Sorry about the long delay. I've had this chapter finished for a month-ish now, but I'm iffy on it. And on Feral, to be honest. The story is now getting to the point that I actually want to continue to write it, but it's disheartening to read reviews criticising the earlier parts of the story, in which I moved things along far too slowly and didn't have a great idea of where I wanted it to go.

I'm not going to leave it here, rest assured, but I can't say for sure how much longer I'll be able to muster the will to continue with this one. Unfortunately, I don't have the patience to go back and redo the beginning as has been suggested to me before. I write primarily because I enjoy it, and that would be mind-numbingly tedious.

Anyway, thanks to those of you who are reading even now. I will do my best to continue updating this story, at the very least to a place that could be considered satisfying.

But, hey, maybe this is just because I'm in a shitty mood at the minute. Hopefully I'll have more determination to continue by the time I publish the next chapter.

Just a reminder, I'm not JK Rowling. I most certainly do not own the world of Harry Potter.

-()()-

Arthur Geiert looked on with fury, as the Greengrass clan and the two girls that had been adopted into the family finished off their evening meal. He detested them simply because of their relationship with the boy that had wronged his family. The look on his niece's face when he had told them what had happened to his brother had broken Arthur's heart; never before had he seen her cry, almost certainly because of how well his Gerrard had raised the girl, but on that day tears had gathered in her eyes as the poor girl forced a smile as she looked at her mother. Alexis had sighed as she met her daughter's eyes, and had reached over to squeeze her daughter's hand in an effort to comfort the girl as Arthur excused himself, not wanting to be there when they started blubbering as was typical of females.

Never again would his brother sit down at the head of the table, as Arthur had seen him do so many times before. Never would he exchange words with his child, conveying whatever he needed to say in such short sentences because of how well he could communicate with the girl who revered him so. Never again would he boast, to Arthur, of how he had instilled the teachings of their ancestors, passed down through generations ever since the family migrated to England from their fatherland, into his daughter so that, when the time came, she would be the perfect wife for the man who would be best able to further their family. Arthur sighed, as he thought on the display that Gerrard had been planning to arrange upon their finding a new master, to demonstrate to the highest ranked officers the desirability of Amelia as a bride either for them or for their sons. What better way than through a practical show of how willing she was to pleasure anyone whom she was ordered, even those in her family? The most desirable trait in a housewife was, after all, obedience. As long as they left her a virgin in the most technical sense, primarily using her mouth, she would not lose any worth in the eyes of the heads of the older houses. How sad that Amelia would never fulfil that purpose. After his brother had died before producing an heir, Arthur would have to continue the line. As she technically held some rights as the heiress-apparent, this would be best done by marrying Amelia to himself, and quickly impregnating his lovely niece.

First, though, there was the matter of avenging his brother's death. Arthur was angry that the estranged Potter boy was not here currently, but he had not wanted to risk convincing any of the more able Death Eaters that this was a sanctioned mission, and so it might be best to have one less object of resistance. While those with him were expendable, the good will he would gain from the Dark Lord would be more significant without an excessive number of the lower-ranks perishing. Being one of the inner circle would, thankfully, provide Arthur with enough leniency that he may even be rewarded! Assuming, that is, he was able to gain favour from his equals. He vaguely remembered Lucius saying his son held an interest in the Greengrass girls; if they were made a gift to Lucius, on the understanding that the less important orifices would be used for the pleasure of the others, then Arthur could secure favour from a significant voice in the Pureblood movement.

Bellatrix, hopefully, could be convinced so long as the pain that was caused was given to her in the form of a memory that she could enjoy at a time of her choosing. That just meant he would have to order one of the others to pay special attention to the screams of pain that would come soon, and to the creative use of other unpleasant spells that Arthur intended to use. Maybe he could even give her one of the others; while that would not appease her as greatly as she was given the Potter boy himself, she had made no secret about the fact that she held an interest in him, any new toy to play with would be welcome for the insane woman. Between she and her brother-in-law being on Arthur's side, no doubt the Dark Lord would be happy to include him more in the most intimate of councils; for some reason, he had yet to be invited despite being in the inner circle.

Unlike many of his fellows, Arthur lacked the Slytherin subtlety that would be useful in this situation, and that would be what resulted in a large portion of those he had convinced to follow him falling this night to a startled Andrew Greengrass.

