CHAPTER 33: THE UNRAVELING OF GREYBACK
Harry's morning had been remarkably productive. He had successfully acquired the enchanted stones necessary to carve the runestone for the trap at a reasonable price. What made these stones particularly advantageous was their innate enchantment, drawing magic from the surrounding environment without the need for additional charging.
Additionally, Harry managed to procure a brand-new carving set for under ten galleons, a bargain considering its quality, and a specialty potion from a rather dubious apothecary in Knockturn Alley.
With his tasks accomplished, the only item left on Harry's agenda was to meet up with Sirius and discuss the wedding plans. Heading to the sandwich shop where they had previously dined after signing the contract, Harry spotted Sirius already seated at a table outside. Hastily making his way over, he took a seat opposite his godfather.
"You're late," Sirius greeted, a cheerful grin spreading across his face.
"Sorry, it took a bit longer to get the rune stones than I thought. Have you ordered yet?" Harry inquired as he picked up a menu.
"No, just got here myself. I was running a bit behind schedule too," Sirius replied with a nonchalant shrug.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Black. What can I get for you?" the waitress interrupted, addressing Sirius from behind Harry.
"The French dip and chips, please," Sirius responded promptly.
"And for you, sir?" the waitress turned her attention to Harry.
"Sure thing. The usual, and a Coke to quench the thirst," Harry casually ordered.
"So, what's on your mind?" Sirius inquired once the waitress had left to fulfill their order.
"Cutting right to the chase, huh?" Harry chuckled, appreciating Sirius's directness.
"Time's too precious for beating around the bush," Sirius replied as their food arrived, eyeing the unexpected Coke suspiciously.
"It's a gift from the house," the waitress explained before hurrying off to attend to other patrons.
"Give it a try. It's got a kick," Harry encouraged, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Sirius cautiously took a sip, his expression betraying a mix of surprise and mild discomfort. "Not bad, but it stings a bit," he remarked.
"Yeah, they were my go-to during the Dursleys' era. Always had a thing for them," Harry reminisced between bites of his sandwich.
"Alright, enough sidetracking. What's the real reason you wanted to chat?" Sirius redirected the conversation back on track.
"Okay, here it is. I want to ask you to be my best man for the wedding," Harry confessed, a hint of nervousness creeping into his tone.
"And Bella's okay with that?" Sirius raised an incredulous eyebrow.
"Yeah, she understands you were my godfather, or, well, you used to be. Plus, I'm a bit short on friends in this timeline," Harry pointed out.
"I'm not swimming in friends either, truth be told. Remus is still struggling, and without James and Wormtail, things are a bit strained between us," Sirius admitted.
"So, does that mean you'll do it?" Harry pressed, eager to shift Sirius's focus away from the somber thoughts.
"Of course, but on one condition," Sirius replied after a moment of contemplation.
"Alright, spill the beans. What's the condition?" Harry inquired cautiously, sensing mischief in Sirius's smirk.
"You've got to let me throw you a proper stag party," Sirius declared with a grin, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Deal, but keep in mind, my fiancée is fiercely protective and won't hesitate to unleash hell if I pull any stupid stunts," Harry cautioned with a chuckle.
"Don't sweat it, mate. You're covered by the infidelity clause. No room for stupidity," Sirius assured with a nonchalant wave of his hand.
"Alright then, it's a deal," Harry agreed, extending his hand for a firm shake.
"I'll round up a few of my mates from the Auror Academy to make it a bash to remember," Sirius promised, shaking Harry's hand enthusiastically.
"That sounds perfect. Perhaps I can return the favor when you and Bones decide to tie the knot," Harry suggested, a grin spreading across his face.
"If Grandfather has his way, that won't be too far off," Sirius admitted with a pensive expression.
"I've been hearing the rumors," Harry sympathized, understanding the pressures of pureblood traditions.
