.

The Hogwarts Express and the New World
Written By:Tellemicus Sundance
Co-Authored By:Fiori75
Chapter 7: Spiders, Demons, and Werewolves! Oh my!

Day 21: Dawn

Consciousness returned to Remus slowly. First it came with sounds and smells. The gentle lapping of waves against a shore. The chirps and cries of gulls and other avian creatures. The smell of salt and decomposing stench of moldy wood and damp fungus was strong in the air. Next came his sight as he blearily opened his sensitive eyes. His sight was usually the second most sensitive. Intellectually, he understood why that was. After all, he was going from being able to see body heat of creatures, as well as magical auras, the slightest of rustling of dust in the softest breeze, and common colorful light spectrum to just being able to only see in color again. Naturally, such changes and degradation of sight was a very painful process.

The last sensation that came back to him was his sense of touch. He both hated and loved that sensation after full moons. The night of the transformation was an excruciating experience every single time. Being able to feel it as all of his bones broke, shifted, grew, and changed, setting his nerves on fire as the bones rubbed into or cut across them. The unnatural spasms and lurches as his organs changed to fit the monster's body structure and purposes. 'Overwhelming agony' barely fit for the closest description that Remus could give to the process. In a twisted sort of way, it was almost a relief when the bestial mind of the monster finally took control as it gave him such a needed reprieve from it. On the other hand, the trauma of the transformation never ceased to enrage the monster. Hence why every werewolf throughout all of recorded history has always been in a bloodthirsty fury at the start of each full moon, lashing out and attacking everything nearby. Returning from the transformation was almost a reversal of the process. With his nerves and sense of feeling being the last he became aware of and, mercifully, his body was usually numbed to the point of being nearly unresponsive. So, a strange sense of euphoria and detachment would wash over him, leaving him just lying on the ground with a wonderful numbness.

As his sense of self and wits finally began to return, Remus lifted himself limply up into a seated position as he surveyed the area. He seemed to be in a small cave or crevasse along the shore. The waves and seawater he had been aware of were just visible beyond the cave's entrance, along with the clear blue sky. The sand under him was grainy but loose and white with practically no rocks or pebbles of any substantial size. Lying discarded off to the side of the cave he found the torn-up corpse of one of the jungle creatures the werewolf had hunted and eaten last night. Remus's gaze lingered upon the massive bony dome that topped the creature's head in a very distinctive manner. 'Huh, that must be very useful for bludgeoning predators with,' he thought in detachment. Looking more closely at the beastie's overall form, he couldn't help quirking his eyebrow to himself. 'It almost looks like one of those dinosaurs I remember seeing in that child's book Lily showed me in Second Year…Strange that I can still remember that.'

"Damn, Mooney," laughed an eerily familiar voice as the shade of his friend appeared nearby. "That's a big one! I bet your wolf is so proud! After all, didn't you once run away from a rabbit?"

"Bugger off, James," he told the ghost of his friend. "It was Hagrid's rabbit! You know all of Hagrid's critters are dangerous."

"Besides, that rabbit had been as big as he was," Lily remarked, still her beautiful 20-year-old self. It still amazed him that he almost couldn't tell she was a new mother now. Pregnancy had been very good to her, both during and after.

"Hence the reason why I ran away from it," Remus agreed with Lily, nodding to the young woman.

"Fine, fine, it was the rabbit of Chernabog come again," James joked. Which just further solidified for Remus that this was indeed another delusion that he was experiencing in a post-transformation type of stupor. After all, he knew that James had never had the chance to see that particular movie before his death. Lily had meant to show it to them all but had never gotten the chance. Sirius had killed them first.

Recollecting himself, Remus let out a sigh before saying, "I failed again. I couldn't protect Harry from…wyverns?" The wolf's memories were spotty to him still.

"Of course you didn't, Mooney," James piped up. "What were you going to do to a wyvern? An entire pack of them even! Slobber on them? Nibble on their scales? Maybe play fetch?"

"Leave him be, James. What wizard could do anything against an entire pack of landwyrms? Especially without a wand?"

"I'm not a wizard," Remus muttered. "Especially not here. Here, in this realm of monsters, I'm just another on the pile. And not even a very big one at that!"

"That's right," James replied. "Here, you're just a pigmy monster. What can a pigmy do against a dragon?"

"You're right," Remus repeated. "What can a pigmy do against a dragon?"

"Well, you distracted them for one," Peter broke in with a solemn tone. Remus belatedly glanced behind him to see the partially familiar form of another dead friend. For some reason, there was some strange discrepancies than what he would've expected of Peter. Why was he so fat? And why did he look so much older than James and Lily? But as he stared, the specters of Lily and James floated over to join their other friend, standing beside him. Strangely, Peter didn't seem to notice their presences, unlike usual.

"After all, you've been circling the train every night when you could've attacked it," Peter continued. "How many times did those monsters decide to look elsewhere than to fight a werewolf on patrol? A month of success is much better to focus on than the one night of failure."

Something was very off here. James had always undercut him in blunt and honest ways. Lily made excuses that seemed logical. And Peter usually offered up the cons to trying to be a hero. But here Peter was telling him the pros, being supportive?

"I may have somehow protected them for a month, but that one mistake was all it takes for someone to die," Remus remarked. "Look at how many of them have already been killed! We've already lost so many of the kids!"

Lily was bobbing her head in agreement to Remus's statement whilst James just shrugged his shoulders in nonchalant acceptance. But Peter's expression suddenly hardened. "Was it really your mistake though? What could you have really done to have prevented those monsters from attacking?"

"I could've…I could've…" Remus stuttered, trying to find the reasons he knew existed.

"Could've what?" Lily asked with eager interest. "Please tell us!"

"Go on, Mooney!" James encouraged. "Tell us what you could've done."

"I could've told them about the blood trails they were leaving behind," Remus suddenly spouted in a moment of lucidity. "I could've taught them to never leave a blood trail in the first place. I could've taught them how to fight off dragons. I could've told them to focus on setting traps and alarms, instead of building those walls. I could've taught them to build runes and set wards to protect against monsters."

"So much you could've done, but didn't," Sirius the traitor sneered as he suddenly appeared from the shadows like a dementor. Lily and James instantly turned to face off against the shade, even going so far to draw their ghostly wands as Sirius approached. Like Peter, he didn't look quite as he should've. There was a very distinct Malfoy-esque mask to his face and an air of superiority about his person that Remus knew was completely against what he knew of his old friend's demeanor and features. Or at least, what he would've thought he was like. The truth of it was probably closer to this twisted shade that he now saw the traitor as.

"You could've only done those things if you were actually there," Peter stated in a blunt tone, but never once breaking eye contact despite Sirius's sudden arrival. Something that was very distinctly different than all of their previous interactions since that fateful night. Usually, Peter would've either vanished in an explosion of light, or be cowering behind any of his nearby friends. To have absolutely no reaction to Sirius at all was very, very off-script of what had become the norm.

"They need you," Peter went on, seemingly unaware of the turmoil still brewing in Remus's head. "Do you remember that book Lily made us read that one time in Sixth Year? You remember, right?"

"Oh, you mean the Lord of the Rings, Peter?" Lily suddenly asked eagerly. "I think I got you to Return of the King that year. Or did you mean Dune? Or perhaps maybe the Narnia series? I can't remember if I got you started on those that year."

"Lord of the Flies," Peter continued. What was strange for Remus was that he and Lily were both speaking simultaneously, forcing Remus to try and focus on either one or both at the same time. It was rather difficult to even understand one of them with how badly his head was still pounding. Nonetheless, Peter pressed on relentlessly. "You remember what it was about, don't you? A bunch of school lads stranded on a deserted island. Ring any bells?"

"Didn't she make you read that after suggesting locking me and Snape in a closet?" James asked in a casual voice, not really caring. He hadn't been forced to read it after all.

"Yes, yes," Sirius added in with a sinister grin. "The one where the junior Death Eater took control of the group. Oh! I see! He's suggesting it's going to happen here!"

"Junior Death Eater leader," Remus repeated.

Peter blinked for a moment before a contemplative look crossed his face. "It did sort of go that way, didn't it? Gonna have to parse that later. Anyway, the point I am trying to make is without adult supervision, things are gonna go bad for the kids! They'll eat each other. Then the creatures will eat what's left." He glanced to the side for a second as he muttered something under his breath that Remus just barely managed to hear. "And then I'll be dead."

"And then you'll be dead?" Remus repeated again, but with a much more questioning tone to his voice. "But, Peter, you're already dead."

Peter's eyes shot up to him in an instant with a look of dawning terror in them. As that happened, Remus focused his attention upon the man. Really focused. He finally began to not only see but understand the signs of age, little imperfections he'd forgotten, and…was he missing a finger? The one that they found…

"Peter…are you alive?" Remus asked slowly. As he did so, he somehow found himself already upon his feet. The specters of his past fading as like smoke in the wind. All that remained was a very solid and very terrified looking, older, fatter Peter.

"Y-Y-Yes!" Peter said in a shaky but risingly dramatic tone of voice. "I am alive! Ta-daaa!" He spread his arms out as though either expecting a hug of reunion or putting on a grand muggle display of magic.

"How are you alive?" There was a definite note of danger in Remus's voice.

"Ah, well, you see," Peter stuttered out upon hearing Remus's rising anger. "I had gone to confront Sirius. But he used some spell I've never seen or heard before and suddenly I was here!"

