A/N: Allow me to take a moment to apologise:--

Oh gawd, I am so, so sososososo soso SO sorry!

Ahem, there, now I feel at least slightly better about how long it's taken me to get this chapter out. First I had a rather bad case of Authoras Blockus which rendered my writing empty of all creative flair and made it look as if a seven year old had come up with it. In fact, it reminded me of when I was seven and wanted to be an Author and went around writing short-sentenced stories about…well…nothing really. Anyhow, after that episode of writer's block, my laptop decided to chuck a massive spaz attack and went on the fritz (it's still on the fritz, only now I can at least type on it as long as the battery isn't plugged in—apparently the battery is faulty and my hard drive is stuffed). And then, as if I hadn't been stalled enough, changed their Document Manager and I couldn't upload anything at all. Seriously, I tried about thirteen computers, my own hard drive, my own external hard drive, seven different USBs—nada, zip, nothing.

Each chapter is going to be written and then posted, since I haven't been able to get ahead by much. I can tell you that chapter twenty-five will be titled Demise of a Carrot. My friend snorted weet-bix out his nose when I explained the reasoning behind that. I do so love my little Phanta.

I've also posted something in relation to this fic. It isn't necessary to read it in order to read this, but SilverPhoenixRising gave me the idea and it works. I guess you could call it a series of companion pieces. If anyone has questions and I can't place the answers into the story, or not as comprehensively as I'd like, you're welcome to ask for a piece to be written and I'll see what I can do about it. The title for it is History and Drabbles.

Also working on my own Original Fiction, which is taking up a little more of my time. Doesn't have a title yet, but if anyone knows where one could post an original slash fiction could you let me know?

Countdown to Ronald Bilius Weasley's Demise-- Three Chapters

Chapter Twenty Two—Full Moon Rising

Daniel shifted against the cold stone he leaned against, his hazel eyes flicking around before settling once more on the alter before him. He was standing within a glade of sorts that had been concealed along one side of the castle. It was surrounded on three sides by stone walls, one being the castle itself, while the fourth side was covered with creeping vines and a variety of plants that entwined and hung down to form a natural curtain. The roof was made of wooden beams that should have disintegrated long ago, but were held together by magic and more of the vines. It allowed him to see the sky as it lightened and the dull grey of the dawn became streaked with pinks, oranges and purples.

On the alter, which seemed to made of an odd sort of crystal, since it had been freezing to the touch and mist rolled off of it, sat Harry's familiar. Phanta's onyx eyes glittered as she watched him unblinkingly, her long tail wrapped around the alter and her gossamer wings held aloft behind her. He'd always been curious of the familiars who had accompanied the Durmstrang students. All of them were loyal and seemed to materialise out of thin air whenever their Master, or Mistress, were in danger. It hadn't happened often before, but something had obviously shifted and the creatures were no longer simply warning off attackers. They were attacking them.

The faerie dragon hissed softly, catching his attention once more. "Ask whatever it is that bothers you."

Daniel swallowed and nodded. "What…what changed? You're all attacking us now, but before…"

"We were forbidden. Our Masters were not allowed to fight back to their full extent, so we were limited as well. Now, the restriction has been lifted."

He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. "How does one gain a familiar?"

Phanta tipped her head to the side, which made her seem more like a puppy when you added it with the now uncurled and wagging tail. "You are interested in one?"

"Just curious. Familiars are illegal here."

"That could very well change."

He let out a shaky breath and nodded once more. "Yeah, because the prophecy is null and void because Voldemort has someone to love. Dumbledore always told me it was the only thing I had that he didn't, and it was a power I could learn to wield."

"You cannot wield something unless you understand it."

"I never knew love after mum left," he shook his head, lifting a hand and pushing fiery strands back from his eyes. "But Harry knows love, and he has power that I doubt anyone understands. Does he even?"

"Yes. My Master knows what he is, and has the ingrained knowledge from all of his ancestors."

"And perhaps that is why you should be silent, flyer." A new hiss sounded from down towards the ground and Daniel backed away from the pitch-black snake that was poised to strike.

Phanta shrieked, forcing him to cover his ears and wince, before she launched herself down at the serpent. "Betrayer!"

The black snake twisted away, barely avoiding the sharp talons that flashed in the rising sun. It hissed and slithered between two fallen pieces of the wall, taunting the dragon all the while. "Your Master is nothing, flyer, an insult to serpents and Speakers!"

"Your own Master will take your life, young one, for daring to even look upon this Hearer!"

Daniel's head snapped around and his eyes went wide before he sagged with relief. "Harry…"

Harry narrowed bright, glowing emerald eyes, giving only a nod in answer. His eyes were focused on the now quivering black serpent. "Do you think he would take kindly to you even daring to threaten the life of my familiar and my brother? Do you think he will reward you kindly for your actions?"

"My Master will not be disappointed, he wants the death of this one!" The snake shot out, golden eyes wide as it faced Harry, looking deeply into his own eyes. "Taste death!"

Harry growled and his eyes flashed, turning completely gold before the black fur crept over his skin, the sickening crunch of bones echoed about the area as they broke and realigned themselves. The blue-black wolf raised its hackles; tail low and ears laid back as it curled its lips and bared its fangs. The snake didn't back down, it simply hissed and lunged forward, mouth open in preparation. Harry barely moved, becoming a dark blur as he snapped at the serpent, before pinning it to the ground with one paw behind its head.

Phanta cooed, before she landed on the ground, eyes bright as she watched her land bound cousin writhe about. "Remember that your Master is not on his own anymore, he has his own mate. It would be wise for you to simply leave, perhaps even visit him, hmm?"

Harry stepped back, growling as the snake hissed in indignation and swept away through the long grass. His emerald gold eyes turned to look at Daniel and a happy little whine echoed about the place, his tail wagging slowly. He gave a bark before trotting over and nudging the trembling boys hand. Daniel could only stare down, watching in a detached way as the wolf transformed back into Harry.

Harry gave him a small smile, gold still swirling in his eyes. "Sorry about that, Dan."

Daniel swallowed, eyes still wide. "S-sure."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I really am sorry. But, let's forget about it, okay?"

"I can do that." Hazel eyes blinked and cleared. "So, what's your plan?"

"Well, you said you could provoke Weasley and some of his friends into attacking us, so the pack and I will be sticking together all day until it happens. But, Dan? It needs to happen before lunch."

"Why lunch?"

"Well, Remus is already gone, so is mum, because he has no control over his own wolf this close. The only reason my pack hasn't had the same problems is that I've linked myself up to them, keeping the violent dispositions of their natures controlled until it's safe to let go."

"You're…controlling them?"

Harry shrugged, "sort of."

Daniel frowned in confusion. "How? How can you control something like that?"

Harry smirked. "One, I'm their Alpha. Two…my own nature allows me to tap into their Cores, which gives me access to their Were halves."

The red haired teen shook his head. "I never did understand how it was you did things. Dad was always saying that it was unnatural, not quite right."

"He's a pureblood; they're taught to dislike anything to do with Hecatamae." Harry shrugged. "It's not that unusual, particularly here in Britain. You'll find a lot of the European countries view Hecatamae in a different light."

Daniel blinked. Harry almost seemed used to the hate, well, perhaps that was a bit strong but it felt like that to him, that he was given from the purebloods who knew what he was. He was uncomfortable with the knowledge that his older twin was simply sitting back and letting them whisper about him. For all he knew, they were even plotting against him. "And you just put up with it?"