"Consider yourself lucky you popped the question before Grandfather caught wind of it. Otherwise, you'd be in for what Lily used to call a 'shotgun wedding,'" Sirius joked, though the underlying seriousness lingered in his tone.
"I'd love to stick around longer, but duty calls," Harry said regretfully as he finished his sandwich, retrieving a Galleon from his pocket to settle the bill.
"Yeah, sounds good. I'll keep you posted once everything's arranged," Sirius replied, rising from his seat.
"Just remember, no strippers," Harry reiterated with a mock-serious expression as he got to his feet.
Sirius chuckled. "Can't make any guarantees, mate."
With a playful grin, Sirius twisted on the spot and disapparated away, leaving Harry to contemplate the impending festivities.
"I hope I'm not going to regret this," Harry mused to himself before following suit, disappearing with a soft pop, his mind already wandering to the tasks awaiting him.
Harry had spent the past forty-eight hours exploring the vast expanse of the facility, realizing he needn't have fretted about space constraints. The area was expansive beyond his expectations.
The supply warehouses stood tall and imposing, resembling airplane hangars in their sheer magnitude. Situated amidst a sprawling forest, Harry suspected that spatial expansion wards encased the entire complex, granting it an almost limitless capacity.
Much of the ingredients used in their operations were sourced from the nearby forest, where a plethora of magical plants and creatures thrived. A dedicated team was tasked solely with collecting these ingredients, ensuring a steady supply for their needs.
In addition to the local resources, there were warehouses designated for housing exotic ingredients. Imported from various continents, these items were stored here until required, adding a touch of international flair to their concoctions.
Harry couldn't help but curse himself for recently purchasing basilisk venom. Now that he discovered the Black family's substantial stash of basilisk parts on-site, he realized he could have saved himself a considerable expense.
Despite the language barrier with the facility's small crew, who struggled with English, Harry managed to convey his needs through a combination of gestures and patience, eventually establishing effective communication through trial and error.
Harry had managed to secure an empty warehouse that put the Great Hall of Hogwarts to shame in terms of size. It was a cavernous space, providing ample room for his plans to unfold.
With meticulous care, Harry warded the warehouse using a spell he had gleaned from a dragon handler's handbook. This spell ensured that no unwanted entities could infiltrate through windows or closed doors, fortifying the perimeter against intrusion.
Next, he painstakingly set up the rune trap within the warehouse. The trap formed a sizable forty-foot diameter circle at the heart of the room. Harry buried the runestones three inches beneath the dirt floor, marking their location for precision. A separate runestone served as the trigger, safely tucked away in his pocket, awaiting the passphrase that would activate the trap. Once triggered, an impenetrable dome would encase the circle of runestones, rendering anything inside helpless against its power, save for perhaps a dragon.
Beyond the basic structure of the trap, Harry had incorporated additional safeguards that could be activated at will, ensuring he could easily subdue any threats within the enclosed space. However, his primary objective remained singular: the elimination of Fenrir Greyback.
The pièce de résistance of the trap was an animated dummy, crafted to resemble an eight-year-old child with fiery Weasley red hair. Using his transfiguration skills, Harry had transformed a mundane store mannequin into a lifelike figure, complete with a potion-infused scent of human fear. Clad in a simple white hooded robe, the dummy was eerily realistic in its appearance and behavior. Controlled effortlessly by Harry's wand, it could sprint with astonishing realism and emit blood-curdling screams of terror when prompted.
Bellatrix's suggestion about using a child as bait for the trap had been unsettlingly accurate. However, Harry had no intention of putting a real child in harm's way, so the animated dummy served as a suitable substitute.
Tonight marked the culmination of his meticulous planning. With the other warehouses sealed and the employees safely away, Harry prepared to set his trap in motion. Despite his preparations, the uncertainty of Greyback's pack size loomed over him, a persistent source of concern.
