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Fragmented Soul	By : StrawberryGirl87 & Bickymonster Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 79703 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything in the fandom. no money/profit is made.

Chapter List
- 54
- 55
- 56
With just five weeks until the one year anniversary, we have finally finished writing the huge (over 36000 word) chapter. It is one worth waiting for in our opinion. But for now, enjoy.

Fragmented Soul
Chapter 55 – Kitten Roars and Deal-breakers
Harry had had to put up with relentless teasing when they had got back to the Slytherin dormitories after their Saturday in Hogsmeade. His body had been littered with purple love bites; his chest, legs, back, neck, everything was covered. He knew he would have to ensure they were well hidden from the teachers but he was determined to wear them with pride until then.
“What are we going to do today,” Harry asked, thinking that since it was Sunday and they didn’t have classes that they could all do something together. They were finally gelling as a group of five; it was nice. Harry had never had so many friends that weren’t just his pack.
“We could go for a nice walk,” Draco suggested, smirking at Harry who glared at him, throwing a pillow in his direction, which the blond dodged, laughing.
“Or perhaps we could find some nice hard stone benches to sit on,” Theo suggested, grinning at Harry as he caught on to what Draco was going for. Harry grabbed Romy’s hairbrush, this time aiming at Theo, who was not paying attention and it hit him solidly in the chest.
“Or maybe we could go flying, on broomsticks,” Clay suggested, realising that Harry was out of things to throw and so feeling relatively safe in joining in with this game as they all finished getting ready, heading for the door.
“You guys are all bastards,” Harry said crossing his arms over his chest and pouting as they headed down the stairs towards the common room. “Least I got laid though,” he pointed out, “twice actually. When was the last time you guys saw any action?” he asked flopping down on the sofa, Romy taking a seat beside him.
“I’m waiting for my dream girl,” Clayton said looking to Romy, grinning; she only glared at him as he took a seat on the opposite sofa, next to Draco, Theo sitting on the arm of the sofa closest to Clayton as the five of them waited on the other girls so they could head to breakfast together.
“I’m glad to see that you’re considering celibacy, Clayton, it’ll be good for you” Romy shot back, sticking out her tongue just to rub it in, Clayton only did the same back to her making Harry laugh at their immaturity, loving them all the more for it.
“Oh, burn!” Theo said with a mocking glee, applauding Romy’s comeback so loudly that a few of the other Slytherin’s looked over at them strangely.
“She can’t resist my charms forever,” Clay said with a grin, blowing a kiss to Romy, who didn’t look wholly impressed by his actions, rolling her eyes at him.
“What charms?” Romy asked innocently. “You’ve got about as much charm as a manticore,” she told him very matter-of-factly.
“Ouch, she is really cutting you down today,” Theo said with a low, impressed whistle. He couldn’t help but admire how sharp Romy’s tongue was when she wanted it to be. So far he had only seen the quiet, reserved girl, who liked to read; her pack brothers really brought out another side of her.
“I'd challenge you to a battle of wits, Theo, but I see quite clearly that you are unarmed,” she said pointedly to their new friend with an exaggeratedly innocent smile in his direction; by this point Harry was in stitches at their banter.
“Bow down to Romy, queen of comebacks,” Draco said with a mock bow from where he was sitting opposite her. Harry turned and did the same, even Theo and Clayton joined in with the game.
“Rather that than queen of hair products. And don’t deny it, Draco, I share a bathroom with you remember,” Romy said to the blond, who was rather precious when it came to his hair and had several high end wizarding products for it stocked in their bathroom.
“I’m no queen though,” Draco said with amusement as he and the others stopped their bowing. He was actually rather enjoying their good spirited banter, and could take a joke; if the worst thing Romy could say about him was that he spent too much time worrying over his hair, then he was going to take that as a victory.
“No, we’ll leave that to Harry,” Theo said with a wicked smile on his handsome face.
“I resent that,” Harry said with a dramatic gasp of indignation that had Romy rolling her eyes.
“Great comeback, Harry,” Clayton mocked. “Did the Alpha shag your brains out because you’re not as quick witted today?”
“I have to agree with Clay on this one, you’re usually much quicker with the smart arse replies,” Romy said with amusement.
“Maybe because he has a sore arse he can’t today,” Theo said as he ducked a cushion that was aimed at his head.
“Merlin, will you guys stop, my head is banging,” Harry said, he really hadn’t slept very well the night before he had been missing Fenrir a lot and to top it off he had a headache this morning. He was in half a mind to go and get a potion from the hospital wing and sneak in a visit to see his Dad at the same time.
“Now you’re just making it too easy for them,” Draco said with an amused grin. Harry, however, just rolled his eyes.
“And I thought you were supposed to be behaving anyway, Clay,” Theo reminded him, remembering what the adult werewolves had been saying the day before; he was under the impression that Clay was in some kind of trouble and, like he said, supposed to be behaving.
“Yes,” Draco said, agreeing with his friend. “And so how long have you been Harry’s personal bodyguard?” Draco asked teasingly. He was half joking, half genuinely curious, having remembered Greyback’s words of warning to the teenager, just before they had headed back up to the school.
“About… thirteen years,” Clayton said with a shrug. “Since I was just over two years old.”
“Wait… seriously?” Draco asked, thinking that was a lot of pressure to put on someone their age, let alone on such a young child. Harry too was looking rather surprised and confused by this; as far as he was concerned, they had first met when they were ten.
“Seriously,” Clay told him with a nod. “My Dad, and his boyfriend at the time, adopted me when I was two,” he explained, “and we were sent to watch over Harry.”
“So many questions right now,” Harry said, leaning forward on his chair. “I genuinely don’t know where to start. I thought we didn’t meet until I was ten.”
“You think the Alpha left you unguarded for all those years before that?” Clay asked, looking at Harry as though he was completely daft. “No, Dad was just told to watch over you from a distance. I wanted to be friends with you for years before we met, but was never allowed to go talk to you. Even when we did meet I wasn’t supposed to really.”
“That’s actually kind of sweet,” Romy said, touched at how much Clay cared about Harry even all those years ago, before they truly even had had a chance to get to know each other.
“I… I had no idea,” Harry said, looking at Clayton in amazement. “Second question though… your Dad had a boyfriend?”
Clay laughed, not surprised that his friend was curious about that. “Yes, he did,” he said, his expression becoming more serious. “I don’t remember him though, he died soon after they adopted me.”
“Oh, sorry,” Harry said, but he had just never heard Damon mention a partner, mate or boyfriend before. He had known Damon for as long as he had known Clay and not once had he heard mention that Clay had had another adoptive father.
“Nah, it’s okay,” Clayton told him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Like I said, I don’t remember him. Damon’s the only parent I actually remember.” He had seen pictures of Eric, who had been his Papa, if even only for a few months, but he simply had been too young to really remember the man properly.
“Wow, way to put a dampener on the fun,” Theo said. “Sorry, dude,” he added. He still had both his parents, so he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose one, or to have lost one so long ago that you couldn’t even remember them.
“You aren’t the boss of me, Daphne!” Astoria shouted as the two girls stormed into the room. They were both shouting rather loudly and it was a little difficult to ignore them. Not that Harry, Romy, Clay, Draco or Theo had any intention of even trying to ignore them or even be discrete about eavesdropping on their argument.
“Seems like the mood was about to be ruined anyway,” Harry commented, as they all turned to look at the two Greengrass girls who were glaring daggers at each other.
“Someone always has to cause drama,” Romy said with a sigh. She felt a little bad for her friend, Astoria, who looked genuinely really angry with her sister over something. It looked as if they were all about to find out what too, as the argument didn’t seem to be on the verge of stopping despite the spectators.
“Yeah and usually it’s Harry,” Draco said with a smirk at his friend who just shrugged his shoulders; Harry really couldn’t deny that Draco was right, it was usually him that caused the drama. It followed him around most of the time.
“At least I’m not the drama queen here,” Harry said giving Clay a pointed look, knowing that despite most of the drama that happened around him, Clayton was the overly dramatic one.
“No, you’re just the queen,” Theo said with amusement but that was when the yelling between the Greengrass siblings reached a level that could no longer be considered heated bickering, it became a full on shouting match.
“Guys, shut up, listen,” Draco hissed, keen not to miss what they were arguing about. Valuable information might be about to be shouted across the common room and he wasn’t about to miss it; not to mention he was worried what could have got the two of them so riled up because he considered both of them to be friends.
“They’re my friends too, why couldn’t I spend the day with them yesterday?” Astoria shouted, and they realised why they hadn’t seen either of the sisters in Hogsmeade the day before; it seemed that Daphne was determined in her mission to keep Astoria from finding out about Romy, Harry and Clayton’s lycanthropy.