The emerald eyes, still shot through with gold, hardened suddenly and it was as if everything about Harry shifted; his stance changed, his face became devoid of emotion, and when he spoke, the accent was not flowing as it usually did and his voice became cold. "I have my own ways of dealing with things, Daniel, none of which you need to know. Knowledge is a dangerous thing, and the majority of people in these Isles would kill to know everything I do. Going against them in public is folly, and I have no desire to end my life just yet."

"You work in the shadows?"

Harry's expression softened, his eyes glowing brightly, and a soft smile touched the corners of his lips, the Scottish accent once more lilting. "In a way, I suppose I do. Now, what can we expect from Weasley and co? And what role are you going to play?"

Daniel wasn't convinced that Harry was okay with the way people treated him, as if he were nothing more than a disease waiting to spread over the entire population. As if he was in league with Voldemort…

He wouldn't…he couldn't be….could he?


Tom stretched languidly as he watched Harry and his pack wander into the room Hogwarts had gladly created for him. The Exitus Door was gleaming onyx and was nestled in a corner of the room, behind large cushiony armchairs and a bookcase or two. He curled bare toes into the grass that made their floor and he barely kept the smirk from his face when Markus gave a contented sigh when he removed his shoes. Emerald eyes met his own, a stressed, yet soft, smile gracing Harry's face. Circles lay under his eyes, and he had a tired air about him, even as he walked lightly over to the armchair in which Tom had claimed as his own.

"Hello, Tom."

He held a hand out, pale skin melding against tanned fingers, before he tugged the exhausted teen down into his lap. "You look tired," he whispered into Harry's ear, relishing in the shudder that ran through his body.

"You would too if it was the day of the full moon and you were trapped within a castle full of oblivious kids."

"Ah, but you are not Greyback, I hardly see where this would be so bad."

"Fenrir does not turn children anymore. I was the last, remember?"

"And I still thank him for that, not that he will ever hear it." He brushed a lock of raven hair away from the closed eyes, noticing the way the muscles in his face, and the frown he'd only just noticed, smoothed away at his touch. "He did, after all, bring you to me."

"Humph. I don't think my wolf is the one who chose you. I get the feeling it views you as a threat more than an equal."

"Then I am honoured your Hecatamus half sees me as worthy of sharing your considerable life span."

"Oh, so you're only in this for the long life, huh? Figures." He sighed and let his head fall back onto Tom's shoulder, his whole body melting as one hand sneaked under his shirt and lay flat against his stomach, while the other threaded fingers through his hair.

Mere glared over at them, her amber eyes sparking with annoyance. "You two done? Some of us want to get this over and done with so we can hopefully get 'cursed' and not have to sit through another class with Pothead."

"I assume she means James Potter?" Tom didn't bother to hide his amusement, even as Harry sighed. This oddly mixed pack and the Circle he had chosen himself, were the only ones who ever dared to speak against him, though the Circle did it considerably less than this lot.

"Of course I mean him! What, you think I'd dare insult itty bitty Potter in front of Harry?"

"Has she been interacting with Bellatrix lately?" Tom whispered into his ear. "Because she's the only one I know who says 'itty bitty'."

Darren snorted. "Actually, Mere, I'm pretty sure you have done that a few times. And didn't Marci have to heal you just this morning?"

"Shut up, Yealo!"

"Why should I, Merena?"

Harry groaned as a full-blown argument broke out. Marci was blinking, trying to figure out how it had come about, while still attempting to stop it before it turned into an impromptu duel, which had already happened once on the way from their last class. Soft lips pressed against his neck, making him shiver as his skin burned from the contact. He wiggled, smirking when Tom gasped and the hand on his stomach pressed him down, ceasing his movements. The fingers intertwined in his hair tugged, tipping his head back and bearing his neck just a little more.

"Do that again, and I'll take you right now, in front of your entire pack."

Harry bit his lip, waiting a moment before easing himself into a sitting position, Tom's hand falling from his hair to his waist, resting there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He caught Karl's eye, the werewolf nodding at the silent command. Gold began creeping into Harry's eyes, and he very carefully lessened his hold on his friends' Were halves, being careful to keep at least some control. Almost instantly they tensed, a feral gleam creeping into their eyes. He blinked, and the world tipped slightly. The room came alive with colour, wisps of magic moving about them in an ordered fashion, but intertwined with it all was his own magic, both bland and sluggish and bright and chaotic. He was linked with his pack, and he watched in a detached fashion as the tendrils wrapped around them, a smaller one curling just out of reach. That one was his hold on their Were halves. He blinked again and the world righted itself and he became aware of Tom pulling him back against him.

"Are you alright?"

Harry nodded, even though he felt tired suddenly. He took a deep breath before looking back up at Karl, whose blue eyes watched him warily. "Do you have the spell?"

The werewolf nodded, pulling out his wand from a holster on his arm. "The spell will only work for about four hours if a normal wizard is casting it, and since we can't let Harry do it, we'll all need to do it ourselves."

Lucial blinked. "Why can't Harry do it again?"

Harry opened his mouth but Tom cut him off, narrowing his eyes at the girl. "Harry is tiring himself out simply by keeping you lot calm and in control. If you give him another spell to keep a hold of, you put him in danger."

Harry growled softly, his eyes flashing in annoyance. "I will not be in danger."

Tom's arm tightened around him, and a hand came up to grip his chin and forcibly turn his head. "Yes, you would be. You are tired, Harry, and it's a strain you don't need on both your Shields and your ability to access and control external magic. It's weakening you."

"He's right," Mere sighed. "Our flaming avian friend gave me the impression we need to watch you a little more carefully. We're tied to you, to your own magic and the danger we are in here is forcing you to expend it on us."

"I don't have control of my Inner Magic, I never have."

She shrugged. "Maybe it's unconscious?"

Markus cleared his throat. "We aren't going to get into another argument over this, are we? Cos, far as I know, Potter's meant to be getting Weasley and his friends to curse us in about half an hour, and I'm not interested in being stuck here during a full moon."

Harry gave another growl, before he shook himself and nodded to Karl. "Go on."

"Now, this spell requires us to change the function of our bracelets, meaning that instead of reading our aura's, it's going to simply blank the gems and flash when we need to leave or risk transforming here. However, I've managed to modify it, so that the spell is cast simultaneously with a portis spell. When the gems flash, we'll be portkeyed into the Greyback territory."

"And Harry will release any and all holds on our Were halves." Marci nodded. "It's the best plan we could have come up with. But what if Dumbledore is watching where we are? How do we fool him for three whole days and nights?"

"Quite simple," Tom gave a lazy smirk. "I cast a spell on six beds within the Durmstrang dorms, and summon a golem to wander about the room. Your classmates cover for you, and that old fool will not be able to use any magic to find you."

Harry frowned. "Hogwarts can keep the spells from being noticed until we arrive, since her and Fawkes apparently no longer side with Dumbledore."

Karl shrugged. "Whatever works. Long as I don't have to stay in this godforsaken castle for the full moon, I don't care if we have to imperio every single person here."

"Interesting," Tom whispered into Harry's eyes, making him shiver. "Are you sure he doesn't want to become one of our Death Eaters?"

Harry laughed softly. "Very. Karl will probably be picked up by a Necromancy Master soon, I know Vero's interested in him."

He hummed, his arm squeezing lightly before he reluctantly let go. "You'd better do this spell. I'll go and charm the beds, and set a timer on them."

Harry nodded, standing and turning around to face his mate who watched him with crimson hued brown eyes. "Are you staying there?"

Tom smiled softly, standing up and lifting a hand to lightly touch Harry's arm. "Yes, I won't be getting any for three days, I think I might stock up, hmm?"

Harry laughed, shaking his head and waving him off. "Sure, Tom, it's not like I can't choose to remain human for the full moon or anything, now is it?"