"And you've been here ever since?" There was an unmistakable note of incredulousness underneath Remus's rage.

"Well, if I wasn't here, then where?" Peter shot back, speaking faster than he could think in his fright.

Remus looked hard upon Peter's corpulent form, his lack of a wand, relatively intact clothing, and the familiar calculating look of terror. None of which Remus knew could've survived in a realm such as this place. "Somewhere warm, plentiful, and safe for a rat to scurry into for the winter." In a burst of sudden and absolute clarity and insight, Remus understood. "Which family did you hide with? Was it the Malfoys? Goyles? Notts? The only reason you'd be here was if you'd have been on the Express. Meaning you were pretending to be someone's pet. For twelve years. How could you let me think—How could you let everyone think—How could you do that?! And Sirius! He's in…Sirius… Why did Sirius say he killed you…?"

Peter gave no reply. He just raised his hands up in a slightly cowering and warding gesture as he watched his fears come to life as he watched Remus work it out for himself. The situation was crumbling fast for him, and they both knew it. As the pieces rapidly fell into place, Remus's rage reached heights that he'd never felt before. As this occurred, a practically visible red haze began to settle over him. Peter visibly flinched back and backed away several steps after this haze began to gather. Unknown to Remus, his eyes had suddenly changed. Going from their usual dark brown to a bright and almost reflective golden that were typical of canines, particularly wolves. The eyes of a predator in a murderous rage.

"N-N-Now, Re-Re-Remus," the rat stuttered out. "Let's not be hasty!"

"WHY?!" Remus responded, his voice tapering off from a question into a full bestial growl.

"Y-Y-You don't—! He tortured me!" the real traitor squeaked out.

The sheer gall of the traitor's blatant lie was the final push. The last of the flaying restraints of his self-control snapped. Remus was only vaguely aware of the feral howl of bloodcurdling rage he let out as Mooney finally pounced. Despite being surrounded still in the red haze, Remus was partially aware of the righteous fury and overwhelming grief that the wolf was visiting upon his formerly deceased friend. He found himself darkly amused that he would soon have to correct the date of Peter's death in the Ministry…if he ever got back there.

After the red haze began to lift and Mooney retreated back into his psyche, Remus found himself hunched over the bloodied and mauled remains of his former friend, panting heavily from the sheer physical and emotional exertions he'd undergone for however long it'd taken. As the haze fully receded, Remus watched with something akin to awe as the bloodied claws upon his fingers receded to become regular fingernails.

A flash of a distant memory from his early childhood passed through him. It was one of old pain and buried terror. And he knew full well what had triggered this memory. It was the image of heavily clawed fingers scraping across the floors of his bedroom as the massive man-wolf lunged for him. Claws that were practically identical to the ones that he'd just had. "I really have become a monster."

He promptly vomited violently off to the side. Thankfully, he didn't taste any Peter coming up. That was about the only positive thing about the situation for him in that moment.

XxX

Day 21: Sunset

Spiders were simple creatures. They built their nests in the dark places of the world and stayed out of the light. As long as you kept a good record of where they nested and how many there were, you were generally safe from them as long as you did the minimal required efforts to keep them satisfied. Besides, his children found them tasty. They were such an abundant source of food that regularly repopulated itself. He didn't begrudge the spiders whenever they killed some of his family in their skirmishes. That was simple survival. Plus, for every one of his children lost provided nourishment for the spiders, who provided food for his children. A balance in the natural cycle, as the gods had intended. Nothing like the shemlin with their incessant greed that had them constantly take and take and take.

Refocusing himself, he slowly entered into the spiders' lair. They would be the perfect first wave of his vengeance. He knew that the shemlin were a ferocious and resilient lot. It would take many, many more spiders than what he could see sleeping among the stalactites and stalagmites of the deep cavern he was entering to take them down. But these spiders would also be a good source of information. They could help him ascertain the strengths and weaknesses of this group of trophy hunters. This way, no more of his surviving children would be unduly risked. He had so few surviving family now that he wouldn't risk them for anything. But he might even need to call on their sister clans for help.

Slowly, silently, he made his way through the spiderweb laden cavern. Reaching out, he touched the mind of the first group of spiders he could find and exerted his magic upon their weak minds. Spiders were almost all instinct and little cognitive thought. This made controlling and directing them so much easier to bind them to Vengeance than most other creatures. Nevertheless, he used as little of his magic as he could for each binding he enacted. He'd need to conserve his power if he was to pierce the Veil. Rage did owe him a favor and summoning him was always a chore.

Looking at his newfound army of spiders, he raised himself up to be easily seen by all their many eyes. Speaking wasn't truly necessary for these creatures, but it did help him direct his will. "Go. Go to the shemlin camp. Bring me a live one!"

Piercing the Veil was always so much easier with a little bit of blood.

XxX

Day 21: Night

Looking back on it, Harry would never truly know what it was that had roused him that night. It could've been the shrieking roars of approaching monsters in the near distance. It could've been the clanging of the Hogwarts Express's bell ringing loudly in alarm, for that very purpose. It could've been the screaming of fear, anger, and confusion of his fellow students who had also been awoken demanding answers from one another. It could've been Hedwig's loud squawks of alarm ringing straight into his ears. Or it could've been his own growing sense of incoming danger. Whatever the reason was, Harry was wide awake and alert within an instant, grabbing his glasses, then his spear, and jumping to his feet all within a split second.

He threw himself out of the broken window of his compartment and was already rushing towards the nearest section of the mostly built wall around the train. Even as he was doing so, his eyes were searching for the source of the shrieking and sounds of combat. Ignoring the feel of cold, coarse soil under his feet, Harry turned and raced over to where he could vaguely make out the thrashing shapes of the night guard and the monsters attacking them. Even with the lights of seven full moons overhead, he couldn't quite decipher just what the creatures were. All he could tell for certain was that they weren't the lizard-wolves from earlier.

"Harry, mate! What's going on?!" Ron's rapidly approaching voice called out from behind. Apparently, Harry hadn't been the only one to take a shortcut.

"Night guards need help!" Harry yelled back.

He aimed his spear towards one of the forms that had pounced upon a student. As he put his momentum into his thrust, burying his spearhead into the creature, he was ever so thankful to every god and goddess that existed that spears were so conveniently easy to use. Moving with his thrust, Harry raised his leg and with all his might kicked off the monster from his speartip before it could be lodged inside.

As the monster was finally coming to a halt from where he'd kicked it off, he was able to get a good look at the creature. But it was Ron's fearful shout that verified his identification. "Spiders! Why'd it have to be spiders?!"

"Actually, they're Acromantula, Weasley!" Draco Malfoy's voice called out from surprisingly nearby.

It took Harry a split second to realize just where and looked down. To his shock, it was Draco Malfoy who he'd just saved. Neither boy could really do much but stare in shock at one another for the situation they just found themselves in. And it was this shock that momentarily removed Harry's filter as he stated, "Acromantula are actually bigger than this, Malfoy…"

There was a momentary awkwardness between the two boys as Draco hurriedly pushed himself to his feet. It would've been a silent awkwardness if not for the ongoing fight around them. A fight that Draco was quicker to respond to as he swung around, his gleaming sword slicing into the side of another spider that had been trying to pounce on him again. Once the beast had staggered away, now missing a good bit of length from several legs, Draco brought his sword down and began hewing at the spider silk that had been wrapped partially around his legs earlier.

"Stop gawking! Start fighting, Potter!" Draco barked.

Harry snorted in response as he finished off the wounded spider Draco had struck. "Try to keep up, Malfoy!"

"It's Weasley you should be worried about, Potter!" Draco snapped back.

Both boys glanced pointedly over towards where a pale-faced Ron was gripping his axe with white knuckles. The boy was shaking badly in fear as his eyes darted everywhere around him. He also seemed to be muttering something to himself, but neither Harry nor Draco could understand it with all the noise around them.

"Ron, you can—" Harry started but was distracted when another spider lunged for him from the side.

A quick dodge and Draco stabbing the spider solved that problem and allowed Harry to return his attention to the still frozen and shaking form of his friend. He wanted to rush over and comfort his friend, but he realized he didn't have the time to do so. Now that he was in the area, he could more clearly see just what the odds they were dealing with were like. There were about 20 students in a general fighting line following along the gap in the as-yet-unfinished wall. Outside this defensive line, he couldn't really see the exact number of spiders they were fighting against, especially because of how much they were moving about. But it was definitely a few dozen of them pressing forward into the students as they tried to rush the train.

That being the case, Harry called out loudly. "We have to hold the line here!"

A chorus of shouts rang out in agreement as the 20 students firmed their resolve.

Unnoticed by Harry, his shout sent a jolt of awareness through Ron. Watching as his best friend and their most hated classmate stood shoulder to shoulder caused a deep well of emotion to settle upon the Weasley boy. He hated himself in this moment. Hated his terror and fear. Was angry at Harry turning away from him, even as he understood why. Angry at his older brothers for instilling this fear in him. But, most of all, he hated those creepy, crawly, too-many-legged giant things that were attacking them right now.

