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Alternative ending to the previous chapter – were I to incorporate this into a story, I would be more inclined to use this rather than the previous, to me unsatisfying, ending. After all is said and done, it isn't as if this Harry is incredibly forgiving.

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Previously

Greyback was fixated on the ground before he looked up and noticed Harry's attention was firmly fixed on him.

"Bring me my Lavender, Fenrir," the boy said calmly.

Greyback could only nod as he gestured for the girl to be brought forward.

Two of the pack brought forth a person whose head was covered with a burlap sack. Her hands were tied behind her back and her feet were tethered with a short rope between them.

Greyback gently pulled the sack off her head and trembled in renewed fear. A raw, wide gash ran from just above her right brow, down passed her right, though still-intact, eye, down her right cheek, and ended at the base of her chin.

Greyback noted Harry's slight smile melted into a frown.

Greyback quickly cut the ropes which bound the young witch. She moved to walk towards Harry and stumbled. She would have fallen to the ground except for Greyback, who caught her mid-fall and gently helped her stand.

Rather than risk her falling, Greyback offered his arm and escorted her to Harry.

"My apologies that she came to harm," Greyback stated, surprised at himself at his ability to keep the fear out of his voice.

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Harry looked at the were for a moment, a frown upon his face. He turned his eyes to Lavender and cupped the nearly-catatonic girl's unscarred cheek with his right hand. As Lavender sighed with a sense of renewed safety, she felt a soothing finger run down the wound one of the pack had caused their should-have-been-hostage.

Fenrir, himself, had killed the were who had done the deed; not because he had harmed her, but because he had harmed her against his direct orders to leave her unblemished.

The chill wind that had died down was now renewed.

"Where is he?" Harry asked; his anger clear in his tone.

"Dead. I killed him for marking her," Greyback replied while he struggled to not void his bowels in fear.

The Harry Potter before him now closed his eyes and his face contorted in effort. Fenrir had no idea what event had changed the schoolboy he had heard about into the man before him now. Whatever it had been, it had given the man truly terrifying powers.

Fenrir was certain the girl between them was in some sort of trance because she didn't flinch the way he did when Harry let out a growl that saw him piss himself in fear and subjugation.

When the growl ended, Harry's eyes opened and glowed an even brighter, richer green.

"Not good enough," Harry said with an eerily-delayed echo as if two beings were speaking at once.

Fenrir was frozen, or so it seemed to him. Not by a spell or any sense of wonder. He was terrified at the sound that began a moment later.

The terrible sound of metal screeching as if being torn by forces beyond comprehension. It squealed and pitched; warbled and amplified.

An undulating, spiked, black gateway opened between Fenrir and the horde of weres and the already-chilled night turned as cold as death. He could see the frost from his breath fall as it left him.

A man-shaped creature shambled through the gateway. As it drew closer, Fenrir recognised it as the were who had harmed the girl. The skin of the were was mottled grey and pale, sickly yellow. There was a thick scar around the creature's throat which Fenrir presumed was where the head and torso had been somehow rejoined – he had, to ensure death, beheaded him with a silver axe.

The ground next to Fenrir seemed to boil as it had previously. A single black, ichor-covered horror seemed to melt from out of the ground. It turned it's eyeless face towards Fenrir and a hand slowly reached out to him.

As Fenrir watched it coming for him, he knew there was no escape and his effort to keeps his trousers offal-free failed.

Just before the outstretched hand touched him, it pulled back, closed six of its fingers and its thumb shut which left only its index finger straight. It waggled the finger at him in warning as if he had been a naughty schoolboy. It turned its head towards the undead were. Fenrir could feel the massive wind rush as the thing moved at impossible speeds. It embraced the undead were, who was now screaming incoherently.

The terror lovingly stroked the undead were's face and throat gently with its hands as the two of them slowly melted back into the ground and left no trace of them behind.

The black gateway contracted in upon itself and disappeared with nary a sound.

"The next time you wish to speak with me, Fenrir, I will expect an owl and a more cordial discussion," Harry said.

Fenrir looked to the man he now knew was quite likely so powerful that Tom Riddle had been little more than an annoying, buzzing gnat in comparison.

He watched as Harry gently kissed the girl's right cheek, directly on the angry, raw scar.

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Fenrir could simultaneously feel a hot fire and a wintery chill. He watched in uninterrupted fascination as the gash faded completely and the skin became, once more, completely unblemished. After a few moments, the renewed skin morphed from the pinkness of new skin to blend seamlessly in with the lightly tanned skin, dusted with freckles.

"Take me home, please," Lavender whispered to Harry; her cheek still cupped in his hand and her eyes closed, as she projected exhaustion and weariness.

Harry briefly looked at Fenrir. "We will finish our business another day," Harry whispered. He and Lavender disappeared without a sound even as his words continued to echo in the werewolf's mind for what seemed like hours.