Harry stood in the alley, staring grimly at the victims of the werewolf attack, all of them injured or maimed, many of them bleeding out, and near death as they groaned in agony.
"Harry," Emily said softly, tugging on his sleeve. "My sister, Annie. She's… she's…" she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.
"I know," Harry replied, patting her on the back, trying to comfort her. Emily didn't have to say it; everyone could see it. Her sister had been bitten, and to make matters worse, she'd lost far too much blood already.
"We need to do something about their injuries too," Draco added. "If we try to move them like this, they're not going to survive."
Harry nodded in agreement. "There's a potion shop nearby, Mullpepper's. They'll have what we need."
"I remember," Draco agreed. "Blood replenishing potion, bruise-removal paste, skele-gro," he rattled off, making a mental list.
"Pepper-up potion, too," Harry added, remembering how useful it had been during the Battle of Hogwarts.
"Silver nitrate," Merlin chimed in. "If administered early enough, it can stop the werewolf curse from taking hold."
"Silver nitrate, too," Harry added, repeating Merlin's words for Draco. "As much as you can carry."
Draco nodded, getting the attention of a witch and wizard who had survived the attack mostly unscathed.
"Be careful, Draco," Harry warned.
"You too," he replied before turning to the witch and wizard. "Come on,"
Harry made his way to Emily's sister, Annie, the sharp metallic scent of blood now filling the air, and bringing him back to the battle of Hogwarts.
and their parents huddled around her.
"Can I look at her?" Harry asked her parents huddling around her, feeling a tightness in his chest as he saw how much she had endured.
John looked up at the boy who found his daughter and saved their lives. "Come on, Leslie," he said, taking his weeping wife's hand and pulling her back.
"No," Leslie said, her breath catching in her throat, refusing to let go of her daughter's hand.
"It's okay," Harry said softly, kneeling beside her. "I just want to check on her; you don't need to move."
Leslie nodded tearfully, watching as the boy, only a year older than her own daughter, examined her, checked her pulse, and her wounds.
Harry expanded his senses, honing in on Anne's werewolf bites. There were three of them: one on her shoulder, another on her arm, and the final one on her leg.
He felt a swell of anger as examined the bite marks, realizing all three werewolves had bitten her, and the curse was already spreading through her body.
'What do you think?' Harry thought, wanting Merlin's opinion.
"It could go either way," Merlin replied honestly. "She already has a fever; that's not a good sign, but I've seen a few worse off than her beat the curse."
'What do I do?' Harry thought.
"You need to apply the silver nitrate directly to her bites. It's going to hurt," he warned. "Too much and the pain could kill her outright; not enough and it won't stop the spread."
"Here," Draco said, dropping down beside Harry, handing him a vial of silver nitrate.
"Thanks," Harry replied, uncorking the vial. "This is going to hurt… a lot," he warned, looking up at Anne's parents. "She's going to wake up screaming, but the silver nitrate is the best chance she has of stopping the curse."
"She's infected?" Leslie asked. "How can you be sure? I've heard… someone told me," she said, fumbling for the right words. "Some people don't change after…"
"She's infected," Harry confirmed, breaking it to her as gently as he could. "She's also lost a lot of blood. It isn't going to be easy for her. What do you want me to do?"
John took a deep breath before replying. "Do it. Give her the silver nitrate."
"Alright," Harry replied. "I'll need you to hold her down. If she thrashes around, it's going to make her injuries worse."
John nodded, gripping his daughter's shoulders, careful not to aggravate her injuries.
"Emily, come on," Draco said, taking her hand. "I'll need your help to hand out these potions."
Leslie looked up from Annie, nodding to Draco gratefully as he led her daughter away.
Harry carefully raised the vial, letting a single drop fall, grabbing it with his magic as Merlin guided it to land on the worst part of the infection, then studied Annie's face carefully.
Annie grimaced, her face twisting in pain as she let out a groan, but remained unconscious.
"More," Merlin instructed, observing as the curse contracted for a brief moment before spreading again.
Harry tilted his wrist, letting three more drops fall, again directing them to the worst parts of the infection.
This time Annie's eyes popped open, letting out a scream as she thrashed against her father's grip.