But it was thanks to this newfound awareness of his surroundings that Ron saw it when one of the creepy bastards managed to slip through a gap in the fighting line. He could literally see it when the bastard spotted him, turned all its soulless eyes onto him, made the decision that he was an easy meal, and started rushing towards him. Ron's terror kept him rooted to the ground as though he were an old oak tree, unable to move even as he watched death approaching on its many legs. He realized then that there was no one around to save him at this moment. Harry was busy dealing with two different spiders among the line. The various night guards and defenders were all also preoccupied by the pressing line of eight-legged freaks. The kids in the train were either cowering in fear, taking their sweet time getting here, or just watching it all as though it were a quidditch match. No one was going to help him.

As the giant spider was lunging into the air for a pounce that would've driven him into the ground and knocked him senseless, a sudden jolt of primal instinct had Ron burst into motion. He jumped frantically to the side, even as his arms swung back towards the monster with his axe in a futile attempt of retaliation. He could literally feel it. He felt it as the axe in his hands sent a jolt up his arms when the metal met the carapace armor of the arachnid. To his mounting terror, the axe handle was ripped from his weakened grasp as the monster sailed past him. Ron's dodge was neither graceful nor steady. So, his feet were unable to find proper purchase in the loose earth and he fell to the ground in an undignified heap. He quickly scrambled to his hands and started frantically crab walking away from the giant spider that was probably about to pounce upon him again!

The pounce never came.

It took him an agonizingly long few seconds to see and understand just what he was seeing. He'd somehow managed to bury his axe blade directly into the spider's head. What made this particularly uplifting and surprising to him was that the axe had not simply bounced off the carapace of the monster. He could literally see the slowly oozing body fluids of the spider as they seeped out from around the edges of his axe. The body of the spider had collapsed limply to the earth and was now going through a series of rapidly slowing twitches. The death throes of something that doesn't quite understand that it's dead yet, his inner Hermione side told him.

"I killed it?" he whispered to himself in shock and awe. "But Acromantula are wizard killers! How could I have killed it like that?!"

As he was mumbling this to himself, a sudden sharp realization ran through him. These were not Acromantula! Not only were they in a totally different world, but the creatures here were completely different. How could these Acromantula who were not Acromantula be the same as back home? If he could kill this one so easily, didn't that mean that the others were…

A maniacal grin started to spread across Ron's face. He wasn't sure just when his axe got back into his hand, but it felt right being there. It felt even more right when he buried it into another spider that had leapt towards Harry. And it felt just incredible to watch its bloody blade slicing through two more spiders in one swing. He wasn't sure when the laughter started, but he was howling in glee as he took more and more steps from the line and started pushing the spiders back. He wasn't sure when the others started laughing with him, but he sure as heck appreciated it! In the back of his mind, he remembered a rather tasteless joke his brothers had once shared.

You couldn't spell 'slaughter' without 'laughter.'

XxX

The Gryffindor Team had gone insane. Marcus Flint wasn't certain what he thought about that yet. But it was as obvious as the twelve moons overhead. The surviving members, plus the youngest Weasley boy, had been among the first responders to the alarm bell when the Acromantula had attacked. Nearly all of them had rushed into battle in just their pajamas. Considering the summer heat they were dealing with, that pretty much just meant their underwear. At some point during the fight, they had started laughing in jubilation or madness as the fighting intensified and spread. What made it even worse was how, by the end of the fight, all of them were positively drenched in spider blood and fluids. And yet, still they laughed!

Even from where he could see them now, sitting crouched upon the corpse of an especially large specimen of the breed, he could see them all still somewhat giggling from the endorphins and adrenaline still flowing through them. It was a rather unnerving sight, if he were being honest with himself. Wizards and witches were not supposed to be drunk on blood zeal. But he had to remind himself that if anyone were going to become barbaric berserkers, it would be the Gryffindors.

"Oi!" Clearwater's voice called out from the train. "Get your arses over here! You all need checkups on the double!"

"Before that!" Marcus called out even more loudly, getting everyone's attention. "Three cheers for those bloody lions! Without whom, the line would've fallen!"

As loud cheers erupted from the train, Marcus's eyes narrowed slightly in calculation. He would be magnanimous this night and allow the lions their time in the spotlight. Goodness knows that he knew they deserved it. After all, for all his ambition, he wasn't foolish enough to put himself on the frontlines when he wasn't ready. And they had saved his life too, even if indirectly.

Movement at his side drew Marcus's attention. He watched as Cassius Warrington and Dustin Tanner jumped out of the compartment they were in and started rushing over to the battlefield. He could vaguely hear them talking to one another.

"What should we do with these bodies?"

"Did you know that boiled Acromantula tastes like chicken?"

"Are you serious? How would you even know that?!"

"My family's got…exotic tastes."

"Still, what do you think we can salvage from these beasties?"

"I don't know. Don't spiders make silk?"

"And Acromantula have got plenty powerful venom?" Tanner added. "And it'd be easier to get the venom. Not to mention we gotta extract it before it can poison the rest of the meat."

"Too true. Acromantula venom is very quick when it comes to that."

"Then why's no one dead?" Marcus asked aloud, suddenly realizing just what had been bothering him about this entire fight.

Now that he was looking and aware of his unease, he could see that all of the defenders were still alive and upright. None of them seemed to have been bitten! This was bizarre. He had seen several of the defenders getting brought to the ground, where getting bitten would've been a foregone conclusion. And yet, none were! Instead, they had been being wrapped in silk before the lions had arrived and helped free them.

Marcus was distracted from his conspiracy thoughts by a pair of familiar voices calling to their youngest brother. Looking over to where he knew the Gryffindors were still sprawled about, he watched as the Twins stepped up to their younger sibling holding something he couldn't quite make out in the darkness. Whatever it was, they had a pair of matching malicious grins on their faces.

"Lookie lookie, Ronniekins!" "To the victor, go the spoils!" "A new armor for ya!" "Fresh from your own kills!"

Marcus now realized that they were holding up some slimy bits of spider carapace up to their brother's body as though measuring it to him. He wasn't sure just why this was supposed to be funny, but he could tell that the Twins certainly thought it was. Maybe something to do with a family joke that he was unaware of? Whatever the case was, he watched as the Twins waited expectantly for Ron's reaction. So, he was somewhat confused when he spotted the moment that their grins broke when the youngest Weasley boy nodded in agreement.

"Oh yeah! Thanks, guys! Yeah, I totally killed these fuckers! Let's let them all know! I killed so many bloody Acromantula tonight!" The manic grin on Ron's face had returned full force.

"I still say they aren't Acromantula," Harry Potter said.

"And how would you know that, Harry?" Angelina asked.

"Because Ron and I faced a nest of them last year." The Gryffindor Team, sans Ron, finally stopped laughing.

"How are you not dead?!"

"The Weasley family car saved us."

Marcus decided to stop listening and focus on more interesting conversations around him. Listening to the budding berserkers was probably going to be bad for his sanity.

XxX

Day 22: After midnight

The spiders had failed. He found himself drifting about, contemplating everything he'd just witnessed. The discoveries he'd made were surprising and pretty jarring to him. The hunting party of trophy takers were all shemlin youths. The men were just barely men, and there were far more boys amongst them than there should've been. Were they truly a hunting party? No, they must be! They'd killed his family! They'd strung them up like creatures to be butchered. Eaten them and were using their corpses as makeshift weapons. They were worse than trophy takers! Even if they were incredibly confounding.

Not only were their ages a matter of great concern in normal society, it was also the fact that all of them were mages! There wasn't a single one that did not sing to his senses. And while the thought of turning them against each other was a very tempting idea, he knew instinctively that it would be a challenge he might not be able to accomplish. Something about them… Something was different. They were far too…stable. They did not sing into the Fade as normal mages did. He would say that they were a bit like him. They carried the Fade within themselves, which shielded them from conversion. But that couldn't be right! No, they had something…else. It was new and strange. But, in the end, it didn't really matter. Though they were curious to him, they'd already marked themselves for death. Still, he'd have to try to leave some of the corpses intact. It would make studying these anomalies easier.

Though, that did lead to another concerning factor. There were quite a number of them. Too many for him to fight and kill on his own now that he knew of them.

So, of course the spiders had failed! There were upwards of three hundred, maybe more, of these peculiar mages. Against that number of normal people, the spiders might've had a chance. But against mages? It would be like feeding grass to a halla. The only thing that had given the spiders as much of a chance as they got was the fact that the shemlin had refused to use their magics. Were they trying to hide from the Chantry or something? There were no templars nearby as far as he could tell, but one could never be certain. Were they attempting to build one of their awful towers here or something? They had a very strange living space already erected. Who knew the ways of shemlins? Still, he would have to figure out something to do with this.

Nonetheless, the spiders had failed. There hadn't even been a single drop of blood he could've used. Well, maybe one of his children but—No! That would've been wrong. His children were to be protected by his actions, not harmed by them! But these hunter mages had already proven themselves a threat! If they were left alone, then all of his children would die. Would the sacrifice be worth it? He'd already sacrificed so much. Perhaps he could ask for a volunteer? Let them decide if they wanted to help him in his cause of protection? See how far they themselves would be willing to go for Vengeance. Yes, yes, that would work.

Refocusing on the task at hand, he asserted his power and channeled his mana into the spell he was weaving. Between the blinks of an eye, he was gone from his position of observing the shemlins fortification to somewhere else. Looking around, he quickly recognized the area as his niece's clan. She had taken a small group of the family and split to claim a new hunting ground for themselves some time back. She'd apparently had quite a few successful clutches since then.