Arthur pulled himself back to the present, having been lost in thought for a long moment, as the family inside the household rose from the table. As would be the case with many Purebloods, he did not even notice the House-Elves clearing the table. Instead he kept a careful vigil on the group as they approached a living room, with a fire roaring in its place, and sat in the more comfortable environment.

At this point, Arthur decided to act. It did not occur to him that it would be intelligent to wait for his would-be victims to be in a more vulnerable state, specifically when they were resting, as it would have done to one of the more capable Death Eaters.

With a nod of Arthur's head, the order was given for the man to his right raised his wand, and a voice broke the silence, muffled ever so slightly by the unadorned mask that sat upon his face.

"Morsmordre!" The low-ranked Death Eater believed that he was following the orders of his Lord. Fortunately, he would never find out how wrong he was. Voldemort would not get the chance to torture, or even kill, him because he would not survive the encounter.

A jet of green shot into the sky, and Arthur looked on impassively as it grew into the familiar serpent and the skull around which it coiled. No doubt he would be praised for announcing his Lord's return in such a majestic fashion. The Grey families would learn that they could not hide behind status this time around, as they had done in the first war.

The wards, minimal as they were because the family believed themselves safe, alerted Andrew Greengrass and Arthur watched the man's head snap up, and stare in their direction out the window. On the eastern side of the house, they were cast in shadows as the sun set on the opposite wall, but some meagre light must have found the silver mask of one of his fellows because the Pureblood man was on his feet in an instant, with his wand drawn and pointed at them. Around him, Arthur saw the females give exclamations of shock. Then, they caught on, and joined him as the man vanished the window between he and the attackers and a jet of light followed.

The spell answered Arthur's unasked question, of who had alerted their would-be victims, as it impacted the chest of one of his subordinates to the left. The man fell, with a gasp, and Arthur briefly wondered what the pinkish spell had been before the smell of searing flesh reached his nose.

Any hope that Greengrass thought the Death Eater alone was snuffed by the fact that he continued to cast. A deep crimson arc of light announced a cutting curse coming into their midsts, and the Lacero cut a deep, long gash along the torso of the nearest Death Eater on his left-hand side. The man stumbled back, into one of his fellows, and the two fell to the floor in time to avoid the following curse, one unrecognised by Arthur, that twisted the next man's head 180 degrees, with a sick crack.

Then, the Death Eaters recovered from the shock, not a shining commendation of their skill, and began to fire their own attacks in return.

"Do not hurt the youngest!" Arthur exclaimed. He needed Astoria in one piece, else she would not be eligible for marriage to the Malfoy Heir. She needed to at least be able to present an image of esteem.

Arthur fell to the floor with an eep, as a deep purple spell rocketed through the space that had just contained his head from the wand of Daphne Greengrass. Based on the wail of pain that came a moment later, it was a good thing that he avoided it. The man behind fell to the floor, writhing in agony.

By the time the vengeful man was back on his feet, the tide of the skirmish had begun to change.

The same Death Eater who had cast the Morsmordre, Arthur believed his name to be Isaac, realised that they were outmatched by the group inside. They were blatantly more skilled than their numbers, but that could have been overcome by the sheer number of Death Eaters, if it was not for the fact that they were working far more in unison than was to be expected. Only two were on the offensive, the elder blonde girl and Andrew Greengrass. The others were defending against those attacks that came from the disorganised group outside.

Two of the girls, a brunette and a redhead, were maintaining a high-level shield charm, one that would not be effective if one was also to return fire as it required immense concentration and, upon falling, would drain the caster's magical energy greatly. The Lady Greengrass, and a girl with multicoloured hair, were making sure to transfigure objects and animals to take the spells that may have penetrated the shield, or bypassed it completely in the case of the unforgivables. Astoria, meanwhile, was simply levitating and banishing objects into the paths of spells to hinder the efforts of her attempted kidnappers.

The man maybe named Isaac raised his wand with a look of determination, and Arthur watched, as he pushed himself to his feet, as he pointed it at the roof of the house.

"Bombarda Maxima!" He cried, and the subsequent jet of light exploded against the arch of the roof. The ceiling shook, and rubble fell into the midst of the defending family. Their rhythm was disrupted, for a time, and a dark, angry red Cutting Curse caught the biggest threat, Andrew, in the chest.

