Chapter 2: Meeting Mr. Wolf

A/n: I'm revising and editing my story as I go along. Sorry for the delay but I have to fix these pesky typos and vanishing information. I apologize to anyone reading this who finds it confusing. This story has been a work in progress for the past few years but I'm hoping to finish it soon. Thanks for sticking it out with me. I appreciate all of your support.

Ron groaned as he tossed and turned in discomfort. The room was colder somehow. Ron faded in to semi-consciousness due to the change in temperature. His subconscious mind trying to process what was missing from his normal sleeping arrangement. He rubbed his eyes as sleep abated. He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep at that moment but as he peered over into Harry's bed, panic and wakefulness seized him.

He unraveled the red comforter that had been wrapped around his body and got up from the bed, shivering as his large feet touched the icy floor.

"Harry?" He asked thin air. His voice was scratchy from snoring. He pulled the comforter off of Harry's bed. He had hoped to see his best friend's thin body crooked and relaxed in sleep but as he pulled the cover away he realized that Harry was gone. He took a deep breath to calm his hammering heart. "Calm down, Ron. Maybe he went to the loo?" He spoke to himself as he began to walk in circles. Yes. Yes, maybe he just went to the loo. He'll be back. His mind supplied believable reassurance. Ron sat back down on his bed to wait for Harry. He had had a particularly interesting dream about Lavendar Brown. He smiled lazily to himself. He would tell Harry and then fade back to sleep. He sat and waited. One minute became two, two minutes became three until finally Ron sighed in irritation. He had been waiting for fifteen minutes.

Ron quickly walked to the room door with the full intention to find his friend. As he walked, he began to think about the possible places for Harry to roam in Grimmauld Place. He was probably sitting in the common room in front of the fire as he liked to some night. Especially after a nightmare. A you-know-who centered nightmare. Ron gulped. He couldn't bring himself to even think the Dark Lord's name. He would find Harry but he hoped that Harry hadn't had another nightmare. Though he never told his friend, Harry's nightmares scared him too.

Harry could have been in the attic for all Ron knew. He didn't know what other creepy things lurk within those walls. The thought of all the things that could be lurking behind the walls and in those secret rooms made Ron's skin crawl. No, it wouldn't do for him to go around Sirius' house searching the unknown. If Harry was still in the house he'd need help searching all the various rooms. He stopped mid step and turned on his heel, walking in the direction of Sirius' rooms.

Harry sat quietly on the Knight Bus. He gulped nervously. He turned his head to the side as he felt Stan's gaze on him again. As soon as he had turned the corner of Grimmauld Place the Knight Bus had been there just like he had expected. Another faze of his plan was complete, now all he had to do was get to Diagon Alley unseen. A task that was proving harder than he had anticipated, The only obstacle standing in his way was Stan Shunpike, the man kept staring at him and asking questions. If Stan got wind of who he was there was no way Dumbledore wouldn't find out about him escaping Grimmauld Place. Wasn't that the plan?

Harry's mind wandered for a moment. He had originally planned to escape Grimmauld Place and just shake up Dumbledore's sensors for a bit but now he wasn't so sure. What would Dumbledore do if he found out ahead of time? Scour the earth in search of me? Berate Sirus for not keeping a better eye on me, and confine poor Padfoot to that awful house.

The guilt that Harry felt now was overwhelming. When he had first thought it over in his head, the only consequence was possibly being scolded by Sirius and trapped in a house for the rest of the summer which paled in comparison with the fun he would have with Duke. Now the consequences seemed to be overpowering the benefits. How could he have been so stupid? In a moment of selfishness he had damned his godfather's sanity. How could he have been so selfish? Sirius would go insane if he was confined to Grimmauld Place alone with no connections to the outside world. It would be too much like prison for Sirius to handle. Harry pondered whether he should return home or not. If he asked Stan to turn back around he could perhaps climb back through the kitchen window and pretend nothing happened but then again he really did want to go partying with Duke.

In the short three weeks that he had known the quirky silver-haired rocker, he been enraptured by Duke. He was so . . . so different from the people Harry was used to meeting. When they had first met, Duke hadn't stared at his scar or asked for his autograph; instead the older boy had simply asked Harry if he wanted to go to Fang Tavern with him. Harry had readily declined and had tried to walk away from the suspicious man. He hadn't gotten far though, Duke had gripped him around the waist and refused to let go until Harry agreed to go somewhere with him. Harry had pulled and pried at the unfamiliar arm that had wrapped itself around him in an iron grip but all his fighting was futile for Duke was far too strong. He had wanted to scream for help but he had decided against it since he didn't need his face on another front page proclaiming him a liar or something worse. His wand was trapped between in his back pocket, between their bodies. Seeing no other option and no worried guards in sight, he had accepted Duke's invitation.