"For one, you aren't human like the rest of us. And an alpha stays in charge of the pack, doesn't he? You may belong to the Greyback pack because of Remus and Fenrir, but they do not."

Harry scowled at the mention of his unique status, but shrugged at the rest. "I know. But, hey, if you get desperate, I don't see why I can't just find a secluded spot and shift back."

Tom nodded, "true. I'll see you later. Make sure Potter goes through with his end."

"He is trustworthy, you know, and he isn't your enemy anymore."

Tom shrugged, tapping himself with his wand. Even though he turned invisible, Harry could still see him outlined in a faint shimmery silver colour. He watched him walk through the door, before turning back to the others. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "I guess we should move on with this?"

Darren snorted, "Gee, look, he's suddenly gained the gift of the obvious!"

Mere blinked. "That doesn't…make sense."

Karl rolled his eyes, touching the tip of his wand to the amber coloured gem on his bracelet. Although the bracelets they all wore looked to be silver, and the rest of the three years at Hogwarts really did have that, theirs were made from platinum. Mere's was a soft, pale blue, Marci's a stormy grey and Darren's a deep violet. Lucial's was forest green and Markus' was a pearlescent white. Harry's however, changed frequently and couldn't settle on any one colour, reflecting his aura so perfectly. His Inner Magic was chaotic, his aura a mix of that and any external magic he used, so he was never surprised to see the gem flash between one colour and the next in a matter of seconds.

He watched as the others each cast the spell onto their own bracelets, his eyes carefully noting the appropriate colour of the spell and the way the magic moved before it settled where it was intended. Taking a deep breath, he tugged at the air around him and a rush of warmth had his eyes flashing brightly and his body humming in tune with the magic of Hogwarts. He touched the bracelet, letting one finger rest over the gem, before it glowed a soft orange colour. His gem was now just as blank and empty as the rest of his pack.

He looked up, a small smile playing over his lips. "Let's go face Weasley, shall we?"


Harry stiffened when Phanta suddenly dug her talons into his hair, her wings lifting from beside his ears and her tail uncurling from around his neck. Her hissing filled the air, but it was nonsensical sounds and was purely as a display of her anger. He did, however, catch her murmuring 'Carrot Headed fool', which only served to make the other familiars snort with laughter in some way. Ferio almost instantly began to growl, even though he stayed by Mere's side. They had told their familiars that the curses weren't likely to harm them even a little, but that they needed to have people believe they had.

"Hey, Evans!"

Harry turned around slowly, eyes flashing with barely concealed rage when his gaze landed on Ron. Everything in him strained and it was only Tom's whispering that kept him from lashing out. "Weasley. To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Daniel shifted behind the group facing them, which consisted of Ron and the same three that had attacked Harry, his hazel eyes watching every move that Harry made, noting the way his actions mirrored a predator waiting patiently for the kill.

Ron grinned, "Ah, pleasure. Care to give us another go?"

Darren growled, his dark eyes shifting to gold. "Get lost, Weasel, we don't have time for vermin like you!"

Ron casually raised his wand, the tip flowing a faint yellow. "Ah, but you do. In fact, you lot are gonna have plenty of time on your hands. Perisdraci mormentai!"

Harry reacted immediately, a blue shield rising before them, one that would not stop the spell at all, while his own magic reached out, breaking from his own Shields and wrapping around his companions. The spell broke through the shield and split into seven before it slammed into each of them, throwing them backwards and into the wall behind them. Dimly, through the sounds of laughter, Harry heard a small gasp and barely registered it as his own pain filled one.

Just like it was meant to, the bracelets they wore alerted the other Durmstrang students that they had been attacked. Almost as one, the entire seventh year converged on the corridor they were in, pushing Ron and his cronies back with painful hexes. With careful movements, they were lifted and carried into the Durmstrang dorms.

Marci was the first to shake off the effects of Harry's magic, which had caused them all to become drowsy as it took energy from them in order to deflect the curse. She was going to have to make sure he never did that again. Using his own Internal Magic was a chance he should never have taken; the backlash had certainly harmed him. She watched as Tom carefully woke him, worry creasing his brow even as Harry finally awoke.


Tom smiled, relief spreading over his features. "Never, never do that again to me, you hear me?"

Harry blinked, his emerald eyes highlighted with lazy swirls of gold. "…okay?"

Tom shook his head, fingers trailing down over Harry's cheek, before his cupped his head and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, one that made something in Harry keen with sadness. Resting his forehead against Harry's, tom spoke, his voice soft. "How long until you can all leave?"

The Exitus Door, which Harry had carefully summoned into being along one of the dorm walls the night before, opened and a violet eyed women stepped through, her clothing announcing her as a member of the Assassins Guild. She cleared her throat and eight pairs of eyes landed on her. "Grey?"

Harry shifted, hands shaking slightly as he pushed tom gently back. "Genna? What are you doing here?"

The Assassin gave an audible sigh of relief, before she sent a bright smile his way. "They sent me over, something about you acting foolish again?"

Harry snorted, his emerald eyes lighting up with amusement. "Nothing too unusual about that, then. So why did you really come?"

Genna sighed, crossing over to stand by him, her violet eyes watching Tom carefully. "The Spies have heard some rumours, ones that could be dangerous for you."

"And you chose the day of the full moon for what reason?"

"Because I have my own targets to move after, and this is the only time I'll be available for awhile." She crouched down, and pinned both Harry and Tom with her intense gaze. "The Light is beginning to move, and we think they may be planning an attack, though we aren't entirely sure yet. The Ministry has redeveloped their interest in Hecatamae and the Research Department has begun to extend its feelers. They're gathering information again, and paying pureblood families a good deal of money for whatever they have." She shook her head, dark blue-black strands of hair whipping about. "It isn't safe here Grey, it never was. This isn't the place for an Assassin."

There was a soft gasp. Marci frowned while Mere rolled her eyes as Lucial stared at them. "Assassin?"

Darren blinked, before he shrugged. "What does it matter? It just mean we'll have more of a chance if we ever have to fight. Who cares if Harry isn't just a part of the Werefolk Guild?"

Lucial shook her head. "But…but…"

Tom narrowed his eyes, crimson flashing within them. "Do you have a problem with that, Miss Marnah?"

The girl paled, lilac eyes widening. "N-no."

Harry shook his head, one tanned hand rising to grab hold of Tom's robes, yanking him down for a quick kiss. "You need to lay off my pack, Tom."

Harry's voice was barely above a growl and there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. It made Tom think before he answered the teen beneath him. "I apologise."

Harry nodded and pushed him off before he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "What else was there, Genna?"

The Assassin shrugged. "Nothing, really. I just wanted to see how you were holding up. No harm in that, is there?"

The Hecatamus snorted. "Right. Well, we need to be leaving, and I believe you said you had targets to find?"

Genna smiled at him. "Let me know what's going on with your contract; I'm willing to help you out on this one." She stood and waved jauntily to Tom, before laying a hand on the Exitus Door, which shuddered and turned into a stone door with an obscure rune etched into it. "Ciao!"

Harry sighed when the violet-eyed Assassin finally left, before he stood up, gingerly stretching and wincing as his muscles screamed in protest. "Well, let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

It took them almost an hour to make sure that the other students understood that no one was to enter the room until they returned in three days time. Some of the fifth years grumbled about it, but sharp looks from Laura had them all silencing those protests. Changing from the casual clothing they'd been wearing, and the standard black cloak they all wore, they slipped into the loosest possible clothing. The others knew that when Harry released their Were halves, the transformation would be brutal and more painful than it usually was.