"It's alright, it's alright," Leslie said, caressing her daughter's face, trying desperately to calm her down. "I know it's difficult, but you have to lie still. You're sick. This is going to help you."
"Hurts," Annie groaned, looking up at her mother, feeling like her body was on fire.
"I know, baby," Leslie replied, her heart breaking all over again. "I know."
"Annie," Harry said, getting the girl's attention. "My name is Harry. I'm Emily's friend. She's fine," he added, seeing her eyes widen. "I'm sorry," he added. "The curse is spreading. I wish there were another way to stop it, but there isn't. Can you be brave for me? Hold your mother's hand tight."
Annie gave the boy a shaky nod, letting out another scream as the silver nitrate hit her wound, thrashing around as the pain got worse.
"Isn't there something we can do?" Leslie pleaded. "A body bind, maybe a stupefy so she doesn't have to feel it?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry. If we introduce any other magic, it will interfere with the silver nitrate."
He raised the vial again and added four more drops to Annie's wound.
John grimaced as he struggled to hold his daughter down and prevent her from hurting herself further, but it wasn't easy hearing her scream like that.
"That's it," Merlin said as Annie passed out from the pain. "That's as much as we can do."
"Is she going to be alright?" Leslie asked when Harry stopped.
"We'll have to see," Harry replied, unable to promise anything. "I've given her as much of the nitrate as I can."
"Ferula," he said, conjuring bandages over her wounds. "Take these," he said, handing a couple of vials of blood-replenishing potions to Leslie. "When she wakes up, have her drink both."
"S-should we give her more of that?" Leslie asked, pointing to the vial of silver nitrate.
"No," Harry shook his head, getting back to his feet. "Any more and it will do more harm than good at this point. We'll have to hope it's enough."
"I have to check on everyone else," Harry said. "But if you notice anything, I want you to come get me."
"Thank you," Leslie whispered, hugging Harry tight.
***
Harry stood beside Draco as they looked at the witches and wizards around them. It had taken almost an hour, but they'd seen to everyone's injuries with the limited supplies they could recover.
Ten witches and wizards had survived the attack, including Emily's family. Three of them too injured to walk and had to be floated along.
"How far do you think the anti-disapparation jinx goes?" Draco asked, keeping an eye out for danger.
"I don't know," Harry admitted. "It feels like there's more than one. They've probably overlapped them to cover a larger area."
"Maybe we should walk them out of the alley," Draco suggested. "The jinx can't extend much beyond that."
"That would also mean leaving everyone else behind to face Greyback," Harry pointed out. "Who knows how many other people are trapped here?"
"You're sure he's here?" Draco asked.
"He's here," Harry confirmed. "His ego won't let him sit on the sidelines. He'll want everyone to see him, hear what he has to say."
"Gringotts," John said, overhearing them. "That's what they said," he added, shooting a dark look at the remains of the werewolves. "They said something about making an example."
"It would make sense," Draco agreed. "First the Ministry, now Gringotts. They want to subvert every seat of power in the wizarding world, show everyone they're the strongest."
"We'll go with you," John said, taking a long look at the conjured sheets they'd used to cover the bodies of the two dead wizards that fought back.
"It's going to be dangerous," Harry warned. "I can't promise you'll all come out of this alive."
"We heard you talking," Leslie said, moving to stand beside her husband. "If you take us out of the alley, then there won't be anyone to help everyone else."
"Yeah," and old man said, getting visibly angry. "I saw them, the Aurors. I thought they were here to help, but they just ran, didn't even bother giving any of us a second look, even when we were fighting for our lives."
"I haven't seen the werewolf task force out here either," another wizard muttered darkly as others joined in, sharing their thoughts about the Ministry and the task force.
"Alright," Harry interrupted, getting everyone's attention. "We're headed to Gringotts. Everyone stay close," he said as he and Draco led the way through the alley.
"Anything?" Draco asked after a few minutes of walking.
Harry shook his head. "Nothing yet."
"I've counted another five dead," Draco replied. "There's a pattern to it."
Harry nodded, having noticed as well. "The ones that fights back, the wealth-"
"What is it?" Draco asked when Harry came to an abrupt stop.
"There's another four ahead," Harry replied. "Quality Quidditch Supplies, ten witches and wizards too."