For this night's endeavor, Harry had outfitted himself with specially crafted armor. Metal plates encased his arms and legs for protection, while a helmet resembling a Death Eater mask shielded his head and neck. Beneath his robes, he wore a dragonhide vest affixed to the armor, completing his formidable ensemble. However, the encumbrance of the plate armor limited his mobility, prompting him to take to the air on a broomstick, hovering twenty feet above the ground near the warehouse entrance.
A stroke of luck had led him to discover an old SKS rifle in one of the warehouses, its firepower deemed sufficient to penetrate a werewolf's hide if needed. Harry kept it close at hand, prepared to employ it to neutralize Greyback from a distance if the situation demanded.
His reverie was abruptly interrupted by the unmistakable howl of a werewolf echoing from the forest to the east, signaling the imminent arrival of Greyback and his pack. With a surge of adrenaline, Harry braced himself for the confrontation ahead, steeling his resolve to end the threat once and for all.
As the haunting howls reverberated through the night air, Harry's senses sharpened, his focus zeroing in on the direction of the calls. With each echoing cry, his heart raced, adrenaline coursing through his veins as the moment of truth approached.
The next howl, much closer now, signaled the imminent arrival of Greyback's pack. Harry braced himself, anticipation mingling with apprehension as he prepared to execute his plan.
A large brown wolf burst forth from the forest, swiftly followed by a dozen others, their presence a menacing reminder of the danger they posed. Harry observed from his aerial vantage point as the wolves dispersed, scouring the property in search of prey. Despite scanning the pack, Greyback remained elusive, hidden amidst the ranks.
Determined to set his trap in motion, Harry raised his wand, activating the bait below. A cacophony erupted as a steel garbage bin toppled over near the northern warehouse, revealing a redheaded boy who darted out, screaming for his mother in terror.
"MUM, HELP! WEREWOLVES!" the dummy cried out, its fabricated distress drawing the attention of the prowling predators.
Hovering overhead, Harry guided the dummy towards the center of the rune trap, the massive warehouse illuminated by a brilliant Lumos Solem charm he had cast earlier for visibility. With precision, he positioned the dummy within the circle of runes, watching as the werewolves, drawn by the ruse, surged into the warehouse, converging on their perceived prey with savage intent.
As the large brown wolf led the pack in a frenzied charge, the dummy bore the brunt of the assault, crashing to the floor under the force of the onslaught. Harry bided his time, waiting until the last of the wolves breached the circle of runes before retrieving the trigger rune from his pocket, uttering the incantation, "Gotcha."
With a resonant gong, a shimmering golden dome erupted from the rune circle, enveloping the trapped wolf pack within its confines. The wolves, realizing the deception too late, turned in futile attempts to escape, only to collide with the impenetrable barrier.
Within the warehouse, the air was thick with the cacophony of distressed howls as the wolves grappled with the realization of their entrapment. Meanwhile, Harry swiftly exited the building, flicking his wand to seal the massive doors shut behind him and activate the secondary wards to reinforce the containment.
Hovering above the property, Harry scanned the surroundings, his focus honed on his primary target. The desperate calls for help echoed across the estate, a beacon that would surely draw Greyback to investigate. With a determined resolve, Harry prepared to confront the leader of the pack, knowing that tonight's showdown would determine the fate of them all.
As Harry continued his aerial surveillance, a fleeting movement caught his attention below. Before he could fully register it, a powerful force collided with his side, knocking him from his broom and sending him crashing to the ground with a bone-jarring impact. Stars danced before his eyes as he struggled to regain his bearings amidst the swirling chaos.
Rolling to evade another imminent attack, Harry narrowly avoided being crushed by a massive wolf, its claws tearing through his robes like paper. With reflexes honed by years of combat, he sprang to his feet, wand at the ready as Greyback lunged towards him with lethal intent.
Without hesitation, Harry unleashed a blasting spell, sending Greyback sprawling but seemingly unfazed by the magical assault. With no time to spare, Harry swiftly retrieved the rifle slung across his back, flicking off the safety as Greyback charged once more.