They hadn't gone to that Tavern in the end; Duke had said that he wanted to make Harry comfortable with his presence. They had settled at Flortescue's ice cream parlor and had a good time. Harry had tried his hand at flirting and failed miserably with a petite redhead a little older than him. Duke had laughed at him before coolly swooping in and failing himself.

It had been like that for awhile after they met, they would meet somewhere in Diagon Alley when Harry could wander away from Ron and Hermione, and just enjoy each others company, they'd talk about the things they liked and disliked but most of it was lighthearted banter. The best part of their friendship was that Duke didn't treat Harry like a child. Duke made him feel mature; made Harry feel like he had some control. He had even introduced Harry to GillyPop, a very popular band comprised of six Dutch and English witches and wizards. It was so different in comparison to muggle music. The pop-rock ballads had quickly become his favorites. Now, he had the opportunity to meet them in person. He smiled at the thought of meeting them all. Sally Quinn, one of the lead singers and Justin Hardbelt, the guitarist were his favorites out of the band. He would get them to sign his shirt.

"You sure I don't know you?" Stan asked suspiciously, scratching his pimply chin in befuddlement.

Harry gulped again and turned to face the conductor.

"I'm absolutely sure." Harry said with certainty. Stan grinned as the notion of familiarity with the glamoured Harry formed.

"No, I know you." Stan swaggered closer, his voice taking on a deep unnatural tone.

Oh, God! Is- is that his sexy look? Harry thought with revulsion as he looked up at Stan. He wasn't sure if Stan was ogling him or glaring at him. One of Stan's eyes was wide while the other was half closed and fluttering as if he was trying to wink or something. Stan's lips were pulled tightly together in a nervous smile. "Gemma Passon. You were here last week. I thought you were gonna call me?" Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. Stan thought he was a girl! Had he messed up his glamour after all?

Harry touched his chest in horror. There were no breasts, just his average, normal male torso, to his relief. He definitely wasn't a girl, let alone this Gemma Passon person.

"I'm a bloke." Harry proclaimed, deepening his voice a little to emphasis his statement.

Stan paled and stared Harry up and down with wide unbelieving eyes. His mouth hung wide in disgust.

"Diagon Alley!" The shriveled head yelled loudly. Harry jumped up from the bed he had been sitting on and practically ran off the bus, leaving Stan to stare at the spot that Harry had left.

Harry looked up and down the dark street, it was completely unfamiliar and new to him. He looked up at the street sign that hung overhead. Dalton Lane, He had never heard of the place. He looked around yet again, obviously trying to figure out which way to go. Sighing to himself, Harry decided to go right.

Outside of Fang Tavern, Duke checked his watch.

"Duke, How are you?" Duke groaned in pleasure as the heavy-bosomed woman in front of him encased him a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around her thick waist; he was practically shivering with anticipation.

"Hello, Emily. I'm fine now that you've graced my little get together with your awe inspiring presence." Duke doted with hidden sarcasm. The human woman blushed a bright red and turned her gaze to the double doors beside them. Duke smiled crudely as he took in the skimpy dress she had on. The short red dress barely covered her small, wide, sharply curved rump; it hugged her hefty breasts and curvy figure like a second skin. Duke licked his lips. She'd be so delicious drenched in fear. He'd get a bite of her before the night was over.

"Oh, Duke. You flatter me so." She giggled and petted his arm. Duke could have rolled his eyes at her obvious flirtatious gesture. He had no real interest in human women. They weren't anymore than a food source to him. Human boys were more of his preference, they were so . . . so sexually appealing. Their small, supple bodies, youthful, innocent faces and gullible minds. They were so unlike the female specimen standing in front of him. Human boys were naturally soft were as a human woman was hairy and rough without all their skin products and shavers. This attraction he had always kept to himself. It was one thing to turn children and young men, even in the werewolf world hurting them was looked down upon. When he had been a little younger he was disgusted with himself but the wolf inside would have none of that. When the full moon would rise, he would have no control over the victims the wolf inside him chose. After awhile, he'd just…given in. He thought of Harry with a big smile.