***
Harkwell cursed, looking out of the smashed window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. It had taken ten of his men to take down a single werewolf, and they'd already lost two, with another one not expected to last the hour.
They hadn't even seen it when the four werewolves showed up as they tended to their injured, taking them by surprise, and forcing them to fight on the move, but the part that had him the most unsettled was how they fought, not like wizards, but wild beasts.
None of them so much as drew a wand, charging through their defenses as if they were made of parchment, and unlike wizards who fought at range, they got in close, slashing, maiming, and biting, all while laughing and taunting them.
It was a tactic he had never come across in all his years as an Auror, one he struggled to counter. It was both terrifying and demoralizing, being pushed further and further back, and with their magic nearly exhausted, he didn't know what to do.
They had tried to use the brooms to escape, seeing the writing on the wall, but the werewolves had been ready for them, jumping high into the air, and plucking them out of the sky before they could make their escape.
"If we go down, we go down fighting," he said to his men, hoping he sounded more confident that he felt. "We make them work for it. We make them regret it," he growled, raising his wand again. "Unforgivables!" he ordered. "Whatever it takes!"
"Sir," each of them nodded, raising their wands, prepared to do whatever it took to survive, the same thing that got them kicked out of the Auror forces nearly a decade ago at the end of the last war.
"Crucio!" Harkwell hissed, aiming for their leader, not Greyback, the coward still hadn't shown himself, but the one giving the orders, the werewolf in the dragonskin jacket.
He smirked as the werewolf screamed, thrashing on the ground. If he held the curse on the werewolf long enough, he would go brain dead, a far more fitting punishment for the monster than a quick, painless death.
His men soon followed, but the other three werewolves got over their surprise quickly, no longer laughing as they took cover.
Harkwell grit his teeth, holding the crucio on the werewolf, pouring every ounce of hate he possessed into the spell, but despite that the werewolf was crawling away, even when one of his men added their own crucio to his, eventually ducking into an alleyway, and breaking the line of sight they need to maintain the spell.
"Damn it!" he cursed, slamming his fist against the wall, wishing he'd gone with the killing curse instead.
He peered through the broken window, feeling unnerved as the werewolves stared back at him, both sides now in a tense standoff, waiting for the other side to act.
"Duck!" Harkwell shouted, his eyes widening as a large chunk of stone sailed through the broken window, smashing the counter he was hiding behind.
"Protego!" he shouted, blocking the next stone with a shield spell, but with his magic nearly depleted and the sheer size and weight of the stone, his spell buckled, then failed after a single hit.
He looked left and then right, seeing all his men in the same state, desperately casting shield spells as they used the last of their magic to stave off the inevitable.
"We've lost," Harkwell admitted quietly, in disbelief that it could all end this way, cowering in a half-destroyed shop instead of going down fighting like he always thought he would.
He saw another stone coming, much larger than the others, and closed his eyes as he stood, accepting the inevitable, taking solace in the fact that he at least wouldn't have to suffer the indignity of being turned first, only to open his eyes as he heard a thunderous explosion, not believing his eyes when he saw Potter of all people come to his rescue.
Harry lowered his wand as chunks of pulverized stone flew in all directions. His explosion hex destroying the stone before it crashed into the building.
He stared down the werewolf who had thrown it, the one with the dragonhide jacket.
He knew firsthand that this werewolf was not to be underestimated, nearly losing to one of them earlier in the battle. This was one of Greyback's elite.
The werewolf let out an ear-piercing howl, charging at him, quickly followed by the other three werewolves.
Harry narrowed his eyes, transfiguring the chunks of stone around him into small, sharpened points, firing them at the lead wolf, only for the werewolf to shield his eyes and face, using his jacket for protection as he continued forward.
Harry grabbed Draco by the collar, pushing magic into his arm and shoulder as he launched him into the air and out of the reach of the werewolves.
Draco's eyes widened, letting out a yelp as he suddenly found himself fifty feet in the air, but was quick to recover, aiming for one of the many chunks of stone littering the ground.
"Engorgio! Accio!" He shouted, enlarging the stone until it was the size of a boulder, then lifted it into the air with him, spinning his arm in a vicious arc, to build momentum, spinning the boulder around himself three times before launching it at the three werewolves following the leader.
The boulder whistled through the air, hurtling at the werewolves who only had a moment to stare at him in shock before getting bowled over.
