When they were gone, Harry turned to face the three women who would accompany him into battle. Nym looked like she was barely restraining herself from apparating away to hunt down Bellatrix immediately. Fleur’s expression was calm but determined, her veela magic humming just beneath the surface. And Amelia stood like a pillar of strength, her years of experience evident.
“Are you ready?” Harry asked quietly.
“More than ready,” Nym growled. “I want Bellatrix’s head on a spike.”
“We start with Greyback,” Harry said. “He’s the easier target, and taking him down will send a message. Then we go after Bellatrix.”
“Do you know where to find Greyback?” Amelia asked.
Harry’s smile was cold and predatory. “I know exactly where to find him. He has a den in the Forest of Dean, surrounded by his pack. He thinks he’s safe there, protected by numbers and isolation that the place provides. He thinks it’s his home terrain.”
“And? Is it? Is he safe there?” Fleur asked.
“Not even close,” Harry replied. “Not from what’s coming for him.”
Fleur shivered at the tone. It did something weird to her, something she didn’t want to pay attention to at this time. It could wait.
She watched as he moved to the table and pulled out a large map of Britain, spreading it across the surface. His finger stabbed down on a location deep in the Forest of Dean.
“Here,” he said. “This is where Greyback holes up between hunts. He’s got maybe a dozen werewolves with him, all feral, all loyal to him because he’s the strongest and meanest of the lot. They live like animals, hunt like animals, and they answer only to him.”
“A dozen werewolves,” Amelia murmured. “That’s going to be difficult even with a dozen aurors in addition to us four.”
“Not with the right approach, and there’s no need to involve your aurors. Us four are enough,” Harry said. “Werewolves are dangerous, but they’re also predictable. They rely on their physical advantages. Speed, strength, regeneration, and enhanced senses. They don’t do well when they come face to face with wizards who can match their raw power or who understand how they think.”
“And you understand ‘ow zey zink?” Fleur asked.
“I’ve learned more than enough,” Harry replied. “Their habits, their weaknesses, even their pack dynamics. Greyback rules through intimidation and violence. His pack fears him more than they respect him. Take him down hard enough, fast enough, and the others will scatter.”
“Making them scatter isn’t what we’re planning to do though,” Amelia remarked, earning a firm nod from Harry.
“No, we aren’t. We end them right then and there. No way we’re letting them escape to hurt someone else.”
“What about Bellatrix?” Nym asked, her voice tight. “After Greyback?”
“After Greyback, we rest and regroup,” Harry said. “Then we track down Bellatrix. She’ll be harder to find, more paranoid about security after news about Greyback reaches her. But I’ll find her, Nym. I promise you that. And when I do…”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. The promise in his voice was clear enough.
“When do we leave?” Amelia asked.
Harry checked the grandfather clock in the corner. It was just past eleven in the morning. “We leave tonight. That gives us time to prepare, gather supplies, make sure we’re all ready. We hit Greyback’s den after dark when his pack is active but not yet hunting.”
“Why not during the day when they’re not in their element?” Fleur asked.
“Because I want them fully awake and in their element,” Harry said simply. “I want Greyback to see what’s coming for him. I want him to know exactly who’s killing him and why. And I want to destroy every fight in them before allowing them to die.”
The cold fury in Harry’s voice made even Amelia shiver slightly. This wasn’t the boy who’d competed in the Triwizard Tournament. This was something else entirely. Something harder and more dangerous. Her throat bobbled as she stared at him, her fists tight at her sides.
“Alright,” she said after a while. “Tonight then. That gives me time to make arrangements at the Ministry, ensure I won’t be missed.”
“And me time to prepare some... surprises,” Nym added, her hair finally settling on a determined midnight black. “If we’re going after a pack of werewolves, I’ve got some tricks that might help.”
“Good,” Harry said. “Let’s meet back here at sunset. We’ll come prepared for a fight.”
Amelia and Nym both nodded. They headed toward the floo together, Amelia placing a steadying hand on Nym’s shoulder as they went. The younger Auror was still shaking slightly, her grief and rage barely contained beneath a thin veneer of control.
When they’d gone, Harry stood staring at the map. Fleur remained behind, studying him with those penetrating blue eyes.