Looking around the room, Tom could see the lines of worry etched into the packs faces. They could joke and tease and pretend all they wanted, but they were just as worried as he was for how the coming backlash of magic would effect Harry. It was a fear he would never admit to anyone except the younger teen, and when he'd seen him laying on the bed, pale against the black sheets, his heart had almost broke and the need to lash out had welled up so fast…

…but then those beautiful emerald eyes had fluttered open and everything had righted itself again.

He watched as Harry spoke to one of the smaller fifth years, placing a thin gold chain in the youth's hand, before he wrapped the tiny boy in a hug, the small frame shaking. Curious, he stepped over and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "what's this?"

Harry tipped his head to the side and blinked worried eyes. "He was bitten."

"What? How?"

"I don't know. I never even noticed that he had been until just a second ago." He pulled back and tipped the youths face up. "This is Akael, Tom. He hasn't got a family, the school took him in as a ward a year or two ago."

Akael blinked amber eyes and Tom caught a flash of blue around the irises. Irritation rose within him at the protective way Harry held him close, but he had to remind himself that Harry was not a normal wizard; he wasn't a wizard in the first place. His Hecatamus half would demand the expansion of his clan, and as an alpha werewolf he would be inclined to take charge and defend any nearly turned cub. Because that was what Akael was; a cub.

"Hello, Akael."

The boy blinked up at him, and allowed Harry to link the gold chain around his neck. Hanging from the thin metal, was an onyx wolf superimposed on top of a ruby eye. A symbol, their symbol, their crest of sorts. "Hello," his voice was tiny, soft and most definitely frightened.

Harry's pack has just gotten a little bit bigger.


The moment their feet hit the ground, Harry was barking out orders. "I want you guys to stick together, no wandering off until I snap the holds, alright? I don't care if you want to go visit anyone, Lucial, you stay near me!"

Mere raised an eyebrow, her amber eyes flashing. "Yeah, Lucial. Stay near him, you don't want all the other dominates to think you're alpha-less, now do you?"

Lucial paled, her jaw snapping shut with an audible click and her retort dying in her throat. She nodded her head shakily, her lilac eyes shifting away from the piercing glare Harry was giving her.

"Right," Harry clapped his hands. "The moon rises in about an hour, so I suggest we go and get ourselves some food and some of that wonderful potion."

Tom snorted. "It isn't that bad."

Emerald gold eyes flicked to rest on him. "Ever tasted it? No? Right then, no right to even comment."

Mere openly laughed about that. "Come on, Harry, play nice with the big bad Dark Lord, you never know, he might decide to crucio you!" She paused at the sharp look Harry gave Tom, before he switched it to her. "He hasn't, has he?"

Tom's dark eyes scanned around them, picking up on the signs of other, still human, werefolk moving through the trees around them. Harry stiffened, his angry glare not even working to shut his adopted sister up.


He looked back, startled to find the wereleopard a few feet from him and surprised by the way her tanned skin was beginning to sprout gold and black fur. "Once."


Harry growled, the sound more assertive than he'd ever been with Mere, and his eyes flashed, the gold receding and the emerald darkened until it looked almost black. "Back off, Mere. It was one time and it was before everything!"

She blinked. Harry had never, ever, sounded threatening with her; he'd always given her some leeway because she had helped him so many times in the past. But then again, she'd never seen that dark and menacing look in his eyes before. "O…kay, then. Sure, whatever."

Marci sighed. "Why don't we go get this potion, hmm? The moon isn't going to wait for us."

Tom settled in beside Harry, his pale fingers curling around Harry's tanned ones. "Harry?"

"Not talking about it, Tom."

He raised an eyebrow, tugging Harry until they were secluded within the tree line. "And why not?"

Harry glared at him. "Because I'm not in the mood?"

"I doubt that."

"How about you stop asking and we get this over with?"

Tom shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

Tom backed Harry up, until he was pressed against the smooth trunk of a tree. Grabbing a hold of the hands that came up to push him away, he quickly whispered a spell he knew Harry hated hearing, a Hecatamae Binding Spell. He leaned in, biting lightly at Harry's ear, relishing the low moan the action drew out. He moved his lips down onto his neck, grinning before he bit down as hard as he dared.

"Oh, fuck."

He snorted, "in the mood yet?"

Harry's lust darkened eyes narrowed at him. "Bastard. Complete and utter bastard. And kinky, far too fucken kinky for your own damn good, Tom."

He merely raised an eyebrow, completely unaffected. He'd heard it all before, gone through the same motions of forcing Harry to talk about something. Of course, the sex before and after was merely…added enjoyments. "You've never complained before."

"That would be because I usually enjoy being manhandled and bitten by you. At the moment, however, I really am not in the mood."

Tom nodded, even though his body was humming and pure desire was pooling at the base of his spine. "Then talk to me, actually tell me things. I will not loose you because of the stupidity the Guild Council has shown in sending an Assassin to spy on Dumbledore. Please, Harry, do not push me away again."

A familiar flash of pain shot through Harry and he sagged into the invisible bonds. He had already done the unthinkable once and he had felt nothing but pain and fear then. He couldn't do it again. "Alright, but release me first."

"But I like you like that."

Harry shook his head as his arms fell back down. "You really do get off on torture, don't you?"

"What?" Tom gave him a confused look. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Never mind. Now, can we go get this blasted potion?"

"You don't need the potion."

"I'm going to be releasing my hold on my pack, Tom, I'm not gonna be able to control that half of me. Can't you tell?"

He sighed, he could tell that Harry was fighting a loosing battle, had been for almost a week. His Hecatamus half was naturally submissive, quiet, more of a planner than full of brash actions. His werewolf half on the other hand…well, it was an alpha, it would dominate others around it and perhaps, and this made him sigh in exasperation whenever he thought of it, it was the reason why Harry had always been capable of fooling him into thinking he had but one personality. He'd never seen Harry as Grey in the presence of anyone but himself, and the Assassin had always reacted purely through his emotions.

Because he was Harry's mate.

And now he knew that Grey Shadow was made up almost entirely of his Hecatamus half; calm, rational, utterly silent and efficient.

He stepped forward, raising a hand and tugging on a fistful of raven hair. Harry allowed his head to tip back, calmly bearing his neck. Tom was doing this on purpose, not to undermine Harry's role as alpha, but to emphasis his own role in their relationship as the dominant. " I know, Harry. But change me first, I won't let you do this on your own."


Harry grimaced as he felt the single drop of potion slide down his throat. The taste was utterly disgusting, nothing short of the faeces from various creatures. His main problem, was the potion worked on ones magic, and since his was chaotic…he'd only ever taken this once, and Remus had banned him from ever doing so again. But he had no choice. He glanced over to his pack, feeling their anxiety thrum through him. Lily was calmly petting the top of Remus' head, soothing his own shot nerves. And Tom…

Tom stood stubbornly beside him, already changed into an average sized Arctic wolf. His white coat was highlighted by bands of blue-black around his legs, and his eyes were a horrifying blood red. But his tail wagged slowly and his eyes never left Harry, watching as the potion suddenly slammed through his system, sending him to his knees as he gasped for breath.

Harry shook his head as he felt the potion rip through all of his defences, every wall he had ever erected against poisons, everything he had worked towards building and perfecting, as if it had never been there at all. Desperately, he reached out with his magic, his eyesight shifting until he could see the tendrils of magic joining pack members to their alpha, as well as each other. His connection to his pack was strong and solid, but towards his familial pack…he'd never spent enough time with the Greyback pack to solidify that one.

He tugged on the connection, finding the tight grasp his magic had on them and pulling as hard as he could. The resounding crack had them all jumping, but as the rays of the moon finally bathed them in silvery light, his skin rippled and blue-black fur sprang up, his bones creaking as they snapped and realigned themselves.