“Because I do not want you getting mixed up with their… family,” Daphne yelled right back. “Why can you not just trust that I am acting in your best interests?” she demanded to know. It was getting harder and harder for her to keep her little sister from getting mixed up in their business and that wasn’t helped one bit by Astoria’s insistence that she be told everything.
“Because you are a selfish cow,” Astoria shouted. “It is always about what you want. Why shouldn’t I get to decide who I spend time with for myself?” she yelled, waving her arms about frantically. She was so angry at her sister; her friends had all gone to Hogsmeade the day before, she had been looking forward to going with them and spending time with them, but her own sister had stopped her.
“They’re dangerous, Astoria,” Daphne told her and this Clayton, Romy and Harry all shared rather amused looks when she said this. They quickly realised that the Greengrass sisters had no clue that they were sat listening to them.
“Yes, I am completely terrified of Harry,” Astoria said sarcastically, with a roll of her eyes. She had no idea what Daphne was convinced was going on with the three newest Hogwarts students but she could see how they could possibly be considered dangerous; particularly not Harry or Romy.
“Hey!” Harry protested, slightly offended that it had been particularly him that Astoria wasn’t scared of; he knew he wasn’t the most intimidating of people, but surely he was a little more frightening than Romy at least. Though thinking about it, probably not; Romy could be pretty scary when she wanted to be, and Harry knew better than to cross her.
“And Romy is clearly about to mortally wound me the moment I turn my back,” Astoria went on, with an exaggerated gasp. The petite little witch was not someone she had ever felt worried to be around.
“I’m absolutely terrifying,” Romy said, giving a little playful roar and nudging Harry with her elbow, making him laugh. She made little claws with her hands and roared at him again; Harry copied her a moment later, but his roar was kind of ruined by his inability to stop laughing.
“And you two are the ones who actually killed two fully grown werewolves,” Clayton muttered under his breath, shaking his head at his giggling pack siblings who were still roaring at one another, their hands made into pretend claws as they both giggled uncontrollably. He had to admit that the pair of them looked completely harmless.
“You’re serious about that?” Draco asked, he had been sitting next to Clay and had heard his mutter and was now looking at the boy in shock. “I thought you were joking when you said that on the train!”
Clay shrugged. “They did deserve it, if that helps,” he said bluntly. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened to Harry and Romy if they hadn’t been able to take out the two guys; it had nearly cost Harry his life anyway, if they had just arrive a few minutes later.
There was a cry of frustration from Astoria, and Clayton, Theo and Draco turned and watched as she stormed off towards her dormitory, presumably needing to put some space between her and her overprotective big sister. Daphne glared after her as she went, before storming off in a similar fashion towards her own room.
“So you’re telling me that the two tiny people sitting on the sofa giggling and pretending to be some kind of big cat have both killed a person? But they used magic right?” Theo asked, going back to their previous conversation as though nothing had happened and eyeing up the two submissives, who were continuing to roar cutely at one another to see who was the scariest.
“Two very large werewolves actually, not quite as big as Fenrir but getting there, and they used knives not wands,” Clayton said. “I told you, never underestimate those two.”
“I thought you just meant that they are devious,” Draco said, looking rather shocked. “I didn’t think you mean… you know… capable of stabbing me.” He didn’t think that either of them were likely to actually do so, but that they had past experience certainly gave him pause for thought.
“Oh well they are devious too,” Clay said proudly. He loved Harry and Romy for exactly who they were and, though he didn’t like it when they turned their deviousness on him, he was frequently impressed by what they could come up with. “And they probably wouldn’t stab you unless you provoked them… probably,” he added with a wink.
“That fills me with confidence,” Draco said somewhat dryly, eyeing up Romy and Harry with new eyes. He had never considered either of them to be dangerous until now. To think he had been concerned with her being muggleborn only the day before, now that was the last thing on his mind. Now he was more concerned if there were any sharp implements around and the best way not to piss either of them off.
“They’re roaring at each other,” Theo said in bemusement, “cutely too.” He couldn’t quite believe that either of them were dangerous in anyway, they were just too little and cute, pocket sized almost. He just couldn’t imagine either of them stabbing a man to death.
“The fact they’re that cute only adds to how dangerous they are, trust me,” Clayton told them with amusement; he rather enjoyed scaring the two Slytherin boys. It was hard to convince anyone that Harry and Romy were dangerous killers and Clay always enjoyed the challenge.
“Clayton, stop scaring them,” Harry said with a laugh, without looking away from Romy, who was still trying to roar fiercely. He, of course, then roared back. Their attempts to be fierce, with pretend claws and everything, was beginning to draw attention, the other Slytherin students looking at them in complete bemusement as they passed through the common room on the way to breakfast.
“You two are such dorks,” Clayton said affectionately, and looked like he was about to comment further when a house elf unexpectedly popped up next to the sofa that Harry and Romy were sitting on. The poor creature looked absolutely terrified, its hands shaking terribly.
“I is be having a letter for Mr Prince,” it said in a slightly squeaky and nervous voice, holding out a piece of parchment for Harry to take.
Harry, not trusting it to be genuine, pulled out his wand and cast detection spells on it, before accepting it as being harmless. The moment he took the letter from the house elf, the creature vanished with another pop, leaving the gathered students to watch Harry, who was staring at the letter apprehensively. He had recognised the handwriting on the front and it was making him reluctant to open it and find out what the old coot had to say for himself.
“Is it from…?” Clay asked, watching the look of disdain on his best friend’s face. There was only one person who could make Harry annoyed by a letter before even reading what the letter had to say.
“Dumbledore? Yeah,” Harry responded with a sigh, hating that the fun was now over. He truly hated the headmaster sometimes and this was one of those occasions.
“Are you going to read it?” Draco questioned, wondering why Harry hadn’t even opened the letter yet and was still sat there glaring at it as though it had offended him.
“When I can be bothered,” Harry said with a shrug. He was fairly sure what it was going to say anyway, and didn’t want his perfectly good morning ruined by thinking about his vow to Dumbledore and the war.
“What if it’s important?” Romy asked, a little worried that it might be news from home. Worried that something might have happened since having left them all yesterday.
“It won’t be. We saw everyone yesterday so nothing in this letter is going to be that vital that I have to open it right away,” Harry tried to reason with her but Romy really didn’t seem to be convinced by this.
“Harry, please just open it, or I won’t be able to stop wondering what it is about,” Romy requested, giving him her best pleading look. It would be niggling at the back of her mind until she knew for sure what the headmaster had to say.
“Fine, but I can tell you now, he wants me to go and see him,” Harry said as he opened the letter and scanning over the contents quickly, not really taking in much other than the polite request to join him after dinner. “Yep, told you, I have been summoned!”
“Why would he want that, you saw him last week!?” Clayton asked, outraged that the headmaster was going to intrude on their weekend. He couldn’t understand what Dumbledore and Harry could possibly have to talk about again.
“It’s a long story,” Harry said, frustrated that they were talking about this when he really didn’t want to. Dumbledore was complicating his life again, forcing him to have to discuss this with his pack siblings sooner than he was ready to.
“You’re still not going to tell us?” Clayton asked, feeling annoyed; he had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Harry might feel like opening up a little but apparently not and that fact really grated on him; especially after all the promises he had made the Alpha the day before.
“Not yet,” Harry said with a sigh. “I told you, I need to figure some stuff out first, then I will,” he promised them. It wasn’t as though he intended to keep it from them indefinitely, but he simply was ready yet.
“We might be able to help,” Romy said gently. She didn’t want to force Harry to talk about it, but she was worried about him.
“Not with this; I love you guys, all of you,” he said looking to Draco and Theo, “but this is something I have to figure out on my own. I’m sorry.” He looked genuinely apologetic as he said this, hating that he just couldn’t share this with them yet.
“Just promise us that you’re not putting yourself in harm’s way!” Clayton insisted. Given everything that had happened since they had come to Hogwarts, it terrified him that Harry was going to get hurt, particularly when he wasn’t there to help him.
“I am not going to do anything at all for Dumbledore that I can possibly avoid,” Harry said evasively. He couldn’t promise Clayton what his friend wanted him to; he knew there would be danger along the path that Dumbledore was walking him but he had no other choice.
He would tell his friend everything, or almost everything, eventually; but not yet, Clay would only freak out about it now and Harry couldn’t have that because he might run and tell Fenrir or one of the other pack adults and then he would be in trouble. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if Fenrir removed him from the school and kept him tied to a tree. Not that that would work now that he had made the unbreakable vow; the very thought made him wince. It didn’t matter, there was no going back now, there was no way out, this was the path he had to tread, no matter how dangerous.
“No wonder you were put in slytherin!” Romy said with a huff, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at her submissive pack brother in frustration.
“I’ll tell you as soon as I can, okay,” Harry told her. “I promise,” he added at her sceptical expression.