“You are angry, which is understandable, but even then, you are very calm,” she observed quietly. “Considering what we are about to do.”
“I’ve learned to be calm before battle,” Harry replied without looking up. “Rage has its place, but not in planning. Not when other people’s lives depend on me keeping my head.”
“We all saw your rage earlier,” Fleur said. “When Amelia told you about Molly Weasley. Zat was not calm, ‘arry.”
Harry was silent for a moment, his jaw working. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with emotion.
“Molly was… she was good to me. Better than I deserved. She treated me like family when I had none, like a son when my own relatives made it clear I was nothing but a burden. She fed me and fussed over me and made me feel wanted for the first time in my life. Every Christmas she knitted me a sweater. Every summer she welcomed me into her home with open arms. She defended me when half the wizarding world thought I was a liar or an attention seeker.”
He looked up, and Fleur could see the pain in his emerald eyes.
“She deserved better than to die at the hands of a mad woman like Bellatrix,” Harry said softly. “She deserved to grow old with Arthur, to see her grandchildren, to live in peace. Instead she’s dead because Voldemort’s followers decided to send a message by attacking her family.”
“Zen we will avenge ‘er,” Fleur said simply. “We will kill ze ones responsible, and we will make zem pay for what zey ‘ave done.”
She moved closer, close enough that Harry could feel the warmth of her presence and smell the subtle floral scent that always seemed to surround her. Her veela magic was carefully controlled, but he could still sense it there beneath the surface, responding to his own power in ways that made the air between them crackle with energy.
“Thank you,” Harry said softly. “For being here. For helping with this. You didn’t have to come to Britain at all, let alone agree to fight in our war.”
“I told you before,” Fleur said softly. “You are my friend, ‘Arry. And I am ‘ere for you in your time of need. Besides…”
She hesitated, something flickering in her eyes that Harry couldn’t quite identify.
“Besides?” he prompted.
“Besides, I find zat I cannot stand by and do nozing when innocent people are suffering,” Fleur finished. “It is not in my nature to be passive.”
Harry smiled slightly. “No, I suppose it’s not.”
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the map spread between them marking the location where violence would soon erupt. Finally, Fleur rose on her toes and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
“For luck,” she murmured. “In ze coming battle.”
She started to pull back, but then she hesitated. Harry could see the internal struggle playing across her features, the way her blue eyes searched his face as if looking for something. Her veela magic flared slightly, responding to whatever emotion was coursing through her.
Then, before either of them could think better of it, Fleur leaned in again and pressed her lips to his.
It was tentative at first, almost questioning. Harry froze for a heartbeat, surprised by the sudden escalation. He truly hadn’t expected it. But then something inside him responded, something that had been building since she’d arrived in Britain, since he’d held her in his arms in the training room, since every conversation and every shared glance.
He kissed her back.
The tentative touch became something more. Fleur’s hands came up to frame his face, her fingers threading into his hair. Harry’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, became hungry and desperate and charged with magic that made the air around them shimmer.
Fleur’s veela nature sang with approval, her magic reaching out to intertwine with Harry’s in ways that felt natural and right and completely overwhelming. She could feel his power responding to hers, could sense the strength and danger and raw potential that existed within him.
It was intoxicating. It was dangerous. And it was completely unlike anything she’d felt before.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard. Fleur’s eyes were wide with shock at what she’d just done, her carefully maintained control shattered by impulse and emotion.
“I… I am sorry,” she stammered, taking a step back. “I should not ‘ave…”
Harry didn’t let her finish. He closed the distance between them in a single step and captured her lips again, more forcefully this time. His hands tangled in her silvery blonde hair, holding her in place as he kissed her with an intensity that made her knees weak.
Fleur melted into him, all thoughts of propriety or caution evaporating under the onslaught. Her veela magic flared wildly, no longer controlled or leashed, responding to Harry’s power with an enthusiasm that would have embarrassed her if she’d been capable of rational thought.
But rational thought had fled. There was only sensation. The taste of his lips, the strength of his arms around her, the feel of his body pressed against hers, and the way their magic intertwined and sparked between them like lightning. It was overwhelming and perfect and completely terrifying all at once.
When they finally broke apart again, both were flushed and breathing heavily. Fleur stared up at Harry with wide eyes, her usual composure completely shattered.