In rapid succession, Harry discharged five shots, the muzzle flashes illuminating the night as the bullets found their mark in Greyback's upper chest. The resounding cracks echoed through the darkness as Harry fought to incapacitate his formidable adversary, knowing that every moment counted in this deadly showdown.
The resounding gunshots seemed to only enrage Greyback further, his primal fury undeterred by the bullets tearing through his flesh. Despite the impact of the shots, the werewolf pressed on relentlessly, blood spraying from the wounds on his chest as he howled in fury, the sound reverberating through the night.
Harry's attempts to defend himself proved futile as Greyback closed the distance with lightning speed, his powerful jaws clamping down on Harry's left forearm with bone-crushing force. Agony shot through Harry as the gauntlet he wore shattered under the pressure, the bones of his arm crushed beneath the werewolf's relentless grip. Forced to relinquish the rifle, Harry resorted to desperate measures, raining punches upon Greyback's snout in a desperate bid for freedom.
In a violent thrash, Greyback shook his head from side to side, wrenching Harry's arm painfully out of its socket. The excruciating pain tore through Harry as muscles and tendons shredded within his shoulder, his anguished cries echoing through the night.
With a surge of adrenaline-fueled desperation, Harry's gauntlet spiked arm inadvertently pierced the roof of Greyback's mouth, drawing a yelp of agony from the werewolf as blood spattered across Harry's arm. Released from Greyback's grasp, Harry crashed to the ground, hastily drawing the dagger from its sheath as the werewolf lunged at him once more.
With lightning reflexes, Harry thrust the dagger upward into one of Greyback's open gunshot wounds, twisting the blade viciously. The werewolf recoiled in agony, ripping the blade from his chest as Harry seized the momentary respite to gather his strength, knowing that every second counted in this brutal battle for survival.
As Greyback lay prone on the ground, his once formidable presence reduced to pitiful whimpers, Harry struggled to catch his breath amidst the aftermath of the brutal encounter. The venom coursing through Greyback's veins, unleashed by the basilisk's lethal poison, swiftly silenced the werewolf's agonized cries, leaving only a haunting silence in its wake.
Harry remained sprawled on the ground, his body wracked with pain unlike any he had ever experienced. His left arm throbbed with agony, the mangled bones trapped beneath the twisted steel of his shattered gauntlet. The tearing pain in his shoulder only intensified as the adrenaline that had masked it began to wane, threatening to overwhelm him.
With trembling hands, Harry sheathed the dagger, his focus wavering amidst the haze of pain. Summoning his wand proved to be a daunting task, the intense agony clouding his concentration. After several failed attempts, he finally succeeded in summoning his wand to his grasp, the familiar weight providing a small measure of reassurance.
Gathering his resolve, Harry directed his wand towards the crushed section of his gauntlet, muttering the incantation for a repair spell. With a sharp pop, the metal popped back into place, releasing the pressure on his arm. The sudden movement sent waves of searing pain through his injured limb, threatening to overwhelm him.
Knowing that he couldn't perform any healing spells until he removed the gauntlet, Harry gritted his teeth and summoned his broomstick, willing it to hover over him. With a grimace, he reached up with his right hand, pulling himself into a sitting position and sending fresh waves of agony radiating through his body. Every movement was a battle against the relentless pain, but Harry knew that he had to persevere if he hoped to tend to his injuries and emerge from this ordeal alive.
With painstaking effort, Harry began the arduous process of removing his left gauntlet, each movement sending shockwaves of agony coursing through his injured shoulder. The steel-clad glove, fastened in three places, yielded to his determined efforts, revealing fingers tinged with an ominous purplish-blue hue, a stark indication of compromised circulation.