The Lord almost certainly gasped, but the sound was lost under the boom of yet another explosive curse hitting the nearest corner to Isaac. That had a greater effect on the house, and chunks of debris became projectiles that found the head of Daphne, the girl having stepped towards the injured Andrew.

The other Death Eaters pounced, and Arthur noticed a trio of jets of light, one a sickly green, one of the same nature as the spell that hit their adoptive father and the other so dark that it was barely visible in the descending night. Each found one of the still-standing elder girls, and Astoria screamed as blood sprayed from Tracy's face and the girl, and the others, fell without a sound.

She was silenced a moment later, as a dark blue ribbon shot from the wand of a Death Eater, enlarging in mid air and wrapping tightly around the bottom half of her face. The girl clawed at it, and found that no sound escaped. That she then waved her wand did nothing to hurt the followers of Lord Voldemort as the girl had no hope of using unspoken magic just yet. Ropes followed the gag, and wrapped around the girl, mummifying her. She fell to the ground without a sound.

Andrew Greengrass came back to the present with an infuriated yell, at seeing his daughters, and those he thought of as the same, fall to the ground. In retrospect, Arthur Geiert would realise that he should have finished the man off while Andrew was reeling from the long, deep gash running from shoulder to hip, the flesh having been surgically sliced down to the bone.

"Reducto!" Andrew yelled, moved his hand in a horizontal V, and the produced blue light caught one of the unfortunate Dark Wizards in his forehead. His head was expelled in a violent cloud of red mist.

The Lord jabbed his wand again, and an arrow flew forth, catching one of the few women in their group in the throat. She fell to the ground with a gurgle, and died.

"Alarte Ascendare!" Was the next spell Andrew used. Had he been in a calmer state, the man may have found the fact that he was replicating one of Gilderoy Lockhart's pathetic spells to be amusing. As it was, one of the Death Eaters was thrown high into the air. Andrew cast thrice more before the man hit the ground, and had spells thrown back in return. "Aciditum!" He announced. A dark green light splashed against a masked man's chest, and the recipient fell to his knees, screaming as his saliva turned to acid. It burned through his tongue, then his jaw, and then his throat beneath and the man fell silent.

"Concuss!" This spell was not as effective when wielded by Andrew as it was with Harry, his magic was not so potent, but it dealt enough concussive force to deal a great deal of damage to the victim. It was not, however, quick enough to prevent Isaac from returning fire, even as his fellows sent their own spells and embarrassingly missed by a rather large margin.

"Imputresco!" A brown spell was not affected by the rippling air, and Isaac's wand stayed in the vague direction of Andrew. The Lord tried to move away, as the Death Eater was thrown back with great force even as his bones shattered. The father Greengrass failed, and the spell connected with his right foot.

"Andrew!" Adelaide cried, as her husband fell to one knee, and she saw his jaw clench. She rose from her knee next to her youngest daughter, where she had been trying and failing to cut away the ropes. They were not ordinary, and it would be the Ministry curse-breakers, deployed in full force due to the fear of the Mark above their house, who managed to remove them. The woman stepped forwards, with her wand raised and a hateful countenance on her face. "Avada Kedarva!" She was not one for overly creative fighting, and the killing curse flew from her wand in a vicious green jet of light.

Arthur was, yet again, taken off guard by the use. In fact, his jaw fell open in unison with his still standing fellows who numbered around 15 at this time as he watched it strike a tall masked member of their group. The man fell back, dead as a doorknob.

How could she, a housewife, have the… the determination to use the Killing Curse so effectively? Not even all of the Death Eaters could summon the force of will to sever the bonds between body and soul…

"Stupefy!" Her wand cut through the air again, and one of the men fell to the floor in a heap.

"Expelliarmus!" An 'Eater shot the comparatively harmless spell, and Adelaide's wand was torn from her grip.

"Bitch." The same man bit. "You killed him! Y-you killed my…" He trailed off. "I loved him! Crucio!"

Adelaide's screams tore through the air, and through the cloud of pain that covered Andrew's senses.

He forced himself to his feet, his weight supported by only his left foot, and pointed his wand down. "Diffindo." He groaned, and the severing charm took his foot clean off. The slightest of sighs revealed that the worst of the pain left with the decaying flesh, and he growled low in his throat.