"I invited a few of my friends. I hope you don't mind." Emily pointed at her waving friends and rolled her eyes. "They were dying to meet you." Duke smiled wolfishly at the three plump women who stood a few feet away from him and Emily. They're fat enough to feed an army.Duke looked down at his watch. Just about all the guests had arrived already. All except one.

Harry Potter, his guest of honor, had yet to arrive. He hadn't seen or smelled the younger male in an entire week. He had put a lot of patience and effort into making Harry feel comfortable with him. The-Boy-Who-Lived was more naive than he had thought. Duke had made up a sob story about his life to get Harry to trust him. He had told Harry that he was a muggle orphan who had been brought to the Wizarding world by his sire. The story wasn't far from the truth, just far enough from the truth to be considered a lie. Harry had believed every word he spoke after that.

From the first moment he had laid eyes on the young, lithe, emerald eyed male, he had known that he was special. Not in the hero sense but in another indescribable way. There was something lurking under the surface. It was something he couldn't explain but he could smell under the boy's skin, in his delicious blood, in his very bones.

He had smelled Harry's fear the first day they had met. When he had cornered the youth in the alleyway behind the owl emporium, he had intended to just kill him and devour his remains but once he'd got a whiff of Harry's scent, that addictive scent, his plan had been forgotten. Harry's scent was the most heavenly thing he had ever inhaled. It was better than chasing prey, better than hearing the satisfactory crunch of bones, better than an adrenaline rush, more exciting than hearing his victims scream in pain, more exciting than chasing a beautiful young boy, more exciting than a kick of endorphins, more exciting than flying, more exciting than pouncing on a pretty human, better than cheering charms, better than muggle drugs, better than sadomasochistic sex, better than the rush of new love, better than laughing, it was better than life, better than death, it was the greatest thing that ever existed.

Harry's scent created the greatest euphoria Duke had ever experienced and it was all his.

Now he lived for that scent. Whenever Harry could get away, he'd meet the young man in Diagon Alley or wherever Harry was comfortable and subtly he would extract fear from his 'friend'. Whether it was a small creepy gesture or a wolfish growl, he learned the triggers of Harry's fear and used them in his favor. All the while he carefully planned the blood fest.

The blood fest would not be complete without Harry. The boy hero was the icing on the cake. Harry was the last step in securing his clan's ranking in werewolf society.

He had no intention of killing the boy hero, on the contrary. He would get Harry so intoxicated that when the time came for him to ravish the star of his puppet show, Harry wouldn't be able to object.

The euphoria of Harry's scent was too inebriating for him to keep to himself but he didn't plan to share.

He would take the boy hard and fast in a field of spectators who could only watch with hungry eyes, intoxicated by the scent emitting from the boy's pores, while Duke took one of the most mesmerizing humans to ever walk the earth. In the instance of watching him assert his domination over The-Boy-Who-Lived they'd see his power, they'd see what clan their allegiance should lay with and they would defect from Fenrir fuckingGreyback.

Duke was positive that his plan would work. He planned the night perfectly and not even that clumsy clot Fawn Fur could ruin it. He had learned Fenrir's habits. He'd known where the older werewolf would be and he had created a distraction. Accidently but it was a distraction nonetheless. He'd dropped a bit of information to a suspected Death Eater about Fenrir's whereabouts. Hopefully, by the time the fest started, Greyback would be dead.

He had been extremely careful with who he had invited. He didn't much care about the humans who attended, after all, the more the merrier but he was careful about what werewolf was allowed to pass through those double doors. He had invited several clans: the Grimms, the Malloys, the Pikes, the Clues, and many others. He had even invited some of the old members of Fenrir's pack, members whose allegiance was wavering. He had invited mostly all of the pureblood werewolf clans and packs but he still feared that the news of his plan to overthrow Fenrir Greyback would be discovered by one of Fenrir's loyal members and the news would carry back to the burly werewolf. Duke was strong for his age but he was nowhere near strong enough to beat Fenrir Greyback in a fight to the death and he knew it.

In Duke's opinion, Fenrir was one of the stupidest men that he had ever encountered but Greyback worked with such primal brutality and fast speed that not even the most skilled wizard could kill him.

Duke shivered involuntarily at the thought. He had seen Greyback once during a battle, Greyback moved with killer precision and horrific savagery. He had never seen anything as horrendous as the remains of one of Greyback's victims. It had been one of those things that he had never forgotten and probably never would. The worst part of it was that Fenrir could speak during his transformation, which showed just how far his human mind had mingled with the savage werewolf inside him.