Harry clenched his fists, feeling the now familiar anger bubble to the surface as he channeled the pain and anger he kept locked away, but instead of letting loose and explosion of power, he controlled it, channeling it so he didn't exhaust his magic in a single attack.
The werewolf lost a step, nearly tripping over himself as he felt the surge of power from the child, watching as black flames licked at his eyes and fists, his instincts practically screaming at him to get away, that he was in the presence of an apex predator.
He pushed down his growing panic, not allowing his animal instincts to dictate his actions as he ran forward, putting on an extra burst of speed, intending to use his superior height and reach to his advantage and end the fight before it began.
Harry ran forward to meet the charging werewolf, his feet hitting the ground with enough force to crush the cobblestone road beneath him.
With the powerful magic flowing though him he didn't even have to increase his perception to see what the werewolf was doing, where it planned to strike, seeing every tell, every time the werewolf telegraphed his movements in perfect clarity.
As the werewolf extended its paw, its razor-sharp claws pointed at his neck he ducked under the werewolf, grabbing its wrist and twisting, using the werewolf's own momentum against him as he flipped him over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground with an audible thud.
Without looking back, Harry surged forward, going after the three werewolves Draco had downed earlier, just as they were getting back to their feet.
He slammed his knee into the face of the first werewolf, sending him back to the ground hard, his momentum carrying him forward as he skidded across the road.
Without missing a beat, he slammed his dagger into the ground, using it as an anchor point to swing himself around and come to a stop.
He ran back as Draco, still falling to the ground, sent a trio of Incendio curses at the two werewolves still on their feet.
Two of his spells struck a werewolf in the chest, while the other one dove out of the way, its fur singed, but unharmed.
He leaned to the side as he ran, letting Draco's spell sail past him before he jumped in the air, slamming his dagger into the back of the werewolf Draco hit, ignoring its pained howl as he twisted his dagger, wrenching it out of the werewolf's back, before slamming it back in a second time, and sending the werewolf back to the ground.
Out of the corner of his eye, there was a flicker. He moved before it fully registered in his mind what it was, trusting his instincts to guide him.
He turned on his heel, landing a spinning kick to the back of the werewolf's head as he dove out of the way, knocking him into the path of a sickly green curse.
The werewolf didn't even have time to look shocked as the light left his eyes, and he fell to the ground dead.
The last werewolf, the one Harry flipped over his shoulder, got to his feet, looking around in shock, all of his brethren dead around him, his victory stolen from him in a matter of moments.
He didn't see it when the three sickly green curses slammed into his chest; his jacket offering him no protection against a killing curse, let alone three.
"Potter," Harkwell said, stepping out of the Quidditch shop, wand still drawn.
"Harkwell," Harry replied, recognizing the head of the werewolf task force.
A tense silence followed as the two sides stared each other down before Harkwell finally lowered his wand, the members of his task force doing the same, recognizing that while they weren't allies by any stretch of the imagination, they also couldn't afford to fight amongst themselves at a time like this.
"We had the situation under control," Harkwell said, his pride not allowing him to acknowledge how timely Harry's and Draco's involvement had actually been.
"Yeah, it looked that way," Draco muttered sarcastically, but lowered his wand as well.
"We haven't seen a single Auror before running into you," Harry said. "Where are they?"
"No idea," Harkwell said with a shrug of his shoulders.
Harry sighed, looking at Harkwell as the rest of the survivors came out of their hiding spots, not surprised by his answer.
With access to the Floo Network cut off, the only way to get a message to the Ministry was by owl, and even then the slow-moving bureaucracy of the government meant it would be hours before help of any kind arrived.
"Greyback is at Gringotts," Harry revealed. "That's where the werewolves are taking everyone," he said, noticing immediately that Harkwell nor his men seemed to be surprised by the revelation.
"Harry," Draco whispered, getting a sneaking suspicion as he noticed the path of destruction leading to the Quidditch shop, and away from Gringott's rather than towards it.
Harry followed Draco's gaze as he put it together as well. With no portkeys, floo, or the ability to apparate to safety, the only other option was to escape by broom; that's why they were here.
"Pulling a runner?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, nodding towards the stack of brooms inside the shop.