Next came the section covering his forearm, a twisted mass of metal that resisted his attempts to remove it. With painstaking precision, Harry twisted his body, unlocking the gauntlet from the elbow joint and the section encasing his bicep. The warped metal required multiple repair charms before he could finally pry it free, his fingers trembling with exhaustion and pain.
Removing his helmet and neck guard followed, allowing him access to unhook the coupler attaching the final piece of armor to his dragonhide vest. Each movement was a Herculean effort, draining what little strength remained within him.
By the time his arm was freed from the confines of the gauntlet, Harry's consciousness wavered on the brink of oblivion. Tears mingled with sweat as he summoned the strength to cast the spell to pop his dislocated shoulder back into place, the agonized scream torn from his lips echoing through the night.
The bones in his forearm, crushed beyond repair, demanded a drastic solution. With a grim determination, Harry invoked the bone removal spell, the searing pain abating slightly as the shattered bones vanished into thin air.
Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, Harry reached into the inner pocket of his tattered robes, retrieving his potion kit with trembling hands. Setting it on the ground before him, he began the meticulous process of resizing it, knowing that relief from the relentless pain lay within its vials and potions.
With trembling hands, Harry rummaged through his potion kit until he found a single dose of Skeli-Grow, swallowing it in one gulp despite the burning sensation that seared his throat. Coughing violently, he grimaced at the caustic potion's harsh taste, knowing that it would be hours before its effects took hold.
With little else to do in the moment, Harry cast a spell to immobilize his injured arm, knowing that the Skeli-Grow would require time to regrow the bones in his forearm. With the first aid completed, Harry relied on the broomstick hovering nearby to pull himself to his feet, pain radiating through his body with every movement.
As he staggered towards Greyback's prone form, Harry favored his right leg, undoubtedly injured from his fall. Conjuring a hacksaw, he positioned it against Greyback's neck, animating it with a flick of his wand to begin the grim task of decapitation. Mesmerized by the macabre sight, Harry watched as the saw slowly severed the werewolf's head from its body, knowing that he had to act quickly before dawn arrived and Greyback reverted to his human form.
With the head separated, Harry swiftly cast a stasis charm to preserve it, ensuring its message remained intact for Lord Gamp. Sensations of bone regrowth nagged at Harry's consciousness, a constant reminder of the toll his injuries had taken.
Summoning a plush armchair with a flick of his wand, Harry sank into its comforting embrace, exhaustion washing over him as he closed his eyes, attempting to ignore the persistent twinges of pain shooting through his arm. Despite the chaos and pain of the night's events, Harry couldn't help but acknowledge that things could have gone much worse as he drifted into a fitful sleep, the weight of his actions weighing heavily on his troubled mind.
Startled awake by the sound of apparition, Harry blinked blearily, realizing dawn was upon him. Tentatively, he flexed his forearm, relieved to find it no longer immobilized, though his shoulder throbbed with lingering pain from the torn ligaments. With a flick of his wand, he lifted the immobilization spell, wincing as he gingerly tested his arm.
Gathering his belongings strewn about the ground, Harry swiftly shrank and summoned them, tucking them away into his pockets. His broomstick hovered faithfully nearby, ready to assist him as he limped towards Greyback's lifeless form.
The once formidable werewolf lay transformed back into human form, the gruesome wounds on his chest a testament to the night's violence. Nearby, the severed head of the werewolf rested, a grim reminder of the task at hand.
With a deft flick of his wand, Harry conjured a wooden box, carefully placing the head inside before sealing it shut. His gaze flicked towards the abandoned rifle, but he shook his head, realizing it held little use for him now.
As he worked, Harry was interrupted by Hans, the overseer of the site, who approached him cautiously. "Mr. Peverell," he began, his English thick with a heavy accent.
"I was successful," Harry replied, retrieving the rune trigger from his pocket and handing it to Hans. "His pack is contained in the warehouse. The unlock phrase is 'release'," he explained, ensuring Hans understood how to deactivate the trap.