To form coherent sentences while in werewolf form was a trait reserved for Fenrir alone. Fenrir's werewolf and human self were so alike that there was no middle point in which they were separated. His werewolf and human side were one, completely. Fenrir was the one and only true werewolf.

Duke sighed rubbed the bridge of his nose. He would have to overthrow Fenrir in one fell swoop or else he would be a very dead man. He looked at his watch one more time. Harry would come. Harry had to come.

Somewhere in Knockturn Alley, Fenrir taunted Fawn.

"My mother was not a whore!" Fawn shouted angrily. She poked one of her long nailed fingers into Fenrir's chest in indignation. They had been having a seemingly nice conversation with long intervals of silence at first but now as they neared the location of the portkey, the conversation had taken a drastic turn for the worst.

Somehow, they had gone from the topic of clans and packs all the way to genealogy, which became a bitter subject when Fawn had unintentionally insulted Fenrir's aunt and in retribution for the insult, Fenrir had in turn insulted her mother.

In the instance that the insult had left her mouth, Fawn regretted it. Fenrir had raised his mighty, sharp, claw up as if to tear her in half with it. His eyes glowed a murderous yellow, and his grimy teeth were bared in a sign of dominance. She had felt like cowering away from him but with all the might she had, she stood her ground, which only earned her a hard slap, a heated death threat and a promise that he would chop her into little pieces, which can be considered as another death threat.

"You don't even know my mother!" Fawn exclaimed emotionally. "I said I was sorry about what I said about your aunt."

Fenrir barked with laughter, he hadn't expected his comment to have so much effect on the girl. But he was glad it did.

It wasn't that he cared that much about his aunt. Truthfully he didn't care about the old woman one bit but the fact that Fawn had the audacity to demean his family by insulting his aunt, was something that Fenrir would not allow. Who did this girl think she was? He was Fenrir , the greatest and fiercest werewolf that lived in that day and age. He was the Lord and King of all werewolves and what was she? Just a scrawny half-breed who was too naive for her own good. If she didn't hold some importance he would have knocked the teeth right out of her mouth and beat her to a bloody, unrecognizable pulp. But as it were, she was somewhat important to him, if he were to discover the location of the blood fest; he needed her.

Fenrir tightened his jaw in fury. He deeply wanted to slit her open like a butchered hog but the consequences of that were too great.

"I call them like I see them and the last time I saw Samara Le Noir she was still a whore. She may be your mother but she is what she is. She's a cockchaser." Fenrir teased, gyrating his as he held on to the imaginary hips of Fawn's mother.

Fawn's face was flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and fury. Fenrir barked with gruff laughter at the expression on her face.

"Don't like that do you?" He said mockingly as he reached down and squeezed Fawn's cheeks and lower face with two fingers. She pulled away from him sharply and cast her eyes to the ground, a sign of submission but he could still see the glimmers of resistance and ire in her eyes.

"Ooh, I remember the old days, your mother had the tightest little body back then and Merlin, did she have a mouth on her! The kinkiest bitch I've ever met and that's saying something." Fenrir lied.

Samara Le Noir had to be the most reserved woman he'd ever met. She had been apart of his old pack, before he became a lone wolf again, even then she had been so closed off that he barely knew her. She had been a loyal member of his pack for the ten years that she had been apart of it.

Fawn turned away from him and jogged some ways ahead until there was about fifty feet between them. She constantly clenched and unclenched her fists. Fenrir was having none of that though; she wouldn't get away from him that easily. He leaped forward and grabbed her around the shoulders, spinning her round once until she was facing him.

"Oooohhhh, Fenrir! Fuck me! Split me in half with your fat dick. Oh, mmm, Oohhh!" Fenrir mimicked Samara Le Noir's soft voice crudely. He rolled his hips and made more noises, pretending to hump an imaginary version of Fawn's mother.

Like an angry snake about to strike Fawn narrowed her eyes and bared her sparkly, white, long canines. Fenrir didn't back down, he stood up to his full height, revealed his lethally sharp teeth, he glared down at her, practically daring her to make a move. Daring her to challenge his superiority. They stood that way for a long time, just glaring at each other, neither refusing to back down, Fenrir trying his hardest to control his rage and Fawn trying to control her fear and her submissive inner wolf. Fawn was the first to break eye contact causing Fenrir to smile in triumph until she sneered hatefully at him.