His arrival had not gone unnoticed as all of her nearby family were staring at him wearily. He paid it no mind as he declared, "I need your strongest warrior! Your mother clan has been attacked! Avenge them!"

Slowly, cautiously, one of the bigger males stepped forward. Silently, he came to stand before the Keeper. "Do you knowingly give yourself to Vengeance?"

The big one hissed in affirmation, bobbing its head in agreement. "Then stand before me and we shall bring Rage down upon them."

XxX

Day 22: Early morning

It was a general festive environment that surrounded the Hogwarts Express that morning as the sun slowly rose. The various kids had been literally up all night after the spider attack dealing with the aftermath. The first issue was of course bandaging and healing any wounds that might've been taken. Everyone involved and who had watched the fight agreed wholeheartedly that the fighters were all extremely lucky that no one had gotten bitten, stung, or otherwise poisoned. Already the harvesters of the spider corpses were gushing about the quality of the venom extracts they'd taken. Apparently, this particular brand of venom seemed to have a slightly acidic effect to it. Which the harvesters declared meant that it was also a contact venom that could be absorbed through the skin. This had put the potion brewers into quite a frenzy as to the potential uses of the venom once it'd been properly researched.

But most of that was beyond Ron. What he cared about was that spider meat apparently tasted a lot like chicken. It was made all the sweeter from the catharsis of him knowing he'd been the one to kill it! And Ron knew for certain that this meat was indeed killed by him. After all, he had sat and remained with this particular corpse since the end of the fight. He had been there to watch as it was systematically dissected, harvested, and then as the innards were cooked in a boiling broth whose steam had cooked the legs. One of which he was now munching on in vindictive glee.

"Stupid spider," Ron said to himself between bites. "How do you like…being bitten?"

In one hand, he was holding a leg of spider. In the other, he was idly carrying a tray of more cooked spider legs as he slowly made his way down the length of the train. He'd drawn the short straw on the food collection duty this morning. Not that he was complaining. After all, he got first dibs on the best meat. Henceforth, he decided, that he must never let the others know that he would be losing on purpose. Even with his mind preoccupied with thoughts of his newfound appreciation for spiders, he was still able to dodge around a couple of excited firsties as they ran past him towards the outdoor kitchen area, eager for breakfast. Actually, now that he was thinking about it, what did they call their little outdoor cooking area? It wasn't a barbeque, and it certainly wasn't like any kitchen he was familiar with. A cooking pavilion? Outdoor kitchen? No, none of them sounded right and he was sure that there was a word for it.

"Huh, I'll have ta ask Hermione," he said through another mouthful, idly licking up any crumbs that snuck out while he was distracted. "Would she be with the others or doing inventory again?"

As he was cocking his head slightly in thought, he noticed the girl in question just ahead of him. She had her back to him as she was speaking softly to some Hufflepuff boy. He looked somewhat familiar, but the name escaped him for the moment. Shaking his head of idle thoughts, Ron moved over to the pair, eyeing the boy closely as he approached. In doing so, he caught sight of the new sword strapped to the boy's side and what seemed like a large piece of crab shell that was acting as a shield hanging from his back. Ron's eyes widened slightly as he started to recognize the weapon combo. Those were the weapons of choice for the leader of the night guard. What was the guy's name again? Dig-something?

Shrugging to himself, Ron turned his attention to their conversation as he drew up close enough to them.

"—just help me find wherever they are?" the guy was saying.

"Well, Ron is right here," Hermione stated offhandedly as she noticed his arrival. Eyeing him with a suspicious look, she asked, "Bringing those to the others?"

"No, this is my breakfast," Ron stated in a faux-serious tone. "What are you having?"

After a moment of silent staring between them, he grinned and offered her the tray.

"Thank you, Ronald," Hermione said primly as she took one.

"So, what are you two talking about?" Ron tried to ask casually.

"Ah, finally!" the guy said with relief. "I've found one of you!"

Ron blinked in surprise. "You were looking for me?" If so, that'd have been a first!

"Yes," the guy acknowledged. "You and the rest of the Bloody Lions—I mean, I mean, um…"

Ron blinked again. "You guys are all calling us that? I thought that was just Flint's name for us."

"It's catchy," the guy stated. Then he gave Ron a somewhat evaluating look. "And you are still somewhat covered in blood."

Looking down at himself, Ron had to admit the guy was right. He had been distracted and in a post-battle haze ever since the fighting had stopped. So, he was indeed still dressed in his underwear and had long streaks of dried spider blood and other ichor plastered all over him.

"I was trying not to say anything," Hermione said to herself, as her nose wrinkled in disgust. "But, Ronald, you really need a bath! Now!"

"I drew the short straw for the food," Ron said. It sounded like an excuse, even to himself.

The look Hermione gave him was one he knew very well. She was annoyed and wasn't trying to hide it from him. The two of them stared at one another for several long moments, with Ron growing increasingly more uncomfortable under her withering gaze. Finally, like they both knew he would, Ron let out a loud sigh of resignation as he held out the tray to the girl. "Fiiine," he whined out. "I'll go get cleaned up, right now. Take this to the others."

"And get dressed," she ordered.

"Yes, mother," he said petulantly.

"Wait!" the guy called out, not even hiding his grin. "I still need to talk to you real quick."

"Oh yeah," Ron said, giving the guy his full attention. "You were looking for me. What's up?"

"You and the rest of the Gryffindor Team," the guy said. "Your brother volunteered your group into my guard. And we need all the fighters we can get."

"…You don't mean Fred and George when you say 'brother,' do you?" Ron asked lowly, his eyes narrowing.

"No, I do not," he said simply.

"Riiight," he drawled out. Looking over to Hermione, he said, "On second thought, I should probably tell the others about this first. I should be there while it's being discussed. So, bath time later."

"Yes," Hermione said in a resigned voice. "Unfortunately, I really can't argue with that. But, for Merlin's sake, put on some pants first!"

Ron flushed brightly as he turned and started running. No, wait, hurrying! He was hurrying away! Running implied that he was fleeing. And he wasn't fleeing from Hermione! Nope, not at all. He was hurrying to get past her so he could enjoy his meal and tell the others. After all, he now needed to tell them quickly about Percy's latest attempt to coddle them. Honestly, he was really starting to get tired of their elder brother trying to imitate Mom!

XxX

Draco could not believe that this was the firepit that he'd ended up at for breakfast. It was definitely a nice view. He wasn't disputing that. It was the creators of the firepit that he had a slight issue with. How had he wound up at Potter's campfire?! Of course, he did know that answer. Flint had chosen to sit next to the Weasley Twins. They currently were discussing the fight they'd all just had with the Acromantula, the various types of weapons they had available, and which were better for what and when. He knew it had initially started as an attempt to butter up the Twins but had quickly evolved into an actual discussion. The Gryffindors were proving themselves to be unusually knowledgeable with the different types of handmade weapons and tools they all had crafted.

The twins were adamant that the weapons they'd built themselves were better than the many swords, spears, and shields they'd all brought back from the shipwreck. He would've thought they were only doing it out of pride. But he found himself slightly agreeing with them. After all, he had not only seen but participated in the recent defense of the train. He had been using a simple sword and hadn't felt all that comfortable with it. Honestly, it felt more like he was flailing about trying to stick the pointy end into something or cutting with the sharp edge. The Gryffindors hadn't been like that. They had struck with power and surety in their movements that had felt natural. The surety of their movements had definitely felt more natural than the bumbling he felt himself had been making.

It was just one of the growing number of reasons for why Flint had suddenly seemed to attach himself to the Gryffindors. Worst of all, Draco couldn't deny that that was objectively smart. Not only were they vicious in a fight, it seemed they had the most connections in the campsite of the survivors. The Head Boy was annoyingly setting himself up as the new Prince of this burgeoning community. Really, that was what they were rapidly becoming. It had been more than three weeks since their arrival and no one had come. Draco was quickly starting to lose hope that rescue was coming. So, playing nice with the lions made sense.

It didn't mean that he liked it.

Especially with the confusing mess that had sprung up between himself, Potter, and Weasley. He'd saved Weasley's life, but Potter had saved his. Then he'd saved Potter's and Weasley had saved his. Things became a bit of a blur after that. He was reasonably certain that that was when the lions' blood craze had spread from them to him, like a haze had fallen over him and everyone else who was engaged in the battle. He'd have almost called it magic if it had involved any spells. He had no idea now where the blood debt ended and how the scales were balanced between them. To say nothing of what mess Crabbe and Goy—no, Vincent and Gregory—had gotten themselves involved in with blood debts. He wasn't entirely certain just what they had been doing during the battle too, but they had definitely been involved and covered in their own substantial amount of gore as well. He could vaguely recall standing at one of their backs, but he wasn't sure who's.

All of that had led to him being here, as a part of Flint's entourage, as the elder Slytherin was now trying to court the most capable and promising of fighters they had available. After all, a king needs strong fighters at his back and Flint did want to be king. Draco idly wondered if he should start playing that game too. After all, that would've been something his own father would've demanded of him. But as his thoughts drifted to his father, he remembered his discussions with Longbottom several days ago whilst they were under the effects of those strange plants. Specifically, the part of where he realized that his father was a total dick, and that he was well on his way to becoming a mirror image of the man. And that was a fate he honestly wanted to avoid. It's what had led him to volunteering for the night guard. Which, in turn, had resulted in him being caught up in the battle in the first place.