“’Arry,” she whispered. “What… what are we doing?”
“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, his voice rough. “But I’m not sorry it happened.”
“I should be,” Fleur said. “I should be sorry. Zis complicates everyzing. You ‘ave ozers already. Daphne and Susan and ‘annah and Tracey and…”
“I know,” Harry said quietly. “And if this bothers you, if you want to pretend it never happened, I’ll understand.”
Fleur was quiet for a long moment, her blue eyes searching his face. Her veela magic was still humming contentedly, more settled than it had ever been around anyone else. Her heart was racing, her thoughts a jumbled mess of desire and confusion and a much deeper feeling that she wasn’t quite ready to name.
“I do not want to pretend it never ‘appened,” she said finally. “But I also do not know what it means. What we are to each ozzer.”
“Neither do I,” Harry admitted. “But maybe we don’t need to figure that out right now. Maybe we can just… see where this goes.”
“And ze ozers? Your lovers? What will zey zink?”
Harry smiled slightly. “They’ll probably be less surprised than you’d think. They’ve seen the way you look at me, Fleur. The way your magic responds to mine. They’re not blind.”
Fleur flushed at the knowing look he was giving her. “Is it zat obvious?”
“To people who know what to look for, yes,” Harry said with a chuckle. “But that doesn’t mean we need to rush into anything. We have time to figure out what this is between us.”
“After we kill Greyback and Bellatrix,” Fleur said.
“After we kill Greyback and Bellatrix,” Harry agreed.
They stood close together for another moment, neither quite willing to step away. Finally, Fleur took a deep breath and forced herself to put some distance between them.
“I should go,” she said, stepping away from him. “Prepare for tonight. Make sure I am ready.”
Harry nodded, allowing her to take a few steps back.
“Fleur,” he called as she turned toward the door.
She looked back, and the vulnerability in her expression made his chest tighten.
“Be careful tonight,” he said. “Stay close to me. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”
“Ze same could be said to you,” Fleur replied with a small smile.
“I’m always careful.”
“You are many zings, ‘arry Potter,” Fleur said. “But careful is not one of zem.”
She left before he could respond, but Harry could see the smile tugging at her lips as she went. He stood alone in the sitting room, surrounded by maps and plans and the lingering scent of flowers and the unique veela magic.
His fingers touched his lips, still tingling from their kisses. Whatever had just happened between him and Fleur, it was significant. Important. Something that would need to be addressed properly once they survived the night to come.
But first, they had werewolves to hunt.
‘Oh, who are you fooling with those thoughts, huh? You know exactly what it all means,’ the voice of Maria interjected with amusement.
Harry merely rolled his eyes.
XXXXX
The hours passed slowly. Harry spent them preparing, checking and rechecking his equipment, reviewing his plans, and making sure everything was in order. He reinforced the wards around Grimmauld Place, ensuring his girls would be safe while he was gone.
Susan found him in the library around mid-afternoon, her breaths coming in soft pants from all the exertion in the dueling chamber of the townhouse but her expression determined.
“Are you really ready to do this?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” Harry said simply.
“Then promise me something,” Susan said, gently resting her hand on his chest, right over his beating heart. “Promise me you’ll come back just like this. That you won’t do anything stupid or reckless or self-sacrificing.”
Harry pulled her into his arms, holding her close. “I promise. I have too much to live for to throw my life away stupidly.”
“Good,” Susan said fiercely. “Because if you die out there, we’ll all find a way to bring you back just so we can kill you ourselves.”
Harry let out a small laugh despite the tension. “Duly noted.”
They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other. Eventually Hannah joined them, followed by Daphne and Astoria. All three of them looked utterly spent, which was understandable considering they’d been at it for hours in the basement.
The five of them sat together in comfortable silence, drawing strength from each other’s presence.
When sunset finally came, Harry stood and gently disentangled himself from the pile of witches.
“Time to go,” he said quietly.
They walked him to the sitting room where Amelia, Nym, and Fleur were already waiting. All three women were dressed for battle in dark, practical clothing with their wands holstered but easily accessible. Nym had her hair pulled back in a severe bun, her face set in grim determination. Amelia stood with the calm confidence of a veteran Auror preparing for combat. And Fleur looked like a warrior goddess, beautiful and deadly in equal measure.