Moments later, he tipped his head back, a mournful howl leaping into the chilled night air, joined by dozens barely half a second later.


Tom had only ever run with Harry once before, during the first few months of their relationship. He'd noticed, after one full moon had slipped by, that his mate hadn't transformed, hadn't even reacted to the all-important trio of nights. He'd demanded that the Hecatamus not put himself in danger by refusing the call and Harry'd only laughed at him…


Harry snorted, a laugh slipping past his lips. "I beg your pardon?"

Tom glared down at him. "I will not have a consort of my own--."

Harry snarled, leaping forward and pinning Tom on the ground. "Consort?" His eyes flashed, gold suddenly flaring within them. "I promise you, Lord Voldemort, that I am not so simple a being to lay quietly beneath you while you call me such degrading names to my face. Correct yourself!"

Crimson eyes narrowed. "You are out of your place!"

"I am right where I am meant to be. I am two halves of two distinctly different creatures, do you really want to know what I am dying to do to you right now?"

Tom stiffened. "You wouldn't," he breathed, a faint tendril of cold fear worming through him.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Call me such things again, and I won't even hesitate to go through with them."

"But to deny the moon…"

"Has no ill effects on me. I am more Hecatamae in that respect. The full moon has a magical pull over Were's." Harry sent him a look that was almost withering. "I ignore that pull, and exert my own influence over that half of me."

Tom could do little more than blink. Here he was, with a fifteen-year-old boy who had shared his bed for months now and occupied his thoughts for a little under a year lying on top of him, pinning him down, and he was arguing about the moon?

Harry almost seemed to sense that thought and one dark eyebrow rose in an elegant gesture he'd already begun to recognise as a way for the teen to show his curiosity without allowing his magic to seek the answers.

Taking a deep breath, knowing that what he was going to say was very, very odd and very, very out of character. But he didn't care. "Show me."


He snorted, an action which seemed to make Harry pause more than his request. And it was that, a request, he wasn't going to give up until he had it. "I want to see you, that half of you. I've already seen your Hecatamus half, the part that bows to me, but I want to see the one that fights against me, the part that gives you all that delicious spirit."

Harry wrinkled his nose, sitting up and straddling his hips, quite obviously ignoring the contradictory evidence of what Tom wanted pressing against him. He cocked his head to the side, and the sluggishly swirling gold in his eyes parted suddenly and his eyes flashed a deep emerald, so dark he'd swear it was almost black. But then they flashed again, the gold almost obliterating the green and fur began to swell over his skin, his bones melting with minimal crunching, something that was odd for him considering how many times he'd watched werewolves transform.

But Harry was different. He was completely and utterly in control here. He was going to have to remember that.

In a moment, a flash, a second, the subtle and powerful Assassin had smoothly transformed into a wolf. He was smaller than most dominates Tom had ever seen, and he supposed that was where the Hecatamus influence bled through, and his coat was silky blue-black fur that caught and both swallowed and reflected the light from the sun as it drifted in through the window. He gave a huff, which sounded distinctly like laughter as he laid himself down over Tom's chest, resting his head on crossed paws and peering into crimson hued eyes.

When he raised his hand, it was shaky and there was nothing he could do to stop it; he was in awe. He stroked the fur on Harry's side, before his fingers moved up to pet the velvety fur of his ears. "You are beautiful."

The wolf yipped softly, his tail beginning slow, sweeping motions over Tom's legs. The emerald gold eyes were almost shining with joy and, for a moment, he wondered why Harry seemed to be under the impression he wouldn't have approved of him, or that he would have pushed him away. He was a Dark Lord; Dark creatures were hardly new to him.

He felt a ripple of magic and than his fingers were intertwined in soft raven locks and those eyes were watching his every movement like the hunter, the predator, that Harry really was.


"I didn't do it just for you," Harry tipped his head to the side. "Do you know how much it pains a Hecatamus to keep such a large secret from their mates?"

Tom blinked up at him. "No, I'm afraid that the information I have thus far managed to find is rather blatantly biased against your kind. Something about wars and one-sided battles in which more wizards died than Hecatamae."

Harry inclined his head, agreement shining in his eyes. "Yes, they were bloody, but we never instigated them; we tried to prevent it." He took a deep breath, looking down at his hands where they rested against Tom's bare chest, the tanned fingers in stark contrast to the pale skin. "Hecatamae are tied, infinitely to their mates, which is why the removal of one will either send them into a fit of unprecedented rage or cause them to curl into themselves and give into the demands of those around them."

Tom moved his hand, letting it drop onto Harry's, squeezing it softly. "What would happen if you kept a secret from me?"

"It would attach itself to my magic, and that magic would turn on me and attack me. The last month or so, I've been taking on more contracts just to deal with the pain."

He nodded. "Tell me things then, I won't have you suddenly incapable of fighting because of some silly secret. Do you understand me?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway, allowing Tom to pull him down into a kiss that sent fire flowing through his veins.

"I want to run with you, I wish I could, on the next moon."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, his eyes sliding away. "Um…"


He swallowed. "Well, you see, I can let you come with me. Not as a wizard, but just like me."

He blanched. "You wouldn't bite me, would you?"

Harry blinked, a brief look of both revulsion and confusion flashing over his features, before his eyes shined with understanding. "No! What the hell, Tom?" He shook his head, his back stiffening until he looked every bit as powerful as he was. "I can simply, well, mould your magic until he gives an image of you as a wolf, not a werewolf, because that would require a bite, but strong enough to run with a singular unit, or even a pack."



Tom shifted nervously, looking over at Harry, who stood like a picture of perfect calmness beside him. His emerald eyes were almost completely gold, the green shimmering like lights over and under water. The full moon cast silver rays of light which were caught within Harry's raven hair, showing up a faint blue hue; true black hair, that was almost the colour of midnight.

"Ready, Tom?"

There was laughter in his voice, but also a hint of worry and trepidation. "Yes. Do it."

Harry nodded, turning to him and raising his hand. Visible tendrils of magic began to curl about his fingers, dancing and intertwining themselves until, with a sharp and sudden movement, he flicked his wrist and the magic slammed into Tom, instantly burrowing into him.

He'd expected pain, or discomfort at the very least, but he received neither, just an odd sensation of movement and warmth flowing through his body. He barely even noticed the fact that his eye line was lowering, until he lurched forward onto his hands, no, his paws. He blinked in surprise, his dark eyes lightening until they almost bled, and his skin rippled and white fur sprouted all over, soft as silk and rough as velvet. He noticed Harry was staring at his legs, and he curved his neck so he could see what was wrong.

Despite the almost ethereal colour of his coat, the white was broken on all four of his legs by twin bands of blue black, the precise colour of Harry's coat.

He looked back up, in time to see Harry shift and fall forward, the transformation smooth and seamless. His eyes, flowing orbs of emerald and gold, fixed onto him, before he tipped his head back and howled, the sound mournful and joyous all at once.

It was odd, Tom noticed, that his form was smaller than Harry's. He'd approximated Harry to being the same size as an ordinary Timber Wolf, but he could see, quite clearly now, that he was much larger than that; he was just a slightly smaller werewolf. Himself? Well, Harry had said he couldn't change him into a werewolf. He was probably an Arctic Wolf, judging by his coat colour and his build.

Harry gave a yip, his tail wagging furiously. Tom huffed; not quite understanding what he wanted, and the sound came out as a weird snort, making him jerk and blink. Harry barked then, and Tom was suddenly hit with a memory of tiny blue-black cub within a playpen, wagging its tail and barking up at him. He shook his head, dispelling the memory and turned to run after Harry, even as his mate zigzagged away from him.