Now that the adrenaline had worn off and he was able to look back on the fight from a more clear-minded and rational viewpoint, he found himself surprised with himself. For the first time in his life, he was genuinely in danger and hadn't run away. He had fought back, however badly, and had even managed to kill a monster or three. Draco was finding himself feeling…proud of himself. And it was a very different type of pride than what his father had always preached to him about. Which just made it feel even better!

So, here he was, seated on a slab of rock close by the slowly growing fire, surrounded by Flint, Vincent, Gregory, Graham, and the Gryffindor Team. And, despite how awkward he was feeling in this company, he was somewhat reluctantly enjoying himself.

"Oi! What are you doing here, Malfoy?!"

Of course, such peaceful feelings couldn't last. Ronald just had to ruin everything!

"I didn't know I couldn't be here," he bit back with a sniff.

"Leave it, Ron," Potter called over, surprising Draco and Ron both. "I'm too tired for another of your catfights."

Of course, even he had to ruin it.

"Besides, you have other things to tell them," Granger's voice came from behind and below Ronald as he ascended to the top of the roof. As the mudblood quickly climbed up after him, she continued, "Like what your brother's trying to pull now?"

"Oh, right," Ron groaned out in obvious annoyance as all eyes turned to him. Seeing the attention he'd suddenly gotten, he sighed again before squaring his shoulders and declaring, "Percy's at it again. He wants us on guard duty now."

All of the gathered Slytherins blinked as they watched the Gryffindors all groan or sneer or snarl at that revelation, confusing all of the snakes. It was Vincent who ultimately asked the obvious question, "Isn't that a good thing? He's not trying to stop you from fighting anymore."

"Yeah, but he is—" "trying to control—" "what we can and cannot do," the twins spoke up in their usual jointed cadence. Draco didn't even bother trying to identify them.

It was Flint who spoke up next with an ugly frown on his face. "I thought the guard was supposed to be volunteer based. After all, I can't draft people for the hunters."

"That's just Percy being Percy," Lee Jordan piped up. "Always thinking he's in charge, especially of his family."

"It's not like you weren't just talking about being part of the guard," Graham pointed out helpfully.

"Yeah, but that was before we were told to join!" Alicia grumbled. "It's totally different now!"

"Yeah!" Katie called out. "Now, I actually wanna take Marcus up on his offer."

Draco, Flint, and Graham all blinked.

"Wait, out of simple spite?" Marcus asked, his voice a strange combination of surprise and shock.

A visibly melancholic aura swept over the Gryffindor Team for a long, quiet moment before Angelina broke it, "Only Wood tells us what to do."

None of their visitors felt like pointing out the obvious implications to that statement. Even Draco could understand how the loss of their Captain was still an open wound. It was even one that Draco could sympathize with. After all, the Slytherin Team had had their own tragedies since arriving. They'd already lost their Beaters to the jungle and their Keeper to crabs when his broom burnt out, during the same incident that Wood had died in.

"So, you're going to reject his order?" Marcus asked in a somewhat eager tone.

"Well, it looks like we just might," Potter stated.

Despite being the youngest member of the official team, no one spoke up against him.

Before any further conversation could be made, a sudden roar echoed out of the trees. As everyone jolted upright, heads spinning in search of the source, the Express bell once again began ringing in alarm. Down below, everyone froze momentarily before screaming started as the masses began panicking and turning towards the relative safety of the Express's interior. Thanks to his current elevated position, Draco was able to quickly locate the source of the roar. There, outside the perimeter of the wall, he spotted an incoming horde of more lizard-wolf creatures.

"Or we could accept guard duty—" "because of that!" the twins stated.

"Let's go!" Flint ordered loudly, glaring distastefully down at the monsters. Although all of the gathered Gryffindors shot him annoyed glances, all of them easily recognizing what he was trying to pull, none of them disobeyed as everyone shot to their feet and grabbed up their nearby weapons.

"So much for breakfast," Ron grumbled as he and Hermione set aside the platters of spider legs.

That was the last idle comment any of them made as they all dropped to the ground and ran for the incoming monsters. It was a bit of a hassle breaking through the convulsing mass of panicking students. But when he did, Draco unsheathed his longsword and found himself running alongside Gregory and Marcus as they closed in on the open section of the wall. Eyes narrowing in concentration as his heart started thundering, Draco raised his sword as he spotted the first lizard-wolf become visible from around the palisade. It was met by a group of the morning guards, all standing side by side with their makeshift shields interlocking with one another while their companions hefted their long spears in preparation for stabbing overhead. Predictably, the lizard-wolves crashed into the shield wall with all the grace and force of a dragon in an apothecary.

A loud cry of pain and rage tore out of the monsters as they were jabbed by the spears, but they refused to yield. Pressing down on the shields and the kids trying to hold them back, the lizard-wolves roared loudly in growing fury as the spearmen jabbed at and into them repeatedly. But despite the wounds, they still refused to back away. Draco had only a moment to raise his eyebrow in surprise at this strange behavior. Normally, the lizard-wolves would've started to pull back at the first wound and try to circle around, find a new and better attack angle, and then lunge again. This new method of pressing on despite mounting wounds was a peculiar change.

But he had no further time for rational thought as he and his companions finally reached the defense line. With a loud roar tearing itself from his throat, Draco lunged for the closest lizard-wolf with Gregory flanking him, his makeshift warhammer raised and ready. Bringing his sword down in a slash, Draco watched in detached observation as his attack sliced open the lizard-wolf's barrel just behind its flailing foreleg, hot blood spraying from the wound he'd inflicted. The lizard-wolf let out a surprised roar of pain before swinging its large head to the side in search of who or what had hurt it. But by that time, Draco had already retreated back several steps, well outside its immediate range. However, Gregory had rushed in and was swinging his warhammer, slamming the jagged spikes along its front into the creature's hindleg.

With a surprisingly loud cracking sound and another following roar of pain, the knee joint that Gregory hit was smashed into a bloody and deformed mass. Gregory was just barely able to stumble back in time to prevent himself from getting pinned to the ground as the entire creature toppled over onto its side, having lost its support. Steeling himself for what he was about to do, Draco dashed forward as fast as he could go, jabbing the point of his sword forward ahead of himself. The scaled armor of the lizard-wolf's hide was quite strong. The tip of his sword made a rather horrendous scratching sound as it skittered along the surface before it finally found a soft spot. With a jolt and heave of effort, Draco's blade sunk deeply into the creature's torso, just behind the shoulder joint of its closest foreleg. The howling roar of pain and distress it had been making since it'd fallen was quickly silenced as one of its lungs and heart were roughly penetrated.

Bracing himself against the newly made corpse, Draco heaved his sword out with difficulty. Before his time in this land, Draco would've never thought, known, nor cared that a body can clamp down on a sword, keeping it stuck within itself for several precious seconds. Seconds in combat were crucial and often the difference between life and death. So, he now always made certain he was quick to extract his weapon whenever he stabbed something with it. Stepping aside to prevent the brief welter of blood that spurted out, Draco spared a glance at his sword to verify it was still in good condition. Aside from now being stained in blood, it didn't seem to have gained new chips or scratches, which was good enough for now.

"Good work, Gregory," he called over to his friend as they both circled around the corpse to find another to attack.

Finding a new one wasn't hard, given that there must've been at least twenty of the damned things attacking this time. All of them were surprisingly large specimens for their breed and all of them were pressing their attacks into the line of defenders as hard as they could.

"Something's wrong here," he murmured to himself.

"Yeah," Gregory said in reply beside him as they ran around to attack another from behind. "They aren't running away this time!"

"But why?" Draco demanded, despite knowing that Gregory didn't know either. He still felt that he needed to ask the question regardless.

"Well, at least we'll be eating real good tonight!" Gregory shot back, sending Draco a pleased grin at the thought. Despite himself, Draco couldn't help letting out a barking laugh at that.

XxX

He watched the ensuing battle with ever-mounting fury. Those shemlin mages were proving to be every bit as stubborn, brutal, and savage as he remembered them being. Not only were the warriors among them able to rally and hold a makeshift shield wall together with admittedly respectable vigor, but, as with younglings everywhere, they had a certain level of suicidal courage to them that allowed them to fight against seemingly overwhelming odds and not falter. Oh, sure, he could see that some of them had gotten injured and forced to retreat from the frontlines, but not nearly enough!

The only thing keeping him from losing his temper and joining the fray himself was the presence of Rage at his side. His old companion had been both as overjoyed and eager as the spiritual incarnation of the essence of bloodshed, rage, and primal fury could allow upon answering the impromptu summoning and being appraised of the situation. Together, the two of them now stood side by side upon a large boulder overlooking the shemlin camp and the battle taking place, watching as the situation unfolded.

"It seems my family isn't performing as well as I'd hoped," he remarked softly.

Rage snarled in response. Its entire physical form was tensed with barely restrained fury and combat instincts as it watched and waited with impatience.

"Go," he finally relented, waving his arm forward beckoningly.

With a mighty, echoing roar, Rage bounded forward.

XxX

The flow of the battle changed with a literal crash. Everyone could see it as it happened, even the lizard-wolves. A ball of fire and muscle and fury dropped from the sky, landing with all the subtlety of a meteorite amidst a city block. The concussive force of the impact knocked all nearby off their feet, whether human or monster. As they scrambled to their feet and tried to regain themselves, the new beast raised its head skywards and let out a bellowing roar.