“Everyone ready?” Harry asked.
Three nods answered him.
“Then let’s go hunting,” Harry said.
He took one last look at Daphne, Susan, Hannah, and Astoria. They stood together near the fireplace, watching him with expressions mixed with fear and pride and absolute faith.
“We’ll be back before morning,” Harry promised.
Then he turned and led his small strike team toward the door. They had werewolves to kill and a message to send.
The Death Eaters had declared war on innocents. They’d murdered Molly Weasley and turned Bill into a monster and terrorized the magical world for too long.
Tonight, the war was coming for them.
And Harry Potter was bringing it with both hands.
XXXXX
The Forest of Dean was darker than Harry had expected.
They'd apparated to the edge of the woodland, where ancient oaks stretched their gnarled branches toward a sky already bleeding into twilight. The air smelled of damp earth and rotting leaves, and somewhere in the distance an owl hooted its mournful call.
Harry stood perfectly still, his senses extending outward. He could feel the forest around him, alive with magic both natural and unnatural. Werewolf magic had a particular signature, he'd learned. Primal and aggressive, it left marks on the environment like claw scratches on stone.
"How far?" Amelia asked quietly beside him.
"Three miles northeast," Harry replied. "Deep enough that muggles never wander close. Isolated enough that Greyback can operate without interference."
"And you're sure he'll be there?" Fleur asked.
Harry's smile was cold as he replied, "He's always there this time of night. Holding court with his pack, planning their next hunt. He's predictable that way."
Nym shifted beside them, her wand already in hand. Her hair had darkened to pure black, matching the fury barely contained beneath her skin. "Then let's not keep the bastard waiting."
They moved through the forest in silence, Harry leading with Amelia close behind. Fleur followed with inhuman grace, her veela senses alert for any threat. Nym brought up the rear, her Auror training evident in the way she constantly checked their flanks.
The forest grew denser as they penetrated deeper. Undergrowth clawed at their robes. Low hanging branches forced them to duck and weave. The light faded quickly beneath the thick canopy, reducing their world to shadows and uncertain shapes.
Harry navigated through it all with confidence. He'd studied maps of all the important areas for weeks, and he had memorized every landmark and pathway. More importantly, he could feel Greyback's presence ahead like a festering wound on the fabric of reality.
"Stop," he whispered suddenly.
The three women froze. Harry tilted his head, listening to something only he could hear. Then he pointed to their left where a barely visible trail wound between two massive oaks.
"Patrol route," he said softly. "Two werewolves, circling the den's perimeter. They'll pass by in approximately thirty seconds."
"How do you know?" Amelia asked.
Harry tapped his temple. "I can feel their magic. It's crude, animalistic. They're not trying to hide their presence because they think they're safe here."
True to his word, less than half a minute later two shapes emerged from the darkness. They moved on all fours despite being in human form, their movements disturbing and wrong. Yellow eyes gleamed in the dim light as they sniffed the air.
Harry's wand moved in a precise arc. No incantation, no visible spell. The werewolf on the left simply crumpled mid-step, his body seizing as his nervous system shut down completely. The second werewolf spun toward his fallen companion, confusion evident on his bestial features.
Fleur's spell caught him before he could raise the alarm. Silver fire erupted around the werewolf, burning through his enhanced regeneration with savage efficiency. He opened his mouth to scream but Nym's follow-up silencing hex robbed him of sound. The werewolf collapsed, still thrashing weakly as the flames consumed him from within.
"Move," Harry ordered.
They stepped over the bodies without pause. There was no room for hesitation now, no space for doubt or mercy. They'd come here to end Greyback's pack, and every werewolf they encountered was another monster who wouldn't prey on innocent people.
The forest seemed to grow quieter as they advanced. Birds had fled. Small animals had gone to ground. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, as if the woodland itself sensed the violence about to erupt.
"There," Harry pointed ahead to where a faint orange glow flickered between the trees. "That's their den."
They crept forward until they could see the clearing properly. It was larger than Harry had expected, perhaps fifty feet across. A massive bonfire burned in the center, casting dancing shadows across the assembled werewolves lounging around it.
