Two things happened at the exact same time.
The first was the sound.
A long, echoing howl tore through the night, raw and violent, reverberating off stone walls and rooftops as it spread through Hogsmeade. It wasn't a single voice. It was many. Dozens, overlapping and discordant, rising into a chorus that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
The second was the wards.
They screamed.
Not audibly, but inside my skull, a sudden, unmistakable pressure flaring to life on the eastern edge of the village. My magic snapped to attention instinctively, threads pulling taut as the detection lattice I'd laid hours earlier finally caught what it had been waiting for.
I closed my eyes and the world sharpened.
Through the wards, I felt them, not as shapes, but as presences. Twisted signatures of magic and flesh, human cores drowned beneath predatory instincts and raw physical power.
There were many, far too many.
I counted automatically, my mind slotting them into place as they moved.
Thirty-two.
My jaw tightened.
This wasn't a simple raid. It was a coordinated assault.
Even experienced Aurors didn't take on werewolves lightly. One transformed werewolf could tear through an unprepared wizard in seconds. Their speed was absurd, their strength monstrous, and their resistance to magic infuriatingly high. Stunning spells barely slowed them. Cutting curses often glanced off. You needed precision, power, or overwhelming control to put one down safely.
Thirty of them?
That would have required a battalion of a hundred wizards, and even then safety was not guaranteed.
I opened my eyes and turned.
Aurora and Rosmerta stood behind me, already tense, already aware that something had gone terribly wrong. The distant howls carried clearly through the night now, closer than they had any right to be.
Rosmerta grabbed my arm. "You're calling for help," she said immediately, not asking.
Aurora nodded sharply. "The Aurors. The professors. Anyone."
"I'll help," Rosmerta added without hesitation. "You're not doing this alone."
I shook my head.
"No."
Both of them stared at me like I'd lost my mind.
"They're coming here," I said calmly. Too calmly, perhaps. "And I won't risk either of you."
"We can fight," Aurora insisted. "We're not helpless."
"I know," I said softly. "That's why I won't let you."
They weren't battle mages. Not truly. Much less against something like this. And calling for Aurors or Hogwarts staff would turn this into chaos, collateral damage, panic. Werewolves rampaging through a populated village while reinforcements scrambled to respond.
No.
Only one wizard could arrive here and walk away without a scratch.
Dumbledore.
But where would the fun be in that?
This was my test, and I was prepared.
"Dobby," I said sharply.
There was a soft crack, and the house-elf appeared instantly, eyes wide, hands already clenched anxiously.
"Yes, sir?"
"If a single werewolf breaks through the wards," I said, meeting his gaze, "you take Rosmerta and Aurora to Hogwarts immediately. No delays. No arguments."
Dobby straightened, solemn as a soldier. "Yes, sir! Dobby will keep them safe."
I turned back to the women.
Aurora opened her mouth, but I cut her off by pulling her into a brief kiss, then doing the same to Rosmerta.
"I'll be right back," I said lightly. "Just dealing with some naughty puppies."
Neither of them laughed.
I could already feel the pack shifting direction towards the Three Broomsticks.
So I stepped outside.
The night air was cold, sharp against my skin as I walked into the central plaza. I raised my staff and sent a burst of red sparks screaming into the sky, exploding overhead like a flare.
"Over here," I murmured.
I transfigured the fountain in the middle of the plaza, stone flowing and reshaping itself into a raised platform. Water drained away, the basin sealing smoothly as I stepped up, giving myself height, visibility and control.
Then I did exactly what Grindelwald had taught me.
I pointed my staff at the stone and traced a slow, deliberate circle.
Blue flames erupted from the ground.
Protego Diabolica answered eagerly, the fire spiraling outward, enclosing me in a perfect ring. The flames burned low but intense, sapphire and electric, casting warped shadows across the plaza. The air hummed with restrained annihilation.
Eerie didn't begin to cover it.
They emerged from the streets moments later.
Dark shapes, low and fast, eyes reflecting firelight as they circled just beyond the flames. Massive bodies packed with muscle, claws scraping stone, snarls vibrating through the air.