"No, of course not," Harkwell blustered. "We have a job to do."
"Good," Harry replied. "Then you won't mind if they use them to get out of here," Harry said, nodding his head to Emily and the other survivors.
Harkwell looked down, seeing Potter's hand resting on his wand holster, along with his friend who bore a striking resemblance to Lucius Malfoy.
He sighed. Potter was ready to force the issue, and even with his team behind him, he couldn't afford to get into a firefight with Potter and risk drawing the attention of even more werewolves.
"Of course not," he ground out.
Harry gave Harkwell a curt nod before making his way to Emily and her parents.
"That's your quickest way out of the alley," Harry said, pointing north. "As soon as you're clear of the anti-disapparation jinx, get everyone to St. Mungo's. Tell the healers what's going on. They'll be able to get a message to the DMLE."
"Thank you," Emily said, giving both Harry and Draco a tight hug.
John and Leslie shared a look, not sure what to do, wondering if they should risk bringing Anne to St. Mungos, knowing that the healers would have to report her condition.
"It looks like she's out of danger," Harry said, looking over Anne's injuries again, seeing that some color had returned to her cheeks. "The blood-replenishing potions are working, but you'll still need to keep an eye on her. If anything changes, you'll need to bring her to St. Mungo's right away."
"Thank you," John said, shaking Harry's hand gratefully as he balanced Anne on his broom, and Leslie did the same for Emily.
Harry, Draco, and the werewolf task force watched them go, steadily rising in the air until they were out of the range of any spells before flying north.
"Let's go," Harry said, turning towards Gringotts.
"Hold on a second, Potter," Harkwell said, stepping in front of him, crossing his arms over his chest. "I think we need to establish who's in charge here. The Wizengamot has duly appointed me to bring Greyback to justice, so from here on out you follow my orders."
"We don't have time for this," Harry replied, walking past him.
"Potter!" Harkwell growled, grabbing Harry's shoulder. "You might have got the jump on me last—"
Before he could finish, Harry grabbed Harkwell's wrist, twisting and shoving it away.
Harkwell grabbed his wrist, unable to hide his wince as he stared back at Potter, his words dying on his lips.
"I don't have time for this," Harry said, losing the little patience he had left. "Come on, Draco, let's go," he said, sending a burst of magic to his legs as he jumped, grabbed Draco's arm, carrying him with him to the top of the nearest building.
Harkwell scowled, watching Potter and the Malfoy boy run over rooftops, jumping from one building to the next as they headed for Gringotts.
"Your orders, sir?" one of his men asked, staring after the two boys.
Harkwell stared back at the Quidditch shop, all the working brooms now gone, then north, in the direction the survivors flew to escape the alley, for a long moment.
"Sir?" the task force member asked again.
"…Gringotts," Harkwell finally decided. "No more playing nice. Killing curses from here on out."
***
Draco crouched beside Harry, looking down at the street in front of Gringotts. "There have to be at least a hundred witches and wizards down there," he observed.
"One hundred and twenty-three," Harry replied with a worried frown, "and twenty-seven werewolves, Greyback included, six of them wearing the dragonhide jackets."
"Any ideas?" Draco asked, wondering how they were going to get everyone to safety with so many werewolves to deal with.
Harry shook his head, watching as Greyback paced back and forth on the steps of the bank, past the bodies of the two goblin guards lying dead on the ground.
Harry shook his head. With so many people packed so tightly together, it made fighting difficult, something he suspected Greyback had specifically planned for.
'Merlin,' he thought. 'Any ideas?'
"Look at him," Merlin observed. "He's waiting for something. The goblins… they tried to stop him, meaning whatever he's up to, it's likely already started."
'I can't risk firing, not in a crowd this size,' Harry thought.
"There's something I've been meaning to teach you," Merlin replied. "I was hoping to do it in a training yard, but it looks like we won't have that luxury."
'As long as it helps me deal with this, I'm all ears,' Harry thought back.
"When a spell leaves your wand, it doesn't have to move in a straight line," Merlin explained. "There's a very small thread of magic connecting your spell to your wand, and by extension, you."
"It isn't strong enough to make your spell turn corners, but you can nudge it, slightly altering its trajectory," Merlin continued. "It takes some concentration, but it will make your spells far more accurate."