Harry counted quickly. Fourteen total, including Greyback himself. The alpha werewolf sat on what looked like a throne cobbled together from logs and bones, his massive frame dwarfing those around him. His face was more wolf than human even in this form, with elongated features and yellow eyes that glowed in the firelight.
"Bigger pack than we thought," Amelia murmured.
"Doesn't matter," Harry replied. "The plan remains the same."
Fleur studied the clearing with calculating eyes. "Zey are relaxed. Confident. Zey do not expect an attack."
"Why would they?" Nym said bitterly. "Nobody's ever had the balls to come after them before. The Ministry's too scared. The Order's too busy with other things. Greyback's been operating with impunity for years."
Amelia nodded bitterly. She truly couldn’t refute those words.
"Well, all of that ends tonight," Harry said simply.
He began mapping out the battlefield in his mind. The bonfire would be both advantage and disadvantage. It provided light to see by but also obscured vision with smoke and dancing shadows. The trees at the clearing's edge would provide cover but also restrict movement. They'd need to hit hard and fast, give the werewolves no time to organize or use their numbers effectively.
"Amelia, you take the left flank," Harry said quietly. "Spread out and hit them from the side. Focus on the ones trying to escape or flank us. Nym, you've got the right. Same strategy. Fleur, you're with me. We're going straight through the center for Greyback himself."
"Divide their attention," Amelia said with approval. "Classic pincer movement."
"The moment we engage, they'll go feral," Harry warned. "Full animal instincts. They'll be fast, vicious, and they won't stop coming until they're dead or we are."
"Good," Nym said, her voice cold. "I'm in the mood for vicious."
Harry looked at each woman in turn. Amelia stood calm and ready, decades of Auror experience evident in her posture. Nym practically vibrated with controlled fury, her wand hand steady despite the rage in her eyes. And Fleur met his gaze with determination, her veela magic humming just beneath the surface.
"No holding back," Harry said. "No stunning spells or attempts to capture. We came here to send a message. Every werewolf in that clearing is a killer who's chosen to prey on innocent people. We end them all."
"Understood," Amelia said.
"With pleasure," Nym added.
"Zey will regret ever touching innocent people," Fleur said softly.
Harry nodded once. Then he raised his wand and the hunt began.
His first spell was a masterwork of precision and power. The cutting curse slashed through the air faster than sound, crossing the clearing in a fraction of a second. It struck the werewolf closest to Greyback, opening his throat and tearing through arteries in a spray of blood.
The werewolf's eyes went wide with shock. He clutched at his ruined throat, trying desperately to stem the flow, but Harry's curse had been too precise. Enhanced healing meant nothing when your windpipe was completely severed. He toppled forward into the fire, dead before he hit the flames.
For a heartbeat, the clearing was utterly silent.
Then chaos erupted.
Greyback roared, a sound more animal than human that echoed through the forest. The other werewolves leapt to their feet, already transforming further, their bodies rippling as they embraced their curse fully.
"Now!" Harry shouted.
Amelia came from the left with devastating efficiency. Her first spell was a bone-breaking hex that caught a charging werewolf mid-leap, shattering both his legs and sending him crashing to the ground. Her second was a piercing curse that punched through another werewolf's chest, leaving a fist-sized hole where his heart had been.
Nym attacked from the right with fury that bordered on madness. Silver chains erupted from her wand, wrapping around one werewolf and burning through his flesh like acid. Another lunged at her and she blasted him backward with a concussive hex that sent him flying into a tree hard enough to crack the trunk.
Harry and Fleur charged straight through the center.
A werewolf threw himself at Harry, claws extended and jaws open wide. Harry's shield spell caught him mid-air, and his follow-up curse turned the shield into razor-sharp fragments that tore through the werewolf like a meat grinder. Blood and viscera sprayed across the clearing as the creature crumpled into a heap of gore.
Fleur moved like a dancer, her movements fluid and graceful despite the violence. Her veela fire consumed one werewolf entirely, reducing him to ash in seconds. Another tried to tackle her from behind but she sensed him coming, spinning and unleashing a cutting curse that separated his head from his shoulders.
"Hold formation!" Harry called out.