Quick as a whip, once its roar ended, it spun itself around. Its massive tail lashed out, sending no less than five nearby kids flying backwards, even accidentally striking one of its lesser kin in the barrel. While the kids yelled in pain, struggling to right themselves and assess what or if they broke any bones, the lesser lizard-wolf made an aggravated snapping hiss at the monster in response to the strike. But the monster didn't pay it any mind, if it even noticed. Instead, it charged forward towards the largest concentration of recovering guards. Most of them had managed to endure the audio assault on their ears with admirable diligence, staying on their feet and keeping their shields up in a relative defensive wall.

Rearing its head back as it approached, the monster lurched forward shortly after, fire spewing from its maw like it were a dragon. Cries of surprise and terror erupted from the defenders, unaccustomed to this manner of attack. This was the first time they'd come across a creature that could use magic to attack them after all. And, as the majority were either wizardborn or were in the mid- to upper years of their education, most of their default defensive reflexes were for them to fallback and use their wands to cast a myriad of spells. So, unable to do one of those actions and most still unaccustomed to using muggle weapons for self-defense, they did the most natural thing available to them. The shield wall crumbled as the kids fell back. Panic began to spread rapidly.

But Harry wasn't one of them. With a loud cry, he choked back his own fear from long experience being in such dangerous situations. Hefting his crab spear, he charged forward, keeping all his focus on the monster. His shout drew the monster's attention, but he kept his charge, reaching its side. He thrust forward, managing to jab a few inches deep. But before he could push any further, the monster recoiled faster than he'd expected, and bounced away from him, pulling his spear out of its thigh. Hissing in rage, the monster suddenly spun around like a top, sending its long and heavily muscled tail rushing towards him. With reflexes honed by experience in fighting monsters, especially after the past few weeks, Harry was able to duck under the appendage, lunging forward and jabbing with his spear again. This time, he sunk the crab claw deeply into the joint's muscles at the back of the monster's thigh. Unlike last time, the monster twisted away from him. This unfortunately wrenched his spear to the side. Harry wasn't expecting this to happen and lost his grip upon his weapon relatively easily.

'Shit!' Harry cussed silently as he was forced to once again duck under the flailing tail. He watched as the monster continued its spin, it large jaws snapping towards where his spear was stuck in it's thigh, just out of reach. To his slight amusement, the creature continued its spin as it futilely tried to dislodge his spear. Seeing an opportunity as it's tail once again approached him, he ducked under the appendage and then lunged for his weapon. The shaft smacked heavily into his chest at an awkward, slightly knocking the wind from him. But he didn't let that bother him as he brought his arms up into a grasping motion, clamping down on his weapon. At the same time as this was happening, the monster was still yowling and flailing as it snapped about. Harry was momentarily pulled off his feet and then dropped roughly to the ground several meters away from the momentum. Thanks to his own body weight, he was able to dislodge his spear from the monster and kept his arms clamped around it like vice as he tumbled backwards through the loose soil.

It took a few moments for the monster notice that the pesky stick was finally gone. It threw back its head and roared in rage and pain. As it did this, Harry hurriedly climbed to his feet and readily spear again. Moving forward on the opposite side of where it was looking, Harry swung his spear up the length of the other hindleg, slicing open a large portion that started bleeding a strange fiery orange blood. As in it was literally burning with flames as it bled out of the wound! Weird, but not enough to distract him. The monster's body contorted slightly as it spun its head around to face him with a snarl, a slashing foreleg, and a gout of flame. Harry rolled hurriedly to the side, feeling the heat of the flames washing over his body as he just managed to dodge. As he was still on his knees and in the process of looking up, he spotted the monster charging him with a wide-open jaw and splayed claws. He had no time to do anything other than raise his spear up in a feeble thrusting position.

Before the monster could descend and tear him apart, a large rock the size and shape of his head crashed into the beast's temple. The unexpected attack disoriented it, knocking it off course slightly and toppling onto its side. It would've still crushed Harry had he not had the reflexes to once again roll to the side. Quickly backing away and keeping his spear trained on the monster, he looked towards where the rock had come from. What he saw was Crabbe hurriedly grabbing up his large mace after having clearly thrown the rock. Nearby him, Ron, Roger Davis, Cedric Diggory, and several of the other older students were also running forward to join the fight, finally having managed to regain their courage after seeing him successfully land a few good hits.

Refocusing his attention, Harry snarled at the fiery monster. As the others rushed past him and fell on the quickly recovering creature, Harry took a few steps back. Normally, he'd have joined the rush, but a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him and he just barely managed to catch himself as he fell to his knees. Appearing his earlier tumble had affected him more than he realized. He needed to catch his breath and calm his panic. This fight with the monster had been one of the closer near-death moments he'd as yet experienced in his short life and even shorter career as a monster hunter. So, he stood back and watched as the group of ten fighters surrounded and took turns at harassing, poking, and swinging at the large beast. Naturally, they were making a lot more headway in bringing down this strange demonic version of the lizard-wolves than he himself had done when fighting it alone.

'If only we could use our magic!' Harry ranted internally, glaring at the beast as anger coursed through him. 'We could've easily put this wretched creature in its place! But nooo! We have to fight with simple swords, spears, and clubs while it gets to blast us with fire balls?! Goddammit, I HATE this place!'

Normally, Harry wasn't a person to give into his anger or other negative emotions. His upbringing with the Dursleys had unintentionally taught him the importance of being able to compartmentalize his thoughts and feelings. Although Vernon and Petunia weren't physically abusive like Dudley had been growing to become before his Hogwarts acceptance letter, they nonetheless were quick to disparage his parents and/or discipline him if he started to react and lash out in justifiable anger or hurt feelings. So, he had learned how to hide his emotions and become as calm and stoic of a person as possible to not incur their attentions.

So, when he suddenly realized that his anger was surprisingly running out of his control, he blinked and shook his head. Closing his eyes, he took a few calming breaths and tried to blot out the noise of the ongoing combat against the fire demon and the remaining lizard-wolves. In doing so, he paused in confusion. Now that he was paying attention, he could feel it. It felt like he was standing near a bonfire, a sort of 'heat' was washing over him and the surrounding area. And this heat was seeping into him, affecting his emotions, causing him to become angrier than he should be. What was happening? Why?

Opening his eyes, he looked around. Looking at his fellow combatants, he saw that all of them were likewise being affected. All of them were now wearing prominent snarls, sneers, and glares upon their faces. Some of them were growling or roaring like blood-crazed berserkers. Others were cussing up a vile storm as they lunged and fought with a ferocity that they normally wouldn't possess. They didn't seem to notice it as some of their fellows fell around them.

In fact, he vaguely recognized Malcolm Peece from Hufflepuff getting knocked to the ground by one of the other lizard-wolves that had accidentally hit his back with its tail. But the guy didn't even notice the attack, too focused on his own lunge for the demon. However, the lizard-wolf who'd hit him did notice and looked back at what it struck. Seeing an opportunity, the creature lunged and bite down heavily upon Malcolm's throat. As it was busy ripping Malcolm's head off his shoulders, it in turn failed to notice that it's previous attackers were lunging for it, sinking their weapons in deep. With a gurgled cry, it slumped dead over Malcolm's corpse. Harry could only stare in disbelief as his schoolmates then turned their wrathful attentions demon, with no glance spared for Malcolm.

He would've thought it was like the blood haze that had fallen over the group during the spider attack last night. But this felt different. More violent, more savage, more…wrathful than was justified. As he was looking around, his eyes eventually landed upon the only logical source of all this rage.

'I see,' he realized. 'So that's what's so different about this creature. It's not just that it's larger, more dangerous, and has fire magic, it has an aura that induces rage and fury on those around it. Which probably means that the best and only way to deal with this aura is…' Tightening his grip upon his spear's haft, Harry's eyes narrowed in concentration, focusing his mind upon keeping the angry taint out of his thoughts. With a silent acknowledgement to himself, he hefted up his spear and charged forward.

Unnoticed by Harry, as he was putting all his attention upon what he was doing and planned to do, he had begun to channel his magic. As had been steadily drilled into him throughout his time at Hogwarts, he did what came naturally to him, guiding his magic into the focus he was holding in his hands. Unknown to any of the kids, all creatures within this new world they found themselves in had some innate magical properties to them. So, when Harry's focused magic began saturating the spear's shaft and came into contact with the crab claw, those magical energies became intermingled and reacted in the most natural way they could.

Everyone watching the fight from the Hogwarts Express could only gawk as they watched the fearless Boy-Who-Lived race up the monster's back after it had just ripped one of the defenders into two bloody halves, his spear glowing a brilliant snowy white and blue. Reaching the center of the monster's back, he plunged his glowing spear down into its spine with a loud cry. None were perhaps more surprised than Harry was when the collected magical energies that had been glowing from the spear's tip ignited within the demon's torso, rapidly spreading out in all directions as it flash-froze the monster into a seeming sculpture of snowy ice. And the boy's surprise was only further punctuated by how rather gracelessly and comically he slipped and fell to the ground under the beast now that it'd been turned to pure ice.