'Still,' Harry thought. 'Firing into a crowd isn't ideal. I'll be able to get one shot off before the crowd panics, then it won't matter how good my aim is.'
"You need to pick your moment," Merlin agreed. "But you only need one good shot to deal with Greyback."
"It looks like he's about to start," Draco said, interrupting Harry's conversation with Merlin.
"I think I can get a shot off, but it's going to be tricky," Harry said.
"From here?" Draco asked, surprised. "That has to be at least three hundred feet."
"I know," Harry replied. "I'll only be able to get one shot off before the crowd panics, and Greyback has to stand still for this to work."
Draco thought about all the dueling tournaments he'd attended with his father. The standard distance between competitors was only twenty feet apart, and the longest distance he'd seen a spell fired from accurately was at most eighty feet, and now Harry was saying he could land a shot from almost four times that distance.
He looked at Harry, feeling a twinge of his old jealousy rearing hits head. He was so far ahead of him, ahead of everyone it seemed, even fully grown witches and wizards, but after everything they'd been through together, him, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, he didn't feel any of the old resentment he used to.
If anything, it pushed him to train harder so that he could be by his friend's side, shouldering some of the burden he carried.
"Make it count," he said, watching as Greyback cast a sonorus on himself and began his speech.
Greyback smirked as he stared into the sea of terrified witches and wizards huddled together, as his werewolves stood around them.
Without their wands witches and wizards were nothing, little more than muggles themselves. Yet they had the audacity to look down upon him, and his kind. All of them indoctrinated from birth to think and believe all the same things, none of them aware of his true goal.
"Welcome!" he said, raising his hands in a show of triumph. "To the birth of a new society, a better society where the strong lead and the weak follow, as it was always intended."
"The Ministry has failed you. The Wizengamot has failed you. This society has failed you!" he roared to the crowd.
"They give you mere scraps, while they hoard all the wealth for themselves," he said, pointing to the gleaming stone building behind him. "And they don't even do the hoarding themselves! They have the goblins do it for them!" He spat.
He smirked, hearing the grumbling in the crowd before one of the braver sheep spoke up.
"You're a murderer!" A wizard shouted. "And a liar!" he said, looking around. "He won't help us, any of us!"
"You're right," Greyback drawled, surprising the man. "I am a murderer, hundreds of times over by now. The difference is, I'm willing to admit it. I kill those who get in my way. I kill those who try to kill me. The Ministry, the Wizengamot, they're no different."
"Everything they built is on your backs! While you suffer and toil away, they live in the lap of luxury. How many of you live on the streets? How many of you have to beg for your next meal? For how many of you is attending Hogwarts nothing but a pipe dream?"
He listened carefully, his sharp hearing picking up the murmuring in the crowd. The voices were quiet, hesitant, but they were listening, some beginning to agree with him.
First about how he'd killed the members of the Wizengamot, but in the same breath how those same people had done nothing to benefit anyone but themselves. How he killed aurors, many of whom were nowhere to be found at the Battle of Hogwarts, or even here now to protect them.
He could feel their mood shifting, not enough to capitalize on yet, but the seed was planted and would soon take root.
"What would you do?" a witch asked this time, hesitantly, fearful of how he would react.
Greyback looked at her, seeing her worn and dirty clothes and the tired look in her eyes. "I would give you the means to be strong, to take what you deserve," he replied. "To punish those who have exploited you, should you prove yourself worthy."
".. And you would treat us fairly?" She asked, still hesitant, but there was something else in her voice now, a hope that wasn't there before.
"No," Greyback replied to the surprise of the crowd. "Fairness does not exist. You must shed yourself of such foolish notions. The strong take, the weak suffer for it. That is the way it should be."
"Should be?" Another wizard asked, surprised to find Greyback's words resonating so strongly with him.
"You have been fooled," Greyback explained. "We all have. For centuries the Wizengamot has ruled over us all, despite proving time and time again they are unfit to do so."
"They have no real power save the power we give them," he said, continuing to pace. "It is the aurors that enforce the laws, the goblins that control the money, the Ministry that actually runs the government. All the Wizengamot does is pass judgment on you and take what little you have."
"How?" the witch from earlier asked, a hint of steel in her voice now, unable to deny the truth of Greyback's words. "How have they done this for so long? How have they gotten away with it?"