They were outnumbered but not outmatched. The werewolves had numbers and ferocity, but Harry's team had training, power, and most importantly, a plan. Every spell they cast was lethal. Every movement was calculated. There would be no prisoners, no survivors. Their primal nature wouldn’t allow them to flee either. This ended tonight.
Greyback finally moved.
The alpha werewolf launched himself across the clearing with terrifying speed. He ignored the battle raging around him, his yellow eyes fixed solely on Harry. Saliva dripped from his elongated jaws as he closed the distance in three powerful bounds.
Harry met him head on.
His piercing curse struck Greyback center mass, a spell powerful enough to punch through stone. It tore into the werewolf's chest, opening a wound that would have killed any normal creature instantly. But Greyback just snarled, his enhanced healing already knitting the damage closed even as he continued his charge.
"Stubborn bastard," Harry muttered.
He dove to the side as Greyback's claws slashed through the space where he'd been standing. The werewolf's momentum carried him past, but he recovered with inhuman agility, spinning and lunging again without pause.
This time Harry was ready. His shield spell caught Greyback's claws, and Harry poured power into it, turning the defensive magic into an offensive weapon. The shield exploded outward in a wave of force that sent Greyback tumbling backward.
Before the werewolf could recover, Fleur's silver fire washed over him. Greyback howled in pain and fury, his body smoking where the veela flames touched bare skin. He rolled frantically, trying to extinguish the magical fire, but it clung to him like napalm.
"Together!" Harry shouted to Fleur.
They attacked in tandem, their spells weaving together in a deadly dance. Harry's cutting curses forced Greyback to dodge and weave. Fleur's fire hemmed him in, restricting his movements. Between them, they slowly backed the alpha werewolf toward the bonfire.
Around them, the battle raged.
Amelia fought with cold precision, each spell perfectly placed and devastatingly effective. A bone-shattering hex crippled one werewolf. A blood-boiling curse dropped another. She moved through the chaos like death personified, her years of experience showing in every calculated move.
Nym fought with barely controlled rage, her spells wild and vicious but no less effective. She conjured silver spikes that impaled one werewolf through both legs, pinning him to the ground. Another tried to blindside her but she sensed him coming, spinning and unleashing a spell that literally tore him apart from the inside out.
Things were going swimmingly for them, but the werewolves were adapting as well.
Three of them broke away from the main fight and circled toward Amelia, moving with pack tactics. They split up, coming at her from three different angles simultaneously, forcing her to divide her attention.
Amelia saw them coming. She erected a circular shield and fired through it, her spells precise and deadly. One werewolf went down with a piercing curse through his eye. Another stumbled as a cutting hex opened his thigh to the bone.
But the third got through.
He came low, using his packmate's body as cover. By the time Amelia realized the danger it was too late. The werewolf's claws were already slashing toward her unprotected side, close enough that she could smell his rancid breath.
Her eyes widened, her heartbeat shooting rapidly as she realized she was going to meet her end. Her wand came up on instinct, but suddenly, Harry was there.
He'd crossed half the clearing in an instant, abandoning his fight with Greyback to intercept the attack. His shield caught the werewolf's claws bare inches from Amelia's ribs. The force of the impact drove Harry backward, his boots tearing furrows in the soft earth.
"Behind you!" Harry shouted.
Amelia’s eyes widened. Even with adrenaline surging through her system, she could realize that she would’ve died right then and there if not for Harry’s intervention. His shout made her spin around and her piercing hex caught the werewolf who'd been creeping up on her other side.
Alas, she was a second too late, and that second cost her. The dying werewolf had come too close, and his momentum carried him forward, his claws raking across her arm before he collapsed.
Blood welled from the wound, and Amelia bit back a cry of pain, but her wand hand remained steady. She fired a bone-breaking hex that shattered the second werewolf's spine, ensuring he wouldn't rise again.
She blinked blearily as she felt her legs shake. Her vision began darkening around the edges and her wand arm began to tremble. She let out a pained hiss, a shudder coursing through her.
‘It’s just a scratch,’ she thought. Her legs shook again, and she felt them give out. Gravity carried her down and Amelia hit something solid. It wasn’t the ground though, and she realized she was being held up by a strong pair of arms.
As she blearily looked up, she found herself staring into the familiar emerald orbs of the wizard who had saved her life.
To be continued…