Tom had loved running with Harry; it was freeing and completely devoid of all the worries of his normal day-to-day life. He could loose himself to the sounds and smells that wafted over him as a wolf, delight in the simple action of playing with Harry, or his pack, and not even think of his ambition to overthrow the Light and take control of Wizarding Britain. He couldn't take over Europe, because Harry was far more protective of the continent than of his birth land. And he wasn't as bothered by that now as he had been in the beginning, because now he had the backing of the Guild Council to eradicate the taint of Dumbledore and his precious Light.

But Harry seemed different this time, a little more wild and unbridled. He jerked when he realised that this was the most he'd ever seen of the wolf within Harry, the most he'd probably ever see. Harry's eyes were almost entirely gold, a thin band of emerald circling his pupils, and his stance was less playful than it normally was; his tail was lowered, sweeping over the ground, his paws placed further apart and his head lowered slightly, ears perked up and alert. His entire being hummed with power and practically screamed alpha.

This should be…interesting.

He watched from where he stood silently by Harry's side, as a large steel grey wolf lumbered up to them, huge compared to Harry. He could hear a low hiss and saw from the corner of his eyes that Mere, in leopard form, was moving to stand beside him, her stance entirely defensive. He knew that Harry had released his hold on their Were halves, so they were reacting a little more naturally than he was used to seeing, but he'd never seen them move to defend him before. A small white fox, with a brown stripe down her fluffy tail and pale gold eyes, darted forward, settling under his body. Marci, the most cunning Healer he'd met in the last few years.

The grey wolf growled, snapping his jaws towards a shaggy black and tan wolf poised at Harry's shoulder, Darren, before his amber eyes swung towards Harry. He gave another low growl, his hackles rising as Harry calmly watched him. Harry shifted slightly, moving a step forward, before he snarled, the sound causing all the Were's to stop in their restless shifting and face towards them. Tom noticed that Harry's pack had all gathered behind and around them, instinct calling them to their Alpha.

Just as the grey wolf made to answer Harry, there was a sharp yelp before another wolf trotted over and dumped a small cub by the large wolfs paws. The wolf, Tom was beginning to think it was Fenrir Greyback if memory served correct, curled its lips back over its fangs, leaning down to sniff the tiny brown cub. Harry reacted instantly, more of a blur as he moved, slamming into the grey wolf and taking up a defensive position of the cub.


He heard a soft growl, in his mind, and then Harry's agitated voice drifted in, what?

What's going on?

Akael. He doesn't understand how things work and he moved away from us. Fenrir's beta brought him to him to be weighed and tested.

That's Akael?

He'd forgotten that no matter the age, newly turned Were's would also be a cub in their first few transformations. They didn't start to grow until then. He looked closely at the cowering cub, before he decided to chance a movement. He moved forward, cautiously, and Marci kept with him, her pale eyes watchful. When he reached Akael, he huffed, knowing he had no idea how to convey his wish for the wolf to come to him, but to his surprise, a bundle of brown fur shot out from under Harry and instantly curled about his left foreleg, shivers wracking his tiny bundle.

A low, warning growl had him looking up again. Two more of Fenrir's wolves had moved in on him, one right beside him. Harry snarled, and magic crackled in the air about him.

Tom, step back, take Akael with you.

He didn't argue. He turned around, Marci and Akael moving easily with him, and moved back into the middle of Harry's pack. It was odd, being protected by people so much younger than him, and once he would have taken offence, but he knew that they were stronger now, where physical force mattered.

It was almost twenty minutes before the growls and staring contests finished, with Fenrir letting loose a howl at the moon before his pack began to break up, sprinting into the trees. Harry remained where he was for a moment, ears pricked and body completely still.

It's over. Fenrir's accepted that my pack isn't going to be easily integrated with his, and that I don't wish to be below him within a pack setting. He's dealing with us for only this moon.

Harry turned and gave a soft yip. Want to run?


Harry leaned back against a tree, the bark digging into the skin of his bare back. He gave a sigh, before he cracked open an eye and looked over to where his pack was sitting. They were bundled together, aware from last night that Fenrir wasn't particularly pleased that Harry had refused to back down. Tom was talking softly to Akael, who had stuck by him the entire night and he seemed to be oddly pulled towards the teen now. Harry smiled softly, glad for something positive.

A twig snapped behind him and he tensed, his heightened senses picking up on the scent of several werewolves, including Fenrir. He turned slowly, eyes hard as ice and just as cold. "Fenrir."

"Harry." The heavily muscled man looked him up and down, keen eyes picking up on every detail. "Last night was no good, Harry."

Harry barely managed to hold back the growl that threatened to slip out; he wasn't able to overcome the desperate need to get his pack into their own territory, where someone like Fenrir couldn't threaten them, even though he knew it was only for one moon. He was far too tired, physically and magically, to be bothered controlling the instinctive urges of his werewolf side. And he really couldn't care less.

"The same will happen tonight and tomorrow night."

Fenrir stepped forward, amber eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "You are the lesser alpha here, Harry, and I am your sire, and you have no right to do what you did last night."

"No right?" Harry shook his head. "I had every right, Fenrir, and you know that. I am defending my own pack from danger, there is nothing wrong with that."

"The cub is the problem Harry, you refused to let him be weighed and tested."

"Because he is already a part of my pack. He's new to this and I still haven't found out how he got turned within the last month without my knowing. There are no other werewolves at Hogwarts besides us."

The man to Fenrir's right shifted slightly, his eyes snapping away from Harry's the moment he looked to him.

Harry growled, fierce anger suddenly flaring within him. "You bastard," his voice was dangerously low, and his eyes flickered until the gold retreated and the emerald darkened. "You turned a fifteen year old wizard who had the highest scores Durmstrang has seen in sixty years into a werewolf!"

Fenrir snarled. "Back off, Harry."

"No, I will not. Phanta!"

There was a flash of silver light and the tiny faerie dragon was suddenly there, lazily hovering in the air. "Master?"

"I want you to place any sort of defensive charms you can over Akael. This idiot changed him without thinking of what would happen to him now."

"Akael? The wizard who dances without care? He is silent now, there is no laughter in his heart anymore."

Harry glared at the man in question, wanting to do something to pay him back for what he'd done. He watched as Phanta glided over to land on Tom's shoulder, ignoring the way the wizard attempted to shift her off. He turned back to Fenrir, his eyes bright with anger.

"Keep your pack under control, Fenrir. They should never even come near Hogwarts; there was a reason I arranged for you to have this territory."

Fenrir stepped forward. "Do not presume to order me around, Harry."

"I don't care, the Guilds have enough trouble without you failing to control your pack!"

The other two men bristled at that, and Fenrir took from the waistband of his frayed jeans, a slim wand. "The Guilds are hardly worth our trouble Harry, since they do nothing to protect us from wizards."

Harry glared at him. "How can they when the Balance is so far out of whack because the Light have too much power and no one in the Dark besides Tom is willing to do anything about it!"

The werewolf shook his head. "You misunderstand me, Harry. The Werefolk Guild has done nothing to insure we have safe territory to run in; they take the side of the Council and do nothing to press our own concerns forward. They aren't worth the time we give them." He tightened his grip on the wand, eyes narrowing. "I am demanding that you leave the Guild, withdraw your participation in the votes."

Harry blinked. "Your's was the pack they were talking about, the pack who has withdrawn themselves and refuses to be represented in any way, official or unofficial."

"Yes, and your…mixed pack will soon join us." He raised the wand, the tip glowing a bright red. "Swear that you will withdraw yourself."