“Just please be careful,” Draco said. He knew, better than most, how manipulative the headmaster could be; the old man had used his family to get him to spy on Harry. Draco knew that Dumbledore had Severus and that Harry, whatever he was doing, was doing it for his Dad. Clearly this was not something Harry had told his fellow pack members about and he wasn’t about to enlighten them either. That was up to Harry.
“I’m scary remember, I’ll be fine,” Harry said, trying to lighten the mood, though rather unsuccessfully, as he got to his feet. He was starving and he didn’t think that either of the Greengrass sisters would be coming with them after their argument; so given they were no longer waiting for Daphne and Astoria, he didn’t see any other reason to delay getting breakfast.
“Yes, I’m sure you can scare Dumbledore off with your cute kitten roars,” Clay said grumpily. However, he had noticed that Draco had just given in and told Harry to be careful and that made him a little suspicious as to what the blond Slytherin knew that they didn’t.
“I think I’d rather stay here and get thoroughly mocked by you guys, than go visit the old coot,” Harry told them, trying to reassure them that he didn’t want to go and see Dumbledore at all. There was no getting out of it though. He unceremoniously threw the letter the headmaster had sent him, on to the fire, before heading for the exit.
The others were quickly all on their feet and following in his wake, none more quickly than Clayton, who wasn’t about to let Harry out of his sight if he didn’t have to. He was going to take Fenrir’s orders a lot more seriously from now on. Even if he and Harry started fighting again then he was going to do what he was meant to do and just take it.
“Well we can probably fit in some more mocking before you leave,” Theo said as they all clambered out of the portrait hole and into the corridor, heading for the stairs up to the entrance hall.
“Thanks, much appreciated,” Harry said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, his stomach growling hungrily. He was just grateful that the thought of going to see the headmaster after dinner hadn’t made him lose his appetite.
FGHP
Later that evening, after dinner, Harry trudged his way through the castle towards the headmaster’s office. He had had to make a slight detour to change his clothes, in the aftermath of having spent a lovely day with his friends outside by the lake, enjoying the last of the snow; he had been hit by one too many slushy snowballs for his clothes to still be comfortable.
Part of him was severely tempted to tell Dumbledore to just shove it, but there was always a chance that the vow would interpret that as not doing everything and anything to win the war and just kill him, so he had decided not to risk it.
Clay had been obviously very unsure and worried about letting Harry go to see Dumbledore on his own, and had been insisting that he should come along. Harry honestly had had no idea how he was going to manage to talk Clay out of it, until Draco had done it for him, by pointing out that it would just make Harry look weak and put him at a disadvantage.
Thankfully, at that, Clay had conceded, and permitted Harry to go alone on the condition that he return straight to them when he was done. Harry had no hesitations about agreeing to the terms Clayton laid out about returning to Slytherin common room right away; he knew that any time spent alone with the headmaster would leave him wanting quality time with his pack siblings.
However, even with that assurance, he still had no intention of letting Harry wander the castle alone, not that he told Harry this. Knowing that Romy would be safe in the Slytherin common room with Draco and Theo, Clay made plans to follow his friend, determined that he wouldn’t break his promise to the Alpha.
As usual, Harry didn’t bother knocking as he reached the office. The headmaster had had the audacity to summon him and he didn’t have any choice in whether or not he went anymore, thanks to the unbreakable vow; however, he had a choice about whether he was polite about it. Strolling into the headmaster’s office, without so much as a greeting to Dumbledore, Harry sat himself down in the usual chair he used; propping his feet up on the desk, he lounged back, examining his nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the room.
“Good evening, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a sigh as he placed the book he had been reading down on the table and looking at the teenager with disdain for his lack of manners.
“Give me a moment,” Harry said as he made a show of scraping out some of the dirt underneath his thumb before folding his arms over his chest and finally looking to the headmaster, who didn’t look entirely impressed.
“Your manners are absolutely…” Dumbledore started to complain.
“My manners are fine,” Harry said snidely, interrupting the headmaster, not at all in the mood to listen to his grievances. “...To those that deserve to be treated with respect,” he added. “It is of my opinion that you do not, but you didn’t summon me here to talk about my manners.”
“Yes, well,” Dumbledore said pointedly, not at all amused by, or approving of, Harry’s attitude, “before we begin, I believe you had the pleasure of meeting my brother yesterday,” he said, steep-ling his fingers and leaning forward on his desk slight to watch Harry closely.
“Your brother?” Harry asked curiously, trying to work out who the headmaster was referring too; he couldn’t think of anyone who he had met the day before who could have been Dumbledore’s brother, but he supposed there were quite a few people in Hogsmeade in passing.
“Yes, my brother, Aberforth,” Dumbledore told him. “He is the proprietor of the Hog’s Head,” he clarified, when Harry continued to look completely baffled.
“That was your brother?” Harry questioned in surprise, swinging his feet off the desk and sitting up in his chair. He found himself suddenly cursing his carelessness; he had even thought that the man was vaguely familiar at the time, but had dismissed it as nothing in his haste to reconnect with his mate.
“Indeed it was, I believe you had a room there with…”
“Don’t say his name," Harry snarled. "And before you start getting bitchy, let me tell you something. If you threaten my mate I will walk out that door and I’ll do fuck all to help you, vow or no vow, because I would rather die than have you do anything to him,” Harry said sternly.
“You forget, our vow does not allow me hurt any current or future pack members, a nice little clause you added in there,” Dumbledore said stiffly.
“If I can do one good thing with my life, it will be protecting my family from you,” Harry told the headmaster pointedly.
“You will destroy Voldemort, there are many that would consider that a good thing,” Dumbledore said, trying to contain his amusement and fascination as he surveyed the boy.
“Fine, let me rephrase, if I can do one good thing that I give a shit about, it’ll be protecting my family from you. Better?” Harry asked, glaring at the headmaster. He hated this man with a passion and he wanted Dumbledore to know that.
“Destroying Voldemort is why I summoned you here,” Dumbledore said, ignoring the rest of what Harry had said.
“I had worked that out for myself,” Harry said with a large, fake yawn. “Can we get this over with already, before you bore me to death?”
“I believe you are familiar with the term Horcruxes,” the headmaster said with a sigh, doing his best to ignore the attitude from the teenager. They had covered Horcruxes in their previous meeting but he wanted to be sure that Harry had been paying attention.
“We’ve discussed them before,” Harry drawled, his tone filled with boredom.
“You remember me telling you there were many of them?” Dumbledore asked.
“Yes,” Harry said with a sigh nodding his head. He couldn’t help but wonder what Clay and Romy were up to right now and wishing that he was with them, instead of sat here with the headmaster bored out of his mind.
“Well, this is one of them,” the headmaster said removing the Gaunt ring from his robe pocket and offering it to Harry. The teenager looked at it dubiously, he had seen it somewhere before, though it hadn’t been broken then.
“I know that,” Harry said in astonishment as he accepted the ring into his hand, finding no need to be suspicious of it as the headmaster had more use of him alive than dead.
“You have seen it before?” the headmaster asked curiously.
“Kind of,” Harry said with a frown. “I’ve dreamt about it before, a lot of times actually, it’s part of a dream that I have every Halloween.”
“Will you tell me about this dream?” Dumbledore requested of him gently.
“Why? It’s just a nightmare, I don’t see how it’s important,” Harry said with a frown. He didn’t really think that divulging the inner workings of his brain was going to do much to help in their hunt for Horcruxes.
“You are connected to Voldemort, Harry. The night he tried to kill you, the same night he gave you that scar, he created a link between the two of you and this nightmare could very well mean something important,” the headmaster explained; he was feeling rather excited at this prospect, though he tried very hard to hide it from the infuriating teenager.
“But it’s just a dream…” Harry said sceptically, eyeing the headmaster with suspicion.
“Why don’t you tell me about it and we can decide from that,” the headmaster suggested. Even if the dream had nothing to do with the Horcruxes or Voldemort, and it was just a recurring dream, then it would still be fascinating to see inside of the teenager’s head. Dreams were very personal to a person after all.
“Fine,” Harry said huffily. “Okay, well usually, the first thing I see is a locket being dropped in water, it’s in this dark …. like a cave, I think. After that there is a really cramped room, filled with stuff and I can see this crown, thing,” Harry said, scrunching his brow into a frown as he thought very hard.
Dumbledore nodded, listening intently, fascinated by what Harry was telling him, he was already sure he could identify the items from what Harry was saying. The crown that Harry had mentioned could almost certainly have been the lost diadem of Ravenclaw and it certainly fit with the theme Tom had for the items he used to contain parts of his soul.
“This ring in a house in a forest, hidden under floorboards,” Harry continued, thinking very hard, blocking out the memories of his mother screaming; that was too personal to recount to Dumbledore, it just didn’t feel right to share that with him. “A beautiful golden cup in a room full of treasure.”