One of them was noticeably bigger than the rest.
Broader shoulders. Heavier frame. His movements were controlled, deliberate, and his eyes… his eyes were sharp.
Fenrir Greyback.
And by the intelligence in his eyes, he was definitely under the influence of Wolfsbane Potion.
I felt it in his magic. The potion dulled the madness, kept the mind intact, and even though it had a weakness: drowsiness and sluggishness. It was nothing a fanatic like Greyback couldn't push through.
He studied the flames, calculating.
Then he nodded to two of the skinnier werewolves.
They didn't hesitate and howled as they ran forward with no care for their safety.
The blue fire engulfed them instantly, fur igniting, flesh charring, yet they kept moving, sheer momentum carrying them forward as they howled in agony. They made it further than any human ever could, staggering within a few steps of me before finally collapsing, bodies disintegrating into ash mid-fall.
Impressive.
But still not good enough.
Greyback snarled, irritation flashing across his face. He barked another command.
One of the werewolves scrambled up the side of a building with terrifying speed, claws digging into stone, then leapt from above.
Clever.
I waved my staff and the flames surged upward like a living wall.
The airborne werewolf slammed chest-first into the fire, momentum carrying him straight through as he burst into flame midair.
With another gesture of my staff, the ground answered.
A colossal stone hand tore itself free from beneath the plaza, fingers closing around the burning body and swatting it aside with casual force.
The werewolf hit the ground at Greyback's feet and turned to ash right under his nose.
Silence followed.
The smarter ones recoiled. The less intelligent whimpered. Greyback stared at the ashes for a long moment, eyes burning with something between rage and fascination.
I smiled slowly within my ring of blue fire.
"Come now," I called pleasantly. "Surely you didn't think it would be easy."
The flames flared higher in response.
And the night was only just beginning.
…
Greyback shot me a sharp, calculating look and snarled, lips peeling back from yellowed fangs.
He didn't dare test the flames again.
Instead, his gaze shifted slowly and deliberately.
He began scanning the surrounding buildings, the windows glowing faintly with candlelight. Faces pressed against glass. Silhouettes frozen in place. People who should have been hiding, fleeing, barricading themselves in cellars.
But no.
There was never a shortage of idiots who chose curiosity over survival.
I cursed under my breath.
Then I saw her.
Madam Pudifoot stood in the doorway of her shop, stout hands clasped nervously in front of her apron, eyes wide with morbid fascination. She hadn't even bothered to step fully outside, as if the doorframe alone might somehow protect her.
Greyback noticed her at the same time.
His lips curled into a cruel grin, and he locked eyes with me.
It was a challenge.
A test.
He snapped his head to the side and barked a command.
Two werewolves peeled away from the pack instantly, muscles bunching as they launched themselves toward the woman with terrifying speed.
"Damn it," I hissed.
I raised my staff and released the Protego Diabolica.
The blue flames around me surged outward, twisting and condensing, reshaping themselves midair into an enormous dragon of sapphire fire. Its wings unfurled with a thunderous roar as it streaked across the plaza, jaws open wide.
Madam Pudifoot squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for death.
But instead of pain, she felt warmth.
Gentle. Almost comforting.
The dragon engulfed the two werewolves completely. They didn't even have time to scream. When the flames dissipated, only ashes remained, scattered at her feet like dark snow.
She opened her eyes slowly, still alive.
But I didn't have time to check on her.
Greyback had used the distraction perfectly.
The moment my fire barrier vanished, he attacked.
All of them did.
The pack surged forward in a single, coordinated wave, snarling and snapping, bodies colliding with one another in their eagerness to reach me. I felt a spike of genuine panic as I threw up my staff, transfiguring the stone beneath their feet.
Massive rock hands burst from the ground, swatting wolves aside like toys, cracking bones, sending bodies tumbling across the plaza.
But there were too many.
They came from all sides.
Greyback himself slammed into me, claws raking across my chest as others piled on. Pain exploded through my body as teeth tore into flesh, strength far beyond human limits ripping me apart.