Greyback smiled at the woman. "That is THE question, isn't it?" he asked. "The answer is deceptively simple. Power most often resides where we believe it resides."
"The Wizengamot's power is a story. A lie, repeated over and over again until it's taken for truth, enforced by titles, wealth, and traditions, but in the end it is nothing more than an illusion."
"What I hold is true power. Power that can be felt, power that doesn't rely on belief alone," he said, staring out at the crowd, now silent, hanging on his every word.
Harry and Draco shared a worried look as Greyback continued to speak, acting far differently from the way he did in the Wizengamot chambers, sounding almost reasonable as he capitalized on the growing distrust the average witch and wizard harbored for the Wizengamot.
'I still don't have a shot,' Harry thought, his frustration growing.
"Careful, Harry," Merlin warned. "Greyback is playing a deeper game."
'What do you mean?' Harry thought back.
"He isn't the rampaging monster everyone thinks he is," Merlin observed. "No. He's something far more dangerous. Killing him now could make things worse."
"He doesn't want to rule magical Britain through fear alone. He wants the appearance of legitimacy; that's why he's playing to the crowd now."
"It's the same playbook dictators and despots have used the world over. First, a show of power to instill fear, showing the people that their government is incapable of protecting them, making them, in turn feel helpless."
"Then, the most important step: reveal a truth that is self-evident, one they can't deny, one they've believed long before he even came into the picture."
'The corruption in the Wizengamot,' Harry thought.
"Exactly," Merlin replied. "Once they've accepted that truth, it becomes easier for them to swallow the lies that follow, their anger blinding them to his true agenda."
"He'll tempt them next, show them the wealth and prosperity they'll have under his rule, then he'll wait."
'Wait for what?' Harry thought.
"For an attack," Merlin replied. "One that he will use to frame him as the hero fighting for change. Then he will have everything he needs."
"Harry," Draco whispered, pointing at the giant doors of Gringotts bank as they slowly opened.
Harry held his breath, feeling a swell of hope. There were too many werewolves for him and Draco to fight alone, but with the goblins they had a fighting chance.
That was the moment they stepped through; not goblins, but werewolves, each of them carrying a giant sack.
Harry felt his jaw fall open as it suddenly made sense: the goblins lying dead on the steps of the bank, why there had been no retaliation from them in all this time.
The werewolves had already been inside the bank and had been for some time if the blood on their fur was anything to go by.
Greyback smirked, looking over his shoulder as three of his most trusted werewolves dropped the sacks at his feet.
He tore open one sack, galleons spilling out onto the steps of Gringotts. He turned to face the crowd, scooping up a handful of galleons in his fist.
"These are the galleons they've taken from you," Greyback said, throwing a handful of galleons into the crowd, hiding his disgust as the witches and wizards scurried like rats, picking them off the ground. "They call it taxes, they say it is used for the betterment of our society."
"And miraculously they've found their way into the vaults of the Wizengamot members who rule over you!" he said sarcastically. "I return them to you," he said as the three werewolves by his side tore open the other sacks, throwing the galleons into the crowd, watching as more and more witches and wizards practically climbed over each other, scooping up as many galleons as they could carry.
Harry narrowed his eyes as he saw Merlin's predictions become reality, some in the crowd cheering Greyback as they danced in the street, but in their celebration there was something they missed.
The three werewolves formed a tight circle around Greyback as the werewolves in the crowd moved, no longer concerned with subduing the crowd as a gap opened up near the alley adjacent to the bank.
There was a flash of light, something glinting in the dark alley. He looked closer, spotting Harkwell with his wand raised, then an unmistakable sickly green spell left his wand.
***
Hi! Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter. What do you think about Greyback's character development so far?
I felt that one of the weaknesses in book 1 was the study group as villains. In retrospect it was too many characters. A lot of them were vary similar, and didn't add much if anything to the story. If I was doing it again I think I would have stuck with just Andre.
Please take the time to review and let me know what you think of the story.
If you would like to support me and my writing, please consider visiting https://taplink.cc/jumpin for all the stories I'm currently working on and early access to chapters 13, 14, 15, and 16 of Legacy of Shadows along with some character portraits for Merlin, Morgan and Nimue, and an audio versions of the chapters.