J.K. Rowling's characters!

Sorry this has taken so long! Will try to update the rest. Feel really guilty.


Harry's screams echoed in his head, shaking his skull like bolts in a tin can.

Voldemort smacked his lip. "Delicious" he hissed once Harry had stopped screaming.

"You're sick" Harry spat out in a croaky gasp. Before he knew it, Harry was slammed against the back wall, held up by his throat. The piercing cold, from the metal wall, gritted against his spine.

"Yes Harry, and you're about to find out just how…sick I am."

Harry was thrown to the floor and his shoulder cracked from the force. Here the Chosen One lay, simply waiting to die as pain wracked his body and moans dribbled from his lips. He knew he should think of a way to kill Voldemort, but from where Harry lay, there was no chance. Dealing with the pain was his main focus, not thinking of ways to defeat the world's greatest evil.

"I think we're going to need an audience for the demise of Harry Potter."

Fenrir breathed heavily. The team had been running from the afternoon till night and were exhausted, but there was not time to stop, Harry's life was at stake, the rest of the pack was at stake. If Voldemort won…if Voldemort…if he got to Harry, then Fenrir and the whole pack would be next. Voldemort knew that Fenrir had betrayed him and that meant it was now or never. The war had to be over tomorrow.

"Fenrir, Muller has moved further toward the East. We're only two hours behind him now" One of the members murmured.

Fenrir looked up at his team, who were beginning to catch their breaths back. "You have 5 minutes to rest. Drink and eat well. We're going to need to be prepared." He yelled at the men. They nodded in agreement and shared out the meat that was available. They too knew what was at stake and were willing to push themselves to the limit. This was their pack. All their lives had improved from their change. Yes, they were unsettled by the betrayal of their beta but they knew their alpha was hurting just as much and more without his mate. They must stay strong and show no weakness, for Fenrir and Agrost who had lost both his brothers.

Laughter. The hall was filled with the rumbling snide laughter. His blood was splattered across the marble floor and the red seemed almost beautiful as it painted itself over the smooth white canvas. There was so much blood. In the other room, he hadn't been able to see anything it was so dark, but now…every gruesome detail, every pathway the blood ran rivers along, he could see. It was beautiful, so elegant.

In the back of his head he heard a scream. It wasn't his own, or someone in the room, it was a woman's. There was more blood but it was not splattered on marble floor, it was covering crisp brown leaves. Then a man shouted at him, swore at him. His blood covered a graffiti covered, red brick wall. Harry felt his finger twitch as they slashed over the man's throat. He roared. A roar from the back of his throat.

Death eaters stepped back as Harry Potter spasmed on the floor. Voldemort had lowered his wand to watch the show that was unexpectedly performed before him. He would laugh at the boy whose body's shook from pain, but the growling that was coming from him held Voldemort's words back. Full moon was awhile way so the boy could not be changing, for if he was a part of Fenrir's pack, there was no doubt he was a werewolf. But what was going on? Had the boy gone mad? Whatever it was, this feeling of not knowing unsettled the dark lord and he raised his wand to put the Chosen One out from his suffering.