Title: The Boy Who Became Wolf

DISCLAIMER:This story is based entirely on the story J.K. Rowling has brilliantly made. She and her associates own all of the characters (excluding the ones i have made up). This story is made simply for enjoyment and no money is being made from this. No copyright or offence is intended.

Warnings: Eventual slash, AU, Angst, Violence, Language

Pairings: Draco/Blaise, Hermione/Ron, Ginny/Dean, Neville/Luna; eventual Harry/Draco

Rating: T or as some like to say, PG-13

Summary: AU. After the final battle, a victorious Harry Potter is turned into a werewolf and flees into an unknown forest. He creates a Pack and thinks his life is finally fulfilled. That is, until he receives his vampire inheritance and becomes a hybrid. Forced to return back into the Wizarding World, Harry learns of the discrimination against creatures and fights against a rising Dark Lord. Eventual D/H SLASH

Author's Note: This story has been stuck in my brain for a couple of months now. I've been storing ideas into my computer until finally, I got the courage to post the very first chapter. To tell you the truth, well to whoever is reading this, I'm absolutely terrified. Did I mess something up? Is this story so horrible that no one's going to read it? If you haven't noticed, this is the first fanfiction I have ever posted online. So. Please. Cut me some slack. Thanks for reading! Enjoy!


The final battle was over.

It left, just as quickly as it came, but in its wake was destruction.

Hundreds of bodies littered the blood stained grass of Hogwarts and the stench of death drifted solemnly through the air. From the depths of the dark, forbidding trees, Thestrals crept out, their sunken eyes fixed on the fresh flesh while ravens fluttered to the grounds in flocks, cawing over body parts.

The caste itself still stood, looming triumphantly over the battlefield despite its charred, crumbling walls. The remaining wards hissed and cracked maliciously while animated suits of armor stood at guard. But even the ancient defenses roused by the four Founders themselves wasn't enough to stop Voldemort and his hoard of Death Eaters.

Hogsmede lay in smoking ruins, not a single building standing. Rubble littered the ground in enormous chunks, and witches and wizards dashed around in panic while reports darted around cautiously. The body of a slain dragon was stretched across the cobble streets, his slitted golden eyes etched with the fury, that her life had been taken by such small mortals.

And yet, there was always the conqueror, and the conquered.

And the conquered, Lord Voldemort, was sprawled face up in the midst of the battlefield. His crimson eyes were frozen in shock and a hint of fear, his face pallid and his skin sallowing. Above him, stood another man, a scabbard attached to his side and a sword gripped tightly in his right hand, blood staining the steel tip. In his left hand, a wand hung limply, cleanly snapped in half, the top hanging delicated by a single thread of a phoenix feather.

Whimpers and moans of pain drifted around in the heavy layers of fog, which spread across the field and slowly engulfed the still victims in a cold embrace. The last man standing, raised his eyes, the savior of the Wizarding World, and mourned the last traces of his innocence.

On the other side of the field, series of pops alerted the presence of several people apparating into the area. Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and several other wizards and witches appeared on the bloodied grass fields, wands drawn and ready for battle. However, the sight before them was something they've never seen.

It was pure and utter carnage.

Nights ago, a spy had informed the Order of Phoenix that Lord Voldemort would strike at the Ministry of Magic. Convinced that it was the well predicted "final battle," plans were hurriedly made so that the majority of the forces would be stationed around the Ministry, leaving only a few people at Hogwarts.

Harry, being the stubborn person he was,remained at the school much to the displeasure of his people. He argued and begged that it was a set up,convinced that his sixth sense in his scar was more accurate than the words of a shifty spy.

And in the end, they realized that Harry was right, as he always was. The attack was a diversion.

Hermione Granger was the first to snap out of her daze, pulling out her wand and bending down to cast a spell to search for survivors. Her sharp words pulled the others, who followed her lead, spreading out in a slow circle warily.

Suddenly, her eye caught sight of a lone figure standing over a fallen body, and gasped loudly. She didn't know how she didn't see him at first, but she reached behind and gripped her boyfriend, Ron Weasley's, hand tightly and advanced slowly toward the man.

"Harry?" she called nervously. "Is that you?"

Slowly, the man turned around, and amber eyes flashed. His murderous glance quickly morphed into a softer expression, and his glittering green eyes returned. "Mione?" he asked in a trembling voice.

Hermione gave a loud sob of relief and launched herself at her best friend. "Harry!" she cried out, burying her head in his chest despite the blood that covered his body. "I knew it'd be you that survived, not Voldemort. We never doubted you for a second. It's all finally over. We can rest and live."

Harry gave a grim smile and carefully detached himself from his friend's arms. "Not for me," he said qietly.

Ron approached Hermione and his best mate, reaching out to pull him into a brief, hard hug. "Why not?" he asked as he pulled back an arm's length to stare incredulously at the Boy-Who-Lived. "If it's anyone who needs a break, it's you, mate. Even heroes need vacations."

Sighing morosely, Harry reached out to clasp Ron's shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I have to leave," he replied, speaking over the sudden burst of heated protests. "Right after I killed Voldmeort, Greyback attacked me." He pulled up his short to show a line of bleeding cuts in the shape of claws running down his torso. "I killed his mate during battle to save a student, but I led down my guard. He wasn't able to kill me, but he infected me." He then nodded over to a pile of smoldering ashes not too far away from Voldemort's body. "I incinerated him."

Misinterpreting Ron and Hermione's shocked faces, Harry hastily continued. "I'm leaving soon so I can learn to control myself. By Ministry regulations, I'm classified as a dark creature now—"

"But you defeated Voldemort!" Hermione interrupted wildly, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. "The evilest wizard this Wizarding World has seen in centuries! The Ministrywould trip over their feet to make an exception for you. We don't care if you're a werewolf, or turn into a bloody Dark Lord!"

Harry smiled sadly at her words. "But that's the thing, Mione," he said gently, reaching up to wipe the lone tear that slid down her cheek. "I don't want special treatment. And technically, the Ministry wouldn't want a dark creature as their savior. They want a perfect human figurehead. And I just want to be plain, old Harry. But I can't now, can I?" he asked bitterly, more to himself rather than to his friends.

Before both Rom and Hermione could attempt to persuade him otherwise, Harry leaned forwared and embraced both of his friends tightly. "I'm going to miss you promise me to take careof yourselves. I'll try to contact you."

He turned around so he couldn't see their heartbroken faces. A tear traced a lone path down his cheek, and Harry inhaled deeply, feeling the last traces of his first and only home. And with thousands of thoughts and regrets flashing through his mind, Harry disapparated out of the Wizarding World.

AN: So? What did you think? I've already finished the first chapter and half of the second but at the moment, I'm editing. Review please! Constructive criticism is welcome!

Edit: 12/25/12