“Anything else?” Dumbledore asked, having counted four horcruxes, the diary would put it to five. That left Harry and the original part of Tom’s soul, which Dumbledore wasn’t sure about at all. He couldn’t be sure where that particular part of Voldemort had gone after it fled Quirrell’s body after killing Neville.
“Yes, one more, though it’s a newer addition; it didn’t start appearing as part of the nightmare until a lot later,” Harry said, a shiver going down his spine as he thought about those horrible yellow eyes, involuntarily shivering at the memory of them.
“What is it?” Dumbledore asked gently.
“A snake, a gigantic creature with yellow eyes. I knew it wasn’t just any snake so I did some research on it and I found out what it is,” Harry said with a sigh, he didn’t want the headmaster to think that he hadn’t put any thought into what these dreams meant. He had thought about it a lot but had never found the answers he wanted and his father hadn’t been able to help him either.
“What conclusion did you come to?” Dumbledore asked, surveying the teenager with excited interest. He thought he knew what this snake could be but he was curious to hear what conclusion Harry had come to in its regard.
“A Basilisk,” Harry stated simply, watching the headmaster for any sign of a reaction. However, the headmaster remained very calm, simply nodding his head in agreement.
“You would be correct; when Tom resurrected as his sixteen year old self, killing Ginny Weasley, he came out of the Chamber of secrets with a basilisk,” the headmaster informed him.
“Chamber of secrets?” Harry asked curiously. It was not something he had come across any mentions of before, as far as he could remember.
“Yes, it is a place that people have been looking for, for centuries,” Dumbledore told him. “I have come to believe that only those who can speak parseltongue are able to gain access to it; though we do at least now know where it is, since Tom’s resurrection. However, we’ve been unable to retrieve the poor girl’s body given that no one can get inside,” the headmaster said sadly.
“Parseltongue?” Harry asked and the headmaster nodded. “I can speak it,” he told him truthfully, seeing no point in hiding this ability from the headmaster if it might help matters. Perhaps he could even help get the Weasley girl’s body back, that might earn him enough favour to get Weasley to leave him and, more importantly, Clay alone.
“You can?” the headmaster asked; though he was not entirely astounded by this revelation, this was a strong indication that the connection between Harry and Voldemort was stronger than he had first thought.
“Yes, I’ve always been able to. My Dad used to bring snakes back to use the skin they shed in potions and I’d get to keep them as pets for a while; before I met Clayton they were my only friends,” Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders. He had never minded this in the slightest but it had been nice to finally have Clayton as a friend.
“That is something we should address another time, perhaps allow the Weasley family to get some closure on the matter of their daughter,” Dumbledore suggested.
“Sure, I guess. Though I’m not sure I want to go down there and find her rotting corpse myself,” Harry said, frowning a little. He had seen enough horrors in his life, he didn’t particularly want to witness any more, certainly not willingly.
“And I would not want you to; however, you would have to accompany me down there so to open all the required doors,” Dumbledore said, watching the teenager carefully.
“Sure,” Harry said with another shrug; he didn’t have a problem with this. He knew that if it were one of his pack that was there he would have wanted someone else to have done if for him. He may not have liked Ron very much but his twin brothers seemed nice enough, he could remember that they had a large family; they deserved to have closure.
“As for the other Horcruxes, which I believe are what you are seeing in your dreams," Dumbledore told him, "I have been hunting for them. And now, after a long and rather arduous journey I was, able to retrieve what I thought was another of them earlier today,” the headmaster explained.
“You thought it was?” Harry asked, somewhat confused. He wouldn’t have thought that the headmaster would have left much to chance, especially not when it came to these Horcruxes.
“Yes, the locket you mentioned; I have, what appears to be, a very good copy," the headmaster told him. "I found it exactly where you described it to be, though there were a lot more enhancements protecting it, than it just being in a cave,” Dumbledore said.
“So we have no idea where the real one is at all?” Harry questioned. That was certainly a bit of a problem; it wasn’t like they could simply search the whole world for one little locket.
“Sadly not,” Dumbledore said. “I hoped to have one for us to destroy this evening, but alas, that was not to be. Though, I thought that perhaps we could read through the note that was hidden inside the fake now. We are, after all, in this together.”
“Okay,” Harry said with a frown, though he reluctantly found himself curious.
Dumbledore brought out a heavy gold locket with a serpentine 'S' in glittering green stone inlay on the front. Harry accepted it from him and examined it, turning it over in his hands; it was, as Dumbledore said, a very good copy. He pried the locket open with ease and a small folded piece of parchment fell out on to his lap.
Carefully he picked it up, aware of Dumbledore moving around to read it over his shoulder; he vaguely thought that it was rather odd that the headmaster had not taken the time to read it before his arrival, but he supposed that it was likely a ploy to make Harry feel that the responsibility was upon his shoulders. Or perhaps he had read it and this was an act to make Harry feel more included; he didn’t much care either way. So, trying to ignore Dumbledore’s looming presence, he scanned the contents.
'To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more. R.A.B.'
“Who is R.A.B?” Harry asked curiously. “And did he or she actually manage to destroy it?”
“I have an idea on the identity of R.A.B but I have no proof, just a theory. As for destroying it, it is unlikely," Dumbledore told him with what seemed to be genuine frustration, though Harry couldn't be certain. "They are extremely difficult to destroy, though not impossible," the headmaster went on. "The item must be damaged beyond physical or magical repair. All methods of destruction are as deadly as the murder needed for its creation.”
“So how do you propose we destroy them?” Harry asked with a tired sigh. If they were as difficult to destroy as all that, then he doubted he would ever be out from under Dumbledore’s thumb. It was a thought that made his blood run cold even thinking about it.
“I destroyed the ring with a sword that was imbued with Fiendfyre,” the headmaster told him. “I assume you do not have any experience with this spell?” Dumbledore asked, watching him closely through narrowed eyes as he went back around to the chair behind his desk.
“My Dad didn’t teach me Dark Arts,” Harry snapped; he was irritated that the headmaster would suggest that his Dad had subjected him to anything dangerous or illegal. The thought that Dumbledore was accusing his Dad of this made him want to punch the headmaster in the face.
“Then my opinion of him as a father figure has raised slightly; though, not by much,” Dumbledore told him. “However, you will not need to know how to cast Fiendfyre yourself, as you will simply be able to use the sword, which is goblin-made and only takes in that which makes it stronger.”
“Which is how it took on the power of the Fiendfyre spell,” Harry said, nodding his head in understanding. “If all of these parts of Voldemort's soul… if we destroy them all, will he die?”
“Yes, I believe so. Without his Horcruxes, Tom will be a mortal man, though still a powerful one regardless; it will still take a lot of power and skill to defeat him,” Albus said a little regretfully.
The headmaster was hopeful; he had heard from all of his Professors that the teenager was surpassing all of their expectations in all subjects, except History of Magic; in this subject he was failing quite miserably, not least because his attendance was beyond poor. Astronomy was also something of a struggle for the teen but neither subject would help him when it came to defeating the Dark Lord.
“You think I have that amount of power and skill?” Harry asked, watching the headmaster carefully as the elderly wizard moved back around to sit behind his desk. In all honesty, he was shocked that Dumbledore had that much faith in him.
“I am certain that he marked you as his equal,” Albus said tactfully. He honestly didn’t know if Harry had what it took to defeat the Dark Lord. The teenager was an excellent student, he was knowledgeable, though albeit a little cheeky and needed something of an attitude adjustment. But he had been somewhat sheltered for his entire life and the headmaster wasn’t sure that that would work in their favour here.
“Ah, the prophecy,” Harry returned, folding the note back up and replacing it into the locket, studying it carefully. It was a beautiful item that was for sure.
“Yes,” Dumbledore said, watching as the young werewolf play with the fake locket of Slytherin.
“Which you can’t get,” Harry stated bluntly, looking up from the locket long enough to glare at the old headmaster, showing that he was still rather unhappy about this particular fact.
“No, it is in the Ministry of magic as I said; the department of mysteries,” Dumbledore told him. “I am afraid there is nothing I can do to assist you in seeing it.”
Harry narrowed his eyes at the headmaster; there was something in his wording that he was sure was an underlying message. It wasn’t so much that the headmaster was refusing to let him see the prophecy, more that he was refusing to be involved in fetching it. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of that; he was certainly curious as to what exactly it said, but it was unlikely he could just walk into the ministry and just demand to see it.
“Hypothetically,” Harry began tentatively, “if I were to go missing from Hogwarts for the night and, while missing, break into the Ministry of Magic… what would happen?”
“That is not a course of action I can condone, Harry,” Dumbledore said pointedly, but he didn’t look particularly annoyed with the idea. Harry almost snorted in amusement at this, seeing clearly what the headmaster meant, though he couldn’t say it outright; he was starting to understand the elderly wizard a whole lot more.