"You think you're the best thing on God's green earth? That you're somehow superior to the other beings on this planet? That every woman wants you? Well let me tell you something," She advanced on him; the disdain in her eyes was more heated than hot lava. "You are a t-hick-headed, arrogant, self-centered bastard. You're a rapist and a child molester who doesn't deserve the dirt from under my mother's boot. That's not all! You're psychotic, vain and . . . and . . . you're FAT!" Fawn screeched like an angry banshee.

Fenrir's mouth hung open in a large "O" shape. His face was the same color of a ripe tomato. How could she disgrace his name? And in his face? Nobody had ever had the bravery to insult him to his face, everyone did a lot of talking behind his back but nobody EVER disgraced him to his face. Well, that was somewhat of a lie. Amara sometimes insulted him in his face when she thought she could get away with it and Belinda, his aunt, sometimes insulted him but he felt no need to assert his dominance over her. The rage inside him, boiled high like lidded water on high heat. The puny little girl had no right to judge him, he was the alpha, the strongest werewolf alive and what was she? Just a little mutt who had more mouth than she had sense. He'd teach her to think before she spoke. With a claw outstretched he snatched her up, her legs swung under her like a limp rag doll. Her head fell to the side to rest on his clenched claw-like fingers. She stared into his eyes, a stoic expression on her. Her facial expression reminded Fenrir of an old fortuneteller he once met. The fortuneteller had the same look on her face before she. . .

Not too far away, Harry rounded another corner and came face to face with a brick wall. He scratched his head in frustration. Trying to find Fang Tavern was like trying to find his way out of a 300-acre maze. He had been wandering around Knockturn Alley for nearly forty-five minutes. The blocks seemed to stretch on forever and very few streets had street signs. It was quite confusing. He had absolutely no idea were he was and in a way it was frightening. He had faced dragons, dementors, and dark wizards audaciously but the unknown scared him more than anything. The irony. He looked from side to side, his heart beat rapidly in his chest and he could do nothing to stop his erratic breathing. The street to his left was completely empty and the alleyway to his right was dark as the pitched sky.

"No!" A roar split through the air like a bolt of thunder causing Harry to jump. Coming to full alertness, Harry pulled out his wand and backed away from the alleyway from which the sound had come.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Harry said loudly, aiming his wand into the darkness. Everything was still for a few moments and for a while Harry had thought that the voice had just been created by his over active imagination. With a spine tingling shiver, Harry realized that the air had become chilled.

"The day will come when allies needed

The broken king has been defeated

The chains have been broken

Glypnir has been stolen

Taken is the king's heart as token." A soft, feminine voice whispered cryptically. Harry felt a chill run up his spine and he would have run away if he could but his legs refused to move. He heard trash cans being over turned and animalistic growling but it sounded muffled, like it was far away. He hoped it was far away.

"Shut up!" A male voice roared yet again. Without heed, the feminine voice began again.

"The day will come when allies needed

The broken king has been defeated

The chains have been broken

Glypnir has been stolen

Taken is the king's heart as token

Death comes softly

Black as night

like the wings of a bird his soul takes flight

Stolen is it

but he will find

The kings heart of stone with ribbon entwined

On that day the world will be dark

The gods shall watch with resentful eyes

As the mighty king falls and dies

Glypnir pines in the dark

…

The hatred of old will grow and spark

Breaking free of her binds

As the seventh moon dies the King shall be reborn

Love will take over but not the same

The evil has crept forth known by many is its name

Now the light shall weep

for the deceit that they reap.

But a plan is alive and there

Glypnir must die of despair." The feminine voice echoed.

Harry knew a prophecy when he heard one.

Without dwelling on the words that he had heard or even contemplating the meaning. Harry turned on his heels and ran away as fast as his legs would take him but it was too late. He could see something being thrown his way, small at first but as it got closer the object grew in size. All his quidditch reflexes could not have prepared him for that object. The object slammed into his back, causing his feet to leave the ground for a few short moments before he toppled over onto the hard, dirty cement. He lay there in a pain induced daze; the body on top of him was heavy and suffocating. He tried to move but found that his body was constricted. He looked up at the creature that had been launched at him. Green eyes met honey orbs. Harry's eyes widened in horror and he screamed loud enough to wake the dead.

a/n: Thank you. All my reviews. You keep me writing. I know the end of this was kind of lame but I didn't really have much time. I started working this week So updates will be a little slower since I now have to use the library computer to update. I hope you guys really enjoy this. Oh! I'm designing a new character. Anyone wanna help?