Hans's gaze shifted to the headless body of Greyback, his expression a mix of horror and curiosity. "Is that Greyback?" he asked, pointing to the lifeless form.
"Yes, he put up quite a fight," Harry affirmed, retrieving his portkey from his pocket.
"We will handle the rest of the pack. Thank you for your assistance," Hans replied, his expression reflecting a mix of gratitude and determination.
"I must be off. Thank you again for your help," Harry said, activating the portkey and feeling the familiar tug behind his navel. With a final nod to Hans, he disappeared in a swirl of magic, leaving behind the scene of his hard-won victory.
Harry arrived at the imposing Gamp townhouse in Upper London, the weight of his recent ordeal heavy upon him as he ascended the front steps with slow, deliberate steps. Tapping the doorknob with his wand, he pushed open the door, his mind already familiar with the layout of the residence from his previous reconnaissance.
Lord Gamp's arrogance was evident in the lack of protective wards surrounding the property, a fact that both surprised and appalled Harry. With a mixture of caution and determination, he cast a powerful disillusionment charm upon himself, ensuring his presence remained undetected as he ventured further into the house.
Navigating the entry hall with silent determination, Harry made his way up the stairs, every movement a testament to his resilience in the face of lingering pain. Each step was a deliberate effort, his senses heightened as he focused on maintaining the cloak of invisibility that shrouded him from view.
After a tense journey through the quiet corridors of Lord Gamp's residence, Harry finally reached the sanctity of the old man's bedroom. With practiced stealth, he slipped inside, grateful for the absence of house-elves that made his task considerably easier.
Moving with silent precision, Harry approached the bed where Lord Gamp lay in slumber, his snores echoing softly in the room. With careful precision, Harry lifted the covers, revealing a space on the other side of the bed. Placing the severed head and the letter Cassie had entrusted to him, Harry arranged them delicately beneath the covers, ensuring they remained hidden from view.
With his task completed, Harry retreated from the room, his steps lighter now that his mission was accomplished. Stepping out onto the darkened streets of London, he felt a wave of relief wash over him, knowing that his message would soon be delivered.
Though the mission hadn't unfolded as planned, Harry found solace in the fact that he had achieved his goal. With thoughts of impending responsibilities weighing on his mind, he resolved to return home, knowing that Bella awaited him and that his own injuries demanded attention.
Reflecting on the tumultuous events of the night, Harry sighed wearily before vanishing from sight with a twist of his wand, the familiar sensation of apparition carrying him back to the comfort of home.
As Harry materialized in the familiar surroundings of his home, he couldn't help but feel a sense of exhaustion weighing heavily upon him. The events of the night had taken their toll, both physically and emotionally, but he pushed aside his weariness, knowing that there were tasks still awaiting his attention.
With a determined stride, Harry made his way through the quiet halls of his home, his thoughts drifting to Bella and the need to accompany her to St. Mungo's for her appointment. Despite his own injuries, he knew he couldn't afford to neglect her wellbeing, not when she needed him the most.
Entering their shared living space, Harry found Bella awaiting him, concern etched upon her features as she took in his appearance. "Harry, what happened? Are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.
"I'm fine, Bella," Harry reassured her, though the strain in his voice betrayed the truth of his condition. "But we need to get you to St. Mungo's. Your appointment is this afternoon, and we can't afford to delay any longer."
Bella nodded in understanding, her expression softening with gratitude for his concern. "Thank you, Harry," she said, reaching out to take his hand in hers. "But what about you? You look like you've been through a battle."
Harry offered her a weary smile, squeezing her hand gently. "I'll be fine, Bella. Right now, you're the priority," he insisted, his determination unwavering despite the pain that pulsed through his body.
With their priorities set, Harry and Bella prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead, united in their resolve to overcome whatever obstacles fate had in store for them. As they set off for St. Mungo's together, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the strength and resilience they found in each other, knowing that together, they could weather any storm that came their way.
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