Fenrir Greyback left, munching sausages along the way. By the time he returned to the Gaunt old manor, two sausages were still left, linked together like a pair of nunchaku. He twirled them around in his hands, playing idly.
Lucius Malfoy sipped his tea with elegance, admiring the dilapidated scenery of the Gaunt estate as though he were enjoying the gardens of a palace.
He glanced at the returning werewolf, clearly seeing that the man had made no progress. The constant setbacks had become so routine among the Death Eaters that no one was surprised anymore.
"Not a single person found?"
Lucius Malfoy had the urge to laugh, but doing so would be most unrefined, and neither the time nor the place was appropriate.
"If you want to laugh, then laugh!"
Fenrir Greyback tossed his sausage-nunchaku onto the tea table, seized the entire pot of tea, and poured it straight into his mouth. After all, he had eaten too many sausages, and the tea helped wash down the grease. The heat didn't bother him in the slightest.
Watching Greyback gulp down his tea, Lucius lost any appetite to continue drinking his own.
"Well, since you put it that way, I'll laugh! Did you come across anything amusing today?"
Lucius Malfoy had no fear of the Wolf King. Even on a full moon night, he was confident he could bring Greyback down.
"A piece of trash, an old parasite, actually begged me to let him join. He even clung to my leg, groping at my balls."
Greyback recounted the event without the slightest concern. If Lucius wanted a joke, he'd give him one.
Lucius was genuinely provoked by the words. He wanted to laugh, but forced himself to hold it back. It would be beneath the dignity of a Malfoy. And Greyback was clearly waiting for him to break—whether he burst out laughing without restraint or twisted his face to suppress it, either way it was the reaction the wolf wanted.
"It seems there's nothing more to do here. I have some personal matters at Malfoy Manor. I'll take my leave."
Maintaining his composure, Lucius swiftly departed from the Gaunt estate.
"Hmph! Couldn't hold it in, could you? Damn noble airs. If you dared laugh in front of me, I'd beat you bloody."
Greyback had expected this outcome. Lucius could either suppress himself or walk away. To Greyback, the latter looked like running.
Voldemort's power had not yet been fully established. It wasn't accurate to say he had no forces, but his reach was nowhere near enough to rival the Ministry of Magic. At best, it barely matched the level of the Order of the Phoenix. Meanwhile, scattered groups of unknown origin had carved up the wizarding world into fragments, leaving no single faction with absolute dominance.
What Greyback didn't know was that if all those scattered groups were counted under Regulus Black's name, the wizarding world was already on the verge of another revolution.
Greyback felt his temper flare uncontrollably. Though it wasn't yet a full moon, only the weakest new moon, a seething rage rose from deep within him, overwhelming his reason.
He couldn't stay here. Clearly that old parasite had set him up.
Greyback could even feel his body being forced into transformation.
Without hesitation, he raised his wand and dissolved into black smoke, fleeing toward a deserted area nearby.
That way, if he lost control and transformed, the damage would be minimal. It wasn't about protecting anyone—it was about not exposing himself. Staying at the Gaunt estate was also an option, but that would mean letting the Death Eaters stationed there restrain him, something he wasn't willing to endure.
He didn't run too far. A nearby junkyard filled with old cars made the perfect place.
Every city, even the great powers, had its filthy, shadowy corners—dumping grounds walled off from sight, isolated and uninhabited.
As soon as Greyback landed, he could tell no workers had been here in a long time.
Among the towering piles of scrap cars, Greyback howled as he transformed into a werewolf. Such a thing in broad daylight was nearly unthinkable. Daylight transformations consumed more strength and magic, and a werewolf's power rose and fell with the phases of the moon. That wasn't superstition—it was fact.
On full moons, werewolves were at their strongest. During new moons, even transformed, their strength plummeted.
And in daylight, the decline was even greater. A child could knock down a man, so to speak.
Greyback completed his transformation. Thankfully, no one disturbed him during the vulnerable process.
He reached for a nearby car, his claws sharp regardless of his weakened state. With a single swipe, he carved several deep gashes into the door.
But when he struck it with full force, the blow left only a shallow dent. Compared to the nights when one punch could send a car flying, the difference was worlds apart.
He looked up. Fluffy white clouds drifted across a clear sky, and the warm afternoon sun tempted one to nap. A pet dog would have already curled up in the shade for a lazy rest.
But for Greyback, that bright sunlight only deepened his torment. A destructive impulse roared inside him, his agitation spiraling out of control.
Had he stayed with the Death Eaters, they might have restrained him, giving him some hope of control. But since he'd come here alone, no one would interfere in his private struggle.
Though the destruction wasn't large, Greyback's rampage had already scattered the piles of scrap metal.
Regulus Black received reports from his followers, and later, Lucius Malfoy shared the amusing tale of someone groping the Wolf King. He even asked if that pathetic soul belonged to Regulus.
After a bit of calculation, Regulus made his way to the Gaunt estate area.
When Greyback moved to the junkyard, Regulus followed.
From the top of a heap of cars, Regulus watched Greyback raging below. The sight stirred in him the thought of pitting two mad dogs against each other. But Remus Lupin was too far away, and he had already pledged loyalty to the Black family. As for other werewolves, Regulus didn't know them.
That left only one option: unleash his own mad dog.
"Come forth, my hellhound!"
In his very first year at Hogwarts, Regulus had stolen Hagrid's three-headed dog, Fluffy.
Since then, he had kept Fluffy in the Golden Dragon Egg Memory Realm, where the beast took on a Hero class and continuously leveled up by fighting monsters.
By now, Fluffy was a veteran hero, having mastered three separate skill systems:
Druid summoning skills
Barbarian war cries
Assassin martial arts techniques
With all three maxed out, Greyback had no hope of winning.
When summoned, Fluffy glared resentfully at Regulus. He had promised the beast that once it mastered three skill trees, it would be given missions to enjoy. Yet until now, Regulus hadn't bothered to summon him, leaving the fully leveled Fluffy to languish inside the egg, sleeping every day.
"Knock him down. Don't kill him."
Regulus, as master, gave the order without hesitation.
And this was exactly what Fluffy wanted. Finally, he could stretch his legs and make a name for himself.
Casting a contemptuous glance at the frenzied werewolf, Fluffy let out a Taunt from his Barbarian skill set, drawing all of Greyback's aggression to himself.
Then came the one-sided thrashing. He didn't even bother using most of his Druid or Barbarian skills. Instead, he showcased his Assassin martial arts:
Tiger Strike, Dragon Claw, Dual Dragon Claw, Fists of Fire, Cobra Strike, Dragon Tail, Claws of Thunder, Blades of Ice, Dragon Flight, Phoenix Strike.
Done.
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