"No," Harry tensed, prepared to show his hand and to react as purely as he could if Fenrir refused to back off. "I can't do that, Fenrir, I can't just turn my back on what could be the only chance we have to be free."

The werewolf nodded, a grim smile on his lips. "Very well, you leave me no choice, Harry. This is of your own making."

Harry frowned, confused by what he was saying. Just as he opened his mouth to ask, a jet of red light leaped from Fenrir's wand and shot towards Tom, who remained oblivious to the threat. He felt a painful tugging from somewhere near his shoulder blades, as if something was trying to crawl out, before tendrils of magic suddenly wrapped around Tom, even as he dropped to his knees. He could feel, quite clearly, how the past month had impacted on his magic; it lashed around him, breaking from his Shields and reaching out to effect everything around him, destruction and pure chaos unbridled and uncontrolled. And it was painful, like the worst kind of torture, and he didn't think he could stand it…

He blinked, his eyes perfectly clear, not a hint of gold in their depths as small tendrils of black spread into the bright emerald, like light and shadows over treetops. He stood, his knees feeling oddly weak and the weight of something heavy settling over his back, curving out from his shoulder blades; his wings, forced out through the attack on his mate, blood red and highlighted with thick black veins throughout the folds. He cocked his head on the side, looking at Fenrir with an apathetic gaze, even as he twisted his wrist and grasped the handle of the Nexus Blade. The black blade shimmered in the shadows, swallowing the soft, golden light as if it was hungering for some unattainable thing.


Fenrir's voice was slightly higher than usual, his features pale and wary. Visible strands of magic were lazily curling around harry, some brighter than others, but all of them shades of black, gold and red, only a hint of blue and green dancing among them.

Tom frowned, standing and cautiously making his way over to where Harry stood, his face calm and devoid of emotion—the face of Grey Shadow. "Harry?"


He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "What are you doing?"

"The pain was too much," his voice was as soft as velvet, but with a hard edge to it. "I couldn't…couldn't take it, Tom. This was the only way to act against them."

"You don't need to, Harry, I'm perfectly fine. Your pack is fine, just come sit with us and calm down."

"No, Tom. He attacked you, that requires some form of punishment."

"For what?"

"For attacking the mate of a Hecatamae, one must face either a binding of will, or death at their own leisure. Hecatamus' are…were, notoriously cruel in their punishments."

Tom looked up to see Phanta clinging to the trunk of the tree beside Harry, her onyx eyes focused intently on the Hecatamus, her long silver tail wrapped once around the trunk and her gossamer wings fanned out over the bark. When the spell had soared towards him, the faerie dragon had hissed out more curses than he thought one as childish as she should ever know.

He looked back at Harry. "What are you going to do?"

"Bind him."

Fenrir blinked, the two flanking werewolves stepping in front of him. "Harry, this was all a terrible misunderstanding, that's all it was…"

"No," Harry shook his head, his eyes locking onto Fenrir's amber orbs. "You did that on purpose Fenrir. By the Sun and the Moon, in the presence of Majicka herself, I hereby bind thee, Fenrir Greyback, Alpha for the Greyback pack of Teoynleh Mountain, to be forever in the debt of one Thomas Marvolo Riddle, mate of Harry James Evans and Britains current Dark Lord. Your punishment is his to decide, for the crime of attacking the back of an Hecatamus' mate, the holder of your life debt."

The lazily moving magic suddenly stilled, streams of silver and lilac winding their way through before it all leaped forward, wrapping around Fenrir, binding itself to his own magic and enforcing the binding debt. Fenrir gave a distinctly wolf-like howl, the sound raw and pain-filled, but Harry merely blinked.

Justice served and taken.


The last night of the full moon was one Marci absolutely adored; the feeling of the exaltation of the moon as she sang for her children, the knowledge that her pack ran around her. And little Akael…she glanced over at the tiny brown cub, amber eyes dancing with laughter. He was more alive now, but there was an undercurrent of pain and the distinct feeling of death hung around him. Only she could feel that, not even Harry could ever gain that much of an insight into his pack. She alone, would tell him when the time came.

Unless Karl was picking up on it as well. There was a reason Vero and the Necromancers were so interested in him, so keen to enlist him within their Guild. He had a natural talent for Death, feeling it all around him and unconsciously reaching out to listen to it. Every time Harry came back from a successful contract, not that she could remember him ever not succeeding, he automatically zoned in and focused on the Hecatamus, long enough for him to know how many had died by Harry's hand, blade or magic.

She, on the other hand, could only partially sense when Death was coming to her patients, so tuned in to their pain and suffering. Akael would not survive to the next moon, this was to be his only one and she wasn't sure whether or not it was because of the lycanthropy or because of some as yet unknown reason.

Whatever it was, she had the feeling that Harry would be wrapped up in it.

She yipped as Markus pushed her over, his large paws holding her down as his warm hazel eyes laughed down at her. She gave a little growl, her already fluffy tail fluffing up even more, before she twisted out of his grip, darting around him and heading towards where Mere and Lucial were crouched within the shadows of the trees.

Harry looked up from where he was curled up beside Tom, blue-black fur mingling with pristine white. He gave a low growl, a warning, and Marci skidded to a stop. It wasn't the usual 'don't go too far' type warning he often gave to them, but something else, something more, something only a few of them would understand.

Greyback near.

She shivered, trotting back into the warmth of the clearing. That was why Mere and Lucial had taken to the trees; they were watching, with keener eyes than the wolves, for any sign of danger. Markus probably could have helped, but like Darren, he was prone to playing during the full moon. She growled as Markus made his way over to her, before she froze, her tail falling to the ground and her nose quivering as her large eyes spun around.


Harry jumped up, an angry snarl ripping from him, and Tom followed suite. Marci moved quickly to where Karl was lightly gripping the back of Akael's neck, and she softly cooed to the agitated young cub, curling herself around him beneath the large frame of Karl's steel grey form. Harry paced back and forth in front of Tom and Darren, and normally she would have been there but now they had a young one and she was the only one who could keep him calm and out of the way.

Markus had already moved to stand on the other side of the clearing, behind her, and she caught a glimpse gold moving nimbly through the tree branches on either side. They were reacting to a threat they'd never faced before, one she knew Harry had never expected to have to face, but one which was inevitable all the same. Harry had become more and more assertive since he'd met Tom, more like a dominant and less like a submissive. His werewolf half was fighting his submissive standing with Tom, because it was his Hecatamus half that had chosen him, and it had led to a hardening of his actions when dealing with them during the full moon.

He'd stood up to Fenrir Greyback. He'd refused to bow down. He'd claimed Akael as his own before he was weighed and tested. He'd gone against his familial pack, for them.

Marci gave a tiny snarl, curling herself tighter around Akael. The poor cub was trembling with fear, unable to even begin to voice his questions as to what was happening. He hadn't been given enough time to fit in properly with the pack, to get more than an instinctive feel for what different movements and actions meant. He was blind, in a world where they saw so much more than the ordinary.

Harry gave a hissing growl, which quickly grew into an angry snarl. Fenrir, flanked by two dark wolves and one silver—Remus— stepped through the trees, unperturbed by Harry's warnings. Amber eyes narrowed as he spied Marci wrapped around Akael, and Karl growled, lowering his head. Marci watched, as Harry continued to pass before Tom and Darren, but it was only Tom's movement which made him pause.

It was obvious, to her at least, that there was a conversation occurring between them, one which no one else could ever hope to hear.

Harry spun around, growling, when Remus stepped forward. The silver wolf cringed, a pained look coming over him, at the obvious rebuttal. Harry barked, once.