"Bombarda!" He snarled, and the man casting the spell erupted in a shower of gore as the explosive magic connected with his chest. He turned. "Avad-"

The red light of a stunner slammed into his chest, and Andrew's world went dark.

"Grab them," Arthur spat at his subordinates as he pulled the mask off his face, "And bring them out here. We'll start with the bitch mother. You can have your fun once she's broken." The new head of the Geiert family was not willing to risk showing that he could not match the now dead homosexual's Cruciatus. "You," He pointed at one random person. "Torture her. I have heard good things about your ability with the curse; show me that the rumours were not false." There were no rumours, but the last of the female accompaniers puffed up at the compliment, he assumed she was new as he held so much sway, and strode forwards with determination in her stride. None of the others removed their masks, and would not until they were permitted by the leader of this raid.

The woman began to writhe within moments, her nerve-endings still sensitive from the implementation of the curse less than a minute prior. Arthur watched hungrily, knowing he would go first, and was only vaguely aware of the fact that the others levitated the unconscious members of the Greengrass clan out into the yard.

Astoria and her sister would be left untouched, but the group would have their fun with the others once Arthur decided that Adelaide had been tortured enough. Maybe they would wake Andrew, so that he could watch. The sadistic glee they would gain from such a thing would help boost their esteem in the eyes of several Death Eaters, Bellatrix especially, if the memories were gifted to them.

-()()()()-

The taste of blood was barely noteworthy to Harry, as his instincts took over. The metallic, salty taste was not particularly pleasant but after so long hunting with barely an interval the animagus was content with the flavour as it mixed with the marrow of the Death Eater's spine. The man, the nearest of the group whose lives were forfeit, did not have time to scream before he slammed into the ground under the administration of the Direwolf's immense weight.

Blood ran down the shaggy ebony fur of the wolf's maw, as he rose once again from the crouch into which he had fallen. With a sharp movement, Harry tore the flesh, and a portion of the bone, from the dead man's neck.

The screams of Adelaide ceased, as the female Death Eater and her fellows twisted to look at the new arrival. Shadowed eyes, covered by masks, froze under the hateful, malevolent shine in the emerald eyes of the wolf. Everyone was still for a handful of heartbeats, and then the silence was broken.

The will of one of the Death Eaters, a new recruit, broke at the sight. The boy screamed. The wolf's legs coiled. Harry lunged, and the boy's wand rose halfway before the wolf slammed into him with a series of cracks to announce that the Dark Wizard's ribs had broken. Harry did not bother to make sure he was dead, leaving him to whimper and die pitifully as he threw himself at yet another enemy, his teeth bared and stained red for the time being.

His paw lashed out, claws gleaming, as a killing curse narrowly missed him. The heavy limb crunched into a mask, and the owner of said mask fell with the caved in temple hidden by his mask. Harry landed, sank into a low crouch, and growled as his hackles rose.

He lunged forwards, and passed by one of the men. A green curse caught the human in the chest, and the man fell back with a shocked look on his face. Harry's trajectory carried him into the legs of another of Voldemort's followers, and the man's knee broke with a click-crack. The man yelped, as he was tossed over the Direwolf's back.

Harry's heavy paw, claws detracted, punched into the soft flesh of his throat, and crushed the man's windpipe. He died with a panicked mindset, desperately clawing to try to reopen the vital passage.

"Lacero!" The spell trimmed the hairs on Harry's back, which would carry over to his human head of hair, but failed to do any damage beyond superficial. Harry snarled, and relished in the slight fear he found in the just-visible eyes of the man as the air around them rippled. He had made a good deal of progress over the past few months, and this situation pushed him further than he had been able in his happy, hunting state. Necessity predicated progress throughout the history of humanity, after all.

It would have been embarrassing for the man to whom the girlish scream belonged, had he survived long enough to feel humiliation as the wolf reared back onto his hind legs, and his body changed.

It would be some time before Harry decided upon a name for this form, or the similar alternatives provided, but the most fitting label would be of a wolf-man. Not a werewolf, of course, but an appearance that would call that mythology to the minds of many a muggle.

The screaming man was silenced by two gorilla-sized fists impacting on either side of his skull. The bone, and grey matter beneath, gave way and gore splashed over Harry's snarling muzzle. He gave no reaction, other than for his long, dark-furred fingers to unclench and the claws to shine in the light of the setting sun. As he leapt forward on thick-muscled legs, their lethality was restated as they whistled through the air.