“But you wouldn’t stop me,” Harry said, wanting to make it a little more black and white. Dumbledore could never condone such actions of course but Harry needed to know if the headmaster would try and stop him if he decided to go after the prophecy himself.
“If I was unaware of your actions then I would be unable to stop you, would I not?” Dumbledore said cryptically, his blue eyes twinkling. It took a lot of self control for Harry not to punch the headmaster right on the nose.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, keep it all hush, hush, you know nothing, I get the idea,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes. He understood perfectly well what the headmaster was implying.
“I hardly approve…” Dumbledore began, only to be cut off by Harry, who waved his arm to silence the elderly man.
“No, you hardly want to get your hands dirty, I get it, moving on now,” Harry said, resuming his blunt attitude as he subtly slid the locket into his pocket. It was something Albus didn’t miss but the fake Horcrux was not of importance and neither was the note, not now he had read it, so the headmaster allowed it.
“I think that that will be all for this evening, I know that you must be tired after your… exciting weekend,” the headmaster said with a hint of disapproval in his tone. “For the record…”
“Don’t, just don’t,” Harry said sharply. “He’s my mate, I’m not coerced, he isn’t forcing me into anything, I love him. What we have isn’t any of your business; I’m fighting your damn war and Fenrir has nothing to do with it, he never will.”
“Before you so rudely interrupted,” Albus said with a frown, “I was going to say that for the record, Aberforth told me that the relationship did not appear volatile.”
“Well, what a shock,” Harry said with heavy sarcasm. “It didn’t appear to be volatile because it isn’t.”
“Indeed, well, good evening to you, Harry,” the headmaster said, inclining his head to the teenager as Harry got to his feet, still glaring rather venomously at the elderly wizard. “I will be in contact again soon.”
“Oh, how ever will I survive the anticipation?” Harry bit back, turning on his heel and walking out of the office without looking back. He wanted to find his friends and just enjoy being a teenager, play some pool and enjoy the fact that, even a full day later, he could still feel his mate inside of him.
FGHP
Sirius was lying on the floor of a prison cell, in what seemed to be the basement dungeon at Malfoy Manor. His breath was coming in harsh gasps, and he was so exhausted that it was a struggle to keep his left eye open; the right one was a lost cause and now so swollen that he couldn’t even tell if it was open or closed anymore.
It felt like weeks, though he knew it was probably more likely only days, since he had been snatched off the streets of London by Deatheaters and brought before Voldemort. That had been bad enough and he thought that it couldn’t get any worse; of course that had been before he had been gifted to his deranged cousin Bellatrix, who seemed to have hold of even less of her sanity than the last time he had seen her, if that was possible.
His cousin had so many questions for him, mostly about Harry, but he would tell her nothing, not about his precious Godson, who meant so much to him. He had felt no guilt in telling her of Severus’ fate, however, and had relished the surprise that had crossed her face for a moment then; he had even offered to take her to the potions master, in exchange for his freedom, but Bellatrix had just laughed at him, sounding cruel and even more deranged than usual. The cursed woman seemed to be getting off on torturing him, and Sirius could see no escape.
In the first few hours, Bella had relished watching him crawl towards the door, only to literally stand on him and walk the length of his spine in her spiked heels that dug painfully into his skin. She would then drop herself down to the ground, sitting on his shoulders, and pin him to the floor. Tormenting him with whispers of what she had planned for him while he was captive there, this was made even more stomach churning due to the sensation of her tongue against the rim of his ear.
It had been pointless when he had began to struggle against her to get free. Years of servitude under Voldemort’s cruel reign had left her a strong woman, powerful too. There was no escape from her, not when he had done nothing more energetic than scale the stairs at Grimmauld place since he had escaped from Azkaban all those months ago. He was not the fit and healthy man he used to be and was no longer a match for his psycho cousin.
Just as Sirius’ struggles had been in vain that first time, they were each time following; now he was left with not even the strength to crawl. Not that that was an option anymore; after his fourth and fifth attempts she had seemingly grown bored of his feeble attempts and simply chained his ankle to the wall, such that he could move no further than two foot.
Sirius howled with pain as the whip landed down harshly against the back of his thighs, which were only covered by the shredded remains of his trousers now. He forced his good eye open, ready to beg for the pain of it to stop, and there, standing over him, was his beloved Remus. “Remus, help me,” he whimpered, as the crack of the whip sounded again, and his legs felt as though they were on fire.
“You’re little beast of a friend can’t help you now, cousin,” Bellatrix cackled. “Not even the werewolves want to help a blood traitor like you,” she told him as he leaned down over him once more. As she got back to her feet she trailed the tail of the whips across his damaged flesh and the pain flared once more, making him cry out in agony.
“Remus, please,” Sirius begged. But the man just stood there and shook his head. To see his ex lover stood, watching him suffer and doing nothing to prevent it felt as if his chest was being crushed with the pain of it, pain that was worse than anything Bellatrix could ever do to him.
“You have disappointed me, Sirius,” Remus said, his expression serious and unchanging. “You deserve this.”
“I just wanted to be a family, it was supposed to be you, me and Harry,” Sirius cried out, his voice finding strength once more. “Remus, I love you,” he sobbed, as his whole body screamed with pain. His breathing was harsh and uneven, panic rising inside of him at his ex-lovers harsh words.
“Oooh, losing your marbles, my traitorous little cousin,” Bella cooed with delight, circling around Sirius. “No one here to hear your screams but me, and one other guest but I don’t think she enjoys your screams as much as I do,” she told him, as Sirius continued to talk to Remus, as though he was truly there. “But you do give me such a delightful idea for a new game to play,” she told him, as horrible grin on her face as she swung the whip once more, her cackling laugh mixing with his screams; perfect harmony to her ears.
FGHP
Dawn was yet to break over the clearing, everything still in the complete darkness that had settled in their forest clearing, the only light coming from the low glow of the embers of the fire. Callie had been awake for a little while, trying to settle her stomach to no avail. It gave a sudden lurch and she knew she didn’t have a choice.
Wriggling free of Jenson’s firm hold of her, she tried her best not to wake him. He was not the heaviest of sleepers, unlike her brother, and, even in sleep, her mate was hugely possessive of her, not wanting to let her go. The problem was, if she didn’t make her escape then she was going to end up vomiting all over him and she didn’t think that this was the best way to announce to her mate that she might be pregnant.
Having carefully disentangled herself from her mate without waking him, Callie crept carefully toward the tree line, cautious not to wake any of the others either. Her stomach was churning dangerously, it was a huge effort not to give in and vomit right there; thankfully, she had more restraint than that.
Not wanting to disturb any of the others that needed their sleep, she ventured as far into the forest as she dared to go before allowing her nausea to overwhelm her. Bending over double she retched twice before emptying the pitiful contents of her stomach on to the ground. A sickly sweet smell suddenly overpowering her and rendering her nose useless. It unfortunately left her unaware of the danger that was approaching.
FGHP
Micha had been feeling a little restless and had only managed a light doze at best all evening. He wasn’t sure what it was that was keeping him awake but he just had a horrible, uneasy feeling that wasn’t allowing him to sleep deeply. Damon was loosely wrapped around him, the dominant male’s semi-hard cock nestled between them, temptingly so.
Micha had been half asleep when Callie had got up and staggered towards the tree line. At first he thought that she’d just gone for a comfort break, that was until he heard her retching. She hadn’t been looking well for days now and this wasn’t a great sign, seeing as she kept claiming that she was fine.
A little concerned about her, Micha edged himself carefully from his mate’s arms, glad that Damon was such a deep sleeper. Shoving his feet into sneakers, Micha headed after her, following the sounds of Callie vomiting, which made it easy to find her even in the near darkness.
It didn’t take him long to locate her; she had braced herself against a tree as she dry heaved, the air filled with the sickly sweet smell of vomit. Callie seemed genuinely startled when he made a small sound to alert her to his presence, not wanting to startle to poor woman.
“Micha,” she said, pressing her hand to her chest to calm her hammering heart as she turned to look at the little submissive, “you startled me.” This was not what she wanted any of them to see; she still wasn’t entirely convinced she knew what was wrong with her and until she knew she didn’t want any of them to know about the sickness. She didn’t want to be considered as weak, or to worry them at all.
“I’m sorry, I wanted to see if you were okay,” Micha said somewhat regretfully when he heard the tone of her voice. Something didn’t feel right and he wasn’t sure if it was just being out in the forest or something more, but he couldn’t put his finger on it, simply putting it down to the fact that Callie was out in the middle of the forest alone before dawn. He trusted that their territory was safe.
“I’m…” However, Callie never got to finish her sentence before a large hand closed over her mouth, a second hand held a knife to her throat. Micha was too stunned to move or, in fact, do anything as Callie stilled in the arms of her attacker, feeling the knife to her throat.