Hold still.

She yipped, curling even tighter around Akael, even as she watched the odd tendrils of magic curl about Harry's form. She watched him shift, transforming within the magic, and bringing Tom along with him. Where there had once stood a slightly smaller than average blue-black wolf, and a white wolf with banded legs, now stood a glowering Harry and rage filled Tom.

She suddenly felt sorry for Fenrir.

Harry glared, cold and hard with eyes almost dark enough to be black, down at Fenrir, despite the older alpha's immense size. "One chance, Fenrir, is all we have to work this out. One chance, and then everything will fall." He cocked his head to the side. "Will you take that chance?"

Fenrir growled, and Remus gave a little whine.

Tom blinked, crimson eyes bright in the moonlight. "Come now, Fenrir, have I not allowed you and your pack to stay out of this war? Has Harry not gifted you with a territory vast enough to hold you all, and safe enough so that you may roam? Is this how you repay me?"

Fenrir jerked, slipping back only a step. But that was all Harry seemed to require, and the magic curling lazily about him was suddenly focused, black and red wings shimmering into being. The tendrils snapped forward, ripping at whatever magic held Were's in their monthly forms, and tearing it away to leave the human. The magic nearly stilled, before it whipped forward again, smaller tendrils forming clothes on their bodies, and it slammed Fenrir into a nearby tree. The two darker wolves were caged beneath magic and Remus didn't even move, his tail between his legs and his head hanging down.

Harry stalked forward, the wings shifting before they arched over his head and settled at his back. Marci caught a shimmer of black light before her eyes focused on the dark form of the Nexus Blade strapped snugly to Harry's right forearm. He wasn't taking chances, but she hadn't noticed him carrying it around.

"You're going to listen to me very closely, Fenrir, because I don't like having to do this but you haven't given me much of a chance." His voice was low, a dangerous lilting sound that slid like velvet of the senses. Harry was indulging his werewolf half more than he usually would, allowing it some free reign. He wasn't going to simply sit back in the shadows—not tonight.

Marci watched in silence as Harry ripped into Fenrir over his actions the past two nights; as far as Harry was concerned he'd shown little respect for the dangers all of them were in, and he was inadvertently attempting to break up the only mixed Werepack in Britain. Fenrir did attempt to speak, but though Harry had given him a human body, he evidently hadn't felt the need to change the werewolf's voice box back to human—he came out with snarls and growls, yips and barks.

Tom had stood silent the whole time, until Harry finally allowed Fenrir the ability to speak, and the first words he spoke were a mistake on his own part.

"You're nothing but a mindless creature of magic, refusing to accept your rightful blood and place within my pack! You whore yourself to that serpent of a wizard beside you, fighting a wizards fight! You are a coward Harry, and I exile you from this pack!"

Harry jerked, taking a single step back. The tendrils of magic floating in the air snapped into focus, darkening and sparking as Harry's emerald eyes flashed black and gold. He trembled, ever so slightly, and the wings on his back unfolded themselves spreading out behind him and curving forward. They were darker than she could ever remember seeing them; once, they had resembled freshly spilled blood, and then the small veins of black had begun to creep over them, and now the black had almost taken over the red, leaving it to highlight the edges.

Tom whipped his wand out from its holster on his arm, the tip glowing an ominous green, the same colour as Harry's eyes were when he was calm. "Such a shame, Fenrir, that you seem to have lost all ability to keep your mouth shut. Perhaps I should simply wipe you from existence?" The glowing tip of his wand shifted to silver. He cocked his head, crimson hued eyes narrowing dangerously. "No, I think I might just let you enjoy the taste of pain." He flicked his wand, the tip snapping to red and the spell leaping forth and forcing every nerve ending in Fenrir's body to light up in painful fire.

Karl growled, his stance shifting as he spun around to face three grey wolves. Howls and yips echoed out from around the clearing as Fenrir's expansive pack boxed them in. Marci bit down on Akael's neck as the cub tried to scramble away. Harry had made it clear that no harm was to come to the young werewolf, and she could sense the reason why like an ache in her bones. He was weak, the bite and the resulting infection having taken their toll on his body, and she couldn't be sure he'd last the next transformation, but she sent all the magic she could manage into his body, soothing the pain.

Harry spun around, throwing his hand out to the side. A greenish shield sprang up on the right side, forcing the wolves on that side to retreat back. "Phanta!"

The tiny silver faerie dragon flashed into being, her long tail whipping back and forth as her gossamer wings beat at the air. "Danger?"

"Yes," Harry's eyes darkened, the green a ring around the pupil and the gold a thin line around his iris as the black deepened. "Make them fall."

"Phanta will be glad. They smell like musk, not as nice as you, and they run run run, all to come hurt you and little cubs. And Master mate! They come to hurt Master mate, and we will not allow it!" She tipped her head back, onyx eyes glittering with sadistic glee as she screeched into the night air.

Marci winced, pressing her ears back and whimpering. But she kept her eyes open, watching as the wolves around them fell down, whimpering and yelping, even as they retreated back, their strong self-preservation instincts kicking in and overriding their need to come to their Alpha's call.

She grinned; life was always more interesting when Harry actually thought out an attack against a large group. He might be good at taking down single foes, but his werewolf half was more interested in taking down dozens at a time.

If…no, when, Dumbledore moved, he wouldn't know what hit him.


Dumbledore let his gnarled fingers skim over the page within the book before him. Harry and the other Durmstrang students who had been 'attacked' and 'injured' were within their dorms. Marci was bustling back and forth, tending to them as she should. He'd written to her Guild Mistress, and the Healer had sent back a curt refusal to give any hint as to the Guild Council's decision. He was fast running out of patience, and that was the sole reason why he was even considering what he was about to do.

He sighed and closed the book, picking up a quill and dipping it in a pot of ink. He pulled a thick cream coloured piece of parchment over to him, and set the quill tip to the surface.

Dear Guild Master of the Assassins Faction,

As perhaps you are already aware, I am seeking aid from the Council in order to counteract the advances of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, adamant players on the Dark side. But perhaps you are not aware of an individual I currently have in my midst, an individual who poses a significant threat to the safety of magical Britain, as well as the children here in Hogwarts.

I am aware that you have two grandchildren currently attending—a Miss Greengrass and a Miss Turpin—and I am certain you will want no harm to come to them.

The individual I speak of is Harry James Evans, a boy who, by all rights, should have been born a half-blood wizard. Instead, by the intervention of perhaps Fate and Balance, he was born a pure-blooded Hecatamus, with the full abilities and power of those who lived over five thousand years ago. While this is alarming enough on its own, Harry was somehow infected by a werewolf. From what a medi-witch was able to discern, Harry's Hecatamus blood accepted the curse and changed it so that he was able to transform at will—an alarming fact that had us considering permanent imprisonment.

It appears that Harry is quite adamant that he remain a player in this war, but one who has no clear allegiance and who is a danger to young Daniel Potter, the Boy Who Lived and the key to destroying Voldemort. He has also been linked to one of your more prominent Assassins, Grey Shadow, who is, in turn, linked to Voldemort himself.

As I am sure you can appreciate this is an alarming discovery for all of us involved in insuring the destruction of the Dark. Because of this, I humbly request that you allow myself to meet with Grey Shadow in an effort to gain his help and trust in this matter.


Albus Dumbledore

A/N: Yes, I realise that I've added yet another OC into the fray, but Akael will play an important part, a minor one, but still important. I hope this chapter made up for how long it's been since you guys got an update. The next chapter is already half way done. As for the total length of the story, if all goes to plan, it should be about thirty chapters all up. I'm determined to get this finished.