To their credit, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and the Weasley Twins didn't hesitate upon seeing the monster's petrified form. All of them rushed it with their weapons raised and smashed the frozen demon's form to as many pieces as they could with the strongest blows they could muster. The demonic lizard-wolf shattered like glass, spraying frozen gore all across the area around it.

Just like the snuffing out of a candle, or the opening of drapes to let in the sunlight, the red veil of blinding rage was lifted from the eyes of all afflicted by it.

Even the remaining 10 lizard-wolves paused in their fighting to look around, reassessing what had been happening, where they were, and why. Seeing the shattered remains of their largest and most powerful brethren, as well as no longer feeling it's overbearing presence that was forcing them to continue the fight, all of the creatures let out distressed howls before promptly turning and fleeing back towards the jungle. They were very quickly lost from sight.

The cheers from the onlookers were slow to come as even they had to recollect themselves from the wrathful aura. But once they had, the cacophony was positively deafening as every one of them cried out praises for the Boy-Who-Lived who had once again saved them.

XXX

He was livid.

No, that was far too simple a description for what he was feeling. Normally, he was much more placid and stoic in his demeanor as he went about his daily life. But he'd found his family massacred. His first wave of retaliation had ended in failure. Then his extended family proved just as inept at putting down these genocidal shemlins as their parent clan. And now he'd just watched his companion and closest ally get overwhelmed and destroyed. Like the rest of his lost family and friends, he would never be able to find and interact with that spirit of Rage ever again. It's consciousness and sense of self had been shattered just as thoroughly as its physical body had been, leaving behind on the faintest fragments of whisps of spirit energy. While, yes, those fragments might one day be able to reconstitute themselves back into spirits, his dear friend was gone forever now.

If only he still had a physical form himself, he could've entered the battle! He could've fought alongside Rage and his family! He could've brought his long overdue justice upon those remorseless, self-righteous, ignorant, arrogant shemlins! But, no, he was stuck on the sidelines, forced only be able to watch. Combat had never been his strong suit, despite his supreme talent in magic. After all, there was a reason his clan had called him the greatest of their Keepers in six generations. However, his once vast stockpile of mana had been severe depleted ever since that first massacre the shemlins had visited upon his clan oh-so-long ago. It had taken him years to gain enough energy to do more than merely survive in this world he fought to protect his clan. And he'd already spent so much of his mana controlling and guiding those giant spiders to attack, locating and transporting his extended family to this location, and summoning Rage through the Veil. As he was now, he was at barely a quarter of his preferred mana reserves. Nowhere near enough for him to feel safe enough to engage battle against so many shemlins.

So, here he was, stewing his fury and inability to visit righteous retribution upon those now celebrating brats down there.

A soft snapping noise and rustling of the underbrush caught his attention. Stowing his fury to the side for later, he silently turned his gaze over to where he'd noticed the noise. Spotting movement edging closer to the tree line, he drifted back and around the area, seeking to watch from behind it.

'Another shemlin?' were his initial thought upon seeing figure. It was a pathetic looking man dressed in rags with an worn out look on his face, sunken eyes that looked sleep deprived and he must've been badly malnourished for he was very thin. 'Is he a hermit or something?' It made the most logical sense to him. Although, he was certain that any hermits that lived here would've been long ago killed by his clan.

In any case, this one was clearly of a separate group than those other shemlins. He was about to dismiss the man and refocus his attention on those barbarians. But then an idea came to him. Maybe they could use him. They were low on mana and he was only a shemlin. A little blood to revitalize himself would be greatly appreciated.

But as he drifted closer with a reaching hand to tear open the guy's throat, he paused. There was something different about this hermit. Something feral and dangerous, but also slightly familiar. What was it? Curious, he now reached forward not for the man's throat but his head. Sinking his hand into his mind, he connected with his magic, seeking his answers. What he found was a malevolent mass of feral madness in the man's magic. It circulated through his body like blighted venom. It was almost as if he were already an abomination. But there was no brother spirit here, only a mass of feral malevolence.

Slipping into the hermit was almost too easy. His waking mind, outside of this…curse, was tired and weak and half mad already. So, he had absolutely no trouble immediately asserting his will over the hermit. In fact, the hermit seemed almost accustomed to being overtaken, clearly by the malevolence. This curse had clearly trained him well for possession. In other words, an almost perfect tool for Vengeance.

So, he wasted no time in collecting and channeling his own mana into the curse to activate it. When this failed to trigger an adequate response, he turned his attention to using the hermit's mana instead. Maybe the curse would react better with his?

Reaching out, he touched a spark of the man's energy and jolted in shock. He was like the other shemlin, but his magic so potent! He understood now why they could stand against his clan and even Rage. Their magic was almost otherworldly! Nothing like the magics of Thedas! Nothing like the Fade! Nothing like lyrium!

And now it was at his fingertips.

Vengeance grinned.

XXX

Moments after a fight were always strange, in Harry's opinion. Especially when he was still conscious for them. His body was a strange mixture of soreness and twitches, his adrenaline still running high. He was not looking forward to when that adrenaline finally and the pain came at him all at once. Especially when it would be accompanied by the heavy task of post-battle triage and burials. Those were always the worst.

But at the same time, he was finding himself in a rather…nice position. He was being congratulated and celebrated for his heroism. Heroism that he actually earned this time. Now, if only they'd stop calling him the Boy-Who-Lived, but that was unlikely. After all, what could he do to outshine the legend he'd been born into?

Harry didn't have time or inclination to dwell on such concepts at the moment. He was more focused on the spider leg that was in his hands. Ron had been right. The spider meat did taste a lot like chicken. Who'd have thought?

Munching his breakfast, Harry gazed down at the work going on below with a detached interest. Down the below, the various students were once again in the midst of a cleanup operation. Despite the losses, there were a fair number of lizard-wolf corpses that needed to be processed. While Harry found it rather callus to butcher the meat next to the corpses of their fallen, it was pragmatic. Both jobs needed to be done quickly, and the lizard-wolves offered a large bounty. Though, Harry was starting to think he preferred crabs and spiders. Those lizard-wolves' meat was too tough.

Breaking his gaze from the sight of the numerous bodies that the kids were tending to, he instead focused out on the ocean and horizon beyond. It was a little strange now that he was paying attention. Why hadn't the sun changed position yet? It was hard to tell, given how blinding it was, but the sun seemed to have stopped it ascent. It was well over an hour since the fighting had broken out and the sun hadn't seemed to have moved an inch.

In fact, was it…dipping?

Then, like a rock dropping into a pond, the sun suddenly plummeted back behind the horizon! The shift was so sudden and unexpected that even those not watching became aware instantly.

Handing going to his spear instinctively, Harry rose back to his feet and stared at the horizon in shock.

"Ohhh, that can't be good!" someone down in the crowd called out.

That was when a positively deafening howl echoed through the land. It was a disturbingly familiar howl. One that all of them had grown accustomed to hearing off in the distance, but now much closer.

"First the demon, now the werewolf?!" someone else shouted in annoyed anger.

Harry let out a resigned sigh. After taking a few more quickly mouthfuls, he set aside his breakfast and turned back towards the nonfinished portion of the wall. "Back into the breach."

With that mutter, he jumped back down to the ground below and started running. Though he knew it was unlikely, he dearly hoped that Professor Lupin's sudden appearance was just a coincidence and not connected to the sudden day/night reversal. It was entirely possible that the man had gotten caught off guard, just like the rest of them and they'd just have to fend him off for a few minutes. But he highly doubted it. After these past few hours, it would've been too easy.

Harry arrived at the wall to see a positively horrendous scene. A werewolf had indeed attacked. Or he thought it was a werewolf. It was indeed the right approximate shape, but it looked radically different to want he'd glimpsed the professor had become a few times in the distance. That creature was skeletal and sickly in appearance, almost awkward seeming with its body proportions, like a starved and beaten dog. This creature was built more like a bear than wolf. It was towering in height with massive muscles bulging from its ever limb. It was coated with shadowy armor, black as pitch, as though the night were made solid around it. And it was presently hoisting up a student screaming in agony by its jaws.

Harry couldn't stop him. He just stood there and gawked for several long moments. He could only watch as the creature disinterestedly tossed the screaming student towards one of the oncoming defenders whilst reaching off to the side for another captive. To Harry's shock, even though the student managed to dodge the initial grab, he was still dragged forward by a shadowy limb that had caught hold of him and yanked into the creature's maw.

'So, the shadows are for more than show,' Harry assessed with detached realization. The thought was enough to snap him back into action. With a loud battle cry, he readied spear and charged. As he ran forward, he was again subconsciously channeling his magic slightly in preparation for the fight. So, it came as a shock to him when he swung his spear for a slash towards its thigh, his spear left a trail of cold mist behind itself as a coating of frost burst across the affected limb.

The werewolf snarled in surprise and pain, dropping its current victim in the process. Thankfully before they had gotten bitten this time.

"Okay, Harry," he muttered to himself as he saw the monster turn its gaze to him. "Time to play Keep Away."

He bounced back away from its grasping arm, and then bounced further away from where he knew the shadow limbs could reach. Seeing the shadows make their grab for him, he swung his spear again. This was more of an experiment than a serious attack, to see if a weapon could affect them. The werewolf let out a rather satisfying yelp when his still-frosty spear made contact. The shadows were solid enough and the wolf didn't like them being struck. Good to know!