She didn’t dare move, her arms and feet were free but her mind wasn’t thinking rationally. The only thought in her mind was the potential child in her belly, a child she didn’t know if it actually existed but, if it did, she wanted to do everything and anything to protect it.
“Such a pretty girl,” the stranger said, Micha watching as the attacker's tongue ran the length of Callie's cheek causing her to shudder in utter revulsion. Micha wasn’t entirely sure what to do, frozen with fear and uncertainty. He thought of the others sleeping a short distance away, unaware of the danger they were all in. He knew that they couldn’t help them, it was up to him. One wrong move could end up in one or both of them being dead and he wasn’t going to let that happen.
Suppressing the rising panic that seemed set to overwhelm him, Micha looked around frantically for anything that he could use as a weapon. His own blade was in the clearing, useless to him; he felt stupid for not having grabbed it, but he hadn’t had any reason to believe that he would have need for it. The only knife was the one this stranger had, and Micha realised that meant that he would have to get it away from him.
“It’s okay Callie,” Micha said gently, letting her know that he was still there; his voice calm despite how hard his heart was hammer in his chest. However, this also drew the attackers attention to him, a sneer on the stranger’s face as he took in Micha’s smaller stature and overall weaker appearance. This wolf, whoever he was, could scent out that Micha was a submissive and therefore seen as a minimal threat.
“On the ground, boy,” the stranger barked at Micha as Callie struggled against him slightly, trying to turn her head so that she could see Micha. This, however, only made her attacker press the blade to her throat more firmly. Though, he did move his hand from her mouth, moving it to fist in her short hair, ensuring that any movement would cause her pain. He didn’t want her going anywhere.
Micha, glaring at the strange man, fell to his knees, refusing to take his eye from this man for even a second, determined to protect Callie. He took the opportunity to take in his features, or at least what he could see of them in the darkness. All he could really make out was dark hair and dark eyes, he wasn’t exactly small either; he was at least double the size of Callie. He was also clearly one of them, a werewolf, which meant he wasn’t there by accident either.
It made Micha’s heart race to think of the strays; it brought back memories of Harlan that he would much rather have forgotten. Summoning up the memory of Damon’s scent, the submissive managed to maintain his calm and stop himself from falling into a panic, knowing that both his and Callie’s lives depended on him keeping his head.
“Just run, Micha,” Callie whimpered, not wanting to see the submissive hurt; he had been hurt more in his life than anyone should have to be and she didn’t want it to happen again, not in aid of her. She knew that Damon loved him, and she wouldn’t see her brother lose yet another mate.
Though, she wasn’t exactly sure that she would be able to take it either and her thoughts kept going back to the possibility that she was carrying Jenson’s baby, but this was the last thing she wanted to think about. It was only a possibility, an unlikely one at that, and Micha was a certainty, a stubborn one, who didn’t seem to be listening to her.
“I’m not leaving you,” Micha promised; even if he hadn’t loved Callie in her own right, which he did, then he would still have stayed with her regardless; she was Damon’s sister, after all. He wasn’t about to let this beast of a man hurt her in any way, and definitely not like he had been hurt.
“Don’t try anything, boy,” the unknown man warned, “or I’ll gut her and play with her insides.” His voice was a deep, threatening growl and it chilled Micha to the core but he kept thinking of Damon, his dominant mate becoming his strength.
“Run, Micha,” Callie pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks, “please.”
“Not happening,” Micha snarled, still pinning his glare on the unwelcome man still holding Callie firmly to his body. The submissive watched every single movement that the man made, waiting for his chance. He wasn’t going to allow anything to happen to himself or to Callie. They were going to make it out of this just fine, after all they had been trained to fight just for this reason.
The thought that gave Micha the courage he needed was the knowledge that Harry and Romy had both been able to fend off attackers four times their size and lived to tell the tale; though, admittedly, it had been a close call. This gave him confidence and strength to hold his nerve, knowing that if they could do it then he could as well.
Seeing that Micha wasn’t going to go anywhere and wanting to get the stranger’s attention back on her, Callie swung her leg, aiming between her captor’s legs; he was too quick though, and as soon as she went to move, he threw her roughly to the ground. She rolled, hitting brush and rock before coming to a stop on her back, she heard Micha call out her name before her attacker was on top of her, baring down with his whole weight and she cried out as he pinned her down, screaming for all she was worth, knowing that this was their only hope to get help.
Micha saw his moment as the unwelcome man pinned Callie to the floor and quickly moved to a squat, jumping at their attacker, pushing him off Callie as he collided with him and just praying that she wouldn’t get caught by the knife in the process, relying on pure luck.
Callie continued to scream; she had not been expecting for Micha to pounce upon her attacker as forcefully as he had. The knife that had been held to her neck had grazed her cheek but it was only a scratch; she was far more worried about the potential child that she might be carrying and that she had just hit the ground so hard.
She turned on to her side, tears welling in her eyes as she curled into a ball, sobbing painfully when she saw that Micha was now brawling with the man who had attacked them. The smaller submissive had taken the larger man by surprise and this was the only reason that he was winning right now.
He straddled the other werewolf’s broad chest, both of their hands around the knife as they fought over it, knowing that whoever held the blade at the end was going to stand alive and victorious. Micha, however, was not planning on fighting fair, leaning forward and sinking his teeth into the other man's arm.
The other werewolf cried out in shock, his grip upon the blade loosening. Without thinking, Micha grabbed it and without a moment to process what he was doing, acting on pure instinct, he thrust the blade as hard as he could into the fleshy area beneath the man’s chin.
FGHP
Fenrir jolted awake at the sound of the screaming along with the rest of the pack, all of whom were looking around in a panic, trying to figure out what was happening and who was yelling. It was quickly became clear who was missing from the clearing; both Jenson and Damon, looking utterly panic stricken as they clambered to their feet and without a second thought, or even pausing to put on shoes, ran towards the screaming. Both of them determined to protect their mates.
The Alpha and Lukas were hot on their heels, Tessie too terrified to even move, curling up in a ball feeling utterly useless with her injured arm strapped to her chest. She would be no good in this fight; if she went with the others, she would only get in the way.
The scene that they arrived to was horrific. Callie had curled in on herself, sobbing, both hands clutching at her stomach. Micha was covered in blood, stood with a knife in his hand looking utterly shocked at what he had done. His hands were shaking violently, almost unable to clutch at the knife he held.
A body of a large man lay twitching on the ground at Micha’s feet, whoever he was, he had a large, gaping hole in his throat that was still oozing blood as the man’s heart beat its last.
Damon was at his mate’s side in a second, Jenson surrounding Callie, both dominants comforting their mates. Everyone else surveying the scene with horror, worry and confusion. They were meant to be safe. Fenrir looked absolutely furious, glaring at the unknown, and now dead, man with venom. The sounds of Callie’s sobs were reverberating around the trees making them sound louder than they actually were and no one missed the linger scent of vomit on the air.
“What happened?” Fenrir demanded to know in a booming voice. They were all running on adrenaline and he was furious at finding members of his pack had been attacked again. He knew he would have to do something about it, but first he needed answers. He needed to know what had happened so he knew how to deal with it accordingly. Never had he been more glad that his own mate was absent because knowing Harry it would have been him rather than Micha to be out here with Callie.
“Micha, talk to me, what happened?” Damon said, his voice soft as he sat down on the ground, dragging them away from the body as he pulled Micha into his lap, and prying the knife from his grip, handing it over to Fenrir. He was flooded with relief that his mate was alright, but he couldn’t fight the anger that Micha had been out there in the first place.
Callie wasn’t in any fit state to tell them anything. Jenson was terrified for his fragile mate in his arms as she broke down completely. He could smell that she was bleeding but he couldn’t check her over, not while she was sobbing so violently, still in shock.
“He just came from nowhere,” Micha said, his voice trembling as he snuggled into his mate, the blood that covered him, now covering Damon too.
“Lukas, with me, we check the boundaries now,” Fenrir instructed, worried that there might be others lurking; ideally he wanted Jenson with him too but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to be letting Callie out of his sight any time soon. Fenrir could smell her blood, there was no way he’d leave her, not knowing that she was injured. “Damon, Jenson, take Micha and Callie back, stay in the middle of the clearing with Tessie. Stay alert!”
The tone of the Alpha’s voice left no room for argument on this point. He was protecting his pack as a good leader should and no one was going to argue with him over this, especially not after what had just happened.
Fenrir, with Lukas tailing him, took off to check the boundaries for further signs of intruders. Damon wanted to take Micha to the stream and wash him of the blood that he was covered in; however, the Alpha’s orders were final. They were to go back to the clearing and stay there until they were sure that it was safe in their territory.