My staff slipped from my grasp and clattered uselessly against the stone.
Darkness swallowed me as they fed.
Greyback threw his head back and howled in triumph, the sound echoing through Hogsmeade like a victory bell.
"Are you done celebrating?" I asked mildly.
Greyback froze and turned his head slowly.
I was sitting comfortably on the roof of Zonko's Joke Shop, legs dangling over the edge.
His eyes darted back to the mutilated body on the ground.
It shimmered, then dissolved.
The illusion collapsed entirely, revealing the torn remains of one of his own pack. The fur receded rapidly as death forced the transformation to end, leaving a human corpse in its place.
Greyback roared in fury.
He snapped a command, and the pack rushed me again.
I stood and leapt from the rooftop.
Mid-fall, I drew Gryffindor's sword from my waist. The blade gleamed brilliantly in the moonlight as my white dragon-leather battle robes flared around me like wings.
The first wolf reached me midair.
But in one clean swing, its head separated from its body before it even hit the ground.
Then I vanished as soon as my feet touched the ground.
The plaza beneath me rippled like liquid as I slipped into the ground transfigured into water. One of the wolves leapt after me and slammed face-first into suddenly solid stone with a wet crack.
I surfaced behind another wolf, blade already moving as I cut it in two at the waist.
Greyback snarled, rage overriding caution.
He barked a new order and the pack scattered, veering away from me and toward the houses, toward the people still watching in horror.
That was enough to make my expression harden.
"Playtime's over," I muttered.
I slammed my staff into the ground and the entire plaza liquefied.
Stone, earth, and rubble flowed outward as I transfigured it all into a small lake. The werewolves yelped in surprise as they plunged beneath the surface, thrashing violently.
Then I lowered my staff and the water froze solid in an instant.
With another sharp gesture, ice coffins rose from the frozen lake, each one containing a trapped werewolf, suspended mid-snarl.
I approached the largest.
With careful precision, I unfroze only the head.
Greyback snarled and thrashed, cracks already forming in the surrounding ice.
I frowned, wondering what I should do.
Then I suddenly remembered a certain spell.
One I had stolen years ago. The spell used to defeat the Wagga Wagga Werewolf. Back then, before I obtained the memories of my previous life, I'd never been skilled enough to cast it properly.
But things were different now.
I raised my staff.
"Homorphus."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Greyback screamed.
Fur receded. The snout shrank back into a human face. Bones cracked and shifted grotesquely as his transformation reversed entirely, leaving a feral-looking man trapped in ice, breathing hard.
He stared down in disbelief.
"How?" he rasped, glancing up at the still-bright full moon.
I smiled.
"Very old magic," I said smugly. "Very effective. Unfortunately, it won't last long. But it will last long enough."
I leaned closer.
"So," I continued pleasantly, "who sent you?"
He sneered and spat at me.
"No need to waste saliva," I sighed as I cleaned my face. "I'll check myself, Legilimens!"
I dove into his mind.
What I found was pure darkness, cruelty and a desire for chaos. I kept searching until I found what I was looking for, he was here on orders from the Dark Lord.
But unfortunately, there was nothing else.
Everything beyond that had been erased.
Tom was being careful to the point of paranoia.
I withdrew just as the Homorphus Charm began to weaken.
Apparition cracks echoed through the village.
A squad of Aurors appeared, nearly twenty of them, Madam Bones and Mad-Eye Moody at the front. I spotted a very tired-looking Tonks just behind Moody.
As soon as they saw the current situation, they froze.
Their eyes widened.
Moody was the first to move, stomping toward me with his staff raised.
"What the hell happened here?" he barked. "Hands where I can see them…"
"Alastor," Madam Bones snapped sharply.
She stepped past him and looked directly at me.
"Mr Lockhart," she asked, concern evident in her voice, "are you injured anywhere?"
Behind her, Tonks looked like she was physically restraining herself from sprinting forward.
I straightened, sword resting casually at my side, ice coffins gleaming behind me.
"Not a scratch," I replied calmly.
And judging by the looks on their faces.
They had a very hard time believing me.
…