Grinning slightly to himself, Harry hefted his spear into slightly attacking stance as he tried to focus his magic consciously into his weapon. But in reaching for his magic consciously, it slipped through his grasp and Harry suddenly became distinctly aware of the lack of connection to his focus. It was like suddenly realizing one of his limbs had fallen asleep, disorienting and annoying at the same time.

The werewolf clearly noticed it too. It let out a barking laugh at him as it drew back its arm for a slash. It was sheer dumb luck that the werewolf suddenly tripped before it could reach him. And even still, the shadow almost grazed him as he made a frantic dodge to the side. As he landed, he brought spear down in a chopping motion, slamming its spikes into the beast's outstretched arm. But this time, lacking the frost, the shadows were easily able to cushion the blow and knock it back, inflicting no damage.

As the werewolf was retracting arm for another strike and regaining its balance, it suddenly lurched its torso forward with a yelp of pain. Harry blinked in surprise before he noticed the figure standing behind it. He at first didn't recognize it until the werewolf spun around with an angry backhand, allowing a clear look at the retreating figure of Ron. Harry gawked horror as he realized his axe (which had a faint light fading off of it) was stuck in its back, with Ron only being able to frantically dodge its retaliatory strikes.

"Fuck!" he heard Ron cry out angrily. "Missed the spine!"

Fortunately, the Twins were quick to respond. Lunging forward from opposite sides, they swung their maces at nearly the same spots, aiming for the werewolf's knees. One of them missed, but the other hit and everyone could hear it as the joint shattered. The monster wolf dropped to a kneel with another yelp of pain.

"You were actually aiming, Ronniekin?" one of them asked.

"I thought you were just swinging wildly," the other joked.

"Not now, you two!" Marcus barked angrily. Even as he was doing so, he was rushing forward with a large overhead swing of his sword. It was a good swing. It should've easily been able to chop off the werewolf upraised arm. But that's not what happened. Instead, the weather-beaten sword shattered like glass against the shadowy armor of the monster. Marcus didn't waste a moment in retreating back whilst glaring at his sword in disbelief.

"Was that supposed to happen?" Harry found himself asking, actually somewhat surprised with himself that he'd voiced the question.

"What do you think, Potter?!" Marcus swore as he threw the now useless handle at the werewolf before retreating fully.

"Guess that was a 'no'," Alicia chirped as she swung her homemade axe for the monster's already wounded leg.

Before anyone could make another move, the werewolf had apparently decided that it was tired of being harried like this. It threw back its arms as it raised its head whilst sucking in a deep breath of air. A primal howl of earsplitting magnitude encompassed area around it. Everyone within the immediate area that Harry was aware of could literally feel physical waves of sound washing over their skin as their bodies froze up and went momentarily numb. He wasn't sure when the howl ended. At some point during it, he lost his sense of hearing as he fumbled to remain upright. He was slightly better off than some of the others since they didn't have a polearm weapon to help them stay standing.

Still, as deaf and numb as he was, he made sure to never take his eyes off the monster. So, he was given a front row seat to watching how it seemed to puff its chest up in pride. At the same time, the shadows surrounding its body seemed to flow into its wounds, closing them up and ejecting Ron's lodged axe at the same moment.

Apparently, the monster had a good memory. It looked around at its victims for a moment, as though searching for someone. Then its eyes landed on himself, and Harry would've shuddered as he saw the malevolent glee in its eyes upon recognizing him. Turning, it took stomping steps towards him. But as it was reaching for him, it suddenly paused. A look of almost surprise flashed across its muzzle before a grimace of pain followed. Jerking back away from him, the creature suddenly grasped its head with a whimper. Harry was actually surprised he'd heard that whimper. But then he realized that his sense of hearing was beginning return, along with the numbness rapidly fading.

'Some sort of stunning ability,' Harry analyzed again, eyes narrowing. 'But why's it hesitating to attack me?'

Once he was able to, Harry began running in a circle around the werewolf, trying to keep in motion and not fall under that stunning ability as strongly again. And the act of running was also a good way to shake off the remaining numbness. As he was doing so, he noticed that the other fighters had likely come to the same realization as himself, and they had joined him in circling. The werewolf let out an angry but somehow amused growl at this new tactic of theirs.

'Alright, think, Harry!' he chided himself. 'You tried to use your magic earlier. And it did work for a little bit. But when I tried to actively focus it, it failed. Why?' He took a short pause in his thoughts to jump over something, whilst making keeping himself in line with the others. 'You've frozen a couple things by this point. So, you know the spear is a potential magic focus. It's just different from your wand. Which makes sense. Different world and I'm no wandmaker. But still, I can use it.' He focused again on the connection he once had with it. Once more, it was slipping away from him as he tried to focus. That was incredibly frustrating. It was like he was back in First Year trying to cast his first spell in McGonagall's class.

'Okay, stop. Clearly, trying to actively focus and channel doesn't work. So then, why did it work before? What was I doing different?' Memories of the recent fights came back to him. Of him attacking without conscious thought, acting on reflex, loosing himself to the battle. It was something he could try to do again. But that didn't seem to be a good idea, considering how mobile the shadow armor was. 'So, all I can do what? Do what comes natural? Ohhh, this is an annoying fight!'

Glancing over to his spear idly, he blinked in shock. The magic was back! But, even as he was watching, he could see and feel it rapidly fading again. As if his focus on it was what was causing it to flee. 'I think I get it! No more hesitation. No more complicated plans. No more focusing. I just attack as I feel like! The shadow armor's dangerous, but I'm not alone.'

With that realization, he suddenly changed course and raced straight for the werewolf's front. Putting all his attention on just jabbing his spear into the monster's exposed torso, he ignored the glowing spear tip in front of him. He instead focused only on his need to hit. As he closed in on the monster, it swung its arm down to eviscerate him. But as it did so, it suddenly flinched again. Its physical body locked up in place, leaving only the shadows to move to attack him.

But before it could reach him, one of the others suddenly appeared at its side, weapon descending and knocking the shadow off course. Harry didn't have the time or presence of mind to identify who it was. All his attention was reaching the monster.

Within a split second, he was within striking distance and his spear was rushing forward. At the point of contact, he reflexively cried out, "Expelliarmus!" When asked later, he'd only be able to say that 'it felt right.'

There was a blinding flash of light that lit for a split second. When the light faded, there were now two bodies instead of one. One of them was the familiar form of Professor Lupin as a human. The other was the monstrous shadowy armor and form the werewolf they had been fighting.

Unable to stop, Harry stumbled into and collapsed atop the unconscious professor. As this was happening, the others were gawking in surprise and shock and incomprehension as their gazes bounced between the human and monster that had been separated.

Before anyone could say anything, the monstrous shadow let out another howl of fury. But, unlike last time, there was no crippling effects on them. Quick a snap, the ghostly apparition tried to lunge for the unconscious man just ahead of it. Fortunately, Harry's reflexes were as sharp as ever and was able to roll away, carrying the man with him in a mass of entangled limbs.

Before the apparition could fully recover, Ron was there, axe in hand and swinging. The glowing axe head struck with a seemingly physical force, sheering off a portion of the shadowy armor from where he'd hit. Moving much quicker now that it wasn't hindered by a physical body, the apparition lashed out and hit Ron in the chest, sending him flying.

"How are you using magic?!" someone cried out.

Harry wasn't certain if this question was directed at himself or Ron or someone else but he answered nonetheless. "Don't think about it! Just do what comes naturally!" Whoever asked that clearly didn't like the answer. He knew that from the swearing he could now hear in the background.

Harry had no more mind to pay attention to the battle. Focused as he was with dragging Remus away from the apparition, he was only really able to hear the various cries, shouts, and grunts of the others as they took turns attacking the spirit with varying levels of success. But by the time he'd managed to get Lupin safely over to the Express and turned back to join the fight it was already almost over. The spectral monster had been reduced from a large, spiritually armored werewolf form to something much wispier in appearance, almost seeming like a humanoid form made of gas. Even as he watched, Angelina gave a mighty chop with her new glowing spear. The strike split the apparition cleanly down the middle. As the two halves split apart, there was an echoing shriek as it faded away to nothingness.

Everyone stopped and stared, panting heavily. Some of them were leaning heavily upon their weapons for support. Others collapsed to the ground in exhaustion.

For several long moments, silence hung heavy in the air. Then, something happened. It was hard to describe. Reality suddenly seemed to…ripple. The soft wind that was blowing against them from south suddenly stopped. Then it resumed, blowing from the west now. And, like a thick fog that was fading away, the night sky began to brighten. Within a few moments, the morning sun had returned. Not in a rising fashion, simply reappearing up in the sky as where it should've been all along.

Finally, someone asked the question they were all wondering, "Is it over?"


(Tellemicus's Note) Holy crap. I honestly was worried we were never gonna finished this chapter in time. I doubt anyone cares by this point. But this chapter is being posted a somewhat special day for me. October 30th, 2024? This is my 20-year anniversary on FanFic! I thought I'd commemorate it with a special chapter of my current story.

(Fiori75's Note) We finally did it! This last fight really fought us! But, in the end, we were victorious! It got written! And now we can finally turn this weird survivalist story into an actual plot.

Population: 443
- 6 deaths in the wyvern attack
- 6 bitten with lycanthrope
- 2 dead from possessed Remus
= 435 / 7 werewolves (including Remus)