The nails met their target, another who had been too slow to recover from the shock of seeing the wolf transform into something close to a man, if the most intimidating man that he had ever laid eyes on. The sharp protrusions tore a chunk of flesh from the Death Eater's throat, and threw him aside. To an observer, it would have looked like a toddler having a tantrum and throwing aside one of its toys. If they toy was able to leave a trail of bloody mist in the air as it fell, and if the toddler was then likely to turn on his others.

Arthur Geiert was Harry's next target, and the fear was far more obvious on his uncovered face than on any of his subordinates as Harry's open jaws closed around his forearm, raised to cover his face. The Death Eater gave an exclamation of pain as the powerful jaws clamped around his arm, cut through flesh, and crunched through bone. The highest-ranking Death Eater present jerked back even as Harry wrenched in the opposite direction and shoved the Dark Wizard away

Arthur screamed, as his arm was separated at the elbow. Blood spurted from the stump, and his allies were pulled back to the present.

"Avada Kedarva!" One of them cried. The green light was dull, and the man who had sent it knew, even as it struck Harry, that he had lacked the fortitude that was required to sever the soul from the body. The only purpose it served, then, was to pull the wolf-man's attention to him. And to end his life prematurely as Harry's heavy paw swung and crunched into the side of his head. The man fell like a sack of bricks, and did not rise again.

"St-Stupefy!" The last of Arthur's allies was young, and this was proven as his voice cracked as he tried one last attack. For a single moment, hope gleaned in his eyes as his spell lit up the world around him in a red hue. Everyone knew that emotion could supercharge spells, and his almost debilitating fear was enough to knock even this wolf-hybrid to the ground, surely.

Then, the hope died. His spell missed. The man screamed. Ivory teeth closed around his throat, and the sound was cut off for good.

A crack rang through the air, as Arthur let the wards fall and he apparated with one glance at his fallen comrades and the dismembered forearm that had previously been attached to his body.

The world fell still, after that. The silence was only permeated by the low growls emanating from Harry's black-fur covered, corded chest. They soon faded away, and turned to strangled sounds of concern; not a noise that came naturally to this form.

He lumbered over to the smallest figure, and established that Astoria was fine.

Then, he went to the most obviously injured figure. The man who stank of blood. Andrew would live. He would be crippled, but he would live.

Next came the victim of torture. Adelaide twitched and spasmed thanks to the post cruciatus effects, but that was the only injury they had inflicted on her and the humanity that had begun to creep its way back to the surface of Harry's psyche was relieved.

The wind changed, and Harry caught the strong scent of blood coming from Tracy. He moved quickly to her side, and turned her over. In his haste he scratched her arm, but in comparison to the injury that was revealed that was insignificant. He whined at the sight of a long gash running diagonally down her face, and a long tongue wiped the grime off her face. She shivered at the strange sensation, and Harry gave a noise not unlike a sigh of relief.

Daphne, too, smelled of blood. He found, however, that it was an injury easily fixed. Unlike the others she had not been put under the effects of any dark curses and so would be fixed easily by any professional Healer.

Harry then moved to the two that, in his sluggish animal mind, were the least injured. From what he could see, smell and hear, Jasmine and Caroline were fine. They did not have a mark on them and, so, he could not understand why they did not move. The wolf-man nudged Caroline with his nose, and made a confused sound as she gave no sign of waking. He licked her face, and she stayed still.

Maybe Jasmine would know what to do. With that in mind, he butted her with his head, and waited for her to wake. She didn't, and the sound of befuddlement came again. A rumbling bark did not bring them out of their revine, and Harry felt trepidation crawl to the forefront of his mind. He growled, and gained no response.

Then, the Animagus softly nuzzled into Jasmine's throat, in search of a pulse. He felt nothing, and his whine caught in his throat. He moved to Caroline, with some desperate hope that she would show him how Jasmine was fine and her heartbeat was just soft. Soft, despite the adrenaline-inducing experience she had just been through.

Again, he felt nothing.

Harry's large hand shoved Caroline, and he growled. She flopped to the side, but gave no sign of life. Nor did Jasmine, when he did the same.

He barked. And again. A pleading sound came from his throat, as he reached the inevitable conclusion.

The Animagus tilted his head to the sky, fell to his knees, and howled.

His form shifted, and the howls of a wolf turned to the cries of a man.