled in her mind, and her grip tightened unwillingly. But she knew what was at stake. No matter how reluctant she was, she had to do it. First, she took a long inhale to focus.

But just then, something caught her attention. A shadow passed over her.

She looked up—and saw them.

Two huge shapes were dropping from the trees above, claws bared, teeth glinting in the moonlight.

"Above!" she screamed.

The men with her were no ordinary Aurors. Regardless of their rank as only magus, they were highly experienced. They reacted instantly at her signal.

Scrimgeour and Kingsley raised their wands in perfect unison, as if practiced, and a shimmering dome of golden light expanded around them, just as the beasts slammed into it with a deafening thud.

Bammm!

The entire shield quivered under the force of the impact.

At the same time, Savage and Proudfoot fired upward. Their spells struck with explosive power, hurling the wolves backward, sending them crashing through the branches and tumbling into the underbrush.

The shield held. But only barely.

"Amelia!" Kingsley called. "Focus—clear your mind and Apparate!"

She wasn't just standing by. Her wand, too, was raised, adding strength to the barrier with every bit of power she had left.

Lowering her wand, she tried once again to focus. She didn't want to leave. Everything inside her screamed to stay and fight.

But deep down, she knew they were right.

She had to go.

She tried to calm her thoughts and began preparing to Apparate.

But it was not meant to be. There was no shadow this time, but the ground beneath her trembled.

Then, a deep, rumbling growl rolled through the trees, louder, closer.

Amelia's head turned instinctively. Spells were still flying in from every direction—countless, hurled from the shadows like stones at a cornered animal. Greyback's men weren't even trying to fight face-to-face. They were staying far away and firing nonstop.

Cowards!

But that changes nothing.

The rumble grew louder.

Then—

ROAR!

A huge, snarling form burst through the barrage. Greyback was sprinting toward them on all fours, moving fast—too fast.

"Greyback!" Amelia screamed, whipping her wand toward the charging beast.

She immediately fired a blasting curse, but missed—his beastly form was too agile.

After dodging her spell, the creature leapt into the air, outstretched its limbs, and bared its claws, ready to tear them apart.

Amelia didn't stop. She raised her wand again, channeling all her magic and rage into one final spell.

"CONFRING—"

She didn't get to finish as a hex slammed into her from above. One of Greyback's men must have climbed up a tall tree, as if waiting for that exact moment.

Her wand flew from her hand, and she was thrown to the ground, the breath knocked from her lungs.

"No—!" she gasped, slumped on the ground as she turned her head upward.

Above her, to her horror, she saw Greyback twisting in midair. His massive shadow loomed over her.

Her colleagues could do nothing. They were too busy trying to survive the storm of spells flying at them—most of them now glowing green, unmistakably unforgivable. They conjured walls, shields, anything they could manage just to stay alive.

Amelia's eyes were wide, fixed on the massive beast above her—her pupils reflecting Greyback's claw as it sliced down like a blade.

NOOO!

Crunch!

CRACK.

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