Now that Damon knew his mate was safe, the relief was gradually being replaced by anger that bubbled in his stomach in an uncontrollable rage. He couldn’t understand why Micha had chosen to face the threat on his own instead of getting help, it made him furious to think of all the other options that had been available and Micha had chosen the one that put himself in danger.
Jenson scooped Callie up into his arms; she was still sobbing violently, her entire body shaking, both of her hands on her stomach, though no one thought to question why this was, not yet at least. Micha, however, seemed unable to move, still in shock from what he had done, curled on Damon’s lap, his eyes on the body.
Jenson, holding Callie close to him, started back towards the clearing, not wanting to leave Tessie on her own and thinking that they would be safer there than here. It would also mean they would be near the warmth of the fire where he could check Callie over and make sure that she was okay and that the cut to her cheek was the only injury she had. Damon and Micha hung back however, needing to talk.
“I killed him,” Micha said as the Beta wolf left them alone; he was unable to comprehend what had happened as the adrenaline drained from his system. He honestly couldn’t believe that he had taken a man’s life. Right now he was beyond grateful for his mate’s strong arms around him, they were the only thing that stopped him from completely losing his mind. Damon was his everything, his rock.
“You kept Callie and yourself safe,” Damon said. “Though we will be talking about you throwing yourself into dangerous situations later,” he added with a scowl. He hated that Micha had put himself in danger, Damon couldn’t help but be angry at this. His submissive mate had been reckless, as if his life meant nothing.
“Damon...” Micha went to say, not liking the tone that his mate was speaking to him with, but he was swiftly cut off by a stern look from Damon, who seemed to be absolutely furious.
“No, Micha, you scared the shit out of me,” the dominant snarled. The thought that he had almost lost his mate was eating away at him, that he hadn't even been given the chance to protect him.
“I didn’t mean…” Micha tried to say, though it seemed that Damon wasn’t going to allow him to finish a sentence, he was just too angry at what had happened.
“I’m grateful that you saved Callie, that you protected yourself, but fuck, you could have died!” the dominant ranted, the anger and frustration boiling over. It bothered him more than he thought was possible that Micha had almost got hurt, almost been killed. He had sworn to himself that he would protect Micha since they had become mates, that he would never allow him to be hurt again, and now the submissive was trembling in his arms, scared, hurt and lucky not to be dead.
“Damon…” the submissive tried to say, taken aback by how cross Damon was. It scared him a little with how the dominant was acting. Damon was usually so gentle and patient and calm, this fury was not something Micha knew how to deal with.
“You should have run, you should have got me, or Fenrir, or Jenson, anyone, but you shouldn’t have stayed and fought on your own,” Damon carried on, not listening to the fact that his mate was trying to say something.
“I didn’t want Callie to get hurt,” Micha shouted, more to get his mate’s attention than the want to actually yell at him. “I can’t believe you’re going to lecture me when I just saved your sister,” he added, his voice quieter this time and full of hurt, fighting not to actually start crying.
“But you could have died!” Damon reiterated, frustrated that this point didn’t seem to be sinking in. “What part of that do you not understand?” he demanded to know wrapping his arms tighter still around his mate.
“I understand…” Micha tried to tell him.
“No, you don’t,” Damon interrupted, his voice angrier than he had intended it to be. “I can’t lose you, Micha, I can’t, I couldn’t live without you,” he tried to explain, needing Micha to truly realise how important he was to him. It was his job to protect his submissive and he had failed.
“He had a knife to Callie’s throat, Damon,” Micha tried to explain, fighting out of his mate’s tight hold on him and getting to his feet. He was touched by Damon’s declaration but he couldn’t grasp how his mate could think he would just leave Callie like that.
“The thought of you not being around…” Damon said, his voice coming out in a strangled sob of pain, standing up too, now that he didn’t have Micha in his lap. He could see that Micha was still shaking and he was keen to get them back to the clearing as Fenrir had ordered. He felt a little guilty for laying into his mate so much but he needed Micha to know how important he was.
“I didn’t want you to lose your sister either,” Micha argued back, tears on his face. He was still trembling from the shock of what had happened, and he didn’t want to be fighting with Damon, he just wanted to be in his mate’s arms. “I… I didn’t think about me, I just didn’t want you to hurt and I know how much you love Callie,” he went on, needing Damon to comprehend how he felt, why he had acted the way he had.
“You still don’t understand, do you…,” Damon said with realisation, stepping closer to Micha and taking him into his arms, holding him close. It hurt his heart to hear his mate think so little of himself.
Micha leaned against him, accepting the embrace and inhaling Damon’s scent as the strong arms wrapped around him. “I know I scared you,” he whispered, losing his battle with his emotions as tears ran down his face “but…”
“No…” Damon interrupted firmly, “you don’t understand that you mean the world to me, Micha,” he said, holding his mate close, wanting and needing Micha to really comprehend what he meant to him. “You are just as important to me, never doubt that.”
They stayed that way, taking comfort in each other. Micha tried to discreetly wipe his tears on Damon’s shirt; the dominant noticed, but couldn’t bring himself to care about anything more than having his mate safely in his arms, reassuring himself and his inner wolf that their submissive was okay.
“But she’s your family,” Micha said a few moments later as Damon released his hold on the submissive. Micha had a puzzled expression on his tear stained face, as Damon started to lead them both back towards the clearing, the dominants arm around his back as he leant against Damon’s side.
“And so are you,” Damon replied confidently. He hadn’t really considered it in such terms before but the second he had spoken the words he knew they were true; Micha was his family and he never wanted to be without him again. Then, after a moment of hesitation, Damon turned to look at Micha. “I want to tell Clayton; next full moon, we’ll tell him.”
Micha stopped in his tracks, just short of the tree line, turning to stare at his mate in surprise. “You’re sure?” he asked. “You’re not worried that he is going to be really angry or upset?” He hadn’t liked Damon’s reasons for keeping their relationship a secret from Clayton but he had come to accept them.
“Oh, I am quite certain we will get quite a reaction from him,” Damon said with a wry smile. “But, as much trouble as Clayton is, he is my son, my family, and I want to work towards us being able to be a family together.” He could understand that it wouldn’t be easy for Micha and Clayton to learn to be family to each other but he hoped they could find a way that worked for all of them.
Micha wore a slightly stunned expression as Damon’s words sunk in. “I never really thought about that but… he’d kinda be…” he said, his voice trailing off.
“Your step-son, if you’ll have him,” Damon said with a chuckle.
“That will… take some getting used to,” Micha said, scrunching up his nose. It was too weird to think about when he was still struggling to comprehend the attack that he and Callie had just been through.
“Not a deal breaker then?” Damon asked, as they headed into the clearing towards where Jenson was sat with Callie on his lap, clinging to him, and Tessie at his side. It seemed as though Callie was talking, so he was hopeful that she was maybe explaining what had happened, how the man had managed to get the jump on her and Micha.
“No…,” Micha said, he wanted to be with Damon, even if that meant a lifetime of Clayton’s antics. “But if he starts calling me Daddy, then I am kicking his butt,” he added, smirking at his mate a little.
“Noted,” Damon said with amusement; the idea of Clayton calling Micha Daddy was just too funny, he wasn’t even going to dare suggest the alternative of Mummy. “Let’s get you changed,” he said, deciding to change the subject before he got himself into trouble. “In fact let us both get changed, then we can cuddle.” Micha looked down, first at himself then at Damon, both of them were a mess.
“Oh,” Micha said, realising, as if for the first time, that he was covered in the man’s blood, and that Damon was too, simply from holding him. “Yeah, that would be good,” he agreed. Now that it had been pointed out to him, he was painfully aware of the state they were in; and the idea clean clothes and cuddling with Damon was decidedly appealing. He also wanted to go and make sure that Callie really was okay.
“Come on, trouble,” Damon said, pressing a kiss to Micha’s temple. He glanced back into the woodland; he really hoped that Fenrir and Lukas got back soon, as he was still on edge and wouldn’t feel calm again until he knew they were all safe in their home.
Micha had taken a few steps towards where they kept a few changes of clothes each in bags in the clearing, but he realised that Damon wasn’t following. “Damon?” he asked, wondering why his mate had stopped.
“I swear I will keep you safe,” the dominant said, returning his attention to Micha, and pulling him into his arms once more. “You and Callie, both,” he promised.
“And Clayton, and Harry… how are you going to protect all of us, Damon?” Micha asked with genuine concern; he feared that his mate would push himself too far and just end up hurt.
“I don’t know, but I will,” he responded with determination, leading Micha over to the clothes bags with an arm around him. He wasn’t going to let Micha go, not this morning, not ever.
FGHP
Fenrir and Lukas did not return until an hour after the sun had broken and daylight flooded the clearing. No one had been able to get back to sleep. They had all been waiting on their Alpha to return, Tessie making tea and toast for them all. It was all she could manage with only one usable arm.
“Damon, a word,” Fenrir barked as he strode back into the clearing, Lukas just behind him looking worn out but pleased to be back. Damon, however, had Micha curled up on his lap, the submissive’s head on his chest, neither of them wanted to move. “Now!” the Alpha bellowed.
Sighing, Damon shifted a little, wiggling until Micha was on the floor and looking a little put out about this. The truth was the submissive looked damn near petrified about being left on his own without his mate. “I’ll stay where you can see me,” Damon promised, motioning for Lukas to take his place while he spoke to Fenrir.
“Yes, my Alpha?” Damon asked as they separated themselves from the others, though keeping them in sight. Micha never took his eyes from his mate, even when Lukas took a seat next to him and attempted to strike up a conversation.
“The other children that were bitten at the same time as Harry and Clayton,” Fenrir said bluntly, Damon nodded to say that he was following. “We should start bringing them into the pack.” He was keen to have his pack as strong as they could be; he had intended to fetch them as they turned sixteen, but it couldn’t wait any longer.
“If any of them survived,” Damon said pointedly; he hadn’t liked the idea of biting children but he had never said anything. After all, it had given him, and Eric, Clayton at the time. He hadn’t thought he had the right to complain.
“I have been keeping track,” Fenrir growled, not happy at the insinuation that he had been that careless. “I bit eight, Harry and Clayton included. There were only two that did not survive.”
“So there are four out there somewhere,” Damon said, trying not to sound utterly horrified. “All of them about to turn sixteen.” He had always known that there were others that Fenrir had deliberately chosen to bite but it felt a lot more real now that his friend was talking about bringing them to join the pack.
“Yes,” Fenrir stated. He had not followed them closely as of late, but he knew that they had survived their early transformations, he had no reason to think that he would have any trouble finding them now. “They should have come here before Harry but things have not gone to plan,” he said. Though he had initially been frustrated that Harry had been brought to him sooner than planned, he couldn’t regret it now that he was mated to the beautiful, though troublesome, submissive. It did however mean, that his other plans were not unfolding as intended.
“You can say that again,” Damon said with a sigh and a shake of his head. Despite the years he had spent watching over and protecting Harry, he had still never anticipated that he and Severus would actually be attacked; still, that was what had happened and now Harry was a full, and mostly happy, member of their pack.
“Regardless,” Fenrir snapped, not appreciating Damon’s attitude, “they will be brought here, they will do what they were bitten for and protect Harry.” He could remember those early months, and even years, after he had bitten Harry; he had been so empowered by the knowledge of the mate he would have once the young boy was fully grown, so determined to keep him safe, as he had failed to do for Alexis.
“These are still little more than children,” Damon pointed out. He understood why Fenrir had done what he had done, his determination to ensure Harry’s safety, but he didn’t understand how adding four fifteen year old hormonal teens to the mix was actually going to help the situation.
“They are the same age as Clayton, and they will learn,” Fenrir said stubbornly.
“Clayton has had thirteen years to get used to being Harry’s personal bodyguard, to being part of this pack. The others will not be like him; they are unlikely to just accept things so easily,” Damon warned him, already knowing that his friend would not listen and that his words were falling upon deaf ears.
“They belong here. You will find them, take Micha with you if you must, but they should be brought here soon.” Fenrir was not wavering on this matter. There were four more werewolves out there that he had bitten, they belonged in his pack and could provide more protection for all of them.
All of them were nearing their sixteenth birthdays and therefore would be counted as adults within the pack. It was shameful to Fenrir that his pack was so weak, to have women and male submissives defending the territory from intruders, it was unthinkable. That they had such a threat against them at all was grating on the Alpha, knowing that he could have done so much better.
He wasn’t going to stand for it anymore; he was going to bring these werewolves into the pack, train them and ensure that they become integral members of their family. Fenrir could at least recognise that that was what they were. They might not have been physically strong but every single person in the territory was unquestionably loyal to him as their Alpha. They were a family.
FGHP
Thrilled after a successful talk with Harry earlier in the day Albus Dumbledore was walking with a spring in his step, humming a happy song. Everything was perfect, or at least as perfect as they could hope for it to be at this point in the game. There were a few loose ends, of course, but he was hoping to tie up one of them this evening before retiring for the night.
It did mean a trip to Grimmauld Place, however, and the headmaster was half tempted to leave it until the next morning. Mondays were the time to deal with less pleasant things anyway, in his opinion. Though, in truth, he knew that Sirius needed to be dealt with.
After the man’s outburst four days ago that had seen Sirius storm out of his home in a rage, Dumbledore had allowed the man some time to cool down. Sirius had gone running off into London on his own, which was not a smart thing to have done but Albus did not consider Sirius his responsibility anymore. The only reason he was checking up on him now was to make sure he knew where the troublesome and slightly unhinged man was; and only then so that he wouldn’t be able to cause trouble.
Using the floo network, Albus travelled from his office, directly into the dingy kitchen at Grimmauld Place where the only sign of life was the miserably grumpy Black house elf, who was stumbling around, muttering under his breath.
“Elf, is your master present?” the headmaster requested of the pitiful creature. He was all for equality in this world but this creature belonged to an ancient pureblood magical family, there would be little hope for him, he had been here for too long. Besides he was privy to too much information that Dumbledore would not want getting into the wrong hands.
“Kreacher’s master is not here,” the house elf said, turning to sneer at the headmaster. “Master Sirius left and did not return, Kreacher is alone again with his mistress.” A sickening grin that showed ugly teeth appeared on the house elf’s face. “It is how Kreacher likes it to be,” Kreacher mumbled, under his breath as through the expression on his face had not made that plain enough.
“You mean to tell me that Sirius has not been back since the night he left?” Dumbledore questioned, slightly concerned by this turn of events, mulling over the likely scenarios that would have kept the man from returning to his residence.
“Kreacher is alone with his mistress now, Kreacher is happy,” the house elf said, wandering off along the kitchen; Dumbledore doubted it would be to do any work, given the house looked as though he hadn’t done such a thing in many years.
Knowing that he was not likely to get much more from the house elf, Dumbledore withdrew his wand and cast the spell that would alert him to anyone else in the property. Unsurprisingly, the spell revealed that Kreacher was telling the truth; there was no one there. The fact that Sirius had been gone for four days now was slightly worrisome. There was no telling what had happened to the man; however, Albus was sure he could take an educated guess.
If Sirius had truly not been home in that long then the man was either already dead or in the hands of Deatheaters. Either was likely at this point and for Sirius’ sake, Dumbledore hoped that the man was dead because, between the two options, death was the more humane of the two. There was no telling the torment Black would suffer in the hands of the Deatheaters.
Albus was just grateful that he didn’t have to do anything, not really. Losing the man to Voldemort and his followers was no great loss. He did not believe that there was any information that he could reveal that would do any great harm and no one was going to miss him; not right away at least. Remus was the only one who might take issue with the fact that he wasn’t doing anything to find Sirius, though the two men had not spoken a civil word to one another in months.
The disappearance of Sirius would be easily swept under the rug, at least for the moment. Though, he would send out Tonks and Mad-Eye to confirm one way or the other if Sirius was dead or a prisoner. It was the least he could do, he supposed, but he wouldn’t let them risk their lives trying to get him back; they were too valuable and Sirius wasn’t worth it; in fact, he was worth practically nothing and was at least out of the way.

Leave us some of your thoughts, we always look forward to hearing them. We had one reviewer suggest that some of you might want to join either TeamDraco or TeamClay, so feel free to let us know which way you lean.
Review Responses:
Littlepanther - Indeed, Dumbledore is very smug and he believes he has all his bases covered. Glad you enjoyed the smut in the last scene, and yes, Cedric isn't just going to let his concerns go, he cares enough about Harry to be worried about him.
Gaia - Glad to hear it.
Kat - yes, Harry is keeping many things from Fenrir, not wanting to pull his mate into his problems, and worried about how Fenrir will react; but he does know that eventually he will have to open up and tell him the truth.
OzzieKat - Glad you enjoyed it. Yes, Cedric does get a bit of a raw deal at times, all for caring too much. Harry tried telling Cedric that he was spoken for but it became clear to him that the headboy didn't want to hear it, so he decided to demonstrate it instead. Sirius is definitely in a world of trouble, but he is a very broken and damaged man already; Remus wanted to help him, but Sirius still believes quite strongly that he doesn't need help (at least in regards to his mental state). Things with the strays are indeed in something of a limbo, which is stressing the stray wolves out, and is part of why one of them came into the territory in this chapter; we do have plans for them, promise. Things with Lukas' girlfriend are moving along slowly, and you will see more of them, but they have only known each other a month and a half.
DragonStar01 - Thank you, and we are becoming rather fond of Theo too.
Lizzie